Page 169 of The Coldest: Stay Dangerous Part 2

Nothing, however. Nothing in the thirty-two years I’ve experienced, heard, or seen, could prepare me for Snow to have three seizures back to back in the backseat of my whip.

I freeze. Immediately. My mind blanks. She falls over, onto her side, and seizes.

Then she seizes again. Longer this time. Her legs kick at me, but I can barely feel it. All my senses dull as my gaze sharpens. Almost as if to torture me further.

My hands curl into my fingernails and dig into the meat of my palms. She stops, and then seizes again. This one is the shortest. It’s over in fifteen seconds. Then Snow moans, and I blink, and I can move again.

I’m out of my whip immediately, running around the back to open the other side, and gently pull her out. She’s lethargic. Breathing, but unconscious. I put her into the front and strap her in, then lean the seat as far back as it can go.

Ten seconds later, I’m in the driver’s seat, turning on the ignition. Backing out, I whip this shit like my name is Nutty, and don’t stop until I’m at West Kenton Memorial. The farthest hospital from where we are, but the best hospital in the county.

It takes me twenty minutes to get across the city, but it’s worth it. I know it is. Because something is wrong with my Snow, and I don’t have time to be murking niggas telling me they don’t know what the fuck it is that’s making her have three seizures back to back.

I pull all the way up to the Emergency Room sliding doors, and barely remember to turn off my car before snatching the keys out the ignition. With calmness I don’t feel, I unstrap Snow and pull her into my arms, and take big steps into the ER.

“She ain’t woke up. She had three seizures.” My voice sounds different as I blurt out words walking up to the reception. I’ve seen the nurse before. She’s been to one of Patience’s parties.

Recognition flashes in her face as she nods and picks up her phone.

“Ay.”

She freezes, and locks eyes with me.

“It’s nothing to find you outside of here if muthafuckas hear Wynter Snow is in the hospital.”

She swallows, before whispering whatever code they have for a discreet patient, then leads me toward the hallway where a gurney and more nurses are waiting. As soon as I place her down, I fish out my phone to call Patience, but Pooh’s name lights up my screen. I send his ass to voicemail twice, but he keeps calling, so I answer.

“What–”

“Mama’s gone. She’s gone. No encuentro a mamá y no sé qué hacer.”

“What?” My voice is different again. Smaller. Cracking. I slide down the wall until I’m sitting, everything boneless except my hand holding my phone to my ear.

“I came to take her a la Bingo, y las ventanas… shot out. Mars está asustado y llorando, y no sé qué hacer, hijo…”

Pooh doesn’t get rattled. His voice doesn’t crack, his language doesn’t waiver. He doesn’t call Nan mama. And he’d never let Mars wail like he is in the background if he could help it.

Calm down, Rick.

I shoot out my hand to slap Fredo away. This ain’t the fucking time to be calm. This ain’t the time to think rationally. Not when you getting it from all sides. Not when your back is to the wall.

Now is the time to completely show yo fuckin’ ass so muthafuckas know you ain’t the one. Now is the time to show everyone who got you fucked up, including God Himself, that I can and will take it there if need be.

“We’re taking her to CT.”

I shift my gaze from the floor to the nurse standing in front of me. She nods when I find the strength to hold up a shaky finger, asking her for a second.

“Take Mars to the Woods. I’ll handle it. I promise I will, Pop.”

There’s no need for a reply. Getting vertical, I clench my phone and give the nurse my full attention.

“She’s in CT, and has a private room upstairs. We have some paperwork–”

“She Wynter Snow. A lot of this shit you can find on the internet. Been sober from drugs and alcohol about sixteen months; Heroin, coke, and weed. She be getting migraines and shit, probably since her car accident a few years ago. Her sister is her emergency contact and a nurse here; Autumn Shaw. But you call me with any updates, even if she sneeze in her sleep.” I snatch the clipboard from her and put down my number, then take out my money knot and clip two hundreds to the paper and hand it back to her.

She nods, pocketing the money, and scurries off to wherever, while I make my way outside.

My thumbs are heavy as I dial Set. I’m not even in the car yet before he answers.