by Edwina Fort
This he’d said while he was ordering my strongest cup of tea. My gaze went over to Hitta, who was sitting on the couch frowning down at his phone. And let me tell y’all, that frown of his was intimidating as heck.
It caused my customers to give him a wide path as they ordered their teas and pastries while stealing glances his way. However, little Jessie wasn't afraid of him. She sat right next to him with her arm on his leg as she talked his ear off about God knows what.
He was so patient with her and I was glad that he was here because he was keeping her behaving and not harassing my customers. He and Wayne had taken up shop over in that area. I think it was because of them that more customers decided to sit down and drink their teas rather than rush out to start their day like they normally did.
Wayne had two laptops set up in front of him on the table and a notepad. At some point, someone came in and took a few pictures of Hitta and the whole time he frowned. But at the same time, he looked like somebody famous and I’d seen more than one of my customers snap pictures of him on the low because nobody wanted to get on his bad side.
I loved to see Wayne and Hitta’s interactions because Wayne spoke Hitta fluently. He understood every grunt, every hand gesture, every nod, and every rude look… Wayne was always one step ahead of his boss and could almost predict what he was going to want next.
And he wasn’t afraid of him. They argued like women…
Wayne would say something like, “Smile, there’s a camera pointed at you.”
“I am smiling…” Hitta would mutter without changing his face at all.
Wayne would exhale. “You’re not smiling.”
“Mutha f****, what the f*** I look like, a clown?” Hitta would bark.
Not ruffled in the least, Wayne would calmly state, “No…at this very moment, you look like an angry ape, whose banana is stuck up his a**.”
And of course, I was drinking something at the time and had to quickly put my hand over my mouth to prevent it from escaping with my laughter.
Hitta pointed his big finger at his assistant. “I know a lot of mutha f***as that want yo’ job.”
Wayne held out his arms. “Fire me then! What you waiting on? You been making the same threat for ten years! Fire me already! I’m sick and tired of your bullsh*t anyway! I have a degree from Morehouse I don’t have to take this sh*t!”
Hitta gestured toward the door. “Go back to Morehouse then mutha f****, ain’t nobody holding a gun to yo’ head keeping yo’ preppy a** here, you bastard! You killing me with this bullsh*t!”
“And you killing me by acting like I’m killing you for asking you to smile. It’s not the world’s fault you didn’t get hugs when you were a kid, don’t pass that negativity off on everybody else. You have a specific duty as a public figure to—”
But by this point in the conversation, Hitta would actually roll his eyes and exhale loudly and ignorantly before plastering a very frightening smile on his face.
“There, you happy, mutha f***a?” he would grumble from between his smiling lips.
Wayne would look at his smile and frown, before shaking his head. “F*** it, go back to the frown. That sh*t on your face there is going to give small children nightmares.”
And of course, I laughed the whole time. I would later find out that Wayne was so much more than a personal assistant. He played the role as Hitta’s PR, agent, lawyer and all-around motivator. Heck, Wayne had a personal assistant…
Anyway, an hour later, there was a crew of three men who got busy fixing the hole in my wall. The whole time, I had a rush, so I couldn’t be that involved with anything, but I didn’t have to…Wayne was holding it down.
He made sure the work crew stayed out of the way of my customers. He even smiled and greeted a few of them. By noon, a camera crew showed up. I’d gotten a lull for a moment before the lunch rush and I took the time to make Hitta’s blend.
When I came out the back with his mug and saw the camera crew, I froze like a deer in headlights.
“Hey, boss lady, what do you have there?” Wayne asked coming to rescue me.
“Who are these people?”
He turned to look as if it was no big deal. “Vice-World, have you heard of them.”
My stunned gaze flew to him. “Have I heard of them? Are you kidding me? Of course, I’ve heard of them!”
I was getting ready to freak out. Vice-World was sitting in my Tea Shop!
Oh my God!!!!
VICE-WORLD WAS IN MY TEA SHOP!!!!
“Yeah, they’ve been following the boss around for the last month. Just pretend they’re not here and go on with business as usual. However, you should prepare for an influx of customers after this episode airs.”
“Oh my God! Wayne! That’s great!” But then a thought hit me. I was already barely handling the customers I had.
“Wait, I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle more people—”
“I’ve already taken care of that. After your lunch rush, I have three very reliable people coming in to interview for a position.” His words stalled for a minute and for the first time since I’ve met him, his disposition changed to something that resembled hostility.
He slid his hand down the vest of his suit, straightening his already immaculate appearance.
“Unfortunately…Hitta’s niece, Carmen is one of them. She’s at The University of Chicago studying to get her B.A. in accounting. She is currently the bookkeeper at Hitta’s Place and has agreed after her uncle offered her a very nice snippet of course, to also man the books here.”
His disposition was frightening me. “You’re scaring me, is there something about her that I should know?”
“You should be afraid. Carmen is a mini version of her uncle. She is a complete savage and should be put down.”
My eyes widened…“Put down?”
