Page 70 of Bronx

I hand the guy a twenty-dollar bill to cover whatever drinks Karma may have ordered, but mostly for the information.

If I thought I was interested in this woman, that brief moment of insanity is over. She’s gone to the hospital to talk to the douchebag she’s supposed to be running from? The one she wants completely out of her life? What crack is she smoking?

Why I’m always disappointed at the stupidity or selfishness of human beings is beyond me.

First, my father.

Now Karma.

Fuck it, if she wants to be with a man who beats her and ain’t worth shit, then I should let her. What does it matter to me?

She’s no one to me.

She’s my enemy’s sister.

She is simply a means to an end.

I growl loudly to the universe in pure rage as I kick the small water fountain feature once I’m in front of my building.

“Shit!!!”

I don’t want to do it.

Don’t do it, Bronx.

But I do it anyway.

I pull the key fob to my Benz out of my back pocket and unlock the door.

I’m going to find Karma’s sweet, ungrateful ass and bring her the fuck home.

23

Karma

My feet and ankles turn inward as I hobble across the hot asphalt toward the large building in front of me. I wince as my brand new black ballet flats scrape the backs of my heels, reminding me that I’m alive as adrenaline courses through my veins. This is probably my most asinine idea yet, but I’m doing it, anyway. Most people won’t understand my motivation, but I don’t live for most people. I live for myself… and my conscience.

When I was sitting in the coffee shop, reflecting on the words I had with Bronx, I received a courtesy call from a nurse at Valley Hill Hospital. I was surprised by the call at first, but because I’m the emergency contact identified in Ray’s patient file (he had an emergency room visit about seven months ago after a minor car accident), they called.

I finally locate the illuminated red and white sign identifying the emergency entrance of the hospital and I make a slight turn towards it, still limping and now sweating. As the salty droplets from my brow fall into my eyes, the stinging sensation temporarily blinds me to my surroundings and suddenly I am halted by moving metal.

Ouch!

An elderly woman with pronounced crow’s feet, disheveled hair, and twisted legs crashes into my right leg with her wheelchair. My phone falls out of my hand and straight to the hard tiled floor.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie, but I didn’t see you. You were running kind of fast.”

My phone screen is cracked and now it closely resembles a spider’s web. God, I hope it still works. I don’t have any money to fix or replace it.

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry,” I apologize profusely with my head slightly bent down as blood starts to ooze from the new gash in my leg. “I need to slow down. I’m such a klutz.”

Actually, what I need to do is to find Ray before Bronx notices that I’m missing. I’ll deal with my leg later. Hell, I’m in a hospital, so I should be able to find a bandaid on any floor of this place. I continue limping down the hall until I finally find an information desk with an actual person sitting there.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for a patient named Ray Majors. I was told that he was admitted to the emergency room today.”

A middle-aged woman with tortoise shell eyeglasses and a splattering of freckles behind them checks her desktop computer.

“He’s out of emergency and was admitted to the hospital. Eighth floor.”