Page 34 of All About The Money


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I shook my head. “Not at all.” It was obvious that she had had too much to drink. “Let me go check on the ladies.” After wandering around the house for a while, I found Diane. She told me that Simone was out by the pool talking with a couple of football players. “You seen Bella?”

“Simone said she left with Bullet.”

“We’re getting ready to leave. I’m tired and Chante is drunk.”

“I’m not drunk, Jada.”

“Whatever, Chante.”

“I’m gonna go too. Nothing here I’m interested in. I’ll let Simone know we’re going,” Diane said.

On the way back to my place, Chante went to sleep in the backseat. She was able to make it as far as the couch before she was out cold again. It was funny, I couldn’t wait to leave the party because I was so tired, but once I got home, a burst of energy popped up. So while Chante slept, me and Diane talked about Creme. How sad it was to see her looking like that.

I remember her offering me a bump before I went onstage that first night. “I was so nervous that night, Diane; and I was so tempted to hit it.”

“You see where you’d be if you did,” Diane reminded me.

It was maybe an hour after that when Simone came in. Once Simone started talking, Chante woke up and joined the conversation. I looked up and we’d been sitting around chit-chatting for nearly two hours. It was almost seven in the morning. Just as I was about to break things up and retire to the bed, the door opened and Bella stumbled in.

“What the fuck!” Simone screamed. Her horror was well justified. Bella’s clothes were torn and stained with blood. One of her eyes was bruised, and blood was trickling down her lip and chin.

“What the hell happened to you?” I jumped from the couch. By the time I got to her, she nearly collapsed right into my arms.

“Somebody call 9-1-1!” Diane screamed. She rushed to my side and helped me move Bella’s body to the couch.

“Forget 9-1-1,” Chante said. “We need to get her to a hospital now. We can get her there a lot faster.”

What she said made sense. We piled into my car as Chante nursed Bella in the backseat. When we arrived at the hospital, I didn’t even take time to park the car. I pulled up at the emergency room entrance and I ran inside screaming for help.

“Please. . my friend. . she needs help! She’s in the car!” I yelled. Two ER workers ran out to the car. I was so glad to have Chante there. She talked to the police and told them everything we knew, because the rest of us were useless. By the time Chante came walking into the waiting area where the rest of us were, everyone was silent with our own thoughts.

When the doctor came out, he told us that the beating Bella had taken had caused some internal bleeding. “Internal bleeding?” Diane questioned.

“Internal bleeding is the leaking of blood from blood vessels into spaces in the body. Deeper bleeding which involves arteries and veins can result in severe blood loss, which can result in shock.”

“What causes that?” Simone asked.

“It can be caused by a violent blunt force, such as being thrown against an object or the beating she apparently took.”

“But she seemed all right on the way here,” Simone said.

“Signs and symptoms of internal bleeding are less obvious than that of external bleeding. In fact, an injured person may appear normal at first.”

The doctor promised he would do all he could to help Bella, but when he came back an hour later, he didn’t even have to say a word for us to know the diagnosis.

“I am so sorry, ladies. There was nothing more we could do,” the doctor offered up. “The beating she took caused a lot of internal bleeding. It was just too severe,” he said somberly.

My head was spinning and pounding at the same time. I was fuming! I still couldn’t believe Bella was gone. Before the doctor could even finish, two detectives walked into the room.

“We need to know who was the last person to see her alive,” one officer said.

Bullet.

Unfortunately, I didn’t know his government name, but I knew where to find him. And once I did, he’d be sorry he ever laid hands on Bella.

We sat through the intense questioning with the detectives. When it was over, Chante drove us all home, and the ride was the longest I’d ever endured. I couldn’t be sure just when Chante went home, but I know none of us ever got any sleep. We stayed up talking about Bella, still unable to come to grips with the fact that she was dead.

“I’m about to go find this nigga,” I screamed.

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