Читать книгу STREET KARMA - Pain - Страница 10

CHAPTER

3

LELA

4:40 a.m.

The late night sky over the city of Miami was fading. Rob was burning tires on I-95, speeding toward the city of Fort Lauderdale. In the past hour and a half, Low lost so much blood he was beginning to fall in and out of consciousness. His blood pressure was flowing at a dangerously low level. His words were slurred, and barely audible as he tried to communicate with Rob.

“I’m going Rob. I don’t think I’m a make, man,” Low muttered.

His head rested against the car’s side door panel while his eyes were shut. Occasionally, moans escaped Low’s parched lips. Glancing at his injured crime partner, Rob inhaled deeply, and let out a frustrated sigh. He returned his focus back on the road.

“Just hold on my nigga. We almost at Lela’s,” Rob urged.

Only ten exits away from his destination, Rob wanted Low to hang on just a little longer. A public hospital wasn’t an option, and would only lead to a jail sentence. Rob’s thoughts were going fast while he sped up I-95 toward his old neighborhood. His young partner’s life was on the line, and there was only one person Rob knew could help him.

Downshifting speed, Rob exited the highway. Entering the city limits of Fort Lauderdale, he approached a turning red light, and prepared to take a right turn toward the beaches. Rob pushed a button on the car’s electronic dash console retracting the roof, and made sure all the cars windows were shut. He made a right turn on Sunrise Boulevard continuing to the beaches. Rob finally arrived at Lela’s veterinarian clinic.

The building was located on two and a half acres of privately owned land in the exclusive community of Sunrise Shores. Directly behind the animal hospital sat a five thousand square foot, seven and a half bedroom Creole-styled luxury penthouse. This was where Lela Shabazz, owner and head veterinarian of the animal hospital, and her daughter, Asani Lovely Shabazz resided.

Rob gazed in contempt at the multimillion-dollar home. It was a long two years now since Rob pulled out of this long, stone-floored driveway. He left the privileged lifestyle, and home of the only family that ever really cared about him, returning to the ghetto streets of Dade-County, Miami. Eventually, Rob reunited with his childhood best friend, Milow. Together they returned to fast-living and committing crimes. Maybe Rob should’ve forgiven Lovely, and continued his privileged life of attending the best private schools in South Florida. Lovely attended the best schools. Rob would’ve also. He even received an acceptance letter into a prestigious college, leading to a sure shot at the good life. Lovely’s action was just too much to forgive.

The decision to leave Fort Lauderdale, and move back home with his Aunt in Miami was a sudden change. He knew he was leaving a promising future behind, but he left with his pride, and dignity. That was more important to Rob than being a fool. Pushing all thoughts aside of what could have been, Rob came to a screeching halt in front of the massive penthouse. He hurriedly exited the car, raced around to the passenger side, and pulled out the bleeding unconscious Low.

He carried the body up a stairwell. The alarm went off while he frantically rang the doorbell. Holding onto Low’s body Rob felt tears welling in his eyes. Low wasn’t breathing, and with every critical moment that passed, Low’s life was slipping away.

Opening the front door, Lovely peered out onto her porch. She was immediately shocked with disbelief. Lovely jumped back.

“Oh my God!” Lovely exclaimed when she locked eyes with Rob.

She stared at him as if she was looking at a ghost. Since he left Lovely was totally unaware of Rob’s whereabouts.

“Love, I need help,” Rob said with tears in his eyes.

Hearing the commotion from the master bedroom, Lela made her way to the top of the stairwell that led directly to the front entrance. She saw Rob clutching Low’s bloodied body, and immediately rushed downstairs to assist.

“Oh my God! Lovely, please get my surgical kit, dear,” Lela exclaimed, making her way over to Rob, and helping him carry Low’s body inside. Then she continued. “How long ago did this happen?”

Dropping to her knees next to Low, Lela immediately began undressing his bloody body.

“I’ve got to pinpoint his wounds. Rob, how long ago did this happen?” Lela asked.

“Um… Ah… About an hour or so…” Rob said in a solemn tone.

Lovely hurriedly retuned with the surgical kit. She handed the large clear box to her mother. Her wide eyes were filled with shock, Lovely just stood looking on. She appeared intrigued by the sight of Low’s bloodstained body. She probably had never seen so much blood in her life. The amount of blood coming from his wound made it seem that Low wasn’t going to make it.

