All I Did Was Shoot My Man (28 page)

BOOK: All I Did Was Shoot My Man
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57

THE WAIT was
oddly peaceful. Tatyana moved up next to me and pressed her fingers against Katrina’s throat.

“I think I can feel a pulse,” she said to Dimitri. “She is living.”

My son’s cheeks were shaking. He was still on his knees, holding his mother’s wrists. I might have been worried about him if I hadn’t slipped into a fugue state in which the only reality was my body’s warmth and the transference of the heat from me to her.

After what seemed like many hours there were banging sounds from the hall.

If there were more assassins coming, me and my family were dead.

“Down here!” Tatyana shouted. “ We’re down here!”

THE HOSPITAL
we were brought to was called the Sisters of the Consecrated Heart. It was little more than an infirmary on 112th Street but the staff was professional and they seemed equipped for the emergency.

Helen Bancroft arrived at the same time we did. Tatyana had called her. I never asked how she came across the name.

Helen told us that it was a double waiting game.

“First she has to survive the night,” she said, “and then we have to hope that the damage is not permanent.”

Dimitri sat in a chair at the foot of the bed, his big hand clutching a metal rod that was part of the frame. Tatyana stood behind her man. She had her hands on his big shoulders, her chin perched on the top of his head.

I could see the pain in my son. For the first time I realized that his dour disposition was due to an extraordinary sensitivity. As big and brutish-looking as he was, Dimitri was delicate, even fragile. The frail ex-prostitute who caressed him was the strength he needed to survive this world.

“Daddy,” Shelly whined as she came into the single room. She was wearing a rainbow-colored dress that showed off her slim figure.

I stepped to the side so that she could see her mother.

“Oh no,” she cried, rushing past me to Katrina’s side.

“Hey, Pops,” Twill said.

He had on an emerald linen suit over a silken orange shirt. He looked serious and mature.

He put an arm around my shoulders and asked, “How you doin’?”

Twill was very nearly the only person who was concerned with my well-being; the only one who expected nothing in return.

“It’s bad, Twilliam,” I said. “Dr. Bancroft says she might not make it.”

“I knew something was wrong,” he said. “She just wasn’t actin’ right.”

“You told me. I should have listened closer.”

“You couldn’ta stopped this, Pops. Moms always been in charge’a her business. You know she cross the street when she wants to. Fuck the lights.”

I laughed for the first time that evening.

Twill went to his brother and actually kissed him. He patted Tatyana’s arm and then moved to sit with his sister.

My son the Godfather.

THE WAIT
was hours. Somewhere around midnight Dimitri passed out. Helen gave him a sedative after that and found a bed for him on another floor. Tatyana followed him up there, afraid, I’m sure, of what he might do if left to his own devices.

At seven minutes after two Twill told me, “I’m goin’ home to get some rest. I figure you’ll be here tomorrow and somebody should cover the fort. Soon as Mardi finds out you know she’ll be here, so that only leaves me.”

I took his hand and asked, “How are you, boy?”

He held my gaze and smiled.

SOME TIME AFTER FOUR
Shelly was napping in her chair. If the machine next to Katrina was right, her vital signs had improved.

“Seldon told me that you came to his house,” Shelly said. Her eyes were barely open.

“Sorry about that.”

“ Why’d you go there?”

“Lookin’ for a fight, I guess.”

“I love him, Daddy. He wanted to come here with me but I told him you wouldn’t like it.”

“No, I wouldn’t. But that doesn’t matter.”

“ Why not?”

“If you hadn’t been with him, that gunman’s bullets would have found you in the bed. His desire for you saved your life. That’s a natural fact.”

I took a deep breath and remembered something. The memory must have shown on my face.

“ What is it?” Shelly asked.

“I was supposed to meet somebody for a late dinner. I completely forgot.”

“You can call them tomorrow.”

“I don’t have his number.”

Click here for more books by this author.

ALSO BY WALTER MOSLEY

LEONID M
C
GILL MYSTERIES

The Long Fall
Known to Evil
When the Thrill Is Gone

EASY RAWLINS MYSTERIES

Blonde Faith
Cinnamon Kiss
Little Scarlet
Six Easy Pieces
Bad Boy Brawly Brown
A Little Yellow Dog
Black Betty
Gone Fishin’
White Butterfly
A Red Death
Devil in a Blue Dress

OTHER FICTION

The Last Days of Ptolemy Grey
The Tempest Tales
Diablerie
Killing Johnny Fry
The Man in My Basement
Fear of the Dark
Fortunate Son
The Wave
Fear Itself
Futureland
Fearless Jones
Walkin’ the Dog
Blue Light
Always Outnumbered, Always Outgunned
RL’s Dream
47
The Right Mistake

NONFICTION

This Year You Write Your Novel
What Next: A Memoir Toward World Peace
Life Out of Context
Workin’ on the Chain Gang

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