In My Sister's House

by Donald Welch

  Cleet began hitting his spoon against his drinking glass loud enough to get the attention of both Alexia and Nettie, who were standing at the bar.

  “You know what? Let me handle this one. He can be a little trouble. I’d hate for you to get Cleet James on your first night. Watch the bar for me?” Nettie said to Alexia.

  “No, no, Nettie. He’s at my station. I’ll handle it. He most likely craves attention,” she laughed. “Besides, if he’s a regular then I better get used to him, don’t you think?”

  “Okay, but if he gives you any problem, call me or signal Head and the problem will be handled,” Nettie warned. On her way over to Cleet’s table, Flynn stepped into Alexia’s path. Alexia did not notice him until they collided.

  “Oh, excuse me. I’m sorry,” Alexia said.

  “Not a problem. So, how’s your first night?” he asked, smiling.

  “It’s cool. I’m getting the hang of it,” she said, returning the smile.

  “Let me say that we love nothing more than having another beautiful lady in our establishment or on staff.” Flynn was flirting. “Your man is a lucky dude.”

  “Why thank you … and just so you know, I don’t have a man.”

  This revelation couldn’t have sat better with Flynn, who continued with the small talk. Alexia didn’t want to be rude, but she needed to go, especially after peering over Flynn’s shoulder and seeing Cleet squirming in his seat looking for another waitress. She was flattered by the attention Flynn was giving her but she couldn’t let anything jeopardize her job.

  “I bet you flirt with every girl who comes in here,” Alexia said.

  “Hmmm. Yeah, I do.” Flynn laughed. “But I only ask the ladies out for a date.”

  “You’re smooth. I got to give it to you, my brotha. You don’t waste any time.” Alexia giggled.

  “You have a pretty smile,” Flynn said. “If it’s not too forward, would you like to go on a date sometime?”

  Alexia was surprised by the invitation, but let Flynn down easy. “It’s nice of you to ask, but after my last situation I’ve decided to do the single thing.” Seeing the look of disappointment on Flynn’s face, she added, “Please don’t take it personally. Now, I’ve got to go help a customer.”

  Flynn didn’t seem to be fazed at all by this. Watching her walk away he could sense that there was something special about Alexia and he aimed to find out what it was.

  “She’ll come around,” he said in a low tone. “Especially when she sees how debonair and charming I can be.” Besides, she’d get to know that Flynn Wilson was a warrior. He didn’t give up a fight easily.

  Quince put on a Flo Rida jam and several patrons headed for the dance floor. As Alexia maneuvered through the crowd, a lanky guy with pronounced freckles and an old-school Afro, dressed in a pair of charcoal-gray slacks and a white button-down shirt, grabbed her by the hand, coaxing her to dance with him. He actually managed to twirl her around at least once before she freed herself. Laughing, she reached the table where Torch and Cleet were seated. Retrieving pad and pen from the pocket of her slacks, she took their order, but not before apologizing.

  “Good evening, gentlemen. I’m Alexia, I’ll be your waitress this evening. Sorry for the delay. May I take your order?”

  Cleet glared at her. “Not a great way to start your first night on the job, now, is it? We’ve been waiting for service for some time now.”

  “Again, I’m sorry. Your order, sir?” Alexia forced a smile.

  “Yeah, well, recognize! Now git me a Hennessy and Coke!” He got louder with each word. “And some of dem coconut shrimp and jerk wings.”

  Alexia restrained herself from telling this joker off. Maybe she should have let Nettie or one of the other girls handle this table.

  “And you, sir? What will you be having?” she said turning her attention to Torch.

  “I’ll take a little … Cutty on ice.” Getting his first look at Alexia, he stared at her for a moment. “Do I know you from somewhere? You look awfully familiar. You have any family around here? Brothers, Sisters?” He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  “No,” Alexia said. “In fact, I just moved to Philly.”

  “I don’t usually forget a pretty face.” He smiled at her. “It’ll come to me.” Alexia shrugged her shoulders and began to leave when he stopped her again.

  “By the way, have you seen DuBoy and Storm?” he asked.

  “Who?” Alexia seemed puzzled.

  “Storm. She’s the owner’s sister? DuBoy is her ol’ man.” He threw a sly smile to Cleet.