“I don’t understand you young brothers these days,” Lela said with disdain.

She was just about finished cutting the rest of Low’s clothing from his body. After pinpointing Low’s single bullet wound, Lela realized that the slug went straight through. She immediately started looking for an exit wound. Blood was simultaneously leaking from two wounds. Once she found the exit wound, Lela applied pressure with a piece of large gauze. Lela securely taped around the bandage, she began to stitch up the front end of Lows’ bullet wound.

“Young brothers just falling right into the white man’s trap,” Lela said with a frown. Then she glanced in Rob’s direction, and continued. “Well at least you’re breathing young brother. Cause unfortunately, this young soldier might not make it.”

  

Back to life, back to reality, back to life, back to reality,

Back to life, back to reality, back to the here and now yeah...

Show me how…decide what you want from me,

Tell me maybe I could be there for you.

However do you want me…however do you

need me.

How however do you want me…however do you need me…

The music of Soul II Soul played through the AMI Rowe model 1100 jukebox speakers from a vinyl record. Low opened his eyes to a bizarre pattern of disco lights twirling in a circular motion all around him. He raised his body to a sitting position, and saw an intravenous needle inserted into a vein of his left arm. There were two liquid-filled medical IV plastic bags hanging from a pole above his head.

Quickly surveying his surroundings, Low saw that he was lying on a military-styled cot. It was located in the far corner of what seemed like a seventy’s styled discotheque. Then he spotted Rob standing beside a pool table, puffing a cigarette, and chatting with a broad. This all seemed like it was a dream, he thought eyeing the caramel complexioned girl next to Rob. At first glance, Low didn’t recognize who she was. Then she leaned over with her pool stick in hand preparing to take her shot. He got a good look at her face, and recognized Lovely, Rob’s ex.

Designed like a nightclub from the seventies, the place was equipped with a full-length bar, two professional-sized pool tables, and a large bulls eye dart area. The massive AMI Rowe Model 1100 Jukebox played hit singles from the seventies through the eighties. A large crystal disco ball hung above the freshly polished, hardwood dance floor. There were also hundreds of pictures, and posters of iconic Black men— Malcolm, Martin, Marshall, and women—Baker, Coleman, Davis—to name a few—adorning the walls. His location began to slowly make sense, and a sigh of relief escaped Low’s parched lips. Low wasn’t dreaming, he was actually in Lovely’s basement.

Low didn’t recognize the black hooded sweatshirt, Dickie’s pants, and black British Knights sneakers he wore the night before. He was now wearing a pair of thin, orange basketball shorts, a white tank top, and green and white Adidas slippers. Vivid scenes of the shootout started flashing through his mind. Low stared at his left shoulder, and silently counted his blessings. The sight of the wounded area was covered with white surgical bandage.

Memories of last night’s events replayed in his head. Rob was speeding on I-95. He was in the passenger seat soaked in his own blood. Low remembered the excruciating pain of the bullet wound. He was unsure if he was going to live, but was still breathing because of Rob’s quick thinking. Low was grateful.

Placing his feet on the hardwood floor, Low attempted to get up. An intense pain shot through the left side of his body. He lost grip on the side of the cot, and his body crashed to the wooden floor. Low let out an agonizing wail then rolled around in pain. His entire left side was on fire. The loud commotion caused Lovely and Rob to stop their game of nine-ball. They immediately turned their attention to Low. Rob dropped the pool stick, and ran across the room.

“Low, Low… You up, my nigga?” Rob exclaimed.

There was a big smile on Rob’s face as he helped him to his feet. Making her way over to assist, Lovely placed the cot that Low tipped over in the upright position.

“Sit him back down. He may still be weak from all the blood he lost,” Lovely said.

Rob helped Low to a sitting position, and Lovely began to examine his left arm and shoulder. The intravenous bags, and stitches were still intact.

“I think I should go tell mom he’s awake,” Lovely said.

Lovely saw that one of the IV needles was out of place, and quickly exited. Rob took a seat on the cot next to his wincing partner in crime.

“I thought you had fucked around and died on me,” Rob said, smoking a Kool cigarette.

He offered it to Low, who quickly declined with a wave of his hand.

