“That motherfucking, snot-nosed bastard,” I growled.
I was so pissed that if someone handed me a gun I’d wedge the barrel between that motherfucker’s shitty gold capped teeth and pull the trigger. He was nothing more than a piece of shit, taking up air and space in this world.
Sybil’s body began to quake uncontrollably.
“Please, Ro, just let it rest . . . nothing can come of it.”
“Nothing? Are you fucking kidding me Sybil? This motherfucker’s gonna pay.”
“I . . . I . . . I . . . can’t stop shaking,” she whimpered before her body jerked. Her muscles surged rock hard as she lurched forward and uncontrollably yakked all over the floor. I ran to the dish drainer and grabbed a huge plastic bowl. Everything she had in her stomach had come up.
“Shhhh, settle down. I’m sorry, you’re safe now. Don’t worry,” I whispered as I wrapped the thin throw blanket from the end of my bed around her. “Sit down here. Come on now.”
I pulled the phone from my purse and started dialing the only person I knew could help her.
“Who are y-y-you c-c-c-calling?” Sybil pushed between dry heaving.
“Briggs.”
“Stop, don’t call him. I’ll be okay.”
“This isn’t normal, Sybil; you need to be seen and I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“I’ll be fine. I just want to lie down.” She pulled the blanket tight over her chest.
“Sybil, you are not dying on my bed.”
“Ro, I don’t have the money to pay him. Please, I just need to lie down and close my eyes.”
What was I supposed to do? She looks like fucking hell. I can’t let her stay like this.
“Don’t worry about the money,” I said as the phone was ringing against my ear.
“Aye, Rosie, this betta’ be an emergency,” Briggs barked fast and intentional, his Irish accent just thick enough to tell you he wasn’t born in America.
“Yeah, it’s Sybil, she’s pretty fucked up.”
“Wha’ happen?”
I stood silent for an uncomfortable moment.
“Rose? Wha’ happen?”
“She won’t tell me, but she’s all beaten, throwing up, shaking and shit.”
“How long she been down like that?”
“She’d been home about a half hour when she just started yakking and shaking.”
“Bleedin’? Is she been t’rowin’ up blood?”
“Awe, fuck, Briggs, I can’t do this shit.” I leaned over and looked in the bowl. My stomach swirled, the back of my throat watered. “No blood,” I gagged.
“Sounds like she’d be goin’ into shock. You have yourself a blanket? Just wrap her up, I’m on m’ way.”
“Yeah, I wrapped her all up. Thanks Briggs,” I whispered.
“Rosie?”
“Yeah?”
“Leave the front door unlocked this time.”
“I will,” I answered as the line went dead.
Kean “Key” Briggs was one big-ass twisted motherfucker. He was a six-foot-tall black man from Ireland with arms as thick as my waist, covered in tribal tats and tinted ink that told stories more horrific than anyone could ever imagine. Painful chapters he must have burned into the secret corners of his mind after two tours in Iraq. His body became the visual diary of his life as a war veteran. Briggs drove an ambulance in the Tenderloin for over five years before he retired and started making house calls for us hos. He found a need and made hand over fist money privatizing his services. Just seven calls a week from suffering prostitutes that were beaten at the hands of their pimps or clients and cha-ching, he was rolling in more money than he’d ever made in a month of driving an ambulance. I knew I was going to pay through the nose for his services; but I had to, hospitals were out of the question and I didn’t think clinics had the capacity to handle this situation. I didn’t know who else to call.
I looked over at Sybil; her uncontrollable shakes turned into barely noticeable shivers. Her jaw still chattering, maybe some tea will warm her up. I brushed my fingers across her forehead, before I pressed my hand to her cheek, she looked up at me with a tattered expression and whispered, “Ro, you gotta promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“Promise me you’ll get out. Promise me.”
“Shhhh, come on Sybil don’t worry about me.”
“Say it. Say, I promise I’ll get out. Say it!” She clutched my wrist trying to pull me closer.
I cleared the strands of hair that clung to her dampened face.
“This isn’t the life you want, Ro. Please, promise me you’ll get out.”
“I’ll promise, but only if you promise to come with me.”