RIPPED & READY (PART 42)

RIPPED & READY (PART XLII)

I was checking the vitals of one the patients I was responsible for, so I didn't see Anita when she left.  It was evident to me that she had, indeed, been suspended -- for how long, I didn't know; however, since the ward was hot, I decided to wait until my first break to get a call into my girl.  From the current patient's room I was in, I could see the flurry of non-African Americans flocking around the front desk, surrounding Hog-e-tha.  

Molly was bubbling like an RC-Cola (RC had that kick that burned the back of your throat going down--they just don't make soda's like they used to).  I know it was the highlight of her day because, let me tell you, the last real dick she saw was probably on one of those country ass hicks she grew up around when she was younger (The girl was raised on a farm back in Oklahoma ya'll). 

Her clan put the "Billy" in hillbillies.

I remember when she was sharing her family reunion pictures with everybody last year; Anita couldn't wait to get me alone to say what she really wanted to say.  She said, "Marco, did you see all them slouchy ass, beer bellied, straw hat wearing motherfuckers? Chile I know there has to be a couple of sheep gettin' it daily," she said, cackling like a hen that had just dropped an egg.

Damn, I cannot count the number of times that Anita has capped on Molly.  I was afraid for my girl too.  Anita was born and raised in Bronx New York.  She had only been out in California for five years, and still had a back-east-attitude as well as that fiery I-don't-give-a-fuck mentality. 

As soon as the clock hit 10:00am, I took break outside to get the rundown from my girl.  I passed the front desk and Molly was chortling and giggling her ass off.  I knew she was talking about Anita like a dog. 

On my way out to the courtyard I ran into Harvey Middleton, this heavenly mocha-almond-fudge colored brotha (You could damn near swim in his dimples).  He was the security guard for our area, as well as, one of my folks from the old neighborhood.  This man had muscles on top of muscles.  The blue short-sleeve-guard- shirt of his uniform, always strained around his upper arms.  All of the women flirted with him daily, but he only had eyes for his beautiful wife, Larissa Dixon (Dixon was her maiden name) but, like D’Andre, he loved the attention.

Usually we made eye contact, did the head up nod (brotha-man-style), smiled, and passed each other, but he stopped me this morning to tell me some breaking news from the old neighborhood. 

"Hey, Marco, wassup, brotha man?" He asked, looking around (apparently not wanting to draw attention to the personal conversation we were having). 

"Aww, you know dude, just trying to make a living," I told him, trying to sound cool.  If he knew I was gay, he never mentioned it, which was fine by me. 

Don't ask don't tell, that was my motto. (I had signed on to the Bill Clinton philosophy).  

Hey, I told you I was working on it.  (Sorry Antwon, your cuz is still a work in progress).

"Brotha man, did you hear about your boy Collin?" he asked, putting his hand on my shoulder. 

Collin! What the fuck? I had just received twenty "M6" text messages from him yesterday, so what the hell could've happened between yesterday and today?

"Naw, man, what's up with Collin?" I asked, frazzled with anticipation waiting to hear what it was he had to say.

"Man, he got jumped by a few dudes from that gang in E.P.A.". 

What!

"Do you know if he's okay, Harvey?" I asked, in a panic. 

"Shoot, dude, I don't know.  My girl told me that her girlfriend from around the way said that she saw the paramedics put him on a stretcher, and zoom off in an "ama-lams" brotha," He said, rubbing his chin, recognizing the shock on my face as an indication of me not knowing.

"Aww, man, I'm sorry, I thought you knew, Fam," he said. 

"No, thanks for telling me, bro," I gave him the soul brotha-half-hug-shake. 

Oh my God...Oh my dear God...Please let him be okay!

I nervously started fumbling around with my cell phone, dropping it to the ground, and then picking it up quickly.  I was trying to remember Tootchie's cell phone number but my thoughts were so distorted that I couldn’t get the numbers in the correct order.  

Instead of trying to remember it, I rushed back upstairs and told Clyde that I needed to leave, it was a family emergency. 

He said, "Oh, wow, I hope everything is okay...do you know..." I cut him off before he could complete another word. 

"Clyde, as soon as I know something, I'll call you and fill you in, right now I need to go," I said, racing past him to head to the parking lot. 

Oh my God...Oh my God....!!!!!!

I had to get back to Anita, Collin came first right now.