“My son died,” he said.
The way her smile faded caused his eyes to flood. He cleared his throat and flicked his nose before lifting the glass to his lips. “Agh,” he hissed and grimaced as the liquor burned on the way down.
“I’m so sorry,” she gasped. “I really wish I could make that go away for you.” She touched his hand, and Demi recoiled like she had put fire to his skin, knocking over his drink as it spilled into his lap. He pushed back from the bar in frustration and dusted off his wet clothes, flicking his wet hand as she scrambled for a bar mop.
“I’m so sorry. I umm...I was just trying to be sympathetic…” She rushed around the bar and reached for more napkins before pressing them to his chest, and Demi lost it.
“Just stop!” he shouted, catching her wrist tightly. The more she tried to clean him up, the more places she touched. Demi was overstimulated in the worst way. “I just need all this shit to stop, man.”
He released her and gripped the edge of the bar, lowering his head. The room was spinning. He had drunk himself into a vortex of sorrow and rage. He just wanted to go home, but home wasn’t waiting. Not with Charlie. Not with Lauren. The woman stood, eyeing him in concern. He grabbed his jacket from the back of the bar stool.
“Wait, you really shouldn’t be driving,” the girl said. She said it like she cared. “Let me at least sober you up a bit. You don’t like being touched. I won’t touch you, but at least let me get you some food and some coffee.”
“I’m good,” he stated. “I can drive.”
“Are you sure there isn’t someone I can call?” she asked.
“My potnah was supposed to pull up,” he responded as he pulled out his phone. He hadn’t even realized it had died. He wanted to call Charlie and put his foot down. He wanted to tell her he was on the way and that they would fight it out until they worked it out, but he was trying to respect her space. The bartender looked at him sympathetically.
It was the look in her eyes that made him feel like less than a man. He had been getting that look since the doctor had delivered the news about DJ. Pity. She pitied him. Everyone did. From friends to strangers, they all saw that he was carrying around baggage, dropping miscellaneous pieces of his heart along this long journey of grief. He kept scrambling, trying to pick himself up off the ground, but it was like the more he tried to recover, the more he failed.
The clock on the wall read 2:10 a.m. He wanted to go to her. His mind wouldn’t focus on anything else. He wondered if she was up, agonizing over him the way he was agonizing over her.Charlie played her guitar, smoked weed, and wrote songs when something bothered her. Sometimes, they would stay up all night sitting in the middle of their living room floor, burning one while she did her thing. He would be a fly on the wall on those nights. Watching her in her element was a privilege. Getting a front-row seat to her process was his comfort zone. Her fingers plucking strings, his fingers plucking her. Demi ate pussy to acoustics every night. It was a fucking vibe. Their entire life. Their whole bond was unlike anything he had ever felt before. He didn’t want to lose her. He didn’t even know how he had fumbled her. He took the coffee down in a few swallows, eager to sober up so he could go to her. If she wanted him to beg, so be it. He would.
He stood and placed a few hundred dollars on the bar top before he turned and walked out of the building.
He knew he was fucked up, but it wouldn’t be the first time he had to make it home on one too many. He hit the alarm and the remote start on his car as he walked across the dark parking lot. It wasn’t until he got right up on his door that he saw the reflection of the man behind him in the window. It was too late to react.
POP! POP!Two gunshots were all it took to end his misery. He felt nothing and everything all at once as his body tried to open his car door. He collapsed on the inside of the seats as he heard a familiar voice.
“Did you kill him? Is he dead?”
Bitch-ass nigga,Demi thought. It was Justin’s voice. Justin had sent somebody to kill him, and Demi didn’t know if it was justice or karma that had come back for him as he bled out all over his seats.
He couldn’t move his head, but he reached up with a bloody hand, desperately feeling around his steering wheel for the call button.
There was only one number programmed into his car’s system. When he pressed it, it dialed Charlie’s number. Blood poured from his mouth, and he could feel himself suffocating slowly as it filled his lungs. The phone went straight to voicemail.
“Bii—rddd!” he gritted. It took all his might to get her name out. “He…” He grimaced because he knew he wouldn’t be able to get much more out, and he had to choose these words carefully. He started to say help me, but he knew that once she got this message, it would be too late. So, instead, he told her what he wanted her to know most. “I love…” He was sipping air in, but not enough, and his vision blurred. “You.”
I love you, Bird. I’m sorry,he finished the thought in his head before everything went still.
The Next Morning
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Charlie sighed as she put down the paintbrush in her hands. She had been trying to busy herself to distract from her loneliness. Painting her daughter’s nursery had sounded like a good idea before she started. It was proving to be a task. She was grateful for the unexpected interruption. She placed the brush down and made her way to the front door, pulling it open without checking the security monitor.
“What do you want?” Charlie asked as soon as she saw Stassi standing on her doorstep.
“I want to see how you’re doing. You haven’t returned any of my calls,” Stassi said. “I’m worried about you!”
“Now you’re worried,” Charlie replied sarcastically. “The selective concern is crazy.”
“Charlie, I’m sorry, damn.” Stassi didn’t have a problem giving in first. She understood why Charlie was upset. “Bitch, are you gon’ make me stand out here in the cold? I know I got some ass kissing to do, but can I be warm while I do it?”
Charlie hated that she could never remain firm with Stassi. She sucked her teeth and turned around. “Bring your disloyal ass inside,” she spat before storming off to the living room.
“You’re starting to poke out a little,” Stassi said, noticing Charlie’s tiny baby bump.
