by Tiana Laveen
“Damn, man! How much is that?”
“Enough.” He slapped the money in Justin’s palm. “I want you to get a bigger apartment for yourself, your girlfriend, and the kids, okay?” Justin nodded, but he seemed too excited to truly be listening. “You need the space. It’s too cramped in here and you said Miranda just found out she was pregnant again. I put in some extra cash for groceries, too.”
“Man, thanks!” Justin grinned as he counted the cash. He then grabbed him in a big bear hug, his gratitude dripping all over the place. Hunter accepted the embrace, feeling a bit uncomfortable. Justin was so damn goofy at times. The guy was notorious for getting sentimental when intoxicated, philosophical when high, and affectionate when happy. He finally released him and crammed the money in his pants pocket.
“Maybe I can convince Miranda to move to Detroit, huh?” He smirked as he rocked back on his heels. Hunter shoved some shoes into the second duffle bag.
“That’s up to y’all.”
“What?” His brother threw up his hands. “You don’t want me there?”
Hunter shrugged. “I didn’t say that. All I’m saying is you can be wherever the hell you want to be, man. Just do what’s best for you and the kids.”
He called out to the children and gave them all high fives.
“Be good, okay?” The three of them nodded and the youngest, his niece, began to cry. Hunter looked down at the tiny girl with her mop of chocolate curls, her cheeks cherry-pink and peachy skin aglow. Picking her up in his arms, he kissed her temple.
“I’m just down the way. Uncle Hunter’ll be back soon, okay? I promise.”
She nodded, wrapped her little warm arms around him, and squeezed. He placed her down on her chubby bare feet and glanced at Justin who seemed sad and vexed at the same damn time.
“Walk me to my car.”
Justin looked some kind of way, as if his feelings were hurt and he wanted to protest. Hunter wasn’t certain what to say, so he just kept on moving. One step in front of another. When they reached the second hand silver Hyundai he’d purchased off the used cars sales lot, they slapped hands and gave one another a loose embrace.
“A, Hunter… uh, thanks again for the cash. I’m kinda low on funds so I could use it.”
“You took me in. You’re my brother. It’s the least I could do.” Justin shoved both his hands in his pockets, looking jittery.
“Justin, I know you ran into some trouble.”
“What are you talking about?” His brother looked genuinely confused.
“Man, I saw those motherfuckers comin’ ’round the apartment building. That night they banged on the door, you looking out the window all paranoid… you’re messing with the wrong people.”
Justin sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes.
“Don’t dismiss what I’m saying to you.” Hunter got in his face. “I had my gun by my side every damn night, locked and ready. If any of those fuckers had busted through that door and tried to bring harm to you, Miranda or my nieces and nephew, I woulda blown them the fuck away and made them drink their own blood as they died.”
He grabbed the back of Justin’s neck and pulled him near. Foreheads touching, he stared the man in the eye. Adrenaline climbed, his anger flared as flashes of the bullshit haunted him. “You gotta protect your woman and kids, man. Nobody else will. You’re all they got! You want them to end up without you? Is that what the fuck you want?! Stop sellin’ that shit!” He gritted his teeth, then released his brother and turned away.
“A, Hunter… I need to tell you something.”
“What?” He opened the car door and tossed the bags inside.
“I wasn’t gonna say anything but, uh, I got a letter from Dad last week. I guess he knows about your release now, too. He said that—”
“I don’t give a shit what that maggot said.” Hunter tossed himself into the worn driver’s seat of the vehicle and started the engine. Justin calmly slipped a cigarette out of his jacket and lit it. He cocked his head to the side and began to smoke it, pausing, looking reflective. The man looked up at the sky and squinted, as if watching a sunrise. And then, he frowned.
“Hunter, he wants us to come see him. I think maybe you should consider it.”
