Packing Heat

by Zuri Day

  “Ha! Why, because you don’t have a comeback?”

  “If you ever meet my mother, you’ll know why.”

  “That’s interesting. My mom’s the opposite. She’s quiet. Hates drama. I can count on my fingers the times I’ve heard her really upset.”

  “Even when you were a teenager, probably going against everything she taught you?”

  “Hardly. I was one of those boring good girls.”

  “Yeah, the worst ones always say that.”

  Jan laughed again, harder this time. Doug determined that he liked the sound of her laughter and wanted to hear it more often.

  “You’re probably saying that because of how bad you were.”

  “I’ll admit it. I was a knucklehead. But I’ve never robbed or killed anybody, so . . .”

  “Oh my goodness! Seriously? No murder or theft but lesser crimes . . .”

  “Hey, I’m like don’t ask don’t tell. Or as you would say . . . that’s personal.”

  The banter continued. In between they decided on pizza, went to the family-owned shop, and brought the slices back to the post office.

  That their lunches were the same did not go unnoticed. But since Melissa had left, it was just good-natured jabbing about their not getting everybody a slice.

  Ten minutes after they’d parted in the parking lot, Doug called Jan.

  “What do you want?” is how she answered.

  “Dangerous question,” was his response.

  “Not for me it isn’t.”

  “Because you’re one of those boring good girls.”

  “Exactly right.”

  “I see why you’re not married,” he mumbled.

  “I heard that.”

  Obviously the mumble wasn’t low enough.

  “Plus, you’re one to talk. I don’t see a ring on your finger. Why are you still single?”

  “I’ve got time to get the wife and family. I’m not even thirty yet.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-eight.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Why do you say it like that?”

  “Dangerous question,” she said, a smile in her voice.

  “Not for me it isn’t.” He smiled, too. “What, does my bald head make me look old?”

  “No, you don’t look old at all. Your being a supervisor made me assume you were at least in your thirties.”

  “No, but I’ve been there ten years already. Started just after my eighteenth birthday.”

  “You never thought about college?”

  “I thought about it. But there was this bike I wanted. Parents wouldn’t buy it. They told me that if I wanted it to get a job. So that’s what I did.”

  “It’s not too late, you know.”

  “I’ve already got what you go to college for . . . a good job. Right?”

  “It depends on what you want out of life.”

  “Did you go?”

  “Yes, Cal State. I have a liberal arts degree.”

  “And I’m your supervisor. See, you made my point.”

  “I guess that argument gene malfunctioned.”

  Doug sensed her change in mood. “Hey, that was a joke. I didn’t meant to—” His phone beeped. “Hold on a second.” He checked the ID. “That’s just Mom. I’ll call her back.”

  “No, go ahead and take it.”

  “I’ll call her in a minute. I don’t want to hang up with you mad at me.”

  “I’m not angry. Your comment just reminded me that I’m not where I want to be. That’s all.”

  “Your goal is a lot higher than mine. Lots of people want to make money as an artist. Few are successful. I admire you taking the chance.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Are you at home yet?”

  “Yes, just arrived. Making sure I got here safely?”

  “Always. So when did you know you wanted to be a singer?”

  “I was always singing around the house, but seeing Aliyah on television was the first time I thought about doing it professionally.”

  “I like her music.”

  “Her voice was amazing. Gone too soon.”

  “So you what, started singing around town or trying to get a deal? How does that work?”

  Now inside her home Jan headed to the kitchen for a bottle of sweetened tea. “In high school and college I sang wherever I could find an audience. Talent shows, choirs, contests. Hang on.” She knocked on the door to Lionel’s room, then opened it. He wasn’t home. A sense of worry hit her instantly, until she remembered a text from earlier saying he’d be hanging out with Bernard.

  “Jan, you okay?”

  “Oh, sorry, Doug. Yes, I’m okay. Just checking on my brother and got a little freaked when he wasn’t in his room. But it’s okay. I know where he is.”

