Page 12

CHAPTER 12

EARTH

I didn’t say shit as I carried McCoy into her room, then the bathroom. I was too pissed to, and I knew the last thing she needed was for me to go off. She’d already gotten her ass beat and me going off wouldn’t do shit but more than likely trigger her.

I sat her on the counter and stared down at her. Her eyes were swollen, her lip busted, and her nose looked like it was broken. I let out a sigh and shook my head. Moving quickly, I ran her bath water, chuckling at the sight of Breeze’s body wash sitting on the rim of her tub. As the water filled, I went back to her. “I’m gonna take your clothes off.”

“No.” She moaned and shook her head. “My body hurts too much to move.”

“Look, if you get in the tub with them on, they’ll feel heavy and be hell to get off, trust me,” I said as I took off her Crocs and tossed them in the corner.

“This is my favorite suit,” she mumbled as I unbuttoned her jacket.

“I’ll buy you another one,” I grunted. I helped her straighten her arm, then pulled her sleeves to get the jacket off.

“This is a two-thousand-dollar suit.”

“That’s chump change,” I replied, then checked the label. I wasn’t surprised to see the Mahogany Fashion logo on the tag. McCoy didn’t know it, but after this was over, I’d have Mahogany personally call her and get her a whole new wardrobe designed exclusively for her.

I took off her silk button-down shirt that was stained with blood and what looked like nut, then helped her off the counter. She stood in front of me with her head down, more than likely embarrassed. She dropped her skirt, but I had to kneel in front of her to help her peel her stockings then panties off. Her body was littered with bruises and scars.

“The water, Earth,” she said softly, and I looked over my shoulder at the tub.

I got up, shut the water off, then let a little out so it wouldn’t overflow when she got in. Once the water was set, I went back to McCoy, picked her up, and walked her back to the tub. I gently sat her in the water, then grabbed her body wash and loofah. I washed her body, making sure I didn’t press too hard and cause more pain. I moved around to the other side of the tub so I could clean her face. I didn’t know what I expected, but seeing McCoy sitting there with her arms wrapped around her legs, silently crying wasn’t it. She had a fresh towel sitting on the edge of the tub that I used to clean her face. The entire time I worked, she never said a word or looked at me.

“I gotta wash your hair,” I said, and she nodded. From years of practice because of Breeze, I knew how to take a ponytail holder off. Her curls fell to her shoulders. “Can you bend your head back?”

“No,” she whispered.

I looked at her tub and how much space she had and knew I was going to have to make her lay back. It would be the only way I could wash her hair without hurting her, but I knew that would require McCoy to trust me.

“I need you to lay back,” I finally said. McCoy turned her head slowly to look at me and I knew from that small action, it hurt. “It’s the only way I can wash your hair and get that nigga’s nut off you without causing you pain.”

“Physically, I’m in so much pain I’m almost numb,” she replied, then turned her head back.

“Lay back, Coy,” I requested. She let out a deep breath, then unwrapped her arms from around her legs. I helped her lay back. I cupped the back of her head to keep her from completely submerging and washed her hair. The entire time, McCoy stared at the ceiling and continued to cry. After I was finished with her hair, I washed her body again in the shower, helped her put on body cream, and dressed in an oversized tee she’d bought for me.

I ended up making her some soup and spoon-fed her before taking her back to my room and laying her on the bed. I took a quick shower, needing a minute to myself to try to get hold of my anger. Jamel’s bitch ass had beat her down, nutted on her face, then left her to fend for herself.

After I finished showering, I put on lotion and deodorant and threw on a pair of pajama pants and a wife beater. The room was dark, but I could see McCoy was still in the same spot I’d left her in. She’d stopped crying when I was feeding her, but her breathing was still ragged as if she would start up again at any moment. I grabbed one of the bags of ice I’d stored in the mini-fridge before I got in the shower and climbed into the bed.

“Chill out, it’s just me,” I said when I felt her tense. I moved her as gently as I could so I could get behind her and rest my back against the headboard. I put the ice pack on her eyes, then closed my eyes and leaned my head against the headboard.

“He wanted to kill me today. I could tell. Even before he said the words, I could tell. His hits were harder, more direct, and intentional on where they landed. When he looked at me, his eyes were void of all emotion. There was a moment when I didn’t think I’d make it,” she softly said. “And it’s a piece of me that didn’t want to. If this is my life, I’d rather die.”

“I know,” I replied because I believed her. No person deserved the treatment she was getting. I looked down at her and shook my head. “I got you from here on out, McCoy. That nigga will never be able to do this shit again. On me, you won’t suffer like this again.”

The next week, the only thing McCoy did was sleep for the most part. I had to help her get to the bathroom, shower, and handle her hygiene. She called her office and told them she had the flu and would be out for at least two weeks. They must’ve been used to her calling out because her secretary told her she’d handle everything and make sure all her cases were covered.

On day eleven, she was finally moving on her own. The swelling in her face was starting to go down and her movements weren’t as stiff as before. I decided to cook something simple, so I ended up making chicken Caesar salad. After I finished cleaning up the kitchen, I took our bowls to my room and handed her one.

