“I will be, with you there, and some pain medication.”
“Sure, I’ll come. I was only taking my morning jog. What hospital do I meet you at?” Amerie asked.
“Cook County,” Boon told her, and she said she’d be there in 20 minutes, at the most.
By the time he saw Amerie walk into the waiting room, Boon had just signed in. Her tan skin was flawless and she looked perfect with no makeup on at all. She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and had on a green and yellow Nike jogging suit that hugged her frame. To complete the outfit, she was wearing matching, green and yellow Nike Huaraches on her feet. Boon’s first thought was that she was an Oregon Ducks fan; his second thought was about how many ways he’d like to peel that jogging suit off and give her the dick.
“Over here, babe,” Boon waved his hand in the air to let Amerie know where he was seated. It was also a ploy to let everyone in the waiting area know that she was there for him.
“How in the hell did this shit happen?” Amerie asked, once she was seated next to Boon.
“My dumbass had to take a leak bad as hell when I first got home. I ran in and didn’t lock the door behind me. When I came back into the living room, three niggas was in my house with guns. One hit me, and I woke up like this,” Boon lied. How could he tell her he was fucking his ex-girlfriend and fell asleep, only to wake up in the midst of the robbery, and find out that she was the one who had set the whole thing up?
“Damn, boo, at least you’re alive.” Amerie was caring, and Boon began to feel that tingle in his heart, all over again. “What made you call me? I’m sure you called your family after you called the cops.”
“You were the first person I thought of when I regained consciousness,” Boon lied, again.
“My family would exaggerate the situation; mainly, because I’m the youngest.”
“And the cops?” Amerie asked, as she put her hand on Boon’s thigh.
“I’m from Chicago; we don’t call 911. Besides, I’m alive and they only got some jewelry and some chump change,” Boon smirked.
“All right, macho. So what—” Amerie was interrupted by the loudspeaker calling out a few names.
“I need a Jamela Howard and a Daniel Watson. Please, report to the nurse’s station.”
Boon’s ears perked up like an alerted canine. Instead of instantly standing, Boon looked around to be certain he’d heard correctly. Just as sure as shit stinks, Mela was walking toward the doctor. She was obviously pregnant, and to top that off, she was with Yo.
“Daniel Watson, last call,” the voice on the loudspeaker blared again.
“Boon, let’s go. He’s called your name three times now.” Amerie was tugging at his arm for him to get up. By now, Mela was looking around suspiciously, waiting to see the man who would respond to that particular name. Reluctantly, Boon got up and walked with Amerie to where the doctor was standing.
As they walked up, Mela spoke first. “Damn, Boon! The fuck happened to you?” she asked. She actually seemed concerned, but Boon didn’t even acknowledge her.
“Dag, homie, that’s a big-ass gash, fam!” Yo exclaimed.
Boon’s jaw gave away the fact that he was clenching his teeth, although he said nothing. Both couples followed the doctor to the back towards the triage rooms.
“Uh-um…” Amerie cleared her throat, as if to get Boon’s attention, but he ignored her because he was beyond pissed.
“Mister Watson, you’ll take room three right here,” the doctor pointed to his left and stuck the chart in the tray on the door.
“It’s like that?” Mela scoffed. “Fuck you and ya li’l Barbie doll too, nigga!” Mela snarled, as she walked off with the doctor.
Boon smirked; it was all he could do to keep from spazzing out in the room. Inside, he was a fireball; an intense rage was building in him and he felt his eyes get watery. He was mad enough to kill at that very moment. I shoulda choked the life outta that bitch.
“Ummm, Boon?” Amerie broke into his thoughts of murderous rage. “Are you okay? I just called your name six times,” she stated, as Boon sat in a chair by the door, fighting his anger.
“I apologize, beautiful. Just got lost in a serious thought for a minute there,” he replied.
“So I noticed.” Amerie sat down right next to Boon. “You wanna tell me who your friends were just a minute ago, or do I wait until you’re stitched up and healed?” she asked, as he looked into her mesmerizing eyes. She had gorgeous eyes; the kind that seemed to be able to see right through you. It almost made it impossible to lie to her. And at that moment, Boon wasn’t even considering doing so.
“The girl was my ex-girlfriend, Mela. The guy was my good friend, Johan, or Yo, as we called him.” Boon took a deep breath and exhaled.
Amerie waited a few minutes, and then urged him on. “Oh come out with it already. There has to be more to the story,” she stated. “You didn’t speak when either one of them spoke to you. Then the bitch went all hostile, like I wouldn’t drop kick her ratchet-ass or something,” Amerie huffed, with an attitude.
Boon smiled on the inside. “Okay, okay,” he began, taking another deep breath and exhaling before continuing. “I thought shit was going smooth with us. One day, I bought her favorite wine, massage oils, and all that good shit. I was gonna help her relax after a hard day’s work, ya know? She gets in and drops the ‘I don’t wanna be with you. Maybe another girl will love you how you wanna be loved’, bomb on me. Needless to say, I’m crushed.” Boon’s eyes dimmed, as he recalled that dreadful night, while Amerie hung on to every word. “Yo was my weed man at the time, aside from being my homie. Earlier that day, he’d told me to stop by and pick some up. ‘Even if my door is closed, just come in’, he told me. After Mela hit me with the fucked-up news, of course, I needed some bud.” Boon looked at the floor and paused. “I walked in Yo’s spot, ‘cause his music was blaring, as usual. He couldn’t hear me calling his name, so I walked back to his room; he had Mela bent over his dresser, screwing her brains out.” Boon stopped.
“Nann one of them ain’t shit, then,” Amerie concluded. “She gon’ cross him up too. That probably ain’t even his baby,” she snorted. “Just so you know, I ain’t that type of girl. That’s some thirsty shit right there.”
Before and after receiving his stitches, Amerie listened, as Boon regaled her with tales about his fumbled attempts at love. “You ain’t got no little dick, do you?” she blatantly asked him.
“Hell no,” he laughed, thinking about how serious women are about not getting pencil dick for a mate.
As they were walking to Amerie’s car in the visitor’s parking lot, they realized that they had only been in the ER for a couple hours. “What now?” she murmured, while unlocking the doors on her metallic grey Chevy Camaro.
Boon smiled, impressed with this woman’s choice of transportation. “Well, I need a new phone, so I’m gonna go grab one; and I was hopin’ to treat you to breakfast, seein’ as how you were kind enough to come sit with me this morning,” Boon offered.
“Ain’t gon’ lie, I am kinda hungry. Am I driving or are you?” Amerie quipped.
“I don’t like leaving my car, so I’d rather just follow you,” Boon suggested.
“So, where are we goin’?” Amerie started her car, as she waited for Boon’s reply.
“First, we go to the Sprint store; then after that, breakfast. If you bougie, we can go upscale, but if you down-to-earth, we can hit IHOP.” Boon searched Amerie’s face to see if she was either.
“Oh shit, I love pancakes. Go get your car and come on.”