by Edwina Fort
Hitta’s Tea Maker
Hitta and Angel’s Tale
Edwina Fort
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Other Works by This Author
About the Author
Copyright © 2019 by Edwina Fort
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the email address below:
Author Edwina Fort
P.O. Box 346
Keithville, LA 1047
www.authoredwinafort.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Hitta’s Tea Maker/Edwina Fort. – 1st edition
ISBN
Acknowledgements
First and foremost, I would like to thank The Heavenly Father for once again using my hands as a tool. I would like to thank Team 2019 for putting in that work and helping this book to come about. And finally, I’d like to dedicate this book to my little Cousin Angel, who is out there grindin’. The world sees you, boo…do yo’ thang! I am so proud of you!
When I was little girl, my mama told me that God is a Master Weaver and that life is His tapestry. She said no one knows what in the end the picture will unfold, but that we are all threads intertwined in His divine masterpiece. Some threads are dark, and some are bright, but one can’t exist without the other because then the picture wouldn’t be precise. She says balance is needed in order to bring God’s plan into sight, but that in the end, everything will be alright. For it is written that Yah spoke into the darkness and said, let there be Light.
--Edwina Fort
Chapter 1
They Met…
I Knew from The First Moment We Met. It Was… Not Love at First Sight Exactly, but more…Familiarity. Like: Oh, Hello, Hey It’s You…It’s Going to Be You.
--Mhairi McFarlane (via 5000Letters)
Angel
For as long as I can remember, I’ve had nightmares. Not your average nightmares with monsters and such. No…
I dreamed about a world depleted of all life. A world on fire…
A world ravished…
These dreams I kept to myself. Coming up in the foster system you learn to keep a lot of things to yourself. I don’t think I’ve ever had a good night’s sleep. I am the only one with a case of insomnia that my teas cannot fix.
People come to my shop from all over the city to get teas that will help cure whatever ailment they suffer from naturally, and so far, I am the only one my teas did nothing for. I don’t know if I’ve become immune to the herbs because I’ve consumed so many of them, or if…and this is what I suspect it to really be, I’m meant to have these dreams.
For some reason, I think God wants me to see the world the way that I see it in my sleep. It does help me come up with tea recipes. LOL! I know that sounds strange, but it does…
However, I didn’t start off my tale by telling you guys about my nightmares for no reason. I did it because although my nightmares scare the heck out of me, it’s nothing compared to the fear my foster brother’s boss causes me to feel.
Westly, who is my foster brother, does maintenance work at the neighborhood gym, a job he’s had for the past six months. It really is bittersweet. Sweet because for Westly having a job for six months is a huge improvement to his record. Over the last ten years, I doubt if he’d held a job for longer than two weeks, let alone six months.
Westly has two major habits that keep him from being a reliable employee. One, he’s a heroin addict and two, he often steals to support his heroin habit.
So the fact that he’s held this job for six months is amazing. He’s even for the most part, been able to pay his half of the rent. Well…until recently, but I’ll come back to that.
The bitter part about him having this job is that he works for a goon. There is no other word that can describe him.
Okay, maybe…Heathen, Thug, Savage, Animal, Bear, Lion…Brute!
Yes…Brute is a better word.
The man is a complete brute. When he walks down the street, people scramble to get out of his path. He’s a bad man and his bad vibes go out ahead of him to clear the way.
I bet he kills people. He looks like the type. He’s probably beat somebody to death with those huge, scarred monster paws he calls hands.
Anyway, the man is completely uncivilized.
But what makes things so much worse is the fact that he’s attracted to me for some strange reason. I was nothing like the kind of woman he should be attracted to. I wasn’t a fancy dresser or a partier…I wasn’t bold or even brave.
I am a boring tea maker. A boring tea maker who blends so well into the background that folks barely notice me. When people come to my shop, their eyes are drawn to the many jars of herbs and my tea displays that I have worked so hard on.
Although I’m standing there taking their order, very seldom do they stop and really take me in. My beautiful teas are truly the stars of the show.
This doesn’t make me feel bad. It has always been that way for me. In fact, I love it that way. I don’t like drawing attention to myself, which is why I dressed in boring, loose-fitting clothes that take away from my looks rather than add to them.
It’s an old trick I learned early while growing up in foster homes, you didn’t want to attract the wrong kind of attention to yourself, things could get really nasty. So many times, I’d almost fallen prey…But thank God for Westly, who protected me in those days.
Anyway, I’ll tell you more about that later as well… First, let me finish telling y’all about my amazing ability to go unnoticed.
Well…to everyone but Hitta.
The first time I came to the gym to pick up rent money from Westly, Hitta was standing at the front counter, where the cash register was, talking to the person that I assumed was his cashier.