  “Oh, sorry, we haven’t met yet. But I’ll let Nettie know to send them right over to your table when they arrive.” And with that, Alexia left to place the order.

  Torch never took his eyes off her, while Cleet seemed to be spellbound by the dance moves of Lovely, who had taken the podium, moving her curvaceous body to the beat of the music.

  “I know that bitch from somewhere, Cleet,” Torch said. “Damn, this shit is gonna bother me all night.” He watched Alexia at the bar conversing with Nettie.

  “Forget that bitch, Torch, man. What we gon’ do ’bout Legends? Yo, you sure DuBoy is down, man?” Cleet grabbed a handful of peanuts and gulped them down all at once.

  “Nigga, you let me handle DuBoy. That nigga is down. Everything is gonna be fine. You can believe that shit!” Torch raised his voice to emphasize his point.

  “Yo, I hope so, man. I’m ready to make this paper, baby!” Rubbing both of his hands together, six-foot-three Cleet reared back in his seat, grinning broadly, displaying one of the most beautiful sets of pearly white teeth ever seen. His smooth, midnight skin glistened in the club like the coat of an African panther. A pronounced jawline and almond-shaped eyes made it easy for him to be mistaken for a model. “Your problem is gonna be Skylar,” he added.

  “Listen, the bottom line is, Storm owns half of this bitch. All DuBoy gotta do is convince her of what is rightfully hers and we good to go, nigga!” He reached over and pounded Cleet on the back.

  “Look, I’ma hit the stall, make a few calls, and I’ll be right back.” Torch stood up, maneuvering his large frame through the crowd with ease. His tailor-made Sean John cranberry single-breasted suit fit loosely against his six-foot, two-hundred-and-twenty-five-pound frame. The reflection of the disco ball overhead bounced off his clean-shaven head as several dancing couples made way for him to pass like a parting sea. He didn’t have to ask anyone to move, they just did. Torch got his name because as a child he was known for setting fires in the neighborhood. As a matter of fact, he’d burned down a corner store at the age of six by lighting a newspaper with a match and putting it in the mail slot on the front door. When the fire trucks arrived, they found Torch sitting across the street on a neighbor’s steps with his head in his hands, watching the comings and goings like he was looking at Sesame Street. Still holding the box of matches, he didn’t deny starting the fire. When asked why he did it, Torch said, “Ain’t nothing like a good fire.” He ended up doing five years in juvie.

  Glancing over his shoulder, Cleet noticed Head standing against the wall, arms folded, overseeing all the activity in the club. Cleet decided to amuse himself by taunting him. “Punk, is that all you do? Standing up there like you the damn Rock or Hulk Hogan or some shit?” He started to laugh. “Ain’t nobody scared of you, man. What you make, like ten or twelve bucks an hour?” With that he took a twenty-dollar bill out of his wallet and tossed it at Head’s feet. Head neither reacted nor seemed the least bit bothered by Cleet’s antics. “Nigga, git a real job. You oughta come work for me and Torch. Hell, it don’t matter, we gonna own this dump in a minute anyway. Then I’ma be your boss. You big-head muthafucka!” He howled at his own joke.

  At that moment, Lovely completed her dance and stepped down off the podium. As she passed, Cleet said, “Damn, baby, yo ass move like a stripper’s bowels, slow and steady.”

  Lovely ignored him and continued toward the dressing area. He followed her eve
ry move, transfixed by her ass until Alexia interrupted with his drink.

  “Here you are. Will this be a running tab or would you like to pay now?” she asked. This seemed to infuriate Cleet.

  “Running tab? Shit, it should be on the house, much as we spend in this muthafucka!” Taking out his wallet again, he handed her a fifty-dollar bill. “That’s cool though, here you go. But in a minute, all this up in here is going to be free for me—including you—know that shit!” he warned her. Alexia told him that she had no idea what he was talking about but that the bill was twenty-two dollars. Her dissing him only got him more angry.

  “You know, you got a smart-ass mouth on you. A nigga just trying to conversate with you and you got yo ass all up on yo back!”

  “Now see, that’s your first mistake,” Alexia spat at him. “I don’t deal with niggas. You see, a real man knows how to get the attention of a sista without disrespecting her or hog-calling her out her name!” She placed the drinks on the table, but something told her this was not over yet. She mentally prepared for whatever was about to go down.

