Adored by a Brooklyn Drug Lord 2 Page 2

  “Emergency? Kelsey, we’re not done—”

  I disconnected the call, shoving my phone back in my pocket the same time as Eric stepped in line with me, sipping a hot beverage. Drea's concoction was in his left hand, giving me the perfect view of it. By the time she was finished with it, she would have both types of diabetes and a wide awake baby. Eric caught me eyeing the drink, giving me an apologetic shrug of his shoulders.

  “Listen, I'm not saying hiding Drea from you was the right thing to do, but my boy had his reasons. I don’t know the exact details of their relationship, or even if there is a relationship to begin with; what I do know is that Quill has been working hard to make shit right with you. He turned down a very lucrative deal if it meant never being able to speak to you again.”

  “Maybe he should've taken it.”

  “Kelsey—”

  The elevator doors opened, cutting off Eric's pleas for me to listen. Daddy stood outside of the room with Koi, who was dressed in sweats underneath his Burberry trench. The two were in deep conversation, their expressions grim. Koi spotted me first, plastering on a fake smile as he held his arms out to me. I hugged him, giving him a reassuring squeeze, and turned to Daddy. He nudged his head toward the room door, where Drea was FaceTiming someone, her body positioned so that Quill was in the camera’s view. Eric entered the room, handing over her cup of sugar and taking a seat beside her.

  “Quill’s family went up in the air about twenty minutes ago. They should be here soon,” Daddy said, slinging an arm around my shoulder. “There's a waiting room down the hall. We can have a seat there, catch them as they enter the building.”

  We barely cleared the hallway when we heard it; Drea screaming over the sound of monitors beeping. The nurses once sitting at their station chatting amicably jumped out of their seats, racing to Quill’s bedroom as two doctors did. I ran after them, and was yoked up by my father, urging me to stay behind.

  “Kelsey,” he said with forced patience. “You don’t need to see him like—”

  “Daddy, please just let me go!”

  His hand slacked for a second, giving me all the time I needed to snatch out of his grip and run to the hospital room. Eric dragged Drea out of the room with more success than my father had with me. I stopped in my tracks at the sight of the medical team working on Quill. His attending was spitting out instructions for tools, medicines, and more hands on deck. My knowledge of medical terminology was limited, but watching them work tirelessly on him let me know his condition was worsening. I heard the words “internal bleeding” and “OR” jumbled with several other instructions. Quill's bed was disassembled at once, with orderlies stepping in to rush his bed from the room.

  “I need to speak with…Kelsey Mackenzie,” one of the doctors said, reading off of Quill’s chart. I stepped forward, which stopped Drea’s show for the time being. “Miss Mackenzie, you are the medical proxy and we need to know that if William flatlines on the table, will we resuscitate?”

  “No,” I said.

  Drea broke from Eric's grip, charging at me, and was stopped by Koi grabbing her by the arms. “What the fuck do you mean don’t bring him back! He's about to be a father! How would you like it if some bitch that wasn’t your mother tried to kill your father?”

  “Kelsey, don’t let how you feel about Quill—” my father started, but I cut him off with a shake of my head.

  “Quill wouldn’t want to be brought back. He’s been big on if it’s his time, then it’s his time. That’s my final decision,” I said to the doctor, who replied in turn with a curt nod, starting down the hall after the team.

  Eric didn’t like my decision, but he respected it, stepping between Drea and I to calm her down. Daddy tugged me down the hall as a few nurses approached to see what the commotion was.

  “Walk away!” Drea screeched. “Leave like you always fucking do whenever he needs you! You never loved him the way he loves you! He's given up everything while you’ve given up—ahhh!”

  I turned in time to see another group of nurses rush toward Drea, who was standing in a puddle of water. All this stress caused her water to break. Daddy tugged me along as Koi and Eric stayed behind to help her. We boarded the first elevator to come, uncaring of what direction it was going in. I let out a sigh of relief as it jumped, and descended to the lobby. A doctor stood in the far corner, texting on her phone, immune to the impending breakdown occurring behind her.