  “Does he get out much?”

  “Not as often as I’d like, or as much as he needs. After the injury most of his friends stopped hanging around. Everyone but his friend and neighbor, Bernard, who he’s out with now. He needs motivation, and the feeling that he can do something with his life. Bernard’s a good kid, but not the one who is going to motivate my brother.”

  “Neither you nor I have any idea what he’s going through. Give him time, Jan. He’ll figure it out.”

  “I hope so.” She went into her room. The phone was already on speaker. She placed it on the dresser while she undressed and donned pajamas.

  “So you sang all over LA. Anywhere else?”

  “Yes, in New York, once. I got this crazy idea to be on Showtime at the Apollo and talked my cousin, Crystal, into going with me. We were both too naïve to know what a crazy idea it was to just go there as if I could walk right on. But basically, that’s what happened. I ended up getting on the show and actually winning that night.”

  “At the Apollo? That’s true street cred, girl.”

  “I know, right? I was on top of the moon, thought I’d be called by every record company in America. Didn’t happen. I came back here, worked odd jobs, have played in several bands, and while not having much money I still felt good, like I was going after my dream.”

  “You’re still going after it.”

  “Yes, but not like I could before the accident. That’s why I want this show so badly. It’s not just about me, but my family. I want my mom to not have to work two and a half jobs, and my brother to have a better quality life.”

  “What about you? What do you want?”

  “Right now, all I want is to get a spot on that show and to work with Nick Starr. After that, I’ll figure out the rest.”

  “Nick Starr is cool, but he’s not the only producer out there. Keep that in mind.”

  “You sound like my cousin.”

  “She must be really smart.”

  “Naw, just opinionated.”

  “Come with it, girl. Keep making a brother feel good.”

  She laughed. “I’m just playing.”

  “What? Ms. Don’t Play Games used the P word? I’ve got skills!”

  “You’re so silly. Both you and Crystal are right in that Nick isn’t the only producer in town. But he’s the only one in LA having a contest for singers to be on a reality show. So right now, I’m wishing on a star.”

  “That was really bad, Jan.”

  “Just more of you and your skills rubbing off on me.”

  They talked for another fifteen minutes before ending the call. Doug took a long shower, thinking about everything Jan had told him. Funny how different they were. Her focused and sure about what she wanted. He content to take each day as it came and see what happened next. Working at the post office happened because it was the first thing that came along. His natural skills and infectious personality made it something he was good at. Just as Doug was drifting off to sleep, the craziest notion came into his head.

  Maybe those same skills that worked so well for him could help Jan, too.

  15

  It was Sunday, which meant dinner with the fam at his mama’s house. Doug ha
d skipped breakfast and was ready to chow down. His brother Byron didn’t even wait until Doug’s foot touched the porch before he delivered the news.

  “You’re in trouble.”

  “Hello to you, too, Byron.”

  Byron grabbed Doug’s arm and kept him on the porch. “You’ll be thanking me later. Mama’s upset because you ignored her call and then didn’t return it.”

  “Damn! She called while I was talking to Jan. I forgot all about it.”

  “Jan the singer?”

  “Yeah.”

  “The one we saw at Breeze?”

  “Why are you sounding surprised? You forgot that we also work together, and that I’m her supervisor at the post office?”

  “The fact that she’s making you forget your mama leads me to believe that you’ve stamped her zip code.” Byron cocked his head and raised his brow. “Know what I’m sayin’?”

  “I know you’re a fool. Get out of here with that.” Doug pushed Byron aside and opened his parents’ front door. There was a living room full of people, but he ignored all of them and called out to Liz Carter.

  “I’m sorry, Mama!”

  Expectant faces looked toward the kitchen, Liz Carter’s favorite place in the house. There was no response. Unusual. His mother always had a comeback. He shrugged and gave a wave and hello to the room before continuing into the kitchen.

  Pow!

