TYCE 5

TYCE 5

DEAD or ALIVE

BY

SHAREEF JAUDON

WRITE NOW BOOKS

DENVER, CO   LOS ANGELES, CA

7-1-13

TYCE 5

COPYRIGHT

July 2013

By

Shareef Jaudon

Write Now Books

L o s A n g e l e s, C A

D e n v e r, C O

Text copy written 2013 by Shareef Jaudon

It’
s funny what you experience when your life is in jeopardy. I heard people say you see your whole life flash before your eyes, or a bright white light followed by the clear calm voice of a loved one, or God himself. People, who unsteadily walk the wire thin rope with death on one side and life on the other, testify to being outside of themselves, hovering in the air while looking down on their motionless physical body. What I’ve heard is that when someone is fighting for their life, it’s more of a spiritual experience. Individuals who’ve escaped death’s icy grasp speak of an indescribable level of tranquility and inner peace.

Fuck that! I don’t dismiss their accounts because each person is different. Who am I to say
that what they said about their near death experience is counterfeit? All I know is that the only thing that kept circling around my mind like hungry vultures…was revenge! There were no angels playing harps, inviting me to sit down next to them on a fluffy cloud. I didn’t see a golden gate with people standing outside waiting to get in like it was the grand opening of some sanctified night club. It was just me.

I was strapped to a stretcher with my head in a cushiony vice with my eyes closed tight. I wasn’t dead. I was pissed! I was furious that I could hear deep rooted pain in Dallas’s voice. I was mad that I got caught slipping and took two in the back. I was upset that I was on my way to an emergency room, instead of my own master bedroom. I was also annoyed that I didn’
t get to eat the damn fried chicken that I ordered.

As the vehicle sped down the dark streets, I jus
t laid there. Maybe I was unconscious. Maybe I couldn’t move if I wanted to. I heard the loud sirens screaming at the other cars on the road to get out of the way. I heard the paramedics communicating in a serious tone with one another. I heard Dallas snapping at one of them because he was moving too slow for her taste, but I just continued to lay still with my eyes closed.

A few seconds later, I felt
the teetering sensation from a series of quick turns, and then the van came to a jolting stop. I assumed we were at the hospital. My suspicions were confirmed when I heard the driver’s side door of the van slam shut, and then the back doors flew open.

“Is this the GSW victim?” I heard a woman say.
“Yeah! He has two non-exit wounds to his upper and lower back. His blood pressure is 90 over 50, body temp is 96 degrees, and he’s non responsive. He’s not allergic to anything as far as we know. Total lapse time unconscious is about 10 to 12 minutes. Weight is approximately one hundred and ninety pounds and he’s 27 plus years old,” the lead paramedic responded.

I heard everything they said about me, until my ears completely turned off.

“He’s crashing!”

“Let’s get him into surgery now!”

~Shock

Dallas sat in the uncomfortable chair in the waiting room at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. Her mind was in a fog. The reality of the situation threatened to kill her optimistic spirit. However, she pushed the negative thoughts out of her mind and refused to let them even enter her thoughts.

She licked her lips and tasted blood. In the midst of the entire traumatic situation she had been biting down
so hard on her bottom lip that it was bleeding. The expensive white jeans Tyce had bought for her earlier that day were covered in dark red blotches from his blood. Her hands were stained red as well.

The chair was too restricting, so s
he jumped up to walk off the nerves. As she started to pace back and forth, she nervously chewed on her bottom lip.

An older lady with sandy blonde hair approached her with a clip board in her hand.

“Excuse me, but are you here for Tyce Adkins?”

Dallas bit down on her bottom lip and held her breath. Her heart stopped beating and her watery eyes widened.

“Yes, yes I am. Is he alright? What’s goin’ on?”

The nurse touched her arm attempting to ease her anxiety.

“He’s still in surgery. I’m just here to have you fill out some paper work on his behalf. I can sit with you and go over it if you like.” The lady pointed to a chair with her ink pen.

Dallas let her lip go and nodded. The two of them sat down together.

“Can I get you anything, coffee, tea, or water?”

“I could use some tequila.” Dallas smiled weakly.

The nurse let out a deep sympathetic sigh. “To be honest, I could use a drink myself. I can only imagine what it’s like to have your husband in a situation like this. I know the last thing you want to do is fill out forms, so I’ll just stick to what I need from you now and worry about the rest later. Okay?”

“Thank you, I’m all over the place right now.”

I understand dear. I’ll make this as brief as I can. Do you or your husband have insurance?”

Dallas loved the marital mistake the woman made. The idea of
Tyce being her husband was something she’d wished for on many lonely nights. She almost didn’t want to correct the nurse.

“
Ummm he’s not my husband. He’s my ahhhh…boyfriend.” Dallas stared into the woman’s soft, blue eyes.

“Oh, okay; and what is your name?”

“Dallas Mitchell.”

The nurse continued with her polite inquiry. “Does
Tyce have an insurance provider?”

Dallas smiled weakly again. She knew the woman was only doing her job
, but she hated how hospitals sweated patients about their insurance, or lack thereof.

“Yes
, he does.”

The nu
rse’s small eyes lit up. “Good and who is it with?” She prepared to write the information down on her form.

Dallas grinned. “
Tyce has BF insurance. It’s the best in the business.”

The lady lifted her pen off of the paper and squinted her
football shaped eyes confusingly.

“BF insurance? I’ve never heard of that, would you happen to have his card or policy number?”

Dallas looked at the woman’s hospital badge, which was attached to the top pocket of her purple scrubs. She read the name and then she leveled with the curious woman.