“You can do whatever you want, but I meant what the hell I told him all those years ago. I said if he needed one drop of water to live, I’d empty out all the water jugs around the world, poison the oceans, stop the rain and drain every pool, lake, river, creek and puddle. I wouldn’t even offer him my damn vomit or a wad of spit. And as he sat there dyin’, I’d laugh in his fuckin’ face then dance on his dead body. Fuck him. Fuck what he wants. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He slammed the car door and kicked the car in reverse, pulling out of the parking space.
He didn’t dare look in the rear-view mirror, but he knew Justin was still standing there, all sad, depressed, probably convinced he was a cold-blooded piece of shit. It didn’t matter though; that was one thing he refused to reconsider. Their father was dead as far as he was concerned. Hunter turned on the CD player, an old relic that still worked, and slid in one of the CDs he had stored in the sun visor. M.C. Breed’s, ‘Ain’t No Future In Yo’ Frontin’ blasted through the crappy factory speakers as he rode out, headed to The Motor City…
“It’s been a couple of weeks, but he’s holding on,” Hunter explained as he stood on her front doorstep. The hood of his thick, black coat lay haphazardly, as if he’d thrown it on in a hurry.
“Olive said Kylie told ’er Noah’s been moved to hospice now.”
“Yeah.”
“Is he all right there?” If she’d blinked, she would’ve missed the look of distress that flashed across his face. It was as if her words jarred him, opened a door he preferred to keep closed, so he caught himself in a flicker of a second, slamming it shut before it was far too late.
“Yeah.”
The man looked a bit flustered. Perhaps it was the weather, much colder than the previous day. Hunter’s short hair blew in the wind and his eyes shined bright. As he looked down at her, she clutched her robe tight.
“Come on in here. There’s no sense in you standing out there like this.”
She swallowed her pride, opened the door wider, and let the man inside. He bustled past her and made a mad dash to the sofa, not waiting for an invitation to make himself at home. She hadn’t seen him since the day she’d fixed him the lasagna and apple pie. He’d eaten practically half of the entire dish. Feeding a giant like him had to cost an arm and a leg. The man was a real piece of work.
It irked her nerves how her daughter and Olive had gone on and on about him after he’d left that evening, saying how cute he was, how funny the stories and jokes he’d told were, and all this other crap that made it clear he’d made quite the impression. But right now, a part of him looked downright pitiful.
“Sorry for coming by without calling first but I was in the area. Figured I’d drop by.” He rubbed his big hands together.
“You want some coffee or tea?”
“Coffee would be good.” She headed to the kitchen and hummed as the radio played ‘I’m Still in Love With You,’ by Al Green. Grabbing a black mug, she filled it up carefully, enjoying the scent as it wafted in the air.
“You’re a little young to be listening to that, aren’t you?” he said from the living room.
“Oh no, I love the classics! My mother used to play the mess outta some Al Green. My father loved him too, but my mother was in love with him. She would’ve probably left my father for that man if he’d asked,” she joked. “You want some cream or sugar? Both?”
“Just black. Thanks.” Moments later, she came back out to the living room to find the man swaying slowly to the music as he sat there, slightly hunched over. Her heart swelled within her for some strange reason.
“Here you go.” She offered the cup and went around the couch to stand before him. He took an urgent sip before setting it down on the coffee table.
“Olive and Tisha ar
e in school, I take it?”
She nodded, sat across from him, and crossed her ankles.
“Yeah. I’m enjoying the quiet today. I’m off every other Tuesday.”
“Yeah, you told me, well, you mentioned it in conversation and I remembered.” He winked. She sucked her teeth, mulling over his words, a little unnerved. “I live here in Detroit now.”
“Oh?” Her brow rose. “Because of Noah?”
“Partially. This makes it easier to visit him but also there are more job opportunities here. I found a part time gig with this one company. They have a team of guys that go out and make repairs on houses, apartment buildings, shit like that.”
“It’s good that you still tried to find work, Hunter, because though you got your hands on some money recently, it’ll run out fast.” She shrugged. “That’s just how life goes. Always need to plan for the future.” The man took another sip of his coffee and his eyes hooded. He caressed his beard and scratched along his jaw as if working out a kink.
