“You listen to me, boy,” I said through clenched teeth. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but I’m the last person on earth you should be threatening. You ain’t even from ’round these parts, so I suggest you get your black ass back to Georgia and get back there fast. And tell whoever these mutual friends are that if they got something to say, they better come do it themselves, because I know where all the bodies are buried, and I have no problem digging them up.” I spat on the ground, just barely missing his shoes to make my point.
I expected Hughes to back off, but instead, he took another step in my direction and smiled as he bent down to whisper in my ear. “No, boy, you listen to me, and you listen closely, because that good ol’ boy bullshit is over. This ain’t a threat like you think it is. It’s a warning.”
The screen door opened, and Tyler walked out, standing toe to toe with the nigger sheriff.
“Everything okay out here, Daddy?”
Hughes looked him up and down. “You must be Tyler. Nice to meet you.” He tipped his hat. “You gentlemen have a fine day, you hear?”
I stood and watched as he stepped off the porch and whistled for the other three men. They climbed into their cars, one with Georgia plates and the other with Arkansas plates. Roscoe started walking toward his own car.
“Roscoe!” I yelled at him.
“Yeah, KD?” he asked just as he was about to get in.
“Don’t bother putting your name on that ballot come reelection time. You wouldn’t wanna waste your time and money for something you’re gonna lose. Now, get the fuck off my property.”
Roscoe looked like he was thinking about replying, but then he must have realized there was no point in trying to reason with me. He got into his car and drove off in the same direction as the other vehicles.
“What was that all about?” Tyler asked.
“That, son, is a great big pain in the ass that appeared out of nowhere.” I watched the out-of-town sheriff’s vehicles kick up dirt as they headed down the private road and off my land. “A pain in the ass I suspect was sent by LC Duncan.”
Roman
24
The volume of the television was as high as it could go, but it was still difficult to hear—not that I was paying attention to the random HGTV show on the screen. I’d convinced my aunt to leave for a little while, promising that I’d call if there was any change in Mom’s condition. There hadn’t been. She was still asleep. Seemed like she was sleeping most of the time. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.
“Man, that’s crazy,” Denny said. He’d been sitting with me for a while.
“What?” I turned to see what he was talking about.
“They paid like a hundred grand for that house and sold it for like almost three hundred?” He pointed to the television hanging in the corner of the room.
“Yeah, because they pretty much made a whole new house,” I told him.
“I’m saying, you know how much profit they made just by adding some paint, hardwood floors, crown molding, and a farm sink?” Denny looked like he was deep in thought as he counted on his fingers.
“Did you say farm sink?” I tried not to laugh. “Nigga, what the fuck you know about a farm sink?”
“I’m just saying, maybe we in the wrong business. Maybe we need to be flipping houses,” he argued.
“Sounds good. Lemme know when you get that general contractor license. Matter of fact, lemme know when you figure out what a farm sink is for real,” I said, laughing.
“You can laugh all you want, but that’s where the money is.”
The fact that Denny was serious made this conversation even more humorous to me.
“It’s plenty of boarded up places in the neighborhood I’m sure we can get for cheap,” he continued. “We can do this, Rome.”
“Slow ya roll, Nipsey Hussle. We ain’t ready to buy back the block just yet,” I said.
“Mr. Johnson?” A short, older white woman knocked before she walked in with a middle-aged black woman.
“Yeah?” I sat up.
“Hi, I’m Rebecca Naples with hospital billing, and this Nadine Walker from City Hospital Hospice Care. We came to talk to you about your mother.” She spoke softly.
“Hospice?” I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“Yes sir, the hospital social worker sent me up here,” Walker answered. “Your mother’s condition . . .”
I glanced over at my mother, who was still asleep, then back to the lady. “Can we talk about this somewhere else? I don’t wanna do this here.”
“Of course. I understand. We can go into the waiting room down the hall.”
“Hey, man,” I said to Denny.
“I got Ma. Go do what you gotta do. I’ll be here with her,” he told me.
I followed the ladies into the small room with FAMILY CONFERENCE on the door.
Entering the room, I blurted out, “My mother ain’t going into no hospice.”
They sat, then Naples began speaking in the same soft voice. “Unfortunately, Mr. Johnson, your mother is uninsured, and the charges for care are excessive. We can’t continue to care for her here. She’s too sick.”
“Do you know how crazy you sound, lady? She’s too sick for you to take care of her? That’s bullshit and you know it. Y’all greedy asses is just thinkin’ about the money, not about what’s best for my momma.”
She opened up her mouth to start talking, but I kept going, raising my voice to drown out whatever she was trying to say.
“First of all, I know she’s sick, but she’s gonna get better. Dr. Ford is tryin’a set up her kidney transplant. So she ain’t leaving here,” I finished forcefully.
“I’m sorry, but that’s hospital policy. My hands are tied due to her current state of health and the outstanding bill she already owes.”
“How much is the fucking bill?” I yelled. “I’ll pay it.”
They gave each
