That’s all I told her. We stayed another twenty minutes, talking as she opened up and told me about supposed to be going to see her best friend after a procedure without sharing details that were not hers to tell. I told her BJ had called about Marv, but I left out the part about cocaine until I could confirm how far gone he was. She asked about my office. I asked about her baking orders. The conversation moved easier once we stopped pressing it toward an answer.
When I dropped her back at the hospital parking lot, the sky had turned dark. Her car sat beneath a light near the employee entrance. I pulled into the empty space beside it and put the truck in park. Navy reached for her tote, then paused with one hand on the door handle. “Thank you for coming.”
“You called.”
“That doesn’t mean you had to.”
“I wanted to and when I want to, I’ll come every time.” I let her know.
She looked at me in that quiet way she had, like she was trying to read through my soul. Then she leaned across the console and kissed my cheek. It was brief but soft enough that I felt the warmth of it after she had already pulled away.
“Drive safe,” she said.
I watched her climb down from the truck and walk toward her Benz. She turned around one time before opening the door, caught me still watching, and smiled. I waited until her car started before pulling away and then I called Marv and he answered on the fourth ring with noise blasting in the background.
“What?” he snapped.
“Where you at?”
“Why?”
“BJ called me.”
He laughed, quick and humorless. “Man, BJ worry about every fucking thing.”
“She said you came over high.” I told him. Marv needed to get his shot together. “Just like you still high now.”
“Fuck you.” he spat.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Fuck you too. Where are you?”
He kept dodging the question. “Why you keep asking me that?”
“Because I’m trying to talk to you.”
“We talking.”
“No, you ranting in my fucking ear.”
Marv said something away from the phone, then returned louder. “You know what the problem is? Everybody think I’m crazy because I’m the only nigga paying attention.”
“To what?”
“To all this shit happening around us.”
This nigga sounded crazy. “What shit?”
“Paper.”
I turned the music down in my truck even though it was already low. “What about him?”
“That nigga been working for Navy husband. Showing up places he ain’t got no business being, asking questions. Rome been having that nigga watch us. I know fa’sho Paper shot me.”
“You got proof?”
“You always need proof when it ain’t your idea.”
“I need proof because you been sniffing powder and talking like somebody planted a microphone in BJ smoke detector.”