“I saw this shit on the net so if it’s nasty, blame them and not me,” I said, sitting next to her. McCoy scooped some onto her fork and took a bite. Her eyes got big, and she nodded her head.

“This is good,” she said, covering her mouth with her hand so I couldn’t see the food in her mouth. “I’ve seen this but never made it.” She took another bite. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, then started eating. I had to admit the shit was good; way better than the soup I’d been warming up.

“No, I owe you a thank you,” she said, then wiped her mouth with her napkin and set her bowl in the bed. “You’ve been taking care of me for almost two weeks. This isn’t how I expected this to happen.”

“What did you think would happen?” I asked with a laugh.

“Honestly?” she said, and I nodded. “I didn’t expect you to be here this long. I thought I’d snatch you and not even twenty-four hours later, the DBB would go after Jamel and his boys.”

“That ain’t how we move,” I said, shaking my head. “Going right after who we think is involved is sloppy. I’m a businessman, so is my brother and my closest homies. They are going to look over everything. Nine is going to hack every camera and security system, Fire is going to kick in doors, and Citrine is probably grabbing every nigga that looks at him wrong. The only thing they haven’t done is kill anyone yet.”

“Why?”

“Because starting a war with the wrong nigga won’t get them the answers they want, and since my body hasn’t been produced, it’s always a chance I’m still alive and they’d rather find me battered and bruised than dead.”

“So, there’s a chance they won’t kill Jamel?” She looked defeated, like all her work was for nothing.

“Oh, nah, they are definitely going to get that nigga, but they want to make sure they get everyone involved too.” I took another bite of my food. “Understand everybody involved is gonna die.

“Okay,” she said, nodding.

We finished our food in silence. I could tell McCoy didn’t like what I told her, but I wasn’t a nigga who would lie to her. In any other circumstances, I would kill everyone involved, but McCoy had been through enough. She didn’t deserve to die because she’d run out of other options, and she felt like I was her only saving grace.

“Let me get your bowl,” I said, standing. She handed me her bowl and I stacked it on mine. “You tired?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m going to go work in my office.”

“Nah, stay right here,” I said, then left the room. I took our dishes to the kitchen, washed them then came back to my room. I didn’t say a word to McCoy as I went to the end table next to the bed and picked up my gun.

“What’s that for?” she asked, scooting back into the bed. Her eyes went from the gun to me, then back to the gun.

“You need to learn how to use it,” I said. I put my hand out for her to take. “Get up.”

“I don’t like guns,” she said, shaking her head.

“Don’t matter whether you like them or not. If that nigga comes to you like he did last time, I want you to be able to protect yourself.” I removed the clip and bullet from the chamber. “I just want you to get used to the feel and know the basics is all.”

McCoy hesitated for a second then nodded her head. She slowly got out of bed and stood next to me. “Show me.” I handed her the gun. “It’s lighter than I expected.”

“'Cause you probably watch all of them movies and them niggas act like a gun is a hundred pounds. A heavy gun doesn’t do you no good when shit gets real. You gotta be able to grab your shit and move. Less than three pounds of weight is in your hand, but it’ll stop a nigga’s life with about seven pounds of pressure.”

“Show me,” she said with a determined look on her face.

“Alright,” I said, then stepped behind her. I lifted her arms and showed her how to hold the gun properly. “Don’t twist that shit like you see in movies. Keep your arms straight, but not too tight. Squeeze the trigger; don’t pull back on it. This is a Glock 19, so all you gotta do is aim, squeeze, and wait for that nigga to fall.”

“Can I squeeze the trigger?” She looked up at me and I nodded.

“Ain’t no bullet in it, so you cool,” I said, and she turned back to look at where she was pointing the gun. The gun clicked every time she pulled it and I stood there with my arms around her, letting her get used to it. “I’ma put the clip and bullet back in but don’t pull the trigger. Even though I’ma make sure the safety is on, still don’t pull that shit.”

“Okay,” she agreed. I grabbed the clip and bullet and put it back in the gun. Before I put it back in her hands, I made sure the safety was on.

“Put your finger on the trigger but don’t squeeze,” I said once behind her again. “The next time that nigga steps to you wrong, pull this gun out, flip the safety.” I tapped where the safety was on the gun. “And squeeze the trigger. I don’t give a fuck who is around, your life matters. You matter. That nigga doesn’t. Don’t let him take shit else from you, you understand me?”

“Won’t you need your gun?” she asked without looking at me.

“Don’t worry about me,” I said. She didn’t know it, but I could see the tears falling from her eyes. “I got a million niggas behind me, and because you are riding with me from here on out, that means so do you.”

McCoy dropped her arms and turned to look at me with a surprised look on her face. “After all this, you aren’t going to kill me?”

“Nah.” I laughed and shook my head. “I get why you did what you did. You are fighting for your life. I’m not gonna be the nigga to take it from you once you finally get it.”

“Thank you, Earth,” she said, then hugged me.

“You got it, Coy,” I said, then kissed the top of her head. “Now let’s see if you can throw hands just in case that nigga try to sneak you again and you can’t get to that gun.”