  It took a second for him to figure out what had come upside his head.

  “Really, Mama. A loaf of French bread?”

  “Be glad I didn’t make rolls,” Liz calmly replied while pulling a steaming-hot container of baked ziti from the oven. “Because then it would have been a rolling pin.”

  “What’d I do?”

  “It’s what you didn’t do.”

  “Mama, you just called yesterday!”

  “My point exactly.” She removed her oven mitt and approached Doug, a hand on her ample hip. “Who is she?”

  “Huh?”

  “Don’t play dumb.”

  “That’s right. Don’t play dumb, boy.” Youngest brother Barry walked into the kitchen and bopped Doug upside the head, a move that led to a retaliatory shove. From Liz.

  “Don’t you get me started on you, boy! Your hot dog goes between more buns than a Ball Park frank.”

  “Whoa!” Doug roared with laughter.

  Nelson walked in. Looked at the stove, then at Liz. “Are you fixing hot dogs?”

  Liz chuckled.

  Barry smiled. “Naw, man. She’s asking Doug about his latest buns.”

  “Oh,” Nelson replied knowingly, before proceeding to the refrigerator for a bottle of beer. “Probably Jan,” he offered just before leaving the kitchen.

  “Who’s Jan?” Barry asked.

  “Yes, who’s Jan?” Liz asked Nelson’s retreating back. “Boy! Get back in here!”

  “I’ll go get him,” Doug quickly offered, rushing out of the kitchen.

  “Don’t know why he’s trying to be private,” Liz mumbled. She ambled over to the refrigerator and pulled out the container of salad that Ava had brought over. “He knows y’all can’t keep nothing from me. Not for long.”

  Fifteen minutes later a rowdy group of Carters, brothers Byron, Doug, Nelson, Marvin, and Barry, father Willie and sister Ava, along with her date and a gaggle of family friends filled the living room, plates in hand, the dining room having been abandoned for a Raiders versus Chiefs football game. It was halftime before Liz picked up the earlier abandoned conversation about hot dogs and buns.

  “Who’s Jan?” she asked Nelson.

  “Are you still on that?” Doug asked his mother with slight annoyance.

  “Yes, are you?” Liz replied with a look that caused various humored reactions in the room. “And if so, how long have you been on it?”

  “Liz, stay out of that boy’s business.” This from patriarch Willie, the slow-talking drawl of his Mississippi upbringing still evident after thirty years in LA.

  “Watch it, partner, or later tonight I’ll kindly ask you to stay out of mine.”

  The room erupted with laughter and comebacks.

  “Geez, Mom!” Byron exclaimed, having just taken a gulp of soda. “You’re about to make me choke!”

  Once the room had recovered from this round of guffaws, Nelson said, “Jan is the new hire over at the post office.”

  “And a badass singer,” Byron added.

  “Oh, really?” Liz’s eyes sparkled with mischief and humor. Mama-the-detective had scored again. She looked at Doug. “Is she cute?”

  He shrugged. “She’s all right.”

  Liz looked at Willie. “She’s cute. And he’s sprung.”

  “She really is a good singer,” Byron’s wife, Cynthia, commented.

  “You’ve heard her?”

  “I sure have, Mom Liz. A couple weeks ago, Ava, Byron, and I joined Doug at her show. What’s the name of that club, Doug?”

  “Breeze.”

  “And she sounds good, Byron?” He nodded, his mouth full of food. “The dope must have been good, too.”

  At this brows scrunched, hands stopped mid-motion, sentences mid-word.

  Doug spoke for all of them. “Huh?”

  “When an in-law knows about an outlaw before the sheriff gets the news . . . somebody’s high.”

  Willie moaned. “Lord have mercy.”

  Barry gave her a playful poke. “That was pretty good, Mama. And you came up with that all by yourself?”

  She gave him a look, then addressed the room. “And y’all wonder why I say his Crayola box is missing a few colors?”