“Put down…but come now, don’t you worry about her. That’s why I’m here. You just put a smile on your face and go on over there and give Hitta his cup of tea.”
“Am I going to be on TV?” I squeaked.
My heartbeat picked up to the point that I felt like I was going to have a panic attack. He gestured to the guy who I assumed was the producer.
“Hey, this is Hitta’s lady…we would like to plug the Tea Shop and the coat drive.” He turned to look at me. “Isn’t that the charity you have going on now?”
The only thing I could do was nod.
“She has a cup of tea for Hitta, I would like for you guys to get a shot of her handing him the tea and then we can cut the cameras a prep her to plug her charity. Got it?”
With his lips pressed tightly together, the producer nodded. It didn’t look as if he was all that happy to be told how to produce his own show, but Wayne walked away obviously not caring in the least.
And so it went…Wayne instructed me on how to hand the cup to Hitta. Of course, the big grouch did not heed to any of Wayne's instructions and reached for me after I handed him the cup and pulled me down on the couch next to him.
Wayne had instructed me to sit in the chair that was next to the couch. Hitta took a sip of his tea and then plugged the heck out of the shop.
“This here…” holding up the cup. “Keep my headaches away.” He leaned down and kissed my lips.
“I don’t know what I would do without my shawty. She say she a Tea Maker…but to me, she a Tea Master.”
Chapter 10
The Tea Maker
Men themselves have wondered, what they see in me. They try so much, but they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them, they say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back, The sun of my smile, The ride of my breasts, The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
--Maya Angelou
Hitta
Because I’m the kind of mutha f**** that don’t let peop
le in my head, nobody knows how strange my life has been. For some reason, I’ve come in contact with a few extraordinary people and up until now, I’ve never thought to question why.
Many of you know my boy, Rome…I don’t have to tell y’all about him and the things he’s capable of or the fact that he believes he plays chess with an angel every Tuesday in the park. I don’t know why I ended up with a best friend like him.
Neither he, Saw Buck, nor I graduated from eighth grade, but that didn’t stop Rome from learning and that didn’t stop him from bringing me along for the ride. Just for the fun of it, he and I took an IQ test at nineteen. Rome’s score was so high there was not a level for it. The smartest man to be recorded tested in at a three hundred; Rome’s score had blown past that.
But for anybody that knew him, there was no surprise in that area. However, if folks knew that I’d scored a one-thirty on mine, they would be very surprised. I’d been born with a speech impediment. Because of it, I used as few words as I could when talking. Also because of it, I came across as dumb.
Many folks would be bothered by that, but I wasn’t. It’s like chess; to underestimate your opponent is a great error that many commits when dealing with me… To my advantage of course.
It’s how I was able to get Angel. She thought she had me figured out and the more she got to know me, the more she saw how wrong she was…and the more she felt guilty.
Did I take advantage of her guilt?
Hell yeah…
But I digress…I was telling you guys about my uncanny ability to bump into extraordinary people.
Take Maddox and Lannox for instance, not only are they extremely deadly…but we are all convinced that God speaks to Lannox and although he is a mute, he’s become something of a priest to our crew. If he says we shouldn’t do something or go somewhere…we don’t. If he says we should be somewhere or should do something, we do. Nobody except Maddox understands the way his mind works, and the little Maddox is exposed to of his brother’s mind, he cannot put into words.
He’s tried, often…I don’t know why those two ended up working for me of all people, but they have, and they are very loyal. Over the last ten years, we have become brothers.
Rome, Maddox, and Lannox you all know about. What many of y’all don’t know is that back when I was a kid and G had decided he wanted to see me boxing professionally, he’d sent me to the Lyon’s Den to learn how to do that. Lyon and G went way back. G said that it was Lyon who first put him on when he came into the dope game. He said Lyon used to run the streets with an iron fist and had niggas scared to even breathe without his permission.
But then he got locked up. G says when his boy got out, he was done with the dope game, but had opened up a gym where he trained certain people to fight. It was Lyon who taught me how to throw a proper punch and polish my natural ability of knocking mutha f****s out.
One of the amazing things about the Lyon’s Den was that not everybody could come in.
I mean that literally…
There is some kind of force around the building that makes certain people sick to their stomach if they even touch the door. And if they manage to ignore that feeling and get inside the door, they never make it past the threshold before they hit their knees in unbearable pain.
I know…that sh*t sound wild, but that’s what I’m telling you. For some reason, I’ve had some wild experiences in my life.
Lyon also had a real pet lion, I kid you not. The thing was huge, and it followed him everywhere. Not only that…to this day, Rome thinks I’m lying, but when I was a kid, I had gone up to Lyon’s office to take my payment to him. He didn’t see me and was talking to another guy in there. Whatever the guy told him made him so mad that he stood and hit his metal desk so hard he bent the b**** in two.
Needless to say, that sh*t ain’t normal. However, it wasn’t long till Lyon started working one on one with me. I was surprised as hell when he singled me out. He said although he knows G had sent me to him for him to teach me how to box, nothing happens that isn’t the Heavenly Father’s will and that I was meant to study under him.