“Look, I’m not going to beat around the bush.” He leaned forward, his hands falling limp between his parted legs. “I was in the area, but I also came over here to see if you’d want to get a bite to eat with me this weekend… maybe go to the movies, too.”
Grabbing a piece of butterscotch flavored hard candy from the dish on the coffee table, she unwrapped it and popped it in her mouth.
“Do you think I’m desperate?” she finally asked as she sucked loud and hard, the flavor swirling about her tongue.
“No.”
“You must. Because you’re a convict and—”
“Former convict. A convict is someone who is currently incarcerated. I’m not in prison,” he corrected before taking a casual sip of his beverage. She sighed and shook her head.
“Why are you so hellbent on going out with me, Hunter? I mean, you’re a handsome man. Most women I believe would agree. You’ve got a car and—”
“I’m not really concerned about what other people think. What do you think? Do you find me attractive?” He cocked his head to the side, looking serious as a heart attack. She debated lying and sayin no, but decided against it.
“Yes, I guess I’m amongst those that would find you attractive but that really has nothing to do with this. My point is, you’ve got a little money put aside now, so you can use it to tide you over. That’s enough to attract someone else. Right now, in my life, I’m cautious about who I date.”
The man went quiet for a spell. Maybe he’d change the subject now, or leave.
“You remind me of someone. And no, I’m not talking about Janet Jackson right now.” He smirked. She smiled back at him and rocked her leg back and forth, the flavor of the candy waning as the piece melted against the roof of her mouth.
“Well, whoever she was, Hunter, I’m not her and I can’t replace her.”
“It’s not a she. It’s a he. Me.”
She stared at him long and hard, not certain she was following his line of thinking. They were like night and day.
“Uh…” She laughed and shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t think we have much in common, Hunter. We’re two different people.”
“I think we do.” He leaned back against a set of white pillows, looking irreverent as hell. “For instance, you said when you invited me to dinner that you used to go roller skating at Northland Roller Rink.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Well, I did too when I’d come down here. Not only did we both like skating, but we were at the same rink back in the day and didn’t even know it. I’d be there with my friends. Another thing in common is that we both like apple pie. You told me when I came back over for dessert that it was your favorite, too. Olive had asked at one point what I missed while in prison and I told ’er playing pool, the guitar, and just fresh air. You then admitted you know how to play pool, too, but you hadn’t played in years. We also both like good music.”
“You said I was too young to be listening to Al Green.”
“I didn’t say you were too young. I asked an opening question and asked if you were too young. I mean…” He shrugged. “I realized that you liked Al Green too since you were singing along to it. Honestly, I’m not into that type of music, but I respect it, ya know? Look at where we both grew up?” He threw up his hands. She couldn’t argue with that: Motown. “And that kind of music brings back a lot of memories.”
“What kind of memories?”
“Happy ones. My grandparents raised me. My grandmother was kinda religious.” She nodded in understanding. “Al Green was religious, too, she said, and she brought his gospel album home one day from some guy selling records near her church. She used to play a song called ‘Everything’s Gonna Be Alright’ by him.”
The man lowered his gaze and smiled. She couldn’t help but do the same.
“I know that song too, Hunter. My parents played it.”
“Yeah? It wasn’t too bad. My grandmother loved it. She wasn’t much into gospel, mostly just Christian music, hymns, some older 1950s and ’60s music, but she really enjoyed that song. I guess it made her feel good.” A glint of blissful light danced in his eyes. “I remember her dancing, swaying her hips back ’nd forth in her favorite sky-blue dress to that song. The dress had little yellow and white flowers all over it. It was real big, baggy; some call them moo-moos, I guess.” He shrugged. “She’d put that thing on, turn on that album, and play that song as she cleaned or cooked. I never really saw her dance a lot, but she’d move to that.” His smile slowly faded as he ran his hand along his chin.
“She had good taste.”