“Rhonda, BF stands for Benjamin
Franklin. Tyce is a millionaire and so am I. We’ll be paying cash for his care, so I would like the best service this hospital can provide. Money is no object, jus’ let me know how much.”

The lady’s mouth opened slightly as she registered the wealth of information she’d just received.

“Oh, well great. Tyce is a self-pay patient. I will mark that down. That must be nice.”

“It is, especially in times like this. Hospitals treat you like a step child when you have no insurance.”

The nurse nodded her agreement, but elected to stay silent on the touchy subject.

“Is there anyone we should list as an emergency contact
, or is that you?”

Dallas suddenly thought about his coked out baby mama. If he wasn’t trying to call her dick sucking, coke sniffing ass…he wouldn’t even be here.

“Yes, that would be me. I’m his emergency contact. He has family, but I will tell them that he’s in surgery. Jus’ make sure you tell me everything about what’s goin’ on with him. I wanna know everything. I’ll be right here.” Dallas pointed to the floor. “Or I’ll be right there.” She pointed to a bench outside of the automatic doors.

Rhonda touched Dallas’s arm and squeezed gently.

“I’ll find you dear. Right now, the best thing you can do is clean yourself up a bit, call his family, and stay positive. Tyce is fighting for his life, and he doesn’t look like the type to run away from a fight. I happen to personally know the doctor who’s working on him and he’s no push over either.”

~Wake Up

“Miss.! Miss! We’re getting complaints about your loud music! Are you in there?! Hello!”

The angry night manager of the hotel stood outside of the room in the hallway banging on the door.

“Hello! I’m going to have to come in there if you don’t turn it down!” The short balding man put his hands on his wide hips.

Angelique faintly heard the loud knocking above the blasting music. She was stretched out on the bed
, snow angel style, in a cold sweat. Her eyelids seemed to have weights attached to them as she struggled to lift her head. It took her a moment to come to her senses and realize where she was. The room was nice and everything was neat and in its place. It looked just like the brochure…except for the pile of white dust sitting on the night stand. She licked her dry lips and sat up with her head pounding in a million places inside her skull. The inside of her nose was on fire as a trickle of blood oozed out of her left nostril. That was the side she preferred to snort from, because it worked the best and now it was stinging like a paper cut doused in hot sauce.

“Hello, can you hear me?! Can you please turn your music down?! If you don’t, I will be forced to enter your room to investigate!” The persistent man continued to bang on the door.

The sound of his loud voice along with the high pitched notes of Mariah Carey only served to make her migraine worse. To avoid any unwanted intrusion, or a potential witness to her near drug over dose, she managed to stumble over to her I Pod and hit the mute button.

“Thank you very much Ms. Dupree, and please keep the noise to a minimum!”

The man’s annoying alto voice knifed its way through the wood and into her aching brain.

“I will. Have a good night!” She yelled back as she held her sweaty forehead in the palm of her equally damp hand.

“What the fuck,” she said to herself.

As soon as she walked into the bathroom,
she caught a case of the shakes. The world around her was coming in waves like the tide in the Pacific Ocean. She stared at her own reflection in the massive mirror and was disgusted at what she saw staring back at her. Who was this drugged out woman? She looked like her. She had the same hair, and the same skin tone, however, it wasn’t her. The sexy glint in her eyes was gone. The radiant glow in her cheeks was missing. Blood was seeping from her nose and her pupils looked like they were about to explode. She was high. Even after a mild seizure and a two hour nap, she was still as high as a helium balloon floating around aimlessly in the atmosphere.

Basic moves a sober person could
make in their sleep were a struggle to her because she was jittery. The powerful coke was still alive and kicking in her system and would not let her go. She splashed cold water on her face from the sink and washed the blood away but that just cleaned her face up. The splash bath did nothing to cleanse her system. She was high and needed to come down fast. Sleep was not an option at that point, although she was dead tired. She was far too amped to rest in that state. To her foggy recollection, she’d sniffed at least three eight balls in six hours and now she was fucked up.

Angelique no longer wanted to be on cl
oud nine and fly with the birds. She had to get off such a dangerous ride. She smiled to herself in the spotless mirror and pointed a shaky finger at her wet face.

“I got jus’ what you need bitch.”

She walked back into the room and fumbled through her purse. It didn’t take long before she found what she was looking for. Feeling a sense of relief she held a plastic baggie up in the air and let her dilated pupils focus in on the thick blunt inside of it. She wasn’t a stupid bitch by any means. Some would say she was crazy retarded for smoking weed when she was already high off coke. Why add marijuana to the mix? On the contrary; coke took you up…but weed brought you back down.

Angelique stepped onto the balcony to breathe
in the fresh night air and smoke the calming herb. The cool breeze felt good on her clammy skin and as she inhaled the thick smoke, she instantly felt a little better. After several puffs she could feel the edge of the coke giving way to the relaxation of the weed. She washed the smoke down with a shot of vodka from the mini bar and closed her tired eyes to steady her nerves. It was quiet. No music, no traffic, and no T.V. She was all alone. However, as her high descended reality began to rise in her consciences. Khari’s chubby little face wafted into her brain. The past several weeks also started to lazily filter in. She recalled all the stupid shit she did and tears began to well up in her red eyes. She took another drag from the blunt and held the smoke in her lungs so it could seep deep into her body and take over fully. As she exhaled, she heard her phone ringing. She stood up on sturdier legs and brought her burning friend inside with her to answer the phone. It took a few seconds, but she found it across the room on the floor. She flipped it over and read the name on the screen. Even though she was under the influence, she still couldn’t ignore Pamela’s call, after all she did have her only child with her.