It took every ounce of strength I had, but I peeled my stinky ass out of bed and headed for the shower. Washing my nappy, matted hair with one hand was a frustrating exercise in patience and an extender of my vocabulary, but I somehow managed to get it and my body clean without God sending fire down to purge my filthy mouth.
After dressing and blowing out my hair, I felt almost human again, so I returned to my room to pack. I was kneeling on my floor and pulling clothes from the bottom drawers of my dresser when Naomi stormed into my room looking like she was about to send my ass into orbit. Marching over to stop in front of me, she rested her hands on her hips and fixed me with one hell of a glare. My friend had lost the rest of her baby weight, but her body was clinging onto the massive boobs she’d gained with pregnancy. From my position on the floor, I got an eyeful of them.
Needing to diffuse the situation before her head blew off, I smiled. “Hey. You look good, Nae. Still nursing, I take it.”
Steam rolled out of her ears, billowing into a cloud of angry above her head. “Fuck you. You look like shit.”
Apparently we were skipping the pleasantries and hopping right in the ring. “Gee, thanks.” Mentally putting on my boxing gloves, I braced for her attack.
“I talked to you three weeks ago and you told me you were being deployed. Imagine my surprise when your mom called today to inform me that you lost your arm—and clearly your fuckin’ mind—in a car accident over a month before we spoke. I knew she had to be mistaken, because there’s no way in hell my best friend would have been in so much as a fender-bender and not called me, because we’re tight like that. So, when I couldn’t reach you to confirm, I called down to the base and threatened to maim and kill a few people until I found out the truth. Several of our mutual friends admitted they’d been specifically asked—by you—not to tell me you’d almost died and were out of the service.”
“Almost diedis extreme and dramatic. The doctors had it under control.”
Her gaze dropped to my arm and tears flooded her eyes. “Trust me, Monie Love, your near-death experience has only just begun.”
Stocks
THE CLOSER WE got to Portland, the more Naomi fumed. As she drove, we barreled down the freeway at speeds ranging from seventy to ninety depending on a fury level that seemed to be washing over her in waves.
“Can you believe this bullshit?” she asked me for the umpteenth time. “Her arm, for chrissake. She lost herarmand didn’t bother to call me. This isn’t some minor wound or a bullshit assignment, all of which she’s told me about, I might add. It’s a… a fucking body part! You don’t understand, Stocks, we tell each other everything.Everything. I can’t even tell you how much shit she flicked me because I waited a few weeks to tell her Imightbe pregnant. I didn’t even know for sure and she was pissed at me!”
No response seemed safe, so I took another sip of my coffee to buy a few more precious moments of my silence.
“Try her again, please.” Naomi pointed to the phone on her dashboard.
Swiping the cell on, I hit the phone button, tried the last dialed number, and put it on speaker. Five rings, and then the call went to voicemail where Monica’s recording informed us she was unavailable and requested we leave a message. I looked to Naomi, and she nodded for me to let it play. The tone sounded.
“I don’t know why you think you can ghost me, but I would drive to the ends of the earth to kick your ass at this point, Monie. Portland is nothing. I’m comin’ for you, and when I get there, you’re going to regret not making me your first call after the accident.” Naomi gestured at me, and I pressed the end call button. “I’m going to kill her. No, I can’t kill her because I fuckin’ love that crazy, stubborn, shady-ass bitch. You know, it’s not even that she didn’t tell me about the accident, it’s that she flat out lied! She told me she was being deployed. Oh, I’m gonna deploy her ass, all right. I’ll kick it from here to Iran, then she can tell me how deployed she is. We don’tlieto each other. What the hell was she thinking? She had to know I’d find out eventually. Did she really plan to keep this from me forever?”
I was only half paying attention to her rant, occasionally nodding, or shaking my head where a response seemed required so she wouldn’t turn her ire onto me. Truth be told, I was still in shock about Monica’s injury. I wouldn’t wish an amputated limb on my worst enemy, but Monica…. How could such a terrible thing happen to someone so… perfect? She was amazing. Why did fate have to go and fuck with her?
Remembering what I’d gone through when I lost my leg, I couldn’t help but wonder how she was coping. What kind of support was she getting? Had she gotten fitted for her prosthetic yet? Was she experiencing the weird phantom itching that often plagued me? I had so many questions.
More than anything, I was worried about her. The Monica I’d had the pleasure of spending the night with was beautiful beyond belief and unshakable in her confidence. She made me laugh, she made me come more times than I ever thought was possible, and she was the only woman I’d been with that didn’t seem to give a fuck about my prosthetic leg. That was probably the best night of my life. I’d thought about her often over the months, wondering if I’d ever see her again. I’d even considered asking Naomi for Monica’s number, but didn’t want to overstep any boundaries.
Deep down, I always knew I’d see her again, and the next time we connected, I wanted to have my shit together. Never having considered myself to be king material, I wanted to be the kind of man a queen like her deserved. Maybe a consort? It would be nice to take our relationship beyond one night.
I’d wanted to relate to her, but on her level, not on mine.
Now we’d have lots in common and it fucking sucked.
Reflecting on how hard it had been for me to come home wounded, I was anxious to check up on her. Since Monica hadn’t told Naomi about the accident, she was distancing herself from the friends who’d keep it real with her. Never a good sign. “You think she’s okay?” I asked, unintentionally interrupting Naomi’s tirade.
Naomi’s mouth snapped shut, and she stared at me, making me nervous as hell since she needed to keep her eyes on the road. Just when I was about to point out that she needed to watch where we were going, her shoulders slumped, and she looked forward. “No. If I thought she was okay, I wouldn’t have brought you along. She’s most definitely not okay, but as soon as I kick her ass, we’ll get her the help she needs.” Naomi chewed on her bottom lip, looking every bit as worried as I felt.
We’d both lost people. Hell, I knew a guy who ate a bullet during basic. Life sometimes felt like too big of a burden to carry, no matter how strong a person was. Tense silence filled the space between us, making me sorry I’d said anything at all. By the time we parked in front of a gated beige-colored bungalow in northeast Portland, my asshole was clenching and Naomi’s fingers were white from gripping the steering wheel. She slowly unclenched them and climbed out of the car, stretching as she eyed the house.
“What’s the game plan?” I asked, joining her on the sidewalk.
“Honestly? I’m probably gonna walk in there and lose my shit, and then you’re gonna have to come in and deescalate the situation.”
Chuckling, I nodded. “So… bad cop, good cop?”
“More like triggered inmate, reasonable warden. Just don’t let me end up in actual jail. I have a baby to take care of now.”
Glad to see that her priorities were still in order, I followed her up to the door and waited as she knocked. A gorgeous woman who looked like she had to be Monica’s older sister answered the door.
Naomi embraced the woman and turned to face me. “Mrs. Johnson, this is Stocks, a…friendof Monica’s.”
