Wifey: Part 2

“Okay, but I need you to stay on the line with me until they are in the house, okay?”

“Okay.”

A minute later Jasmine heard cops inside the house. “The police are here. Can I go downstairs?” Before the operator could respond, Jasmine disconnected the call and started to scream out to the cops to let them know where she was at in the house.

Two cops ran upstairs to her, while one cop remained in the living room with Narjara, and another checked all of the first floor and the basement.

Jasmine was never so happy to see a police officer in her life.

“Are you alone?” one of the cops asked her.

“Yes, I think so.”

One cop escorted Jasmine to the living room and handed her off to two paramedics, who had just entered the house, and he ran back upstairs to assist his partner in checking the second floor.

The paramedics had Jasmine sit down to evaluate her, and they did their best to stop the bleeding to her hand and neck. Within minutes they had an oxygen mask on her face and had her lying on a stretcher, which they wheeled to the waiting ambulance in front of Nico’s house. They whisked her away, sirens blaring.

“Am I gonna die?” Jasmine asked the paramedic who stayed with her in the back of the ambulance, her words somewhat inaudible due to the oxygen mask.

“Are you gonna live?”

Jasmine nodded h

er head to indicate to the paramedic that he had heard her correctly, and at that moment a tear rolled out of the corner of her eye and stopped near her ear.

The overweight white male paramedic wiped away Jasmine’s teardrop. “Just relax.” He grabbed hold of her left hand to comfort her.

Jasmine squeezed his hand firmly, and at that moment another tear rolled out of the corner of her eye just before both of her eyes calmly closed.

Nine

The Port Authority police ushered Nico into a holding cell, took his handcuffs off, and slammed the steel cell doors shut.

“I need to make a call,” Nico said to the cop who pushed him into the cell.

“Shut the fuck up and sit your nigger ass down!” The cop then walked off upset that he had to do lengthy paperwork and even more pissed off that his shift wouldn’t end until the Nassau County Police Department detectives arrived and took custody of Nico, so they could question him about the shooting at his Long Island estate.

Nico smiled at the racist remark, but he didn’t respond.

“Jimmy, can you fingerprint that black nigger for me? I don’t want to have to whip his nigger ass,” the cop said to one of his fellow officers. He was purposely talking loud so that Nico could hear him.

“Jimmy, your boy don’t got no swag. Tell him it’s nigga, not nigger.” Nico smirked. He wanted the racist cop to know that nothing fazed him.

The cops looked at Nico and shook their heads. Nico couldn’t believe how mentally weak they were.

Officer Jimmy came over to the damp cell that smelled like a wet cat and unlocked it, and then held Nico by the arm and walked him over to a computer cart and began to fingerprint Nico.

“So how much they pay y’all to do this job?” Nico asked.

The cop didn’t answer.

“At least six figures, right?” Nico asked. “I mean, with overtime and all that, you making at least a hundred grand, right?”

The cop methodically continued to fingerprint Nico and also took his mug shot. When he was done, he walked Nico back to the holding cell, slammed the door shut, and made sure it was locked.

“We make an honorable living. We work for everything we get, and we don’t sell poison to our communities,” Office Jimmy said to Nico.

Nico nodded his head with a smirk, but he didn’t reply. He knew that he had won the mind game with the weak-minded officers. He sat down on the benches and wondered what he was being held for, and he also wondered how long it would be before they let him make a phone call.