Marcus came back around the corner and almost walked into me, he looked surprised for just a second.
“My bad,” he said.
“You good,” I smirked. But gave him a knowing look that put visible fear in his heart.
He walked back toward the waiting room and I stood there. I looked at the wall and held the water bottle but didn’t move for a long time.
BJ.
I finally had a thread.
And I was going to pull it until everything attached to it came undone. I had to be sure on this one.
When the doctor finally told me that I could see my brother, I rushed to his room. Mazi was sitting up in the hospital bed when I walked in looking like he already knew everything that was about to come out of my mouth. It looked like he was already disappointed in his damn self.
Good. That saved us time some time.
I pulled the chair from the corner and sat down right in front of him. I looked at him for a long moment without saying anything. The look that I gave him said it all. He had a bandage wrapped around his left arm from the shoulder down to the elbow and an IV in his right hand. He looked young sitting there under those hospital lights. Too young. Like the little boy I used to pick up from school when our moms had a double shift and couldn’t get there in time. I knew this shit had scared him, and I was glad for that.
That little boy who always looked up to me, that’s who I kept seeing when I looked at him and it made what I needed to say harder and more necessary at the same time.
“Talk to me. Did I not give you everything you needed and wanted?”
He looked at the blanket across his lap. “Street—”
“Don’t Street me. Talk to me.”
He let out a breath and looked up. “I needed money. My portion of the housing costs went up for next semester and I didn’t want to ask you because I know how much you already put out for us and I just—” He stopped. “I thought I could flip something fast and be done with it before anybody knew.”
“Before anybody knew? And why the fuck are you lying? You don’t need money when I deposit that shit into both y’all banks monthly. We not struggling no more bro, so I don’t want to hear that shit.” I got louder than I wanted to. “Mazi you got shot.”
“It was a graze.”
“Three inches to the left it wasn’t a graze. Three inches to the left I’m identifying your body tonight instead of sitting in this chair.” I leaned forward. “You understand what I’m saying to you? Not talking about a close call. I’m talking about you being dead and me having to call Mama and tell her that I lost you out here in these same streets I have been fighting to keep you away from your whole life.”
He looked away and I could see his jaw working.
“Look at me,” I said.
He looked at me.
“What would you have done if this was serious? What happens to your season? What happens to your draft stock. What happens to everything you worked for since you were fourteen years old running routes in the backyard because you wanted to be something.” I kept my voice low and even because raising it wasn’t going to accomplish anything right now. “You’re twenty two years old going into your senior year with NFL scouts already watching your film and you out here getting shot outside a trap house like some low level hood nigga. You know what that story does to your career if it gets to the wrong people?”
He didn’t say anything.
“Who you working for? Who in the right mind around this muthafucka gave you drugs?
His eyes shifted. Just slightly. But I caught it.
“Mazi. Don’t play with me tonight! You know what I just left to be here with yo ass?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“You better hope you’re fully healed before fall camp starts because if your arm isn’t right and your numbers drop that’s on you. Not me. Not Mama. You.” I sat back. “And you’re going to tell me who you’re working for eventually. Tonight or next week or next month but you’re going to tell me.”
He stayed quiet and I let him stay quiet because pushing him right now wasn’t going to get me anywhere and I had other things on my mind that needed answering.
“Bri came up here tonight,” I said.