  “Who you think you talking to?” he screamed. “Bitch, I’ll slap the taste outta yo mouth!” At this moment, Cleet jumped up to confront Alexia, who swiftly pulled a compact switchblade out of nowhere. The sight stopped Cleet. Laughing, he told her, “A bitch with balls, that makes my dick hard. Ho, where you from?” he asked, sitting back down. “Torch swears he know you.”

  Leaning in close to him, Alexia offered him some advice. “Listen, don’t fuck with me. Because as bad as I need this job, I’ll fuck you up. Now you play that shit with those tricks you meet on the stroll, not your girl,” she pointed to herself. “So let me try this again. Can I get you anything else before I go?”

  “I’m cool. I’ll holla if I need you.” Cleet sneered.

  Alexia leaned in even closer to him, offering one more piece of advice. “Oh, and another thing,” she whispered. “You can tell Suge Knight—he don’t know me from nowhere, you feel me? My advice to both of ya’ll is to go play in somebody else’s playground.” Looking around, making sure no one heard her, she continued. “ ’Cause, see, in my playground, niggas get cut up from the knees up!”

  From across the room, Skylar noticed some activity at Cleet’s table that might need attention. She started to signal Head to go over but after seeing Alexia walk away with a smile, she dismissed it, though she knew she needed to have a word with Cleet. She passed Alexia on her way and asked if everything was okay. Alexia assured her that things were fine, that she was just getting to know the regulars, that’s all.

  “Okay, well, you’re doing a fine job. We’re glad you’re with us.”

  Alexia smiled and thanked Skylar again for the job opportunity. She excused herself after seeing another customer attempting to get her attention. Something made Skylar feel that the interchange between Alexia and Cleet had not been as smooth as she was letting on. Reaching his table she didn’t waste words.

  “I don’t want any trouble in here, Cleet,” she warned. “I run a top-notch spot and I aim to keep it that way. Now, you and Torch are welcome here as long as this is understood.”

  “We cool, baby. Everything is everything, girl, you know that,” he teased as his eyes zeroed in on her cleavage. “Yo, by the way, where is your sister? DuBoy said she was out.” He looked around attempting to spot Storm.

  The mention of DuBoy’s name sent chills up Skylar’s spine. She had never cared for the no-good two-bit hustler that had Storm sprung before she went in the pen. “DuBoy?! What makes you think he knows anything about Storm’s comings and goings?” Not waiting for an answer, she walked away. She hoped that Storm had not contacted DuBoy to rekindle their sick and twisted relationship.

  She passed by Torch, who was returning from the restroom. He acknowledged her with a nod of the head. She ignored him and walked toward Sidney, who was calling her over to one of the side tables. He was sitting with a well-dressed Asian couple who she assumed were husband and wife.

  “Hey, baby, come over for a minute. I want you to meet someone.” Sidney motioned for her to join them. Approaching the table, Skylar smiled. Sidney introduced her to Mike and Sara Chin. The young twentysomething couple seemed excited and eager to meet Skylar. Sara vigorously shook her hand and said, “Sidney’s told us so much about you. Your club is amazing! And congratulations on your engagement—Sidney is a very lucky man.”

  Mike said, “We’re big fans of this guy,” pointing at Sidney, “and there are so few successful minority-owned accounting firms in this town. Sidney Francis is actually shaking up a few of the high-powered white firms, too, aren’t you?” He playfully ribbed Sidney and went on. “I’m just another Chinese Philly boy, a few years out of U. Penn, but I love what Sidney’s doing. I really admire him.”

  “And I, you,” Sidney countered. “Mike and I, we hit it off immediately, and I think your smarts and perspective are just what we need at The Francis Group. It would be an honor if you agreed to come on board as our newest junior analyst.”

  Mike graciously accepted, and he and his wife looked excited. Holding onto Sidney’s hand, Skylar was so proud of her man and happy for Mike and Sara Chin. For a moment she had forgotten all about what Cleet said to her about DuBoy, until she looked up and saw Storm entering the club with none other than Joshua Tillman, aka DuBoy, at her side. She tightened her grip on Sidney, who, after looking at her, knew something was wrong.

