Page 3 of Kisses Behind The Spotlight 2: Finale

“I love you too. Ain’t no telling what I’m going to get into with your husband leading the way,” I snickered, and Vincent turned around to look at me.

“My husband doesn’t have a single mugshot, boo.”

“Yeah, ain’t never had a pair of cuffs on these wrists,” Vincent chimed in.

“I just got out of jail. Y’all are not about to jump me,” I joked before ending the call.

I passed Vincent his phone back, and we drove the rest of the way to the hospital in silence; only Jameera’s sobs filled the car. After a few minutes, Vincent snapped around, and his eyes narrowed in on Jameera that time.

“So you going to cry the whole fucking ride? Q got my blood running through his veins. He’ll survive another night in county.”

His voice came out harsh and cold, but the venom lacing Jameera’s tone was equally as menacing.

“We just spent the night in jail. Look at my face!” Jameera shed my grasp and leaned closer to Vincent, turning her head so he could get a good look at the exposed flesh on her cheek. “The whole ordeal was traumatizing. We were manhandled. Xain could’ve died. Excuse me if I’m not used to guns going off at random around me. On top of all of that, nobody knows what’s going on with my dad! And now Q has to spend the night in jail.”

“Chill on her, Vincent,” Stepp laughed from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah, Everybody relax. We are pulling into the hospital now,” I chimed in.

Vincent turned back around and focused on the road.

When we made it to the hospital, they gave us visitor badges and directions to the ICU. A nurse led us in, and Jameera’s steps halted when we entered. The brown-skinned man’s face was black and blue, and he lay eerily still, hooked up to various monitors. I grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently. Her dad looked both peaceful and pained.

“James had a seizure while driving and suffered a moderate traumatic brain injury with a small cerebral contusion from the accident. We are keeping him sedated because of swelling in his brain. The doctors are watching him closely, and it’s still early. Over the next day or two, as the swelling settles and we are able to reduce the sedation, we will have a clearer picture of the road ahead. We’ll also need to investigate what caused the seizure in the first place.”

“He has epilepsy, but it’s been years since he’s had a seizure,” Jameera explained.

She pulled away from me and walked over to the bed. The tears she stifled for a few minutes started again as she claimed the seat next to her dad. Jameera grabbed his hand, squeezed it tightly, then laid her head on it.

I took the empty seat next to Jameera and comforted her with a warm hug. There was nothing I could do to make her feel better, and I knew that. But when she asked me to call her family, I jumped into action without hesitation.

Within the hour, her family trickled in. Once Jameera was settled with her family, I slipped out of the hospital room and found Stepp, Duke, and Vincent in the parking lot. I needed a shower and something good to eat. The last twenty-four hours were hell, and things didn’t look like they would lighten up anytime soon.

That was until I made it to my Auntie Anila and Vincent’s house. They basically owned a farm, with horses in the barn out back, and now they had two chickens that ran loose on their equestrian estate in Odessa. If anyone knew how to brighten my day, it was my auntie.

We found her in the kitchen cooking lunch while Van napped on the couch. Vincent walked over to peck her cheek, and I washed my hands to help her finish cooking whatever she was making. I was starving. The food they served in jail was as close to slop as you could get.

“It smells good in here,” Stepp complimented.

“Yeah, what you cooking, Anila?” Duke inquired.

“Red beans and rice and cornbread.”

“Perfect for the cool weather,” I commented.

Stepp and Duke slipped onto the stools at the kitchen island and watched the stove. You could tell by how comfortable the men were that they spent a lot of time at their house. After Vincent and Anila exchanged greetings, he claimed a stool next to them.

“Now y’all know we need some privacy,” Auntie announced. “Can we have the kitchen?”

“Oh, excuse us. I thought we were about to have a family conversation,” Vincent joked.

“Nope, it’s TT and niece time,” I chimed in.

“Come on, we can go out back. It’s nice out, and Van is asleep, so we can smoke.”

“Thank you, baby. I’ll call y’all when the food is ready,” she announced.

The men ambled out of the back door and closed it behind them. As soon as I knew we were alone, the dramatics started.