"Goyo's dead," Constance said, facing him. "He couldn't let that nipple go." Brice jerked his elbow for her to move from the bed. She rolled her eyes. "You don't want me to kiss your boo-boos."She placed her fingers on his lips. Goyo's kidnapped your girl Yasmine. Don't worry she safe."
Brice twisted his face away. He knew she was staying with his Uncle Jace. He couldn't trust Constance what she said or did. Breathing the smell of espresso and croissant, he admired her silk blouse and cashmere shawl. It made her out to resemble a lady with a large bank account and a stable mind. The clothes and her were deceiving, giving him a rush with just a touch.
Constance left as Qadira and Dwayne entered. They stood at the end of Brice bed. Qadira held a couple of his toes. Tubes were hooked to him. his reflection off the monitor nearest his bed showing his jaw wrapped and shoulder. He tried to mouth hello; he blinked his eyes.
"Jason and PP are out the way," Dwayne said. "Cody is free." He threw his hands in the air.
"What we know is they are dead," Qadira said. "But Cody being free is a wait and see since a new guy Obdulio is living in the Tattle Tale gang's house and Vapor is out on bail."
"Who told you this?"
Qadira paused and smirked. "Khalilah, she's attending Southfield High School."
"She thinks she knows it all," Dwayne said.
"Who is all knowing?" Lt. Vinsetta ushered in by a nurse in a wheelchair. "Hi, folks," Qadira moved behind Dwayne. Brice laughed, believing he faired better than Lt. Vinsetta with stitches over his body and bandages wrapped on other parts. The ones with blood spotting on them needed changing. How long had he been here? He closed his eyes.
"Let, Brice gets some rest," Lt. Vinsetta said.
"Qadira, have you seen your dad? Would you tell me if you did?" The nurse pulled the door and backed him out through the narrow opening.
"I told you, don't say nothing," Dwayne said. "They won't find your father living in his own house as long as you keep quiet. They searched it."
"My dad has his death sentence living with my mother."
"We have to start the basketball tournament," he whispered holding the door. "Did you pick up the trophies,"
Qadira approached Brice's face, bending over to his ear. "Thank you for giving me peace to sleep. I know I'm living not surviving."
Brice's sweat had been caught by the gauze as he struggled to reach to squeeze her hand.
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