“So, how’d you like to be sheriff again?” He grinned like he could make it happen. “I heard it’s your dream job.”
“Yes, sir. Another year or two as sheriff and a couple of grandkids, and I could die a happy man.” I glanced at Tyler and Elizabeth. “But even a man like you couldn’t make that happen. I’ve got too much baggage. Those pussies in the party will take my money, but they’d never let me on the ballet.”
“You’d be surprised what I can do with the help of my friends—like POTUS. We could have a rally right in El Paso here. He’d endorse you. What the fuck are they gonna do then?”
“Kiss my lily white ass, that’s what they’d do.” I laughed then stared at him hard. “You could really do that?”
“I don’t say things I can’t do,” he replied. “Now, what about the girl?”
“Tell you what. Let me think about it, and I’ll let you know by tomorrow.”
“Sure thing. But what’s there to think about . . . Sheriff?” Greer grinned.
Roman
49
My mother’s hospital room provided a safe haven for us while we tried to figure out our next move. After witnessing Lex and those women get killed, we’d gone underground, staying as far away from the streets as possible. Li’l Al had already heard rumors that some crazy-looking white guy was spreading money around, looking for the driver of the truck. If he was looking for the driver, then no doubt he was looking for the guys that stole it. I’d done a lot of shit with Denny and Al over the years, most of it illegal, but usually it was pretty low risk. Now we’d gotten into something that truly put our lives in jeopardy. To say we were concerned was an understatement.
“You think Lex told him it was us that stole the truck?” I asked.
“Lex wouldn’t sell us out. He was a stand-up dude,” Denny said for the fiftieth time, which pissed me off.
“Dammit, Denny, even if Lex was a standup guy—which I don’t think he was—he had a gun to his head. Whatever the fuck that dude wanted to know, he told him,” I snapped at my friend. “That gangster code of silence you be watching on TV is just Hollywood bullshit. Life on the line, motherfuckers be tellin’ it.”
“Not me. I’m true to this. I ain’t snitching for shit.” He tried to sound hard.
“Bro, I love you, but your pretty ass will be the first to talk if the time comes,” I said, and Li’l Al laughed his ass off. Denny glared at both of us, but deep down, he knew it was true.
When he finally stopped laughing, Li’l Al said, “I don’t know about y’all, but I’m about to steal me a car and go see my people down south. This shit is a little too hot for me.”
“I might just take that ride, too,” Denny replied. “What about you, Rome?”
“Man, you know I can’t leave yet. At least not until . . .” My words drifted off as I looked over at my mother, who was asleep. I could tell that she was getting worse by the day because she was sleeping almost all the time, and when she was awake, she was becoming more and more incoherent.
As if she could sense me talking about her, she moved her arm slightly and opened her eyes. “Roman?”
I slid my chair closer and grabbed her hand. “Yeah, Ma, I’m here.”
“Oh, baby, I’m glad you’re here. I told your brother you would be here so you could talk.”
“Brother?” Denny whispered.
I shook my head at him. “She’s out of it, man. It’s the medicine, probably.”
There was a tapping on the door, and then Dr. Ford walked in the room. He washed his hands at the sink and then came over to check my mother.
“How’re you doing, Ms. Johnson?” His voice was calm and soothing.
My mother didn’t speak. She just nodded at him, and then closed her eyes to go back to sleep.
I stood up and asked, “Man, Doc, what’s going on?”
“Right now, we’re doing everything we can to keep her comfortable. She’s very sick.”
I shook my head angrily. “I need you to do more than make her comfortable. I want her better. Do you know how much fucking money I just paid this hospital? I got the other money for the transplant, too, once we find a donor.”
“Why don’t we talk over here so your mother can rest?” he said as he stepped into the far corner of the room.
I went to stand with him. “What’s going on?”
Dr. Ford took a deep breath and released a sigh. He couldn’t even look me in the eye. “Mr. Johnson, I’m sorry, but your mother’s name has been removed from the transplant list.”
I felt like he’d just punched me in the gut. “What? Why would you do that? You said that’s the only way she would survive.” I began to panic. “I told you I could pay. I got the money.”
“It’s not about the money. With your mother’s age and her weakened state, the transplant coordination team feels that she wouldn’t be able to survive the surgery even if a donor was located,” Dr. Ford said.
“What are you telling me? Are you saying my mother is going to die?” My eyes were welling up as I waited for his answer. I didn’t even care that my boys could see me crying.
He nodded slowly, confirming my fears. “I’m saying that we’ve done all we can at this point.”
I looked back at my mother. She looked so frail and small in that bed. “How much longer does she have?”
“Based on her numbers right now, I would say two weeks, give or take.”
Two weeks. That’s all I had left to spend with my mother. Fourteen days. I should have been spending every last second with her, but instead, I’d been out trying to get the money for a surgery that she was too sick to have.
“Shit,” I whispered, wiping
