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“I been worried about how everything is going to heal, and I was thinking that what I’ll do is just get a tattoo on my hand and on my neck to cover the scars and I—”
“Oh, Lord Jesus, help me!” Jasmine’s mother screamed out loud, her right hand held to the sky.
“And I just want to know how soon would I be able to get a tattoo?”
Her father said, “Jasmine, if you get a tattoo on your neck, you better never step foot in my house again! And I mean that.”
The doctor didn’t know how to respond, but he wanted to remain neutral.
“Well, why don’t we take things one step at a time? Let’s deal with the surgery first and seeing how quickly we can get you back home and back to normal.”
“I feel fine now. I’m ready to leave.”
The doctor smiled. “You know, many times people hear about gunshot wounds to the leg or to the arm or to the hand, and they dismiss it as being not that serious. But just as in your case, Jasmine, very often major arteries are impacted, and that is what makes the wounds life-threatening. Never forget just how fortunate you were to be able to get medical attention as soon as you did, because there is always the possibility of losing too much blood to the point where it becomes fatal.”
“Lord knows I pray for this child every day,” Jasmine’s mother said. “Can’t nobody tell me the Lord doesn’t answer prayers.”
Jasmine remained quiet, but she was disgusted that she hadn’t yet heard from Nico. She was starting to resent him. She also began to wonder if it was he was the one who sent Bebo to kill her. She desperately wanted to speak to him just to see where his head was at.
The doctor and Jasmine’s parents left, leaving her alone with her thoughts. The only conclusion she could come to was, after she had gotten arrested, Nico must have figured she was talking to the police—that she had told them he was a co-conspirator in Shabazz’s murder.
That’s why he wants me dead, Jasmine thought.
Jasmine was human, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Mia was somehow starting to work her way back into Nico’s life and reclaim her wifey status.
Oh, my God! I gotta get out of here! she said to herself in a panic.
Her mind was playing all kinds of tricks on her. One moment her mind was telling her that Nico loved her, the next moment Nico had sent Bebo to murder her. Another moment her mind was telling her to just relax, that Nico was just dealing with a lot and that he would explain everything to her as soon as he could. But then again, she kept thinking that Nico was back to fucking Mia.
Jasmine was beyond stressed out. She took a painkiller, which made her feel euphoric, but that soon wore off. She fell asleep wondering if she would wake up and see Nico the next day.
Eleven
After a successful surgery on her hand, Jasmine was recovering in the post surgical unit, resting and trying to decide what she would do when she got out of the hospital. She was wondering if it would make sense to go back and live at Nico’s estate. She didn’t know how safe it would be living there, or if Nico even wanted her there, since she still hadn’t spoken to him.
Her options were limited because she hadn’t stashed enough money to get her own place, and she definitely wasn’t going to move back in with her parents. She thought about asking her friend Simone if she could live with her for a little while, but she quickly decided against that idea. Jasmine knew it would take all of two days for Simone to do something to piss her off, and they would end up in an argument or in some ki
nd of drama she didn’t need.
With no viable options coming to mind, she decided not to stress herself out. She reached for the remote control with her good hand and started flipping through the limited channels the hospital had available. As she channel-surfed, she heard a knock on her room door.
Jasmine assumed it was one of the doctors or nurses coming to check on her, but instead she saw Agent Battle walking into her room accompanied by a handsome black man wearing a suit and a tie.
Purposely wanting to be rude, she continued to channel-surf and avoided looking directly at Agent Battle or the man with her.
“Hello, Jasmine,” Agent Battle said in a soft, neutral tone.
Jasmine really had no choice at that point other than to acknowledge Agent Battle, so she returned the hello.
“So how are you feeling? I hope you’re recovering well.”
“I’m good,” Jasmine said, flipping through the channels.
“Jasmine, do you mind if we talk for a few minutes?” Agent Battle asked.
Jasmine turned up the volume on the TV once she found ESPN.
The black guy asked her, “You a Lakers fan?”