  “You know this isn't your fault right?” he said after a moment of silence.

  I suppressed a sob with my hand, taking measured breaths to keep from having a panic attack. Daddy pressed me to his chest, rocking me until we reached the lobby where we found a corner in the waiting room. We sat in silence, with me staring at my hands as Daddy ran a comforting hand through my hair, kissing my forehead every now and then. The sounds of people coming to and fro lulled me into a dreamless sleep. I rousted from my sleep at the sound of a woman shouting Daddy’s name. Quill's mother, Alette, appeared with his younger siblings. We rose to greet them, receiving hugs from Quill’s two little sisters and brother, who were respectively 15, 16, and 17 years old.

  “Where’s my son?” Alette asked, her thick brows knitted together to form one thick line.

  Koi appeared in the doorway, his expression apologetic. “There were some complications with his previous surgery—internal bleeding—and he had to be taken in for a second surgery. We should have an update in a few hours.”

  “Hours?” Alette dropped down into my chair, placing her head in her hands. “I told him not to come up here. He insisted on making sure we were taken care of and the only way he thought he could do it was by—”

  “Ma,” Adrian, Quill's little brother, said with a warning look.

  Alette stopped short, closing her mouth and continuing to cry to herself. I took a seat beside her, keeping my hands to myself. She felt my presence; she shot me a look over her shoulder with blatant mistrust in her eyes. I earned it after refusing to visit Quill the last time he was in the hospital.

  “What happened?” I told her everything I knew, which wasn’t much, and tried my hardest to keep from crying as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Why are you here? You didn’t want anything to do with him.”

  “He made me his medical proxy. The only person who can reverse that decision is Quill,” I explained.

  “Where’s Drea? Please tell me you told her he was here.”

  I pointed upstairs. “Drea's—”

  “Drea's in Labor & Delivery. The stress from Quill’s second surgery triggered preterm labor. Eric's up there with her right now,” Koi cut in with a patient smile. “She doesn’t have anyone with her. I'm sure she could use the help of her mother-in-law.”

  “Dianne, Rachel, c’mon, let’s go take care of Drea. Adrian, I want you to call me the second you get news on your brother.”

  Alette rose from her seat without a backward glance, her daughters flanking her. Adrian took a seat on the opposite side of the room, rapidly texting someone on his phone. Daddy sat down next to me, his expression sympathetic. There was nothing for us to speak on, and I was grateful for him not trying to fill the air with banal affirmations. I placed my head on his shoulder and let the hospital motions lull me back to sleep.

  2

  Quill

  I opened my ears before I dared to open my eyes. The beeping of the hospital monitor was a rhythmic reminder of where I would be spending the unforeseeable future. There were rustles here and sniffles there over the whoosh of a breathing machine. I made the mistake of trying to swallow, which set off the machines as my throat began to constrict against the tube invading it. The once calm machines went into a frenzy as I choked on the tube, attempting to rip it from my throat with jelly limbs. I heard a woman screaming for help, and seconds later, a cluster of doctors and nurses surrounded me, begging me to calm down as they removed the intubation tube from my throat. My lungs filled with fresh, cold air as the last bit of tube was removed, inflating my body and
breathing life into me. As I caught my breath I stared around the room, my eyes finding my sobbing mother, frantic sisters, and nervous little brother.

  “William,” my mother sobbed, flinging herself onto my chest and squeezing me tight.

  I winced at the feeling of something tugging at my skin. One of the nurses, a middle-aged black woman, commanded her to stop before she ripped one of my stitches. I ran a hand over my stomach, recalling my last moments before I ended up here. I pointed to the pitcher sitting on the table next to my bed. My youngest sister, Dianne, obliged, pouring me a cup of water, tipping it to my lips, giving me small sips. It took five minutes for me to moisten my throat, and as I felt the ability to swallow come easier, I knew it was time to ask questions.

  “Thank you, Dianne. What happened to Deon? Where's Eric?”

