Black Buck(116)

“But, Buck, I’m calling to—”

“You’re calling to get me heated, Kujoe. Listen, you’re done. HQ is destroyed, and we need to start over, and it pains me to say it because I liked you, but you’re not going to be a part of it. You only get so many chances in this life, Kujoe, and your time with the Happy Campers is over,” I said, and hung up.

“Like I was saying, Chauncey, I really hope Fatou’s making some of that stuff, what was it? With the chicken, vegetables, and rice in peanut sauce?”

Chauncey laughed, slapping the steering wheel. “Mafé, Buck. You are really becoming an African! I think my job is done.”

I laughed too, my mouth already watering at the thought of the delicious food we were about to have. “Yeah, maybe.” My phone buzzed again. I quickly picked it up.

“What the fuck did I just say, Kujoe? Don’t fucking call me again or—”

“D?” It was Soraya. “What are you talkin’ about? What did Kujoe do?”

“Oh,” I said, sitting back, relaxing my muscles. “Sorry. Nothin’, he’s jus’, it’s nothin’. What’s wrong?”

“You’re lyin’,” she said. “But it doesn’ matter. Jason’s in the hospital.”

“Hospital? What happened?”

I tapped Chauncey on the shoulder. “Turn back around, Chauncey.”

“Okay, Buck. What is going on?”

“Yeah,” Soraya continued. “He’s okay, but he has a broken leg and some bruises. He’s at Beth Israel. I was jus’ there but came to your place to rest. He’s really okay though, D, trust me, but he’s askin’ for you, so can you go and see him?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll see you right after. But what happened?”

“He jus’ said he was randomly attacked in Chelsea.”

“But what was he doin’ in Chelsea?”

“Won’t say, maybe you can get it outta him. But I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

My heart jolted. It would take me some time to get used to hearing her say that, or maybe I never would, and every time would feel like the first. All I knew was that it felt good. Really good.

“Well,” she said, a smile in her voice. “I’m waitin’.”

“I love you too, habibti.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said, hanging up.

I told Chauncey to hang outside once we got there. If Jason wasn’t really messed up, then I’d just go check him out before scooping Soraya and heading to Harlem for some of that mafé. This was just a small hiccup.

A nurse directed me to his room, and on seeing him lying up in bed and scrolling on his phone, I said, “Damn, son. Looks like you’ve upgraded your hospital game since I put you in Woodhull.”

“You think you so funny, nigga. Funny for someone who I was jus’ visitin’ in the hospital.”

I sat next to him and examined his leg, which was already in a cast and elevated by some hanging ceiling contraption. He had a few bruises on his face and scratches on his arm, but he seemed okay overall.

“What happened?”

“Motherfuckers came outta nowhere, bro. There was like four of ’em rockin’ some scary-ass cryin’ baby masks. One hit me in the head, and I managed to knock two of ’em down, but then one guy, some shorter nigga, took out a bat and caught me in the leg. Doctor said my tibia’s fractured, so they put a metal rod in me and now I’m here, talkin’ to you.”

“Okay,” I said, trying to piece everything together. “You’re sayin’ four dudes jumped you . . . in Chelsea . . . while other people were around?”

“Yeah, nigga. You tryna say I’m lyin’ or some shit? I don’ need that.”

“Nah, man. I’m jus’ sayin’ it’s weird. Shit like that doesn’ happen in Chelsea. What were you doin’ there?”

He picked his phone up and started scrolling again.

“Yo.” I snatched the phone out of his hands. “What were you doin’ there, going to SoulCycle or some shit? Why’re you bein’ so sus?”

He snatched his phone back. “Funny, ha-ha-ha. I was buyin’ some high-end wine and cheese, nigga. Tryna elevate myself, you know.”

“Did you jus’ pick the whitest things you could think of and lie to me?”

“Basically,” he said, laughing. “But, okay, Imma keep it real with you, because you my boy and I need your help. But you gotta promise not to flip, aight?”

“Aight.”

“I was bustin’ a trap.”

I shot up from my chair, using every inch of force I had not to strangle him. “You were what? I hope you’re fuckin’ with me, Batman. I really do.”

He shrugged.

“Why?” I looked up at the ceiling and paced around the room. “Why, after joinin’ the Happy Campers, gettin’ a job, and everything you’ve done, would you still sell drugs?”

He put his phone down and looked at me. “It’s not that simple, G. The money I was makin’ was okay, but my momma is in some serious debt with some serious people. I’ve been workin’ for, what, a coupla months? I know the money I need will come, but I had a few opportunities to make some real loot, and I wasn’ tryna pass ’em up.”