Wifey: Part 2

Homicide opened his eyes and saw Jasmine looking at him, but it took him a few seconds to figure out where he was and to get his bearings.

“Wake up, baby. I need you. I fucked up big time,” Jasmine said.

“What’s up? What happened?” Homicide asked, his voice hoarse.

“I got stopped by the Bridge and Tunnel police when I was coming back from City Island with Simone. Something was wrong with my E-ZPass, so the officer comes to my window and he smelled liquor on my breath. So he’s like, ‘Get out the car,’ and was asking me, had I been drinking and all that shit. Simone gets out of the car, and I stay in the car with the doors locked and the windows up, and I’m like, ‘Nah, fuck that! I ain’t getting out.’ And I was talking mad shit because I was drunk, so it was the liquor talking for me. So, anyway, the next thing you know is, he calls other officers, and other cops come and they force me out. I was trying to tell them that I’m a C.I. and was asking them to call and check me out, so they can let me go. And I was just talking real loud and—”

“And where was Simone when all this was going on?”

“She was standing right there.”

Homicide thought for a moment, and then he sat up in the bed. “Where Simone live at?”

“In Queens.”

“Queens?” Homicide said under his breath. “We have to go see her right now before she starts talking.” He scooted himself out of the bed and put on the same jeans and shirt he was wearing the day before.

Jasmine was happy that Homicide got it without having to explain anything.

“She got the biggest mouth, and I just hope she went straight home and went to sleep and didn’t start calling and texting nobody.” Jasmine knew it was do-or-die for her if Simone told anyone what had happened.

Homicide got his gun off the dresser and put it in his waistband and told Jasmine he was ready to roll. The two of them left the apartment and made their way down to the parking lot and got into his Denali, headed to Queens. Jasmine drove, since she knew the way there.

When they reached Simone’s block, Homicide told Jasmine to walk to the apartment and call Simone to come open the door, and when she opened the door, stall her for a moment and he would approach and take it from there.

Jasmine took in all of the instructions and exited Homicide’s truck. She walked four houses down to Simone’s house and called her while standing on her steps. Simone picked up on the second ring.

“Oh, my God! Simone, you are not going to believe what they put me through,” she said into the phone.

“You okay?”

Simone asked.

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m gonna kill you for getting me that drunk off them Henny Coladas.”

Simone laughed. “You was talking so much shit, and I was trying to get your attention so I could tell you to shut the hell up.”

“Simone, I’m outside your door. They just released me. I have to shit, and my stomach is killing me, so you was closer and I figured I would just stop by you real quick, instead of driving all the way to Long Island.”

“Oh! I didn’t hear the bell.”

“I didn’t ring it.”

“Okay, I’m coming right now.”

Within thirty seconds Simone was at the door in her short silk pajamas. “So you gonna come and blow up my bathroom?” She laughed.

“Who you dressed all sexy for?” Jasmine asked, trying to stall.

“This ain’t sexy. What are you talking about?”

Jasmine just looked at her with a suspicious look. “Let me find out.”

“You ain’t gonna find out nothing. But hurry up. Come in, so I can close this door.”

Jasmine couldn’t stall anymore without looking suspicious, so she walked in, not wanting to turn to see where Homicide was.

As soon as Simone tried to close the door, Homicide sprang to the door like an alley cat and stuck his foot in the base to prevent it from closing.