Push Comes to Shove (37 page)

“However you want to carry this situation, I respect your call. But know that I apologize for this mess.” GP passed a hand over Desmond.

“Apologize? Motherfucker, you screaming apology and these folks are screaming that if I walk again, I’m still gonna be a fucking cripple. You can’t apologize for that. Nah, not with words.”

“My accountant is taking care of your hospital bill.”

“Broke-ass people don’t have accountants.”

“I used to be broke.”

“Even if you did, do you think I give a fuck about a hospital bill? I wouldn’t pay it anyway. And the next time I get hurt they gonna fix me anyway. Fuck out of here.”

GP flipped the lid of the briefcase open, then pushed it under the gurney with his ostrich-skin shoe, giving Desmond a view other than speckled floor tiles. “A hundred thousand for the trouble I’ve caused. I’m asking you to accept my apology and let this go.”

“How is my big brother?” Sahara came in and set her purse in a chair near Desmond. “They said they’re going to turn you over today.”

“I’m all right.” Desmond studied the dead presidents’ faces. “I’m glad you’re here. Take the briefcase under me home with you when you leave.”

She looked through the wires and straps at the money. “You just won’t get enough, will you, Des? I pray every night that the person who did this to you would die by suffocation or worse. And you’re laid up in here on this…on this
thing
, still making drug deals.” She finally acknowledged GP. “Couldn’t you have at least waited until he got out of the hospital?”

“Sahara.”

“Nah, the hell with that, Des.” She glared at GP. “See what happened to him because of the things y’all are involved in. You black men make me sick.”

“I apologize for the intrusion, sister.” GP turned to leave.

Desmond could hear GP’s hard bottoms click against the floor. “Tell your girl, Jewels—”

“She was murdered two weeks ago.”

Sahara watched the door close. “Who was that?”

Desmond thought while staring at the money. “Nobody.”

A
nd this is the indoor pool.” Suzette pushed the glass sliding doors open. “Consistent with the rest of the house, the floors are heated around the deck. And as you can see, the pool area offers a spectacular view of the backyard.”

“Looks more like a park.” Kitchie pictured GP and Junior tossing a football around.

“This house sits on two-and-a-half acres of land.”

“I love it,” Kitchie said. “Suzette, I want to thank you again for everything you did for us. You’re an angel.”

“I’m glad everything worked out for your family. Sometimes you have to go through hell before you can experience heaven.”

“Uh, that’s deep.” Kitchie looked at her reflection in the pool. “So what happened with you and…”

“Todd.”

Kitchie nodded.

“He and I, we’re getting divorced. We had our season. I would’ve liked for us to have made it through all the seasons, but life doesn’t give you what you want, only what you need.” She paused to think. “It took me some time and a lot of bruised feelings to learn that we couldn’t make a relationship work for the sake of our children. Fire and gunpowder don’t sleep together. We’re working on communicating the best message to our children now. In my opinion, that’s what’s important.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

“Don’t be. Only God’s perfection is active in my life.”

“Mommy.” Junior came running. “Guess what?”

“Stop running,” Kitchie said as Secret came behind him. “What is it?”

“This house is so big I can hear my echo.”

“Now this is tight.” Secret admired the pool. “We can have my friends over for pool parties and everything.”

“Where is your father?” Kitchie ran a hand over Junior’s head.

“He’s in that one room, looking at the paintings.”

“The entrance hall,” Suzette said. “If you all would follow me, I’ll show you to Mr. Patterson.”

When they made it to the entrance hall, GP was staring at a painting in deep thought. The painting was of a nun cradling her deformed infant.

Suzette stood beside him. “This piece is called
Sister Francine’s Baby
. All of these paintings came from the Parousia collection.
Sister Francine’s Baby
is estimated to be worth eighty-thousand, as well as these.” She gestured toward the remaining paintings.

GP looked at Kitchie. “Do you like it?”

“The painting or the house?”

“Both.”

“I’ve always been a fan of T. Clary’s artwork, but I’m in love with this house.”

He turned to Suzette. “We’ll take it.”

“Nine thousand square feet is a lot of house. What do you plan on doing with it?”

“This is where my family and I are gonna enjoy life.”

Later that afternoon, GP met with Nancy Pittman in her downtown office. “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.” He sat in a comfortable leather chair facing her desk.

“What brings you here?”

“I’m in a position now where I can help someone else out.”

“Congratulations. I’ve been following your story in the paper.”