  Sensing that Skylar knew that she had come in, Storm looked through the crowded room until their eyes meet. Sidney wouldn’t let go of Skylar’s hand and decided that they should all have a toast there at the table to celebrate Mike’s good news. Skylar calmed down long enough to relax her hand and joined in on the toast.

  Storm’s entrance caused a stir. Not because she was known, but because she was stunning! Wearing a simple black Nicole Miller minidress and a pair of Antonia Melani high-heeled sandals, and carrying a black beaded Louis Vuitton purse, Storm looked as if she had stepped right off the pages of Vanity Fair. DuBoy’s thuggish b-boy appearance seemed almost acceptable to the crowd witnessing this unexpected entrance. He was in a pair of loose-fitting Sean John jeans, a clinging black wife beater, and a pair of black Tims. A black leather belt with an oversized gold and silver belt buckle, a skull with tiny sparkling gems entrenched in each eye socket, gave the illusion of expensive jewels.

  Nettie noticed Storm and immediately went over to her with her arms outstretched. She greeted her warmly and gave DuBoy a quick disapproving nod. He returned the sentiment. When Storm took off her sunglasses to give Nettie a peck on the cheek, it caused several customers to do a double take. Some were speechless at the resemblance to Skylar. Some had heard that Skylar had a sister; certainly most of the employees knew of a sibling; but no one outside of Nettie and Sidney knew that she was a twin.

  “Excuse me,” Skylar said to the Chins and Sidney as she stood up.

  “Baby, be calm, okay?” Sidney whispered to her.

  “I’m fine, Sid. Everything is fine,” she assured him. With that she headed over to the table where Storm and DuBoy were sitting down. Ruta Lee told them a waitress would be right over to take their order. Skylar signalled to Quince to lower the music. As she approached the stage, Flynn handed her the microphone.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in welcoming home my sister, Storm Morrison.” At that moment a light shined on a surprised Storm, who managed a nervous smile. “You’ll be seeing quite a lot of her, because as of next week, she will be our new assistant house manager. Our regular colleague, the wonderful Ruta Lee, will be traveling back West for a while on some family business.”

  Skylar continued. “I can assure everyone that Ruta Lee will be back and that this is only temporary. But I can also promise you that Storm will be just as great in the position. We’re all lucky to have her here.”

  Nettie couldn’t hide the gleeful look on her face upon hearing this news. Skylar caught Sidney’s eye and his trademark smile in
dicated his approval. He was proud of his woman for this gesture.

  As the cheers and congratulations simmered down, Skylar motioned for Quince to start up the music. “Okay everyone, enjoy the rest of the evening.” With this she started to leave the stage, when Storm stopped her.

  “Skylar, I … I don’t know what to say. I mean, I really appreciate this to the highest.” Storm was shocked. “I wasn’t expecting—” Not allowing her to finish, Skylar assured her that she could handle it. That they would spend the next few days having Ruta train her and show her the ropes.

  “Wow, you have that much faith in me?” Storm asked in a cautious tone.

  “Sure, why not? Is there any reason why I shouldn’t?” Not allowing Storm to respond, she continued, “Just keep your nose clean, do the right thing, and surround yourself with people of substance.” She made sure Storm saw her glance DuBoy’s way when she said that last sentence. “Everything will be cool. Besides, it’s what Dutch would have wanted,” she said.

  “And you? Is this what you want, sis?” Storm searched the eyes of her sister for the truth. There was a moment of silence before Skylar told her, “Yes, this is my wish, too. Okay, so look, we’ll talk more about it tomorrow. Like I told you earlier, tonight just sit back and enjoy the evening because next week, you’ll be on duty.” With that Skylar excused herself and made her way back to Sidney, leaving Storm standing alone.

  In a weird sort of way, watching her sister walk away from her saddened Storm, who for the first time in a long time realized that she had missed her. She even thought of reaching out and hugging her.

  An impatient DuBoy called out for her to come join him. He’d moved over to Torch’s table. They’d ordered a bottle of champagne and awaited her arrival with raised glasses for a toast.

  Flynn determinedly took a seat at the bar within eyesight of this troublesome scene. Nettie, witnessing this from her perch, frowned disapprovingly.