Rock-A-Bye Baby (A BWWM Pregnancy Romance)(10)

By: Vivian Ward

Blue is busy talking to some girl on the phone that he met at the club. He couldn’t get her to come back to the tour bus, so now he’s busy trying to hit her up and maybe go back to her place. The problem with Blue is that he gets it in his head that he wants one chick for the night and goes after her hardcore. It wouldn’t matter that four other girls were trying to get with him; if he’s got tunnel vision on for that one honey, that’s who he’s going after. He’ll pass on all the other girls. I love him, though. He got his nickname, Blue, because his favorite color is blue and he’s from St. Louis and love the St. Louis Blue’s hockey team. We grew up together and have been best friends since we were in the fourth grade. He’s like a brother to me, and we’ve always had each other’s backs.

I look over at B.J.’s bed, and he’s not there anymore. No telling with him where he might have gone. He’s a bit of a loose cannon and likes to do his own thing. B. J. stands for Brian James, but he hates being called Brian because that was his dad’s name. He calls his dad Bozo, like Bozo the Clown, because he was a bum and never worked. I met him about three years ago when his crew split up, and he was looking for a new crew to fit in with, and that’s when he met me. He’s all right; none of us has ever had any problems with him or anything like that. We’re not as close as I am with my other crew members, but we’ll get there. He just needs to wash his clothes a little more often and not be so weird. Is my phone still booting up? I have to get this battery replaced!

Peanut walks up to me and says, “Hey man, you care if I take off for the night?”

I know what this cat’s up to. Peanut got his nickname because he’s allergic to peanuts and we’ve always tormented him about it. We’ve been friends since we were in high school after his family moved to Chi-Town. He’s originally from Memphis. Even though he’s married to Sharon, he’ll sleep with anything that has a wet spot—and the bigger the wet spot, the better. He likes his women on the thick side. You can say he likes BBW’s—specifically the ones that are large and in charge, which is the complete opposite of him. He’s a scrawny old cat.

“Yeah, go ahead. What time will you be back tomorrow? We have that signing at 3 PM at the Emerald Kingdom.”

“I’ll be back before then. Don’t you worry. See you later, bro,” we bump fists as he walks down the aisle of the bus.

I glance down at my phone and notice that it finally powered itself back on. First thing tomorrow, I’m getting a new phone. While all the icons are loading up, I check my email, social media accounts and just as I’m about to see if I have any text messages, a small envelope icon appears at the top of my screen indicating a voice message. There are no text messages. I wonder who left me a voicemail? Oh God, I hope T didn’t go into labor or something. I press and hold the number 1 on my phone to dial my voicemail and enter my passcode to listen to the message. My mouth falls open, and chills shiver down my spine as I listen to it.

“Hello, Mr. Kimmel, this is Registered Nurse Dana Ellis at East Valley Hospital. Your girlfriend Trinity Greene was brought in by ambulance after being shot in the hip. She’s in a dire situation, and we need you to call us immediately. You can reach me at (555) 876-4100, and my extension is 1134. Again, my name is Dana Ellis.”

You don’t know fear and panic until it slaps you in the face, leaving a stinging bite that lingers as your heart sinks, and every breath of air gets sucked out of you. My mind races to a million different scenarios as I try to communicate to everyone on the bus about what’s going on. “Oh my God!” I scream as I punch the wall. “I need a pen and some paper!”

“What’s going on, Corbs?” Blue asks hands me a marker to write with.

“T! She was shot in the hip!” I grab my phone, struggling to get back into my voicemail so I can write down the number to the hospital, along with the woman’s name. What was her name? I begin punching in my pass code one more time. Was it Dawn? No, shit. It was um. I press nine to listen to my saved messages. Was it Deena? The message starts replaying. Dana! It was Dana! I scribble down the number and write her name and extension on a small sheet of paper that Blue scrounged up.

“What are you going to do, man? You gotta go be with her,” B.J. shows back up out of nowhere but hasn’t missed a beat.

“I’m calling right now,” I say, dialing the numbers. “Be quiet.”

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