“This is a crime scene. You can’t go in there,” the detective told him when he tried to step past him.
“Fine. I’ll call my security company. They should have video footage. Is there anything else you need? I need to get to the hospital and check on my old man.”
“You’re free to go. For now,” the detective countered.
Heavy didn’t remember being in traffic. He just knew he arrived at the hospital and left his car in the emergency lot. When he stepped into the ER, he found Viggo pacing outside the double doors next to the check-in desk.
“V, what’s going on?”
“I don’t fucking know! They wouldn’t let me back there. He looked bad, Heav. Real bad.” Viggo had tears in his eyes. “I had to call Petal. She lost her mind. Pri is on her way to get Pierre, and Henna’s gonna drive Petal over.” He paced the whole time he talked, clearly sober while checking the clock above the doors every few seconds.
“Aight, have a seat.” Heavy gripped his shoulder, not forceful, but gently enough to get Viggo to catch his breath and lower himself into a chair. “Let me see if I can find out what’s going on.”
Seemed like they’d been sitting around forever, waiting for word on Horace. Most of the Sapien family had gathered in the waiting room. Heavy sat on the edge of his chair, hands clasped together in front of his face as he did a slight rock. To his left, Henna leaned forward in an awkward sleeping position, and Toussaint was stretched out with his fitted over his face and arms folded to his right. Viggo held up the wall, hands in the pocket of his jeans with one foot kicked up. It was Petal that Heavy was most worried about, wearing the floor out with her pacing and prayer.
“I know he better be alright. We agreed I go first.” She aimed a finger at her chest and griped.
“Petal, you really gon’ leave us alone with him?” Viggo queried. “Why y’all can’t just go together?”
“Are you the Sapien family?” a young, white male in a white coat and green scrubs emerged through the double doors.
Heavy and Toussaint jumped up while Henna stirred and sat up in her chair.
“How is my husband?” Petal asked, wringing her hands together anxiously.
“We have him stabilized. There was some internal bleeding, which we were able to repair. He suffered a nasty concussion and a bunch of bruised ribs, but we expect him to make a full recovery. He is older, so it may take a little more time. He’s been moved to recovery right now if you would like to see him before they move him up to his room. We’d like to keep him for a couple of days just to monitor him.”
“I want to see him. Right now,” Petal voiced.
“Okay. You can come with me. I’m Dr. Raynor.”
“I got something I need to do.” Heavy broke away from his family and headed for the exit.
“Wait, Heav, you’re not going to see him?” Henna checked.
“I’ll be back. Just tell him I love him, and I’ll see him later.”
“Be careful, son.” Toussaint adjusted the cap on his head.
“You sure you don’t need some back up?” Viggo called out, but Heavy was already walking out, on a mission.
His entire family read the look on his face. He’d been anxious this whole time. It was obvious from the way he kept fidgeting and tapping his damn foot that vengeance was on his mind. Since he was still on probation, Toussaint had done his best to keep his nose clean. He made a promise to himself when he got out that he was never going back. His kids were grown, and his father was old, but his family still needed him around. He hopedhis son wouldn’t follow in his footsteps and allow the streets to grab a hold of him and not let go. Heavy had always been smart and better than that, but sometimes certain things couldn’t be helped, and people pushed you beyond your limits.
EIGHT
SAME OL’ G
A couple of days later…
“Yeah, Esti. Go ahead and send the draft. I’ll look over it and get it back to you before lunch.”
Alonzo strolled into the kitchen, dapper in his gray suit and white shirt with his briefcase in hand. There was a pause then laughter from him, low and private, which left Giselle stiffening at the kitchen sink as she rinsed dishes off to put into the open dishwasher.
“You know you the only one who gets my calendar right and keeps me tight. See you soon.”
He ended the call and glanced around at the twins at the table, swinging their little legs and stuffing their faces with the French toast sticks, turkey bacon, and eggs their mother had prepared. Sunlight pooled through the gauzy curtains onto the gleaming marble floors of their kitchen. The house was immaculate, every cushion in place, every surface clean enough to eat off. It resembled a magazine spread rather than a home.
In her silk loungewear and Ugg slippers on her feet, Giselle moved through the kitchen, humming to herself as her children ate and talked to each other in their breakfast nook.
