gold wire-framed glasses. He checked Summer thoroughly; she was doing better than he thought. Since her baby’s birth was natural, she’d be discharged soon.
A week later, Summer was washing clothes in the laundry room of her house, when she got a phone call from her mother.
“Summa.”
“Ma’am?”
“Somebody jus’ called here lookin’ fo’ you.”
“Who was it?”
“Her name was Ann. Said y’all was locked up together.”
Summer smiled. “Did she leave a number?”
As she pulled a load of clothes out the dryer, the doorbell sounded.
“She didn’t leave a number, but I told her I’d call you to see if you wanted me to give her yo’ number.”
Now at the front door, Summer glanced through the peephole and saw somebody on the porch. “Okay, Mama, give her my number when she calls again. Let me see who dis’ is at the door. I’ll call you back.”
After Mrs. Diane hung up, Summer continued looking through the peephole. “Who is it?” she asked.
“Is Danté home?” The guy asked this question, hoping he could buy some time. He knew Danté wasn’t there.
“He ain’t home,” she said, then went to the window.
To her surprise, she saw the guy remove a handgun from his waist. As she turned and ran upstairs, four shots rang out, the bullets shattering the wooden door. Summer quickly wrapped up Lil’ Danté, who was now crying by the sudden movement. Summer’s heart thumped fiercely inside her chest. She could still hear the gunfire ringing in her ear. She didn’t want to call the police because she knew Danté had drugs and guns inside the house. So, she dialed his cell phone, and he answered on the third ring.
“Hello.”
“Danté…” She was breathing hard.
“What’s wrong?”
“Somebody…jus’ shot in tha house.”
“You alright?”
“Yeah. I didn’t call da police yet.”
Danté thought quickly. “Call ‘em now. I’m on my way, okay?”
“Okay.”
She hung up and dialed 911, and as she was explaining what had happened, the dispatcher told her a car was already on the way. A neighbor had called, which wasn’t a surprise.
When Danté pulled up, he parked on the grass because a Richmond County Sheriff’s car had the driveway blocked off. Nervous, he got out his car, with the twins exiting behind him from the backseat. Police made anybody nervous, especially when they knew they were doing wrong. Danté’s nine-millimeter was tucked away in his trunk under some cleaning rags, and two keys of cocaine and a Tec-9 were well hidden in the house.
A short, white officer was examining the door where the bullets had entered. He walked inside the house with the twins holding each of his hands. Summer was sitting in the living room answering questions from another officer. She held the baby in her arms, but stood up when she saw Danté. They hugged, and he took the baby.
“You alright?” he asked her, trying not to show any signs of anger in front of the police.
Thirty minutes later, the police were gone. Before leaving, they told them a detective would come by to investigate the case. Danté and Summer were now alone in the den, with the baby wrapped in blankets and sound asleep on the sofa.
“Did you see how he looked?”
“Not really.” She shook her head. “But he asked was you home.”
“Did you see a car?” Danté’s eyes were fire red.
“It was an old car, primed.”
Danté thought for a few minutes. He knew there wasn’t but three people he dealt with that knew where he lived. He would play everything by ear and reaction. No questions would come from him.
“You ain’t got to get in no trouble, Danté.”
His eyes were staring at the carpet. His hands had started to sweat, and the anger was showing all over his face. He threw his head back and exhaled. He was desperately trying to control himself. Summer threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, but he wasn’t in it himself.
She then got on her knees, began unbuckling his belt,
A week later, Summer was washing clothes in the laundry room of her house, when she got a phone call from her mother.
“Summa.”
“Ma’am?”
“Somebody jus’ called here lookin’ fo’ you.”
“Who was it?”
“Her name was Ann. Said y’all was locked up together.”
Summer smiled. “Did she leave a number?”
As she pulled a load of clothes out the dryer, the doorbell sounded.
“She didn’t leave a number, but I told her I’d call you to see if you wanted me to give her yo’ number.”
Now at the front door, Summer glanced through the peephole and saw somebody on the porch. “Okay, Mama, give her my number when she calls again. Let me see who dis’ is at the door. I’ll call you back.”
After Mrs. Diane hung up, Summer continued looking through the peephole. “Who is it?” she asked.
“Is Danté home?” The guy asked this question, hoping he could buy some time. He knew Danté wasn’t there.
“He ain’t home,” she said, then went to the window.
To her surprise, she saw the guy remove a handgun from his waist. As she turned and ran upstairs, four shots rang out, the bullets shattering the wooden door. Summer quickly wrapped up Lil’ Danté, who was now crying by the sudden movement. Summer’s heart thumped fiercely inside her chest. She could still hear the gunfire ringing in her ear. She didn’t want to call the police because she knew Danté had drugs and guns inside the house. So, she dialed his cell phone, and he answered on the third ring.
“Hello.”
“Danté…” She was breathing hard.
“What’s wrong?”
“Somebody…jus’ shot in tha house.”
“You alright?”
“Yeah. I didn’t call da police yet.”
Danté thought quickly. “Call ‘em now. I’m on my way, okay?”
“Okay.”
She hung up and dialed 911, and as she was explaining what had happened, the dispatcher told her a car was already on the way. A neighbor had called, which wasn’t a surprise.
When Danté pulled up, he parked on the grass because a Richmond County Sheriff’s car had the driveway blocked off. Nervous, he got out his car, with the twins exiting behind him from the backseat. Police made anybody nervous, especially when they knew they were doing wrong. Danté’s nine-millimeter was tucked away in his trunk under some cleaning rags, and two keys of cocaine and a Tec-9 were well hidden in the house.
A short, white officer was examining the door where the bullets had entered. He walked inside the house with the twins holding each of his hands. Summer was sitting in the living room answering questions from another officer. She held the baby in her arms, but stood up when she saw Danté. They hugged, and he took the baby.
“You alright?” he asked her, trying not to show any signs of anger in front of the police.
Thirty minutes later, the police were gone. Before leaving, they told them a detective would come by to investigate the case. Danté and Summer were now alone in the den, with the baby wrapped in blankets and sound asleep on the sofa.
“Did you see how he looked?”
“Not really.” She shook her head. “But he asked was you home.”
“Did you see a car?” Danté’s eyes were fire red.
“It was an old car, primed.”
Danté thought for a few minutes. He knew there wasn’t but three people he dealt with that knew where he lived. He would play everything by ear and reaction. No questions would come from him.
“You ain’t got to get in no trouble, Danté.”
His eyes were staring at the carpet. His hands had started to sweat, and the anger was showing all over his face. He threw his head back and exhaled. He was desperately trying to control himself. Summer threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, but he wasn’t in it himself.
She then got on her knees, began unbuckling his belt,
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