I asked him why.
“I know you want to scrape your way out the hood, kid. But being a professional boxer is not your destiny.”
Of course, back then, I thought I knew it all. Thought I had my whole life figured out.
“Can’t nobody tell me what my destiny is. I make my own way.”
He chuckled. “As long as you think that way, you’re going to have a bumpy road ahead of you. Trust me, I know.” He looked off to the side getting lost in his thoughts.
“The Most High have a way of getting your attention though. Sometimes, it’s easy and sometimes,” he shook his head, “It’s the most painful thing you’ll ever experience. Don’t be like me, kid…Try and hear his voice before he strips you of everything you hold dear in order that you listen.”
After that day, he started training me to be another kind of fighter, a fighter that fought spiritually as well as physically.
Because of him, I changed my diet. He said the things we put in our temple had a great effect on whether or not the Ancient of Days could use our bodies for vessels. He said the Rauch Ha Kodesh cannot dwell in anything unclean and some foods were unclean and polluted the body.
I changed my diet and started changing the way I viewed life, but G was not happy with the changes and pulled me out of the Lyon's Den before any of Lyon's teachings could take a real hold on me. Although I still kept the diet Lyon had shown me, I haven't been back to the Lyon's Den since.
Now you all are wondering why I’ve decided to reveal all of this information to you. Well…because I want you guys to see that I've come in contact with some things that can be described as nothing less than supernatural. So, it’s safe to say that I now have certain qualifications to spot it when I see it.
That being said…Angel and what she does with her teas were some next-level kind of sh*t.
I’ve been sitting here watching her for hours, my phone been blowing up with calls and texts from the gym. I had two new fighters coming in today to start their training. One of the kids showed promise of going all the way…and yet here I still sat on this couch watching…
Hell…I don’t know what I was watching.
First of all, for a tea shop, this mutha f**** stayed busy. At one point during the morning rush, there was a line out the f***ing door. Now, you ask me, why the hell would somebody wait in a line that long for tea? And well, let me tell you why.
She was more than a barista she was a healer. A healer that all of these people didn’t mind waiting in line to see.
Some folks knew what they wanted. They stepped up to her register and asked for their blend by name. She sold bags of the sh*t…and no, it wasn’t cheap. Everybody that bought a bag bought a cup as well.
Her hands moved across her tea display like a pianist on a piano. I was convinced that half the satisfaction for the customers was just watching her work. She’d grab a flower from here, a few granules of something from here…a scoop of this, a scoop of that…she’d drop what looked like a twig in one of the many wooden mortars that she had and grind it down before adding everything in a little mesh baggy.
Then she’d drop the baggy in a cup of hot water and then steam it. The loud sound of the steamer signaled to the customer that their order was almost finished. It also snapped them out of whatever satisfying trance they fell in watching her put together their order.
It was poetry in motion. No! Damn that… it was a symphony. Like her customers, I couldn’t look away.
Now…what I’ve described to you was just the tip of the iceberg.
The true show came when someone asked for the manager’s special. I’ve never in my life seen anything like it. She’d hand them a little herb; I couldn’t see what. They’d pop it in their mouth and as they chewed and swallowed, she’d study their face or some sh*t… And then she’d nod in a way that reminded me of Maddox when he was listening to Lannox in o
nly a way that he could.
When she turned around to her tea display, she moved with surety that what she was making was perfect for the customer at the register. She went into a zone, a pinch of this and a dash of that…no two recipes were the same. She’d grab stuff without even looking to make sure she grabbed the right thing.
When she handed the customer their cup, they wouldn’t walk away before taking a sip. And each time…I kid you not…each time, the customer smiled at her and thanked her before walking away.
Damn…I know I wasn’t doing what I saw any justice.
And get this, whenever she slowed down a bit, she would come around the counter and ask me how we were doing over here while holding some herb or another to my lips for me to eat.
As I chewed, she watched my eyes and the area around them.
What the hell?
I think in some way, she is reading me or some sh*t just like she did each customer that stepped to the register and asked her for the manager’s special.
Now tell me that ain't some next-level kind of sh*t…
But just between you and me…It warmed my heart that she felt comfortable enough with me to bring the herbs to my lips and not hand it to me like she did her customers.
She was so good at what she did that I doubted if she even noticed the significance of it. She was putting me a tea recipe together in her head and that’s all she thought about.
During my interview with Vice World, I’d started to get a headache. Because of my speech impediment, I really hated doing interviews. I thought that after my boxing days that crap would end, but it seems like it was only just the beginning. There seemed to always be some newspaper or magazine calling me for a quote.
The only reason I’d agreed to this was so that Jaheem, one of my fighters, who was almost ready to accept a major fight, could get the exposure he deserved. They did a whole episode on one of our training sessions. Since then, the kid had gotten several offers, but none of the offers is the one we're looking for…However, I had a feeling it was coming soon.
