Wanting Mr. Cane

FOUR

KANDY

Around 3:00 a.m., there was a buzz beside my head. My phone was ringing. My mind was foggy, but I grabbed it with a groan. Mom was calling.

"Mom?" My voice was groggy and thick with sleep as I answered.

"Kandy, honey," she said. I was so tired I didn't even realize her voice was laced with worry and thick with emotion. "Baby, I need you to wake up and listen to me."

I rolled onto my back, running a hand over my face. "What's going on, Mom?"

"Y-your father has been shot, Kandy."

With those words alone, my back was off the bed. I sat up right away, eyes wide.

"What! Shot! How?"

"He was on duty. H-he's being taken to the hospital. One bullet hit his thigh and the other pierced his neck. He bled a lot. I'm on my way to the hospital right now so I can't get you but I called Cane. He's on his way to pick you up now. Just remain calm and stay with him, okay?"

I climbed off the bed and Frankie groaned, popping one eye open to look at me. "Okay. I'll get ready," I said quickly.

Frankie sat up, rubbing her eyes. "Dude, what the hell are you doing?"

I grabbed my sweatpants and tugged them on with haste, grabbing my bag next. "My mom just called. My dad was just shot on duty."

"Oh shit!" Her eyes stretched wider. She climbed off the bed too. "Shit, is he okay?"

"I-I don't know. My mom said one bullet his thigh and the other pierced his neck. She sounded worried." I don't know how I was still so calm. My heart was pounding down, beating in my chest. My chest felt heavy and all oxygen seemed to have been sucked from my lungs, but I still kept moving.

My phone vibrated in hand. I looked at the screen and it was Cane calling.
I rushed to the window and saw his white Chrysler parked at the curb.

"I'll come back for my things later," I told her.

"Yeah, babe. It's fine. Go," she insisted, watching me rush to her door. I hurried down the hall and hustled down the stairs, reaching the door and bursting out. I don't remember if I closed it behind me or not. I just remember Cane standing by the passenger door of his car, holding the door open for me, his face pale, eyes wide. No words were spoken on his behalf.

I jumped in and the door was immediately shut behind me.

He was behind the wheel before I could even give myself a moment to think. He pulled off, gripping his face with his free hand and dragging his palm down.

"Damn it," I heard him groan.

"Why are you driving so slow?" I demanded, frowning at him, and then looking at his speedometer. The speed limit was 45 but he was going 35.

He was quiet, not looking at me.

"Cane!" I shouted. "Hurry and get me to the hospital! I need to make sure my dad is okay!"

He stopped at a light.

"Drive through the light! This is an emergency and he's a cop! If you get pulled over you can tell them who my dad is! Just go!" Tears burned my eyes and my throat was scratchy. I wasn't in the mood for his asshole-ish ways that night. I wasn't in the mood to argue or bicker or do anything with him right now. I just wanted to see my dad.

He was shot. Twice. He needed me right now. His only child. His little girl.

"I'm not taking you to the hospital, Kandy. Your mother told me not to."