Rock-A-Bye Baby (A BWWM Pregnancy Romance)(9)

By: Vivian Ward

“Can you tell me the passcode to unlock it? We need to access your family’s contact information: names, phone numbers, anything you have.”

It’s so hard to breathe. The movement of the ambulance is making me nauseous, and I want to throw up, but I know I don’t even have the strength to do it. Feeling like I’m about to pass out, I know I need to give him the code—and fast! “The code is 0228.”

“Ms. Greene,” the cop interrupts. “Can you tell me any details about who shot you or what happened?”

I look at him and shake my head. I have no clue who did this. There’s nothing that I can tell him to help him do his job if I die. My mind races, thinking about the baby. I can’t tell if she’s moving or not because I’m so numb. What if I die? Or what if she dies, or is dead?

“Do you know if it was a man or a woman? How many there were? What did they want? Why were you shot? Anything at all?”

“Stop barraging her with questions!” the paramedic shouts at the cop. He tries the code, but it doesn’t work. “Are you sure that’s the code?” I nod, he tries it again. Smiling he says, “I guess my latex gloves hit a wrong number the first time. I need the names of at least two people in your phone that you would like us to call.”

I take a deep breath because I know I’m going to need it. It hurts like hell, but I have to do it. “My boyfriend,” I pause. This is taking a lot more out of me than I realized it would. “Corbin Kimmel.” I could feel myself starting to fade away. Struggling to stay awake, I say the next thing that pops into my mind. “It was a woman,” I manage to say, gasping for air. My eyes are getting so heavy. I don’t think I can do this much longer. It feels like every ounce of blood in my body has run down a drain, and there’s nothing left inside of me.

“Stay with us, Trinity. You can’t go to sleep.” He scribbled something down on a piece of paper. “Okay, we have Corbin’s number. Who else should we call?” I could hear him, but I couldn’t answer him. It is taking more energy than I can muster to continue talking. “Come on, damn it! Stay with me! Who else? A family member?” He grabs my arm, shaking it to keep me conscious as he shouts angry demands at me.

“Candace,” I say. Within seconds of saying her name, I can hear the monitors starting to go off that are behind my head. He starts shouting at me and then the driver before he asks the cop to help him. The speed of the ambulance increases and then I drift into a deep, peaceful sleep. Nothing hurts anymore. I feel no pain and for once, I’m okay with that.

Chapter 4: Corbin

I didn’t think we were ever going to leave the club. As tired as I am, I was ready to leave over an hour ago, but nobody else was ready to go. Now that we are finally back on our tour bus, I can start to relax. I don’t even know what time it is, but all I know is that I am exhausted. Getting up early to make sure everything is set up correctly before the concert, having dinner before going on stage, performing for almost two hours and then going to a club turned into an 18-hour day. I’m not old, but I feel like I’m too old to be doing this shit. If I’m going to be a father in a couple of months, I can’t be staying out late like I did tonight—and the truth is, I didn’t even want to stay out this late.

Speaking of late, I wonder what time it is? I was bored as hell without my cell phone in the club. No games to play, no Internet to surf, nothing. I start searching for my phone in the area where I was sitting when we first came to the club before the bus driver damn near through us out the windows when he almost crashed the bus while parking. It isn’t anywhere near where I was sitting. I start looking into the direction that I went flying in. After climbing around on the dirty floor—thanks to my crew for partying on the bus on the way to the club—I find my phone wedged under B.J.’s bed, next to his stinky socks and shirt. I like him and all but as weird as he is, you’d think the only normal thing he could do is at least wash his clothes more often.

“Bro, you need to wash your shit man. It smells like sweat mixed with sewer stench up under your bed,” I say to him as I wave my hand in an attempt to fan away his stench.

“Man, dude, whatever. My clothes don’t stink. They smell good. Maybe it’s your breath.”

“I got your breath right here,” I say grabbing my crotch. Maybe next time his goofy ass wanders off, he could find a laundromat.

I flop onto my bed and realize that my phone is dead. Damn. I need to get a new phone. This battery has been giving me problems for the last few weeks. I plug my phone into the charger and get up to grab a soda from the fridge. Every night before I go to bed I like to check my email, text messages and read the local Chicago news. Sipping on my soda, I start powering my phone back on. I hate that it takes like 12 minutes while I watch circles as everything loads for my phone to come on. I look over at my boy Miami who is passed out snoring on his bed. We call him Miami because he’s from Florida and we like to give him shit because he’s a Jaguar’s fan. How he follows a team that never wins is beyond me. As drunk as he got inside the club tonight, I’m surprised that we didn’t have to carry him to the tour bus. He always drinks more than he can handle. Miami is the type of person that he always has to be the big dog; he wants to outdo everyone but most of the time his mouth gets him in trouble. He’s a good guy, though. We’ve been tight ever since the day I met him.

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