“Mr., please take that card off my dresser. I ain’t goin’ to be needin’ that,” she assured him. “I don’t play those games.”
“You sure?” the police officer asked unbelievably.
“Trust me. I’m as sure as I’ll ever be,” she explained.
Suddenly there was a knock on the door. The policemen took that as their cue to exit the room. They were frustrated that they hadn’t gotten anywhere with the victim.
“I hope this decision that you’ve made doesn’t come back to haunt you, young lady. Your life could be in grave danger,” Police Officer Campbell said as he removed his business card from the table.
Another knock on the door only served to hasten the police officers’ exit.
“Sorry for disturbing you,” Officer Campbell commented, replacing his business card back in his wallet. “Enjoy the rest of your day. Get well soon.”
At the door, Tone contemplated for a few seconds, thinking maybe it wasn’t a good idea to visit Netta now. Maybe he should come back later. He didn’t like the police. He didn’t want to make himself a target of any investigation that they might already have underway. He didn’t want to jump from the frying pan into the fire.
Tone had been at the door for a few minutes, he practically overheard their entire conversation. He was proud how Netta had stood up to the police and didn’t snitch. Personally, he knew more than a few dudes who would have told if placed in the same situation, if their life was on the line and they felt like they weren’t going to make it. He couldn’t heap enough praise on her for holding her tongue.
“Yes, come in,” Netta answered, anxious to end this conversation.
As the cops marched out the room, pissed off after dealing with a hostile witness, they literally ran into Tone as he entered the room.
“Pardon me,” Tone said as he sidestepped the duo.
The police officers nodded their heads, curiously eyeing Tone as he walked past.
“I’m not even suppose to be up here. They was sayin’ you still couldn’t have no visitors, but I snuck up here anyway. Good to see you pulled through. I don’t mean to scare you, but shit wasn’t lookin’ too good for a minute,” Tone said, handing her a bouquet of flowers. “I ain’t tryin’ to be all up in ya bizness, but what was that all about?”
“The cops came to pay me a visit. They wanted to talk about my lil incident,” Netta explained.
Looking at the beautiful flowers, Netta had suddenly become self-conscious. She became aware how off her game she was. How messy her physical appearance must be with most of her weave snatched out of her head. With her broken nails and her face all battered and bruised.
Tone noticed the sudden change in her facial expression. Somehow he sensed how insecure Netta must feel. He told her a few words of encouragement.
“Yo, you good Ma. Don’t even sweat it. I know you seen way better days,” he proclaimed.
His vote of confidence went a long way with Netta as she relaxed around him, feeling good enough to drop her guard. The comment made her smile. Tone could have been anywhere in Baltimore at the moment, doing god knows what, but he thought enough about her to come be at her bedside.
“Excuse my hair, face and nails. I know I must look a mess, but under the circumstances it is what it is,” she admitted.
“Shit happens,” he added. “It’s just not ya fault.”
There was an awkward pause between them as Netta took time to deeply inhale the perfume scented roses. She was showing her appreciation for everything since God had given her a new lease on life.
She continued, “Could you do me a favor?”
“Yeah, what is it?” Tone wondered.
“Could you go downstairs and buy me a scarf for my head. At least until I can do somethin’ wit’ my hair,” she asked.
“I got you,” Tone told her. “Yo, I’ll be right back.”
Quickly, Tone returned with a decent headscarf from the gift shop. He handed it over to Netta and she immediately pulled her hair back and put the scarf on her head. Finally, she felt halfway decent.
“Anything else I could get you?” he asked before taking a seat in a lounge chair next to the bed.
“No, I’m good,” she said.
“Some food or something to drink?” he declared.
“Not right now, maybe later,” she confessed. “I know you probably wonderin’ what happened to me that night you found me.”
“Nah,” Tone lied. “You don’t owe me no explanations.”
Secretly, Tone was dying to know what happened. However, he didn’t want to ask. He thought it might be a sensitive subject and he didn’t want to run the risk of rubbing her wrong.
“I feel like I do,” she told him. “Shit, if it wasn’t for you I might not be alive today.”
Netta was distrusting of people by nature, but she found herself trusting Tone despite all her apprehensions she had about strangers.
Tone wasn’t a complete stranger, she reasoned. He saved my life. Netta didn’t know where to begin, but she decided to put all her cards on the table. Tone was too deeply involved as it was to leave anything out.
“Hope you got time, it’s a long story.” Netta began giving him a firsthand account of how she first met Black.
“So the dude that put me in this fucked up situation, I know him. He’s my ex.....”
Recounting the story, Netta began to zone out as she relived one of the most prosperous times of her life, when she really had it going on and money wasn’t a thing. When she was the undisputed queen of the streets of Baltimore and Black’s girl. She spoke of the lavish gifts, like the Mercedes Benz coupe Black bought her for Christmas that she crashed. They had the his and hers matching chinchilla fur coats. Netta could envision it all now, her eyes
