“Stupid ass niggas.” Biggie leaned out his window, and with much difficulty, tried aiming behind them at the sports car.
When they rammed the back of the truck, Biggie let off a round, cracking the windshield of the car. Inside, he saw a bunch of lil’ niggas and Antonio in the passenger seat. He fired again while Antonio and another young nigga in the back fired at the truck.
“Fuck! Stick to the side streets, but don’t slow up, D,” Biggie ordered.
“Already on it,” Demo hollered as he kept calm control over the truck.
Biggie and Antonio exchanged shots. The entire windshield shattered in theChallenger, which must have pissed the driver off because he sped up and pulled alongside Biggie. Hot led grazed his ear, and his body tensed, realizing how close that had been. Ignoring the stinging in his ear, Biggie focused on the young niggas in the back, who now fired at him relentlessly as he tried to make himself small in the front seat while still firing back. He popped up enough to hit one of the guys in the back before quickly ducking down again.
“You gotta swerve these niggas, man. Lose them!” Biggie said through gritted teeth.
“The fuck you think I’m tryna do?” Demo said, swerving and hitting turns like his life depended on it, because it did.
Biggie focused back on the threat and popped back up, aiming for the back once again. Bullets tore through his shoulder, and he gritted down in pain as he fired two more shots, hitting the other nigga in the backseat. He focused on the driver next, since he couldn’t get a clear shot on Antonio from his position, and God must have been with him that day because his shot went clear through the driver’s head.
“Speed up,” Biggie shouted, watching as the car swerved out of control. Antonio took one more shot, hitting Biggie in his chest, and the look of fear on Antonio’s face, as the car spun out of control was the last thing he saw before darkness took completely over.
ELEVEN
Tuesday sworeher heart was doing its best to leap right out of chest. Getting that call from Demo was not in her plans for the night nor on her Bingo card for the year. Hell, it wasn’t in her plans ever. She wasn’t sure what to do other than call her mom and tell her to keep Wallis overnight while she sped towardBloomfield Memorial Hospital.
Now that she was there, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. This was exactly what she had been scared about, and somehow, she wondered if this was her fault. Had she unintentionally manifested harm to Biggie?
“I need to know what room Biggie—I mean Wallis Harper. I need to know where he is,” she said frantically as she approached the desk near theIntensive Care Unitwhere Demo texted her Biggie was from Biggie’s phone.
“Ma’am, there’s a line?—”
“I don’t give a fuck about these people! Wallis Harper!”
She heard people complaining behind her, but she really didn’t give a fuck. She was in rare form, thanks to Biggie, and she only prayed she had the chance to cuss him out about it later.
“Ma’am, I’m going to have to call security if you don’t?—”
Tuesday opened her mouth to cuss the blond haired woman out, when a voice behind her called out.
“Tuesday?”
Whirling around, her eyes landed on Demo. Relief and anger surged through her as she marched over to him with her squinted eyes and tears gathering in them.
“Where the fuck is he, Demo? What happened? What did you two get into?”
She fired off question after question, poking her manicured nail in his chest. That was when she noticed the blood staining Demo’s white T-shirt, and she stilled; all the blood drained from her face.
Demo noticed her staring and let out an exasperated breath, grabbing her by the shoulders and steering her toward the hallway of rooms. The only thing Tuesday registered was the distinct smell of the hospital. She hated it. It churned her stomach and made her nose scrunch up as tears listlessly fell from her eyes.
Stepping inside a private waiting room, Demo ushered her to a chair before sliding the door closed, shutting out the sounds of the hospital. She watched as he paced in front of her; thoughts running wild in her mind.
“Is he dead?” she finally whispered, dreading the answer. She folded her arms over her waist and bent, doing her best to hold herself together. She thought of her son. Her heart broke for the brief moments him and Biggie spent together. It wasn’t nearly enough. How was she supposed to tell him he would never see his father again? And her…she would never be able to tell him how she felt…or even explore her feelings…
“No, he’s not dead. God was lookin’ out for both of us. He was shot three times, but that nigga is strong. He’s alive, Tuesday.”
She hadn’t even realized she sprang out of her seat; relief flooding her as tears spilled out of her eyes rapidly. She clutched onto Demo’s bloodied shirt, stopping him from pacing.
“He’s alive?”
He peered down at her with sad eyes and nodded slowly.
“Yeah, but I almost lost him, man. Shit could have gone real bad tonight, Tuesday.”
