Memphis Streets 4: Skeletons

Chapter 9- Le'Shelle

Snake's dick game put a bitch to sleep—a deep sleep.

What's troubling about this shit is that I'm not dreaming about him, but about his shady-ass, honeycoated cousin with the waaaay too damn pretty eyes. In my fantasy, his ass gives Snake a run for his money in knowing how to tear up my pussy. I'm clawing at this muthafucka's back like a panther in heat and growling nasty-ass shit in his ear.

I don't even like this nigga so the dream doesn't make sense—but the shit feels so damn good that I'm coming in my sleep. A phone trills somewhere in the background and then slowly sinks into my consciousness.

"Somebody get that," I murmur between gasps of Diesel's deep strokes.

The ringing persists and fucks up our flow. "Get the goddamn phone!"

"All right. Shit," Snake snaps, stretching across my body. Jarred, I pop my eyes open. Holy shit. Was I talking in my sleep?

"Yeah. What is it?" he moans into the phone. Yawning, I roll over, hoping to get back to the exact spot I left off in the dream.

"Come again?" He sits up. "You gotta be fuckin' shittin' me," he barks. I grab a pillow and stuff it over my head.

Diesel. Diesel. Come back, baby. Snake snatches the sheets off our bodies and swings his legs over to perch on the edge of the bed. What the fuck? I snatch off the pillow and hiss, "Who the fuck is that?" Ignoring me, Snake's face drains of color.

This can't be good news. "She's alive," Snake croaks. "That's what you're telling me?"

"Who's alive?" I crawl across the bed to him. "How is that possible? Where has she been?"

"Who?" I rock his shoulder to get his attention, but he swats me away. "The cops are there with her?" He huffs out a long breath. "Shit."

Anxiety rolls around in my gut as my imagination takes flight. "All right. All right. I'm coming, but . . . I need to figure a few things out first. Yeah. Call me back if her condition changes. A'ight. Bye." He disconnects the call.

I wait two seconds and then bark impatiently, "Well? Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on?"

"Momma Peaches," he says. "She's alive." Silence explodes between us while I try to process what he's saying.

I know that no one ever found a body, but I wrote her old ass off. Charged whatever the fuck she was involved in to the game and was keeping it moving. "I don't understand. You said—"

"I know what I said! I don't understand it either, but Vicious's sister working at Baptist Memorial called him and said that Momma Peaches showed up at the emergency room tonight all banged up."

"What?"

"He said her and some white chick claimed that they'd been kidnapped. They're running all kinds of tests and even had to pump her stomach because she was filled with so many toxins."

"Is she going to be all right?" I ask, only mildly concerned.

Snake brushes his hand over his low-cropped hair. "She doesn't know." He visibly struggles to keep his shit together.

Snake and Momma P are as thick as thieves. Although she's his aunt, she raised him like he was her own when his mother bailed on him to feed her crack habit. Hell. Everybody loves Momma Peaches. She's an old-school gangsta and has taught most the bitches on Shotgun Row the real rules of the street game. Clearly, she's still a survivor. I just wish her ass liked me half as much as she liked that retarded bitch Monica.

"I gotta go see her," Snake announces, grabbing clothes from the floor.

"Whoa." I hop off the bed and snatch his jeans from his hands. "What do you mean that you gotta to go see her? Is that smart right now?"

"Probably not—but she's my people." He jerks the jeans back. "I get that, but the minute you stroll into that hospital every law enforcement officer in the tri-state area is going descend and lock your ass up!" I go for the jeans again and then get locked into a tug-ofwar.

"Stop it, Shelle. I ain't got time for this shit right now."

"Make time because your ass is about to fuck up." Again. "I mean, how do you know this shit ain't a trap? Huh? Vicious called, so what? That nigga ain't nobody." He pauses.

"Call the hospital yourself. Check it out, but don't do something this stupid. You're the most wanted muthafucka on the streets right now and you're going to just go stroll your ass up in the hospital where they got cameras and shit? What—are you gonna call a damn time-out with the damn cops because your aunt may or may not be up in that bitch? C'mon. Think." I let go of his jeans.

"I don't know what the fuck happened to your head after you drove off that bridge, but it must've knocked a few screw loose cuz I swear your ass done lost it."

"Shell—"

"You asked him whether the police were there. Well, are they?" The muscle in his jaw twitches, which tells me all I need to know. I suck in a deep breath and then approach this shit another way.

"I know you love her," I say softening my voice. "You're concerned —but if you go down there, everything is going to go left. The FBI or the cops probably have her surrounded because of her association with you. They gotta be hoping that you pop up down there." When I can't tell whether I'm getting through to him, I reach up and mush him in his thick head.

"Wake the fuck up, Snake. You're smarter than this!"

"ARRRGH." He spins around and punches another hole in the wall.

POW!

Then, as if realizing the pointlessness in him beating up the wall, his shoulders deflate and he props his head against it instead. Exhaling a long breath, I ease up behind him and slide my arms around his waist.

"I understand you're upset," I tell him. "But isn't it good just to know that she's alive—that she's going to survive whatever hell she's been through?"

No answer. His back muscles flex and knot during his internal war. Feeling for him, I pepper kisses across his broad shoulders.

"There's plenty of ways to get word to her, Snake. She'll understand why you can't go and see her. When she gets better and is released from the hospital, then we can arrange a meet up." Kiss.

"But you gotta be patient." Kiss. Finally, he relaxes. "It's going to be all right. You have her back now. That's all that matters."

Snake nods. "I still need to get word to her though. The sooner the better." He turns around and faces me. "And you're right. I need to do it with someone I can trust—and someone Momma Peaches trusts, too. Family."

"Oh, shit." I drop my arms and step back. "Don't say it. Snake—"

"I know you don't like him—but Diesel is the best man for the job."

Diesel. Diesel. Diesel. I see right now that I'm going to have to get rid of this muthafucka