Page 20 of Bern and Isley (D-Ville Projects #5)

Bern

I was bored as fuck since Isley had a hair appointment.

Since I moved into the complex, we’d been spending hella time together.

I waited on her hand and foot. And I was glad to do it.

She deserved to be pampered. I had already sat down and did the math on how much money I needed to stack up for her to take the last trimester off from doing hair plus twelve weeks postpartum.

I was headed to throw my trash out when I ran into a few niggas from DP.

Even though I was never initiated into the gang, they always treated me like I was one of them.

I’d grown up around the majority of them.

They were telling me about the plans for the annual block party coming up.

It was always a big event that everyone around the way looked forward to.

A day when everyone put bullshit to the side and just enjoyed good food and festivities.

I let them know that I wanted to make a monetary contribution toward the event.

My car wash was doing well so it was only right that I helped give back to the community.

I was wrapping up my conversation with the dudes when I got a call from Isley.

I excused myself to chop it up with her.

“What’s up, Icey?” I answered, smiling involuntarily. I grinned so wide my damn eyes were nearly closed.

She didn’t respond but I could hear some arguing in the background.

“Isley, you there?”

There was still no response then the line went dead.

I called back and the phone rang continuously.

Worry began to settle inside of me. Isley was in some kind of trouble.

That was the only explanation for her calling me and not saying anything but I could hear screaming and yelling.

There was a masculine voice. Who the fuck was arguing with her?

I tried calling her once more, but still no answer.

I made my way to her apartment unit. I banged on the door repeatedly.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” her Aunt Fee called out. Within a few moments she snatched the door open. The sweet lady looked worn out and I instantly felt guilty for beating on the door so erratically.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Ms. Fee. Is Isley here?”

“Oh Bern, it’s no problem, baby. I just move a little slow.” She chuckled, waving me off. “Isley’s not here, baby, she called me when I was down at Ms. Chandra’s getting me something sweet and said she was going to grab a bite to eat with Marshall.”

Fuck! What was she doing with that nigga? I thought she told me she was done with his lame ass.

“Okay, well thanks for letting me know… do you happen to know where he lives?”

“Yeah, he lives off Flowers Avenue somewhere. Is everything okay?”

I didn’t want the elderly lady to worry, so I forced a smile. “Yeah, I just hadn’t heard from her in a little bit. I’m going to see if I can catch up with her. Do you need help with anything before I leave?”

“Oh no, I’m about to take me a little nap and hope that son of mine gives me a call soon.” She smiled weakly.

I bit my tongue because I didn’t want to speak ill of the woman’s son in front of her. As sorry as I was that her son didn’t do right by her, I didn’t have time to dwell on it.

“Okay then, I’ll talk to you later, Ms. Fee. Take care.”

In no time, I hopped into my ride and began heading toward Flowers Avenue.

I didn’t know what house the dude lived in, but I did know what kind of vehicle the nigga drove.

I remembered seeing him get into a white Ford Bronco the day we played ball in the park.

I knew a shortcut to get there and decided it would be the best route for me to take.

I didn’t want to waste any time getting to Isley.

I didn’t know what kind of jam she was in, but a heavy feeling in my gut told me that some shit had gone down.

She assured me that she wasn’t getting back with that nigga so maybe she had lunch to discuss future plans of custody or some shit.

That was the only thing that made sense to me.

Was her baby daddy opposed to whatever co-parenting opportunity she was offering him?

I was trying to think of the least dramatic situation because I was growing furious by the minute as I replayed the yelling I heard in the background.

I couldn’t get past the fact that it sounded like she was in distress.

I was only a few miles from D-Ville Projects when I noticed traffic had slowed down tremendously.

There wasn’t typically traffic during this time of the afternoon on weekends.

What was supposed to be a shortcut had become a delay.

I pulled my phone from my pants pocket and dialed Isley’s number again to see if she would answer.

It didn’t even ring anymore, just went straight to voicemail.

“Fuck!” I yelled in frustration and slammed my fist into the steering wheel as we came to a complete stop.

After a few moments, I noticed the flashing lights.

Traffic started moving again at a snail’s pace.

I could see a fire truck, police cars, and an ambulance.

A wreck. Fuck. And instead of nosy motherfuckers driving around it, they were too busy rubbernecking.

After about five minutes, I finally neared the accident scene.

I briefly glanced at the wreckage as I drove by.

It was a black van and white vehicle. I didn’t bother trying to get a closer look at the make and model as the vehicle was severely mangled.

Besides, I didn’t want to be part of the reason traffic was slow.

I was on a mission. I said a silent prayer for the people and hoped there were no kids involved, but I was more focused on trying to find Isley. She was my priority.

My phone vibrated. It was my cousin Antwan. I silenced the call. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to him at the moment. I would call him back after I made contact with Isley. I was one mile from Flowers Avenue when Antwan called again. I sighed heavily before answering.

“What’s up, Antwan?”

“Man, where you at? I just stopped by your crib.”

“I had to leave to take care of something,” I told him, purposely being vague.

I couldn’t tell him that I thought Isley was beefin’ with her baby’s daddy and that I might have to check that nigga.

I didn’t need my cousin trying to talk me down.

Because when it came to Isley Baker, there was no thinking rationally.

I was one hundred percent committed to crashing out about her.

“Oh shit, well I hope you dodged that traffic. It was a bad wreck. A damn Sprinter van hit a white SUV.”

“Yeah, I just passed it a minute ago. Shit looked bad.”

“I guarantee you one of them muhfuckas ran that damn red light,” Antwan continued. “But the Bronco or whatever it was took the brunt of the accident. Hope they alright.”

“Wait… did you say it was a Bronco?”

“Yeah, that’s what it looked like to me, but I’m not one hundred percent sure. Why? You know somebody who drives one?”

“Oh fuck,” I muttered. “I gotta go.”

I immediately disconnected the call before busting an illegal U-turn.

I had to get back to that accident scene.

I prayed Antwan’s prediction was wrong and that the white vehicle was anything but a Bronco.

It had to be something else because my intuition wanted me to believe it was that nigga’s truck.

And if it was that nigga’s truck, that meant not only was he in it, but my Isley was in it too.

By the time I made it back to the scene, the first responders had left, but the tow trucks remained as they loaded the damaged vehicles.

I pulled over to the side of the road and got out of my vehicle to get a closer view.

My soul nearly left my body when my fear was confirmed. It was indeed a white Ford Bronco.