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“You know this mutha fucka, Carter?” King asked.
“Not him. This is the first time I seen him, but one of them been here to see Whitey a few times.”
I walked away and looked at Bobby. “We need to get Billy over here.”
“I’ll call him,” he said.
“Damn, this is fucked up,” King said. “I need to call Jemisha.”
“That his wife?” Bobby asked and looked at me.
“Yeah,” King said.
“I got that, King. I’ll be back,” I told him, and he walked off. I gave Bobby the finger and once he got through with his call to Billy, we left to do something I hated doing.
For more reasons than just the obvious.
Chapter Fourteen
As we rode down in the elevator, I was thinking about what I would say to Jemisha; how I would tell her that her husband was dead, when suddenly Vickie was all up in my mind. I didn’t have to tell her parents that I killed her. Wanda spared me that when she insisted that she had to tell them.
When Bobby and I got to the house and Jemisha opened the door, she took one look at us and started to cry.
“If both of you are here, then Whitey is dead.”
All I could do was open my arms and hold her. I held her tightly as Jemisha cried and punched me in the chest.
“You fuckin’ promise me, Mike,” she punched me again through her tears. “You fuckin’ promise me that you’ll find the mutha fuckas that did this and put them in the ground. You fuckin’ promise me that,” Jemisha said and then she buried her face in my chest and cried.
“You trust me, Jemisha. They’re as good as dead.”
I had known Jemisha a lot longer than I had known Whitey. We were friends, and by friends, I mean we were fuck buddies’ years ago, so I stayed with her until she calmed down a little. I sat with Jemisha, holding her while she cried over the loss of her husband.
Holding her that way while she cried made me think of holding Wanda and that made me think about Vickie. As I held her, I could feel Wanda’s pain, just like I was feeling Jemisha’s pain now, but it was different. Maybe it was just that I shared Wanda’s pain because it was my own, or maybe it was because I caused it. I wasn’t sure, but that’s another fucked up thing about pain, it’s unpredictable how it comes at you, it just does.
I looked over a
t Bobby, he was sitting in the chair across from us, looking bored. Shit, I was bored too. I wanted to get outta there and find out who killed Whitey, but based on our prior relationship, I didn’t want to leave her crying like that. But, Bobby being Bobby, after a while, he began making motions with his hands like he was encouraging me to grab a handful of Jemisha’s tittie, you know, since it was practically in my hand.
“You gonna be all right?” I asked her and tried to begin the process of separating myself from her.
“I’ll be all right, Mike,” she may have said, but she cried even harder, but it didn’t last long. “Make me wanna get my gun and get in them streets with you, Mike,” Jemisha said and Bobby mouthed the words; she wants to fuck you.
I gave Bobby the finger. “You don’t need to be out there like that,” I said and patted her on the back. “You got to be here for these kids.” Jemisha had two kids, but they weren’t Whitey’s.
“I know, I know.” Jemisha touched my face and kissed me on the cheek. “I know I need to be strong for my babies, Mike.” And that realization seemed to give her strength. Jemisha separated herself from my embrace and stood up.
“Can I get either of you a drink?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Bobby said.
“I’m sorry about my manners, Bobby,” she said and walked in the kitchen. “What can I get you?”
“Any kind of Cognac will do.”
“Courvoisier all right?”
“That’s fine.”
