She looked around to see if anyone was watching, then slipped the hundred-dollar bill under the desk and into her pocket. “You have ID?” she asked.
Greedy bitch.
I handed her my driver’s license, and she printed out a sticker with my name. “Curtain seventeen. Wait at the door to the left, and they’ll buzz you in.”
I snatched up the sticker and attached it to my shirt. A few seconds later, I was in the triage area, looking for my son.
“Mom!”
I saw Paris racing toward me with Sasha right behind her.
“Where’s Rio?” I pulled them into my arms. I could see that they’d both been crying, which made me even more anxious to see my baby.
“They took him to do some X-rays. The doctor told us to wait here,” Paris said, taking me by the hand and leading me into a small room made of curtains.
“Sit here, Aunt Chippy.” Sasha pointed to one of the two empty chairs.
“No thanks, baby. I’m too anxious to sit,” I told her. “What are they saying? Is he hurt bad?”
“They beat him up pretty bad. He was unconscious, but he woke up right before they took him down for X-rays. The doctor says he might have a concussion and a few broken ribs,” Paris replied. “I’m sorry, Mom. I should have never brought him to that club.”
“This is not your fault. That boy lives in those clubs.” I put my arms around her as she cried on my shoulder. Seeing her so upset made me worry even more. Paris was the one child who rarely showed any kind of emotion, and she never cried, unless it was to get her way. She feared nothing and no one, but right now, she was scared.
“I should have stayed and taken care of whoever did this,” Paris said.
“No, you shouldn’t have,” Vegas said as he walked into the tiny room. The bitch at the front desk would be going home with plenty of extra cash that day, I thought.
“We’d just be trading one mess for another. Now, can someone tell me what the hell happened?” Vegas asked.
“We were at a nightclub in Harlem, having a good time,” Sasha said. “Rio went to the bathroom, and when he didn’t come back, I got worried and went looking for Paris. We found him on the bathroom floor, beat really badly.”
“Nobody saw nothing?” Vegas asked.
“We don’t know,” Paris told him. “We were too focused on taking care of Rio until the ambulance arrived. Plenty of people standing around gawking at us, but not one of them stepped up to say shit to us. I should have—”
“So, did they rob him?” I interrupted. “Is that what this was?”
“No, it wasn’t a robbery. They didn’t take anything from him. He still has his wallet, his jewelry, and his phone. It was something else,” Paris said.
“Do you think they targeted him because he’s . . . ?”
“Gay?” Sasha finished my question, shaking her head.
“Nah, definitely not,” Paris answered.
“How do you know? Gay dudes is getting bashed every day,” Vegas said.
I hated the way that sounded, but Vegas wasn’t wrong.
Paris shook her head. “Before Rio went to get X-rays, he told us the guy kept asking about his girl. He kept saying Rio slept with his girl.”
“Yeah, he did, didn’t he?” Sasha chimed in.
“Family of Rio Duncan?” A young guy wearing a white lab coat and blue scrubs entered the cramped space. Vegas stepped aside to make room for him.
“Yes? I’m his mother.”
“I’m Dr. Crandle. I’m treating your son.”
“How is he? Is he okay? Can we bring him home?”
“He’s pretty banged up, ma’am. X-rays show he has a couple of broken ribs and a sprained wrist. He also has a pretty bad concussion, so we took him up for a head CT and a couple of other tests,” Dr. Crandle explained.
“So when can we take him home?” Vegas asked.
“We’re going to hold him overnight for observation. We don’t like to take chances with head injuries. Better safe than sorry.”
“Thank you, doctor.” I shook his hand.
“You’re welcome. That’s one lucky young man. Looks like someone tried to kill him with their bare hands, and they almost succeeded,” the doctor said, placing his iPad under his arm. “He must have had God on his side.”
“Yeah, well the ones who did this are gonna wish they had God on their side,” I whispered to my kids after the doctor left. I glanced at Vegas, and he read my eyes, nodding his understanding. He walked out of the room to go handle his business.
LC
14
There wasn’t an empty parking space at the Marriott in Columbus, Georgia. The lot was overflowing with police cruisers, SUVs, and any other law enforcement vehicle you could imagine. Inside, the Victorian Ballroom was just as crowded with the drivers of those vehicles. Men and women in various uniforms all sat at round tables in front of half-eaten baked chicken and rice pilaf, listening as Derrick Hughes, newly elected president of the National Sheriffs Association, gave his acceptance speech. Tall and broad-shouldered, Derrick had the build of a Marvel superhero and a voice as deep as Barry White’s. It was obvious from the applause that erupted the members in attendance felt he was the right man to lead them.
Junior and I stood in the back of the ballroom, where we’d slipped in unnoticed. I felt a bit of pride and satisfaction as I watched the young man at the podium. Not only had he won the election in his own county in Georgia three years ago, which was no small feat for a black man, but now, he’d been voted into an even higher position of power. The Duncan family donations and political connections had helped him win the election.
Derrick and I made eye contact, and I nodded.
“Now, I’d like to take the time to introduce a man who has been supportive of our organization throughout the years. He’s here to share a few words with us this afternoon. Mr.