  My mother ran a hand through my hair. “William, don’t worry about them. I want you to focus on getting better. The doctors said you were shot at point blank range and it’s a miracle that you're alive. None of the bullets hit any vital organs, but they did cause some internal bleeding. You nearly died on the operating table. Speaking of, there's something we need to discuss.”

  “Can it wait?” I asked, placing a hand over my face to block out the fluorescent hospital lighting. “I have some important business to handle. Can you get Eric on the phone?”

  “There’s no need. He's upstairs with Drea.”

  What was my best friend doing with my fake baby mother? I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if Drea heard the news about me getting shot, and in the midst of acting a fool, had to be given a sedative. My head shook from side-to-side as my mother gave me the short version of what happened while I was out. What I wasn’t expecting was for her to tell me that Drea went into labor. The room started to darken at the news of Drea delivering a happy and healthy baby boy three hours ago.

  “He's seven pounds and two ounces,” Mom gushed with a cheesy grin on her face. “You should see him, William. Drea wants to name him after her father, but I know how important your father was to you. I told her it would only make sense for you to be able to name your first-born son…”

  “Ma, Drea can do whatever she wants. I have more pressing matters on my hands. Adrian, run and get Eric for me,” I ordered my little brother, who stood vigilant at the door.

  Adrian disappeared with a nod of his head, looking every bit of the seventeen-year-old boy he was. I couldn’t believe he had grown so much in the month I had left. My mother untangled herself from me, taking a seat in a vacant chair, her eyes resting on mine with an accusatory glimmer. Dianne and Rachel excused themselves with the quickness, mumbling something about going to get some water.

  “William Quinton Evans, your father raised you better than this.”

  “Better than what, Ma?”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose the way she did whenever she was especially pissed. “How can you be so dismissive of everything that girl has gone through over the last twenty-four hours? She was woken up from her sleep to find out that the father of her child was in critical condition, you damn near died a second time, she had to hear from your ex-girlfriend that if you died this time you weren’t to be resuscitated, and the shock was enough to send her into labor.”

  “Kelsey's here?”

  “Is that all you heard? I can't believe you had the nerve to make that girl your medical proxy. After all we've done for you, you put your life in her hands? Or was this your way of begging her for more attention?”

  Our eyes met, and I said with no remorse, “She's the only person I trust with my life at this point.”

  “Do you still feel the same way knowing she issued a DNR? Your precious Kelsey was ready to let you go without a hint of remorse,” she spat, fanning herself with her hand, making the bangles on her wrist jingle. That sound paired with her shouting was enough to have my head throbbing from a premature headache.

  “Actually, I've always made it clear that once I go, I have no desire to be brought back. Kelsey's the only person I know willing to honor my wishes without being selfish,” I replied, recalling the day I gave Kelsey those morbid instructions.

  For the short period of time we were together, Kelsey and I discussed heavy shit like this, with my sole reason being that whether we stayed together forever or ended up apart, I knew I would be able to depend on her respecting my desire to remain unmoved by death. Bowing to the unknown wasn’t how I wanted to live my life, and I would rather die a fearless death than live my life looking over my shoulder for the day he chose to claim what was his. I visited the brink of death before, and had no desire to teeter between there and the real world.

  My mother broke down at my logic, sobbing into her hands. I tried reaching out for her, and was snatched back by my leads and the IVs hooked up to my arms. Another reason I made Kelsey my proxy was to avoid conversations like this, where I was rendered helpless as my mother blamed herself for the downward spiral my life had taken. Basketball was supposed to be my guaranteed out, the way I was going to put her up in the house she deserved after working several jobs to put clothes on our backs. My accident was a setback, but I was still going to give her everything I knew she deserved.

  “Mommy…”

  “William, do you have any idea how powerless I felt knowing if something happened to you I had no say? I want you to make me your proxy,” she demanded through her tears.

  I shook my head. “Ma, I can't do that. Kelsey—”

  “Can't do it either,” a voice said from the doorway.