“Rob, if it wasn’t for you bringing me here I probably would’ve died,” Low muttered, looking at his bandaged shoulder. Shaking his head in disbelief, Low continued. “That bitch really tried to take my fucking head off.”

“Damn sure did,” Rob said.

Easing his right hand over his wound, Low felt the stitches underneath the bandage. Then he said, “Damn, who would’ve thought that a broad so fine would be packing that type of iron.”

“Yeah, she was strapped, and was definitely going for the kill,” Rob solemnly agreed.

“Yesterday don ‘t even exist no more. Ya dig? We made it. You alive, breathing, and still in one piece… That’s all that matters. And we just one more car from the prize… Ya dig? Live for today. Fuck the past. One more car, and we cashing out.”

Low surveyed the basement walls adorned with all the many pictures of iconic Black faces. He took a deep breath, gathered his thoughts, and sighed. Then he contemplated last night’s events clouding his head. The security guards that were shot—fair game, but the thought that they killed a Black woman in the process wasn’t sitting well with him. Low was about to voice his opinion, but kept silent. His eyes locked in on a poster-sized picture of U.S athletes, Tommie Smith, and John Carlos. The gold medal winners were on the medal podium raising their fist skyward.

Low took a deep breath, nodded his head, and said, “Yeah Rob…one more car and we out.”

  

Sitting in the backseat of Lovely’s Infiniti Q45, his head resting comfortably on the luxury vehicle’s beige, leather headrest, Low was lost in a daydream. He gazed out the car’s window, glancing at all the luxury homes lining I-95. Lovely was driving south headed to Miami while Low was thinking of what his life would’ve been like if he was born to a wealthy family. The ruminations caused Low to shake his head. His thoughts were nothing more than fantasy. Low turned his attention back inside the car. Public Enemy’s new hit, Fight the Power played as Miami’s 99 Jamz 5 o’clock Traffic-Jam was in full effect.

This was the first time he heard the song from his favorite rap group, and Low wanted the song louder, but Rob was asleep in the passenger seat. He decided not to, and just listened intently while bobbing his head to the lyrics. Low caught a glimpse of Lovely’s face, and she was nodding her head to the beat as well. She was enthusiastically mouthing the lyrics to the song.

Low chuckled at the sight. Glancing in her rearview, Lovely locked eyes with Low, and smiled. Low asked her with an amused grin.

“What you know ‘bout P.E.? I thought squares don’t listen to rap,” Low joked.

“What you mean square? Negro please… Best believe I’m hip. Have you forgotten who my mother is…? Don’t let the fact that I live in the ‘burbs fool you. I know all about P.E, KRS1, Rakim, and Lords of the Underground, N.W.A., Pete Rock, and Rob Base, LL Cool J… What!”

“Okay then. I guess your mother raised you well.”

“She sure did,” Lovely smiled.

Turning her attention back on the road, Lovely activated the turn signal, and prepared to make her exit at the 54th Street exit.

“What your cripple-ass laughing ‘bout?” Rob muttered, yawning.

“Oh, so sleepy-head got jokes?” Low smirked, throwing a fake punch at Rob.

“I can dig it, lil’ homie,” Rob smiled, nodding.

Rob turned his head to the scenery in the heart of Lil’ Haiti’s streets. There were loose chickens all around, and Botanical shops on every other corner.

Lovely made a left to NE 2nd Terrace, and stopped in front of a big white two-story house. Rob extended and gave Low their signature handshake—the web between their right ring finger and pinky came together.

“Low, you sure old boy ain’t home?” Rob asked.

“Yeah, shit straight Rob. I’m good,” Low said, reaching for the door handle.

“Okay then pimping. Just make sure you on time in the morning,” Rob smiled.

“C’mon Rob. I know the routine by now. Thanks for the ride, Lovely,” Low smiled.

Then he exited the car. Tomorrow they were set to meet with Tony to give him the location of Lonnie’s car. Parked in Lela’s garage, Tony could tow it to his chop shop, and assign them their next, and final Job. Lovely sped-off down the street. Low took in a deep breath, as he contemplated his next move.

Michelle’s father wouldn’t be home until later, but her mother was another issue. She was always home. With one of Low’s arm out of commission, and in a sling, he knew there was no way he was going to make it through Michelle’s small room window like he always did. Michelle’s father was an old school Haitian man. Notoriously known for dealing harshly with past boyfriends of his daughter.