  This led to a round of animated conversation. After it quieted down, Cynthia said, “You know, Doug. Our office has a holiday party planned. We were looking at getting a DJ, but it might be nice to have a live band. Do you think Jan would be interested?”

  “I could ask.”

  “How much do you think she’d charge?”

  “I don’t know, but whatever it is, you’d need to add twenty percent for her manager.”

  “Oh, she has a manager? What’s his name?”

  He looked at her with a straight face. “Doug Carter.”

  “Oh, brother.”

  “Hey, you don’t expect me to work for free do you?”

  “Whatever. Just remind me to give you a business card before I leave that you can pass on to her. Have her call me ASAP. It would be nice if we could book her for the event.”

  The Chiefs made a touchdown, taking the conversation away from singing and back to football. Doug was a diehard member of the Raider Nation and cheered for his team. All the while, though, he kept thinking about the look on Jan’s face when he offered her something that so far Nick Starr had not . . . a job.

  16

  Over at Jan’s house, where dinner was also being served, the atmosphere was remarkably different from that in the Carter household. Fewer people. Less noisy.

  Jan’s mom, Rochelle, looked lovingly at her two children. She was fifty-three years old, with kind eyes and the dimples her daughter had inherited, but the toll of the last two years made her appear older. “This is nice, our sharing a leisurely dinner like this. When is the last time we’ve eaten Sunday dinner together?”

  Jan paused from taking a mouthful of smothered steak. “It’s been a while.”

  “Too long,” Lionel added between forkfuls.

  “I agree, son.” And then to Jan. “How’s the job going?”

  “It’s a job.”

  “A good job,” Rochelle said. “With great benefits, and security.”

  “I don’t know about all that,” Lionel said. “Post offices are old school. All my friends pay for stuff online.”

  Rochelle’s fork paused midair. “What friends of yours pay for anything?”

  “All of them!”

  “Humph. That’s interesting, since none of them are working.”

  “They work.”

  “Where?” Rochelle looked at Lionel, unconvinced.

 
“Mostly in pharmaceuticals,” Lionel said, winking at Jan.

  “That’s not funny,” Jan replied. “You’d better make sure you don’t become an employee.”

  “Don’t worry about me. You just concentrate on getting hooked up with Nick Starr. Get that multi-platinum hit and none of us will have to worry about nothing no more!”

  Rochelle grunted. “That’s a pie-in-the-sky dream that you can’t eat. Hard work in the real world, that’s what put this food on the table.”

  Jan bit back a response. She’d stopped sharing dreams with Rochelle Baker a long time ago. It was wasted breath to argue. Her mother had been a practical, no-nonsense person as far back as she could remember. Partly out of necessity, Jan admitted, because of the hand that life had dealt. Some of that practicality had rubbed off on Jan. But she still dreamed.

  From the dining room, she heard her phone sounding off in the bedroom and went to retrieve it. It was a number that she didn’t recognize. Then she remembered. Doug. She answered it.

  “Hello.”

  “I thought you were going to send me to voice mail.”

  “I didn’t recognize the number and almost did. This is my off day, Supervisor, so what do you want?”

  Harsh words. Warm tone.

  “I told you about asking me that?” His voice lowered, turned sexy. “Do you really want my answer?”

  “Maybe ‘why are you calling?’ would have been the better question.”

  “Oh, that’s right. The boring good girl. So first off, that it’s your off day should tell you I’m not calling about work. At least not the kind involving the U.S. mail. I might have another type job for you.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Singing. What else?”

  What else indeed? Doug obviously got what her mother did not. The realization was another chink in the armor over Jan’s heart.

  “Are you interested?”

  “Of course I’m interested. Sorry, but I wasn’t expecting that answer.”

  “That’s what you get with a Carter, babe. The unexpected. My sister-in-law is one of the people I invited to see your show. The place where she works is having a holiday party and needs entertainment. I told her you’d be perfect, and that she’d need to pay you well.”