  Kelsey stood there, arms crossed, shaking her head at me. Resignation overflowed in her eyes, which was worse than her being angry with me. It meant my plan to bring her back to me had failed due to the appearance of Drea. I didn't even have to speak on it; her look said everything and then some.

  “Ma, can you give us a minute?” I asked my mother, who was eyeing Kelsey with contempt.

  She scoffed. “And leave you alone with this black widow? I think not.”

  “Ma—”

  “I’ll be right outside the door,” she relented, gathering her purse from the seat beside me and sulking to the door, making sure to give Kelsey a pointed look on her way out.

  Kelsey bit back a laugh. “I see she took your request exactly how you said she would.”

  “Doesn’t matter; this was my last time cheating death. I don’t think my body can take any more bullets,” I sighed. “Kelsey—”

  “We’ve spoken twice, and I can see you not wanting to mention Drea after what happened at the club, but the second time you had all the opportunity to tell me you're taken!”

  “Why should it have mattered to you? Last I checked, you didn’t see us getting back together,” I countered, and I could tell by the roll of her eyes I had her. “Unless there was a chance. Kelsey, tell me there was a chance.”

  “That chance expired the second your pregnant girlfriend stepped into the picture. For a moment you had me, and I thought there was a small chance that the Quill I fell in love with was back. Then you lie to my face again, reminding me he never existed to begin with,” Kelsey choked out, swiping at her eyes as tears threatened to fall. “Find another medical proxy, Quill, perhaps the woman you're going to be spending the rest of your life with.”

  I opened my mouth to tell Kelsey the truth, that Drea was nothing more than a pawn to get what I wanted, and was stopped at the hulking figure standing behind her. His presence didn’t go unnoticed; it sucked the air out of every room he entered like carbon monoxide, choking its victims until they were no more. He placed a hand on Kelsey's shoulder, one she slipped out of, pivoting and taking a step back to see who dared enter her personal space. Amos Winthrop smiled down at her, a toothy one, the way a lion eyed a baby gazelle. He entered the room with his eldest son LaKeith trailing behind him, giving Kelsey a thorough once over, his eyes lingering on the places she had filled out. He laughed at the look of contempt in her eyes. It dropped and faded at the appearance of Urban and Koi entering the room
with a desire for all smoke. Urban placed Kelsey behind him and reached into his inside jacket, the small gesture creating a ripple effect. Koi reached for his piece as LaKeith’s hands hit his waistband. Urban laughed at LaKeith’s reaction, brandishing a sheaf of papers instead of the gun I could see in his shoulder holster.

  “Shooting in the ICU? What type of uncultured swine do you take me for?” he questioned, tossing the papers onto my chest, a Mont Blanc pen following shortly after. “Sign the papers relinquishing my daughter as your proxy. Your mother is a more than adequate choice.”

  Amos cleared his throat. “William, why didn’t you tell me you were in need of a medical proxy? I'm more than willing to step in and make the hard decisions your mother may be unable to.”

  I stared around the room, at LaKeith, who readily agreed with Amos being my proxy, to Amos who would like nothing more than another way to ensure that he had a hold on me, to Urban and Koi, who stood vigilant in front of Kelsey, who remained silent the entire exchange. I scribbled my signature on the papers, changing my proxy to Amos. LaKeith and Koi signed the witness portion, while Urban notarized it with a stamp he brandished from his coat pocket.

  “We’ll get these downstairs for you,” Urban said, pocketing the papers and pen.

  The trio filed out of the room, with Kelsey’s hair being the last I saw of her. Amos sauntered to the head of my bed, studying me with those beady eyes of his. He resembled the actor Dennis Haysbert, but unlike the Allstate man, I knew my life wasn’t in good hands. He was dressed in his usual dapper fashion consisting of a suit made by the best tailor in North Carolina, his line-up was as fresh as the waves swimming in his dark Caesar, and he smelled like money. LaKeith was dressed in his usual uniform of a white T-shirt and jeans, the freshest thing on him being the Concords on his feet.