“Yeah, she did, and she’s a good woman, too. The type of woman who doesn’t judge a book by its cover.” She glowered at the man, knowing that was a shady pot shot at her, but she remained quiet. “I don’t want you to focus on my past, Nita, and what I did to end up in prison. I’m not there now. That’s just a small part of who I am. It would be nice to be judged on how I’m talkin’ to ya, treating Olive, things like that. You know she and I text practically every day.”
She had to admit he was right. The man was keeping her abreast on her father’s worsening condition.
“Hunter, you have to understand something. Finding you attractive and admiring how you handled the sensitive situation with Olive is not enough. I can’t just worry about myself. I’ve got a daughter. I’m supposed to be an example to her. She may very well follow in my footsteps and I don’t want her to make the same mistakes I have. And honestly? I wouldn’t want her dating someone like you.”
“And she’s not. You’d be.”
“You know what I mean. If you’d used this same persistence and goal orientation to keep on the straight and narrow, maybe you wouldn’t have run into your share of trouble—the kind that ended up getting you incarcerated, losing your freedom, becoming another name in the system. Fast money wasn’t worth it, or at least, I hope it wasn’t.”
“You got a nose bleed?”
She threw him a perplexed look.
“No. Why’d you say that? Is there something dripping?”
He smiled real easy like, then slowly stood and zipped his coat back up.
“I said that because it must be mighty windy up there on that high horse, Nita. Must be hard being the picture of perfection… up there in the nose bleed seats lookin’ down on all of us fuck-ups.”
She rolled her eyes and stood up as well.
“That’s not what I meant, Hunter, but you can believe whatever you want.”
She walked him to the door. As she opened it, a gust of wind blew so hard, it sent chills through her bones. Winter was about to take hold of the city and let Jack Frost loose on the masses. He said nothing more as he exited the house. The screen door banged against the frame behind him. When he opened his car door, she stepped out onto her small porch. Her heart was racing, and a bit of panic set in. She acted on it before she could even think it through.
“Hunter! Wait!”
He turned and stared at her. Sliding
a cigarette out of his pocket, he lit it, then took a drag. The smoke hit the cold air and smoky orbs formed then drifted away.
“Let’s go skating.” She smiled wide, the cool air feeling strange against her teeth. His eyes gleamed.
“I’ll call you later.”
He got inside of his car, started the engine, and drove off, while she stood there trying to convince herself that she’d agreed to his invitation because she felt sorry for him, because he kept pressing, because he’d been so nice to Olive, because he entertained Tisha and even gave her some sound advice on a disagreement she was having with another friend. But that wasn’t the truth; none of it was, or at least it wasn’t the driving force behind the urgency to stop herself from destroying something that compelled her. Facts were facts.
It was because she liked him.
It was because when he spoke, his words rang true.
It was because he was confident and his swag was authentic, not manufactured to put on a show, an attempt to impress. He didn’t try to act like anything other than what he actually was. She did not see his skin color while he spoke to her about his grandmother in such an endearing way. She no longer thought about his brushes with the law as he set her straight. He didn’t curse her out. He simply stated his opinion. Then left. Hunter was Hunter. At the end of the day, he was just… a man.
A man with a plan, trying to get his shit together one day at a time, like her and so many others. And who could fault him for that? That was more than many were trying to do.
“Peeeace! Joy, and happiness! … He’s comin’ back!” she sang the Al Green song his grandmother adored, then went back inside her house and locked the door. “Like he said he would…”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Stakeouts, Cigarettes and Roller-skates
“Your birthday is comin’ up so we thought we’d take your ass to the casino, just like old times. You used to love the casino. Remember, man?” Ethan stated on the other end of the line.
Ethan was one of many of Hunter’s childhood friends, whom he stayed in contact with. He had even visited him in prison a few times. The smell of the fresh carpet in Hunter’s new apartment proved damn near intoxicating. He leaned against the cream wall and glanced out the window. It was a gray day with a nasty nip in the air, yet he loved it all the same.