When I came in, they both looked up, the cashier with a warm greeting smile and Hitta with a fierce scowl that almost made me turn around and run back out the door, but I didn’t because our rent money was very late and the landlord was once again threatening to put us out.
So…I pressed on, but my eyes as if they had a mind of their own took in the monster of a man in front of me. His muscles were very hard and defined. I don’t think he had an ounce of fat on him…anywhere.
This I was able to see because he wore a white wife beater that fell on him in a way that could be distracting to a woman weaker than I. He had several tattoos, but what really stood out were the two words that were angrily slashed up each of his forearms.
The right arm had the word Hard slashed up it, describing that forearm perfectly. And the left arm had the word Hitta slashed up it…no doubt describing those monster fists perfectly. There was another tattoo on his right bicep, but I wasn’t close enough to see what it was. And it looked like another that began somewhere under his ta
nk top and went all the way up to the left side of his thick neck.
Gracious!
In his ear, he wore a diamond earring that wasn’t really big, but big enough to let the onlooker know it wasn't cheap. Around his neck, he wore a gold necklace that had a pair of diamond-encrusted boxing gloves hanging from it.
My gaze continued down his body. He wore a pair of brand name black sweatpants on his muscled legs that fell on his tampered hips as if he was modeling them and a pair of black Jordan’s on his feet.
The fact that it looked as if he was fresh from the barber with the low-cut hair and full beard that was lined perfectly, did little to take away from his fierceness. In fact, if you could get past the frown that looked as if it may be permanently fixed on his face, he was a really handsome man in a very rugged kind of way.
The closer I got to the giant, the more I had to strain my neck to look up at him. And the closer I got to him, the more it felt as if he could just pick me up with one hand and snap me in half.
Gracious! The violence that was pouring off him was suffocating. You ever met someone and thought…this person is very dangerous? You look in their eyes and can tell they won’t hesitate to hurt or kill…In Hitta’s case… Smash!
I had to change my thoughts or else I was going to lose my nerve and go scurrying back out that door making a complete fool of myself. So I decided to do my best to ignore the big frowning giant to the right of me with the cold deadly eyes.
It wasn’t easy though. First of all, he didn’t move to the side like a normal, civilized human being would have done so that I could speak with the receptionist privately.
No… he just rudely stood there, forcing me to stand closer to him than I was comfortable with. He smelled like power. Instead of cologne, he smelled like whatever soap he’d used to wash his clothes and rage.
And I know you're saying, what the hell does rage smell like…?
And I’m telling y’all, it smells like Hitta.
Anyway, so I’m standing there trying to ask the receptionist if he’d get Westly for me and Hitta is staring at me as if I’m an ice cube and he’s a man that’s been lost in the desert for thirty days. I give him a look that says it’s rude to stare…
And would y’all believe the heathen found that amusing? He even cracked those intimidating lips of his into a smile. I shivered because I didn’t know what was more frightening, his smile or his scowl.
However, that wasn’t the worst part. The receptionist then left to go and find Westly, leaving me alone with the brute.
Y’all, the gym was huge. Who knows where Westly was? So I take a few steps back and pretend to read the postings on the cork board that were there. The whole time he was watching me. He hadn’t moved his big body from where he leaned on the counter.
And then he opened his mouth and spoke, the sound of his deep voice nearly caused me to jump out my shoes. I kid you not, a squeak of fear left my throat.
Don’t shake y’all's heads at me, I told y’all I’m not that brave. I had a tragic childhood. I hate that I’m this way, but I am very squeamish.
Anyway, so he spoke.
“Why you dress that way?”
My mouth dropped open at his rudeness. “Excuse me?!”
“I don’t like to repeat myself.”
At that moment I was thanking God for my brown skin because if I had been a few shades lighter, I would be beet red right now.
Not only was he a rude brute…he was bossy and mean.
I held my head up as if he was nothing. “Dress what way?” I wanted to say heathen but changed my mind.
“Like a homeless person.”
My mouth dropped open again.
Oh, my God! Did the man just tell me I dressed like a homeless person? I was so insulted that at that point, my fear of him faded for just a bit. I put my hand on my hip.
"For your information, this style is called Boho.”
He lifted an eyebrow and I could tell by the little evil smirk on his face he was enjoying himself at my expense. “Hobo?”
“No! Boho…It’s a difference.” I nearly yelled. I started to begin that sentence with, are you deaf! But then thought better of it. This guy felt dangerous, like make you disappear dangerous.
He grunted, letting his intimidating gaze roam over my body.
