She nods. “Yeah, I feel you. So, where is she?”

“Atlanta,” I tell her.

“Is she in the hospital, or something?”

I slowly nod. “Yeah, she’s in ICU.” I pause for a minute, then hit her wit’, “In a coma.”

She gasps, holdin’ her hand up to her mouth. “OhmyGod, Alex, why didn’t you tell me this earlier. I’m so sorry, baby.”

“I ’preciate that,” I say, reachin’ for her hand. I take it in my mind, then kiss it. “My head’s been all fucked up over it. I need to get out there, but my paper ain’t right. And I can’t ask my pops to spot me ’cause he’s already carrin’ my black ass, feel me? And my moms is caught up in her own world.”

“Don’t stress ya’self, baby. I got you. How much you need?”

I look her in the eyes. “Just a little sumthin’ to get a plane ticket and have a few dollas in my pocket.”

“Done. When you tryna go?”

“ASAP,” I tell her. She thinks for a moment, walkin’ over to my leather chair in the corner, then rummagin’ through her Louis knapsack. I can see her calculatin’ in her head. I sit on the edge of the bed, watchin’ her. As she turns, I quickly hold my head in my hands, then slowly look up at her, sighin’. “Umm, you know what. Don’t sweat it, baby. I don’t wanna put a strain on ya pockets. I’ma see if I can get it from one of my niggas, but I hate fuckin’ wit’ them cats like that.”

“Oh, you know it ain’t no sweat off of me. I told you I’ma hold you down. I’m just tryna figure out how to do this.” She pauses, pullin’ in her bottom lip, then pulls her cell outta her bag. “I tell you what. I’ma call the airline, and book your flight. Is tomorrow too soon?”

I think for a moment. “Nah, tomorrow’s good.” She calls the airline, and makes a reservation wit’ Continental. She writes down all the information, then hangs up.

“It’s settled. You’re leaving on flight eighty-five, at one thirty-five. It’s an open ticket so you can come back anytime.” As she’s lookin’ in her wallet, I peep her pullin’ out bills. My dick starts to brick up. “I can give you five hundred; is that cool?”