My Mans Best Friend (9781622860241) by Tresser Henderson Read Free Book Online Page B

to remove the knife from her abdomen, but the bigger bouncer pushed him away, telling him he could not remove it. He didn’t want to risk any more damage being done, just in case she did have a faint pulse he couldn’t feel.
    My feet were rooted to this spot. I was watching as they frantically tried to stop the bleeding. Then I heard sirens in the distance, hoping they would get here soon to save her. Three other bouncers began to clear the area to let the paramedics through.
    That’s when I felt a warm hand on my bare shoulders. It was the woman who walked in and saw the incident with me. She was trying to get me to leave the scene. She pulled me into her and escorted me out of the area. With all eyes on us as we both exited, people were whispering and some were loudly asking what happened over and over again. Neither the woman nor I said a word.
    Red Bone was in the crowd, and he came over to me, putting his arms around me, also asking, “What happened ?” I scanned the crowd to see if I saw Essence, but neither she nor Jaquon were in sight. Good, I thought.
    After answering Red Bone’s questions, I got another hundred asked by the bouncers, the manager, EMT, and the police. I had nothing else in me and wanted to tell them all, “You should have all stood together so I could have explained the incident once.” They could’ve at least tape-recorded my story so I wouldn’t have to keep repeating the same thing. Or maybe that was their way of interrogating me. Ask the same question several times to see if they got several different answers. But the only story they were going to get from me was, “She plunged that blade in her own stomach.”
    By the look on a couple of the officers’ faces, I could tell they thought I was responsible. I was the only one in the restroom with the victim. Salt and Pepper they were. One was white and the other black. Both were of burly stature, and both had pen and paper out scribbling my feedback. Maybe they thought I did it and made it look like she did. Maybe I was one of those females trying to get rid of the competition ruining her relationship with her man. Or maybe it was because I was black. Whatever, I was not happy with them scrutinizing me with suspicion like a criminal. If it wasn’t for the other woman walking in at the time of skinny girl’s stabbing, they’d probably be putting handcuffs on me reading me my rights.
    But I had Red Bone by my side. Plus, the lawyer in me watched enough court cases to know I could talk my way out of this. Where was the blood on my hands? Why wasn’t any blood on my clothes? Why were my fingerprints not on the weapon? If I wiped my hands off, where was the evidence? Check the toilet, my purse, the pipes of the sinks and the stalls. I was innocent, and this was a crime that was not going to be pinned on me. Open-and-shut case it was. Just the thought of them thinking I did this ticked me off.
    After the police questioning, they did their jobs keeping the area secure. When the paramedics wheeled the wounded woman on the gurney past everyone, Red Bone gasped, making me jump.
    â€œAngela,” he said loudly attempting to run over to the wounded woman.
    â€œStand back,” the police officer said grabbing him.
    â€œBut that’s my wife! That’s my wife,” he said hysterically. The officer looked at him, and then at me. I knew what he was thinking as more doubt registered on Salt and Pepper’s faces. Damn, I would think the same thing too. In that moment, I was guilty until proven innocent in their minds. I was the other woman with the victim’s husband.
    In shock myself I kept saying, “His wife?” You mean to tell me the man I was hanging out with was the husband of the suicidal woman holding the knife who I was alone with in the bathroom? She had to have seen the two of us together, which explained her tears. No wonder she was staring at me like she was.