RIPPED & READY (PART 92)

RIPPED & READY (PART XCII)

            ”Move out the way, Danita,” I said, shooing my frantic sister out the way.  I kneeled down to inspect the wounded, hoping it wasn’t as bad as it seemed.  When Todd moved his arms I breathed as sigh of relief.  Next I went over to check Denise, and once I saw her stomach going up and down, I let out the biggest shriek, thankful that she wasn’t dead. 

          When I rolled her over on her side, I saw that the knife was laying flat on its side which meant that the blood was coming, not from Denise, but from Todd.  It looked worse than it was.  The sight of all that blood caused me to gag a little, but I manned up and instructed Danita to wet a couple of towels with cold water.  I wanted to try and slow the blood river seeping from Todd’s wound down. 

          She didn’t move right away.  I cut my eyes at her and told her to stop acting like that patch of fur between her legs, and do what I asked her to do. Reluctantly, she removed her hands from her mouth and brushed past pops. 

          I lifted Todd up by the neck, and told him that it was going to be okay.  I was pissed off at him because this didn’t have to be.  Had he stayed out of it, Denise’s ass wouldn’t have gone ballistic.  I knew she felt like everybody there was trying to bum rush her, but that wasn’t the case, but tell that to somebody who was already getting their ass whipped.  When I heard her groaning, I assumed that she had regained consciousness. 

          “Oh, damn,” she said, holding her side, sitting up beside me and Todd. 

          “Pops, will you put down that liquor and bring your drunk ass over here and help get this girl up so that I can have more room to see about Todd,” I asked, him, hoping he would comply without giving me any lip.

          “No, I ain’t touching nothing or nobody, I don’t want my fingerprints on shit except this bottle of ‘Bird I got in my hand,” he said, sloppier than a that peach outfit he had on. 

          “You are such a pathetic piece of work, pops,” I told him, gently putting Todd’s head down and assisting Denise up, moving her over to one of the easy chairs in the living room.

          “I know you’re not sitting her bloody ass in my good chair,” he slurred, staggering over to where we were in the living room. 

          This motherfucker had gotten on my “got-dayum” nerves.  He was a useless ass nigga with an even useless reason for breathing.  Lord, I cannot believe you continue to give him air to breath, I said to myself. 

          “Why don’t you go take your inebriated ass some place and sit down if you’re not going to make yourself useful?” I told him as I brushed passed him.

          His balance was off, and he swayed uncontrollably hitting the wall. 

          “I’ll knock the fuck out of you, you little sissified ass nigga,” he told me, blowing wolf tickets like a coward.

          I stopped before I reached the kitchen and looked back at him.  I gritted my teeth and told him, “The ass kicking you have coming just may come tonight if you don’t shut your disgusting mouth up.” 

          I wiped my mouth, and licked my lips for emphasis.  All of the rage inside me was bubbling and I planned on making good on my threats.  He had put this family through so much over the years and I had enough of him and his blatant disregard for the sanctity of my mother’s home.  If he wanted to rare up at me now I was ready to take him on without any qualms. 

          I looked at him and stood my ground. 

          “Well, what it do, old man, what it do?” I asked, repeating the question to make sure he heard me loud and clear. 

          “MARCO!” Todd called out in pain. 

          I took a moment and made sure that my old man wasn’t going to pull a sucker move and catch me off guard. 

          When Danita appeared in the hallway holding the damp towels, I asked her to watch my back so that pops wouldn’t pull some shit. 

          She grabbed the rolling pin she had hit Denise with from off the ground, and folded her arms, assuring me that nobody was going to come near me.  My sister wasn’t a punk, she would light his ass up with that wooden cylinder.  The ends of it provided ample grip and she would wear his old ass out with it. 

          I took the towels from her hand, and kneeled beside my wounded buddy. 

          “Hey, soilder boy, how are you holding up, huh?” I asked, gently lifting his head, and placing a dry towel beneath it. 

          “Aww, you know me, you cannot keep a good man down,” he said, coughing and scrunching his face in pain. 

          “Yea, well, I’m going to see about that right now,” I told him. 

          I lifted the blood soaked wash cloth up from the cut, and saw that it was deep.  My body went a little numb looking at the redness inside the gash.  Against the darkness of his skin the cut looked as if it were on fire.  I knew by the way the blood kept oozing out that he would need stitches. 

          “Baby, this is going to need some stitches,” I told him, putting another cold compress on it. 

          “No, I don’t want to go to the hospital,” he said.  “They are going to report this to the military and they don’t need to get involved with this because they would pick this story apart until they had answers,” he said, placing his hand on top of mine. 

          I knew he was in pain because the expression on his face kept twisting each time he moved.  

          “Todd, nobody here is a physician, bro, what are we going to do, this needs to be stitched up?” I asked him, concerned about his welfare.  

          I was getting frustrated because I didn’t want it to get infected and cause other problems. 

          “Bro, you are leaving here in a week, this needs to be looked at by a real doctor,” I told him, applying pressure to the cut trying to stop the flow of blood. 

          “NO! Man, I’m telling you what I know, the government does not play when it comes to one of their own,” he said, grabbing me by the hand. 

          “This is what you’re going to do,” he told me, “you’re going to call my buddy Ewuare Agbowo; he is this Nigerian guy that I met who is studying to be a doctor.  Tell him who you are and that I need him to come over and stitch me up,” he instructed.

          “Todd, what are you saying?” I asked, nervous about what he was asking me to do. 

          He gripped my hand tighter and said, “Do it, I know what I’m talking about.  This ain’t shit compared to what I’ve seen overseas, Marco, now stop acting like a little bitch and do it,” he said, knowing that the last part of his statement would get me moving. 

          I looked down at him and said, “You may be hurt right now, but I’ll kick your ass if you call me that again,” I told him, knowing “got-dayum” well he’d wipe the floor up with me at any given time. 

          “Yea, okay, anytime you ready for your ass to be kicked by a Marine, you let me know,” he said, laughing, and then grabbing his chest in pain. 

          Tears welled up in my yes.

          He looked at me and said, “Yea, I love you too, now do it, man.  You want me to bleed to death?”

          I grabbed my phone and called his friend up.  He said to give him fifteen minutes, he was on his way. 

          As we all waited patiently, all I could do was pray that my boy Todd was going to be okay. 

          Knock

          Knock

          Knock

          Danita opened the door expecting it to be Todd’s friend.

          “D’Andre?” she exclaimed.

          I couldn’t believe it; this motherfucker had nerve to show his lying ass face up at our front door. 

          What the fuck did he want?