Okay, so maybe I didn’t wear the brightest of colors. That day I believed I had on my long maxi black skirt that fell to cover my feet completely and a grey oversized sweater that hung off one shoulder. I’d partnered that ensemble with my black hand beaded tasseled purse. I’ll admit it wasn’t the prettiest thing in my closet, but I didn’t look homeless either.
His intense gaze was starting to unnerve me. He had yet to look away from me since I walked through those doors. He studied me so intensely it felt as if he could see under my shabby clothes to the figure I worked very hard to hide.
After his insulting words, he didn't say anything else, he just stood there watching me. And the way that he did it was so unnerving. People walked past and said goodbye to him, but he never looked away from me. He just nodded his head to whoever it was and mumbled something in a language that was purely his because I don’t think it was English.
I know he was a brute and probably uneducated…but even he had to know that it was rude as hell to stare at somebody like that. It was almost as if he knew he was making me nervous and was enjoying it.
Although Westly and I were fairly new to this neighborhood, I'd heard enough from the girl who lived across the hall from me to know that he was something of a big shot around these parts. She said he used to be a professional boxer and was doing really good until an injury forced him to stop.
Of course, I was very curious as to what the injury was, there weren’t many ailments my teas couldn’t take care of. There were some…
But not many…
However, he was such a brute we will never find out. If he had been civilized, I would have tried to reach out to him. There was no way that was happening now.
I was so relieved when I looked up and saw Westly walking towards me that I nearly ran to him and threw myself into his arms. Although an addict, my brother has always protected me. The giant frowned when he saw this…
“Hey, Bo…” His deep voice seemed to rumble through the floor. “This yo’ girl?”
He still hadn’t moved from where he casually leaned against the counter.
Westly seemed shocked that his boss was actually talking to him. I would later find out that was the first time he’d ever said anything to him.
My brother chuckled in that way that let me know he was freshly high. In another few minutes, he would start the nodding.
“Naw, bossman, this here my little sista.”
The giant grunted again as his gaze once again raked down my body. “This the sista that stay with you?”
Westly was now beaming like a small child whose hero had noticed them. “Yeah it is…I—I didn’t think you knew anything ‘bout me.”
I rolled my eyes. I wanted to kick him for being so infatuated with the brute.
At one time y’all, my brother was so very strong and handsome. Girls used to line up at our foster parents’ door to see him. Of course, I would get nervous whenever he went out because that meant I would be home with Kirk without Westly’s protection.
Scary times…
Very scary times…
Anyway, back in those days, my brother was the man to know. Now, the heroin and whatever other drugs he liked had torn his body down. He was only a tenth of the man he used to be. Of late, he’s been scratching big sores on his arms and face.
I pray he hadn’t started doing meth, but I fear that he has. I have paid for him to go to rehab more times than I can count, but so far, nothing has worked. However, I can’t turn my back on him. Had it not have been for him putting the fear of God in Kirk’s heart, I would have been brutally raped many times.
No, I can’t turn my back on him. I take comfort in the fact th
at although he steals like nobody’s business…he’s never stolen from me.
Not once…
“I know about everybody working for me.” The giant spoke again, drawing my attention back to him. “Including the fact that you like to suck on that glass dick…” His intense gaze fell back to me.
But I was too busy trying to pick my mouth up off the ground for the third time. He’d just put my poor brother on blast and brought up his ailment in the most vile way. The guy at the register pretended to shuffle around some papers.
“You sure are rude…” I finally hissed. I’d had enough of his horrible personality.
“Baby, I don’t sugga coat sh*t.”
Westly gave a nervous laugh. “I’ll be right back, boss, I just need to talk to my sista outside for a minute.”
His hands shook as he led me away. I looked back over my shoulder at the animal man and I swear, what he did next nearly made me trip, had Westly not been holding my arm so tightly I would have.
He slowly licked his lips and then kissed toward me, but that wasn’t the shocking part. The shocking part was my body’s response to that scandalous gesture. I felt a spasm between my thighs that stole my breath.
That was the first time anything like that has ever happened to me. When I frowned at the brute’s vulgarness, he had the nerve to wink at me with that evil grin on his face, as if he was very much aware of what his vulgar gesture had done to my body.
Needless to say, after that day, I did my very best to avoid going to the gym for anything, but then I started seeing him in the oddest of places.
Like the bus stop when I’m on my way to and from work. It isn’t every day, but some days he’d be sitting there watching me in that big black Hummer with the tan leather seats that my brother thought was the best vehicle to have ever been created under the heavens.
He never said anything, just sat there and watched me get on the bus or get off. For my own sanity, I’d convinced myself that he wasn’t sitting there for me. The gym was right across the street. He could be sitting waiting for someone to come out or just waiting to go in.