“Thank you. Samone and Denise. I want them to come and live with us.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible. Samone Jefferson is no longer in the care of the state. Her sister turned eighteen and came for her. Denise Holcut is another story. She’s a troubled kid who’s more than likely going to move from group home to jail. I hate to say it, but I’ve seen it before. I’m not sure you want to invite the problem she’s bound to bring into your home.”

“So you’re willing to throw her away and let jail be her fate? You’re not even willing to offer her a more constructive alternative?”

“All I’m saying is that she’s been around. Denise has the body of a little girl, but she was forced to grow up a long time ago. If I were you, I wouldn’t want her around my children. You’re asking for trouble.”

He fixed her with a stern look. “I know Denise’s kind better than your files, statistics, and reports. I used to be her and look how I turned out. I don’t deserve a Nobel Prize or no shit like that, but I’m a decent man. I have values and I’m integrity-driven. All Denise needs is someone who is willing to direct her energy in a positive direction. She just needs someone who will love her. My family and I are willing to do that. Will you deny us that?”

“If you insist on planting a weed in your garden, I’ll do the paperwork. I think it’s a bad idea, though.”

“She isn’t a weed. Her flower is just taking a little longer to blossom than others.”

“Have it your way, Mr. Patterson.”

Aubrey Stevens shut his computer off and was preparing to leave the bank for the day.

A stout man who worked in the mailroom poked his head inside the office. “Looks like I caught you in the nick of time. I have a package here for you.” He sat the box on the desk and left.

Aubrey searched the package for a return address. There wasn’t one. He laid his suit jacket over the arm of his chair and began to tear the packaging tape from the box. He opened the box and saw a typed letter sitting on top of bundles of money. He took the letter, sank in his chair, and began to read.

Mr. Stevens
:

I made a very large withdrawal from your fine bank some time ago. Once again, I’d like to thank you. Without your assistance, it would not have been possible for me to repair my life
.

Enclosed you will find the entire $670,000 withdrawal, plus the current interest. Please forgive me for the scare I caused you. Unfortunately, sometimes push comes to shove
.

Mr. Wagoner

It had been a month since the Pattersons’ lives had taken a turn for the best. Kitchie stood in her stainless steel and marble kitchen, gazing through the window at Junior zipping through the backyard. She went out on the patio and waved him over.

The minibike rushed toward Kitchie. Its engine became louder as it approached the house. Junior mashed the rear brake, sending the minibike into a three-foot skid. He took the helmet off. “Huh, Ma?”

“Do you have to ride that thing like that? You don’t have to go so fast, boy.”

“Wait until I learn how to pop a wheelie.”

“And that’s exactly when I’m gonna make you ride a regular bike. So my advice to you is keep both tires on the ground.”

“Okay.”

“Turn it off and come inside. Your father just came in with Secret’s present, and the show will be on in twenty minutes.”

“Okay, Ma, one more spin.”

“Park it and come inside now.”

Junior put the kickstand down and turned the engine off.

GP carried a large box with a blue ribbon attached to it down a corridor on the house’s left wing. The corridor led to a state-of-the-art theater room with the seating capacity of forty-eight. He set the box down and poked his head into the theater and overheard Secret and Nise talking.

Nise lounged in a theater chair next to Secret. “Would you feel some type of way if I called GP and Mrs. P. Mom and Dad?”

Secret stared for a moment. “We all agreed to invite you into our family. I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to think I was a punk and being all mushy. But that day you helped Junior and me, you became my sister for life. I told all my friends you’re my sister. You’re family, so if you’re comfortable with
Mom
and
Dad
, I don’t mind.”

Nise reached over and hugged her. “That means a lot to me. Thanks. I never had a mom or dad or a little sister or brother.”

“Yeah, it’s weird. I’ve always been Junior’s big sister; now I have a big sister. None of that bullying stuff, though.”

“Shit…I mean shoot. I learned my lesson a long time ago. I got a tough little sister. So what are we gonna do for the weekend when Samone comes to visit?”

Secret crossed her legs. “Ma said we can have an all-girl’s day. Go shopping at the mall and get our hair done.”

“What are you going to wear? I’m thinking about rocking my new Claiborne outfit with those Nine West shoes your mother picked out.”

“Our mother.”

Nise smiled.

“That’ll be tight, though,” Secret said. “I might wear Burberry from head to toe. I don’t know yet; I might decide to wear something else from my wardrobe.”