Slowly, in the crucial moments of conversation, she had won him over. He was beginning to understand who she was and what made her tick. Because of the emotional attachment he was beginning to feel, Tone was able to separate her act of thievery from the young lady he was just beginning to know.
Tone thought Netta’s life story was amongst the realest he had ever heard. He loved that survival trait that was embedded deep within her. Her circumstances had forced her to the streets and her hunger for a better life had formed her into a hustler. To him, her mentality was both fascinating and diabolical at the same time. Through the course of their conversation, he could see Netta’s worth. She brought more to the table than just pussy. In his book she was a hustler, not a hoe. Someone he wouldn’t mind having on his team. He could picture Netta by his side as his girl.
From Netta’s perspective, it felt good to get that off her chest. She felt like a burden had been lifted. She needed to vent to someone and Tone was gracious enough to lend an ear and he was so easy to talk to. For her it was like having a conversation with an old friend.
Once she clarified her position on Black, and the more Tone heard Netta speak, the more he began to dig her. It was in those moments that Tone saw her in a new light. He accepted her shortcomings and told Netta she was capable of more.
“You know you ain’t gotta live like this no more. Not if you don’t want to. I’m here. What happened between you and Black is history. And ya history doesn’t have to be your destiny,” he confided in her.
Silently, Netta agreed with Tone. The winds of change were beginning to blow. She knew she had to make a change in her life before it was too late. God hadn’t given her a second chance for her to revert back to that same lifestyle, to do the same things that put her in this predicament.
Something had to give and it was beginning to. “Yo, lemme ask you a question,” Tone interrupted.
“Yeah, go right ahead,” she replied.
“You think Black was gonna let you live that night?” Tone wondered. “I mean, homeboy was goin’ hard.”
“That’s a good question,” Netta answered. “I never really thought about that, even though I came close to dyin’.”
Although Tone never said it out loud, because he didn’t want to scare Netta, he knew that there would probably be more drama involving Black. This dude would be a problem somewhere along the line. However, at this point, he wasn’t his problem.
Tone peppered Netta with questions here and there. He didn’t want to seem too intrusive, so most of the time he let her dictate the course of the conversation. He realized Netta had been hurt and humiliated enough. She didn’t need him to keep interrogating her. But if there was a chance of them having a meaningful relationship, he needed to know everything.
Netta whole-heartedly answered every question honestly. Her explanations were so clear and concise it made it easy for them to be accepted and understood.
“Black’s different. It’s not a game wit’ him, yo,” Netta emphasized. “And here I was playin’ wit’ a nigga that ain’t playin’.”
All this talk about Black was depressing. Netta had mentioned Black’s name so much that Tone had grown to resent him. His facial expression began to sour every time he heard it. He tried changing the subject whenever he came up. Yet all avenues of their conversation led right back to Black.
Tone thought Black might need time to forgive and forget. While Netta might need time to grow, heal and evolve. But whatever the case may be, Tone was feeling real confident. Fresh off of his execution of Sykes, he felt unburdened by Black’s fearsome reputation. Black was just another dragon to be slayed, if need be.
“Yo, I’m sick of hearin’ about homeboy, let’s kill that noise,” he interrupted her. “You hungry, you want somethin’ to eat?”
Netta laughed. There was something about his arrogance that she liked. Before she could put a finger on it he was taking her order.
“I’m in the mood for some crab cakes, I could really go for that,” she announced.
“You got it,” Tone said. “I’ll be right back.”
Tone left the hospital and went and got Netta some crab cakes from Lexington Market. When he returned, they wolfed the meal down without saying too much more. Netta was real hungry and it showed. The food not only satisfied her hunger, but it made her very sleepy. After a long tense afternoon, she was tired.
“Yo, I’ma see you tomorrow,” Tone promised, kissing her on the forehead. “Get some rest.”
“Why you leavin’?” she protested, as lines of worry creased her forehead. “I’m up.”
Immediately, Tone sat back down in an effort to calm Netta down. Before long the heaviness of her eyelids were too difficult to fight off the tiredness. Suddenly, she fell into a deep sleep. Seeing this, Tone quietly eased out of her room, leaving Netta sound asleep. Silently, he promised to be back tomorrow.
As Tone exited the hospital, he never noticed a late model Ford Tempo lying in wait. He went about his day not knowing he was being followed.
“There he go right there,” Bri said as soon as she spotted his car.
“Follow him,” Sonya replied.
“I don’t know who this nigga been in there seein’ all damn day, but obviously they pretty important to him,” Bri commented. “You think it’s a nurse or a patient? Or what?”
“I don’t know, but we’re gonna soon find out. Believe that,” Sonya said.
Right now everything was such a mystery, but Sonya knew the pieces of the puzzle were coming together, and soon it would all make sense.
11
Sitting on his bed reading the Baltimore Sun newspaper in
