by Miasha
“Hello,” Leah said into the phone. She paused. “I’m out here waiting on you. Where are you?”
I looked down the street.
“Well, when will you be here? It’s freezin’ out here!” Leah ranted. “Forty-five minutes?”
I glanced over at her.
Then she said, “You know what, forget it! I’ll catch a cab. Just meet me at the house!” Leah pressed the End button on her phone and threw it in her pocketbook. It was clear she was angry.
“I can take you home if you want me to,” I offered.
“No, you don’t have to. I’m just goin’ call a cab. But if you could open the shop for me so I can wait inside, I would appreciate it.”
“I would, but I don’t know how long a cab goin’ be, and I do have plans myself, so it’ll be better for me to drop you off at your house.”
She sighed. “I don’t wanna inconvenience you, so whatever is best.”
I walked to my truck and opened the passenger door for Leah to get in. I started it up and immediately turned on the seat heaters. I let the engine run for a good five minutes before I turned on the heat. Having Leah in my truck had my hormones goin’ crazy. I started having all these thoughts about what it would be like to lay her down in the backseat and tear that ass up. She was pissed off at Kenny, too. I might have had a chance.
But, naw, I wasn’t goin’ take advantage of her situation with her dude. I just kept my feelings at bay. There would be a next time, I thought. I knew Kenny. He was one of those no-good-ass niggas. I was sure there would come a time where he would make Leah mad again, and I would be there for her then, like I was there for her now.
And don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t tryin’ to step on Kenny’s toes. But he was leavin’ me with no choice. Besides, it wasn’t like he ain’t never stepped on my toes.
“Where y’all stayin’ at now?” I asked Leah as I put the truck in drive.
“Across City Line Avenue,” she said, buckling her seat belt.
I pulled off and headed toward City Line. Once there, Leah guided me the rest of the way to Kenny’s and her mini-mansion in Bryn Mawr, a wealthy suburb outside Philly. It was only about twenty-five minutes from the shop, but it was a whole different world when comparing the two neighborhoods.
“Thank you so much, Nasir,” Leah said, turning to me.
“No problem. I wasn’t goin’ make you take a cab, and I damn sure wasn’t goin’ leave you stranded.”
“You was always the sweet one,” she said.
“What you mean?”
“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head and opening the door. “I don’t wanna take up too much of your time. I know you got plans and all.”
She got out and started the brief walk to her front door. Before she could get there I rolled down the window.
“Ay!” I called out to her.
She turned around.
“I don’t really have plans tonight. I just said that so I could be the one to drop you off instead of a cab.”
She smirked and said, “That’s what I mean.” Then she waved good-bye and continued to her door.
I rolled the window back up and drove off. The whole ride home, I thought about that girl. I imagined her being mine. And call me what you want, but if I was goin’ move in a house with anybody, it would be Leah. And damn, I felt bad for having strong feelings like that for Leah and not for my own girl. But I couldn’t help it. Leah did somethin’ for me that no other girl has. And that was something I always felt.
Leah
I was sitting in the theater room eating a bowl of Frosted Flakes and watching Family Feud on the 102-inch projection screen. My intention when I first went in there was to put on a movie, but when I turned on the TV and saw that one of my favorite game shows was on, I couldn’t resist. I had on my most comfortable pajamas, which were also my oldest pair, some blue flannel pants and a matching shirt that buttoned up, leaving everything to the imagination. I wanted to make it clear that Kenny wasn’t getting any that night. I was hot with him. We had had seven o’clock reservations at Le Bec-Fin, and here it was nine and he wasn’t even home yet.
“Shoes,” I blurted out right after the Family Feud host read the question. Number one answer, like I thought. What else would a husband say his wife spent too much money on?
I ate the last spoonful of my cereal and then tipped the bowl up to my mouth and drank the milk. It wasn’t the rack of lamb that my mouth watered for, but it curbed my appetite. That damn Kenny.
I got up to put my bowl in the dishwasher, and I heard the garage door opening. My heart started to race with anticipation. Should I curse him out and show him just how very pissed off I was at him for standing me up, or should I ignore him and act like it didn’t faze me? I wanted to go with the former, but I had to wait and see what kind of mood he was in. If he came in actin’ shitty, then I’d be better off ignoring him, leaving it alone. If he came in apologetic, though, I would be able to get away with letting him know how I felt.
“Baby, I’m so sorry,” he apologized as soon as he walked in the door.
“Where were you?” I asked him, frustration in my tone. I looked down at the four Sneaker Villa bags he had in his hands, and I snapped, “I know you didn’t stand me up to go shopping!”
“Of course not,” he said, putting the bags down on the table. “I just got caught up. But I’m goin’ make it up to you.”
Normally I would not have pried. I would have let Kenny’s answer be what it was. But I took that as an opportunity to get information out of him.
“Make it up to me how, Kenny? I got all dressed up, waited outside the shop in the cold for you, and missed the private dinner I had set up for us at Le Bec-Fin. How can you make up for that?”
“You right. It’s goin’ be hard to make that up. But what you want me to tell you? Some shit came up on me unexpected, and it kept me longer than I thought it would,” Kenny explained vaguely as he opened the refrigerator and stood in front of it.
“What I want you to tell me?” I didn’t let up. “I want you to tell me what exactly kept you from spending our three-year anniversary with me?”
Kenny closed the refrigerator and turned to look at me. Frowning, he asked, “What’s with all the questions lately? What’s this new you about? I said I got caught up! Why is this conversation goin’ past that?”
“Because I’m tired, Kenny! I’m tired of sittin’ back and lettin’ you come, go, and do as you please, and not considering my feelings in the process.”
“Not considerin’ ya feelings! What the fuck you think I’m hustlin’ my ass off for? I don’t need a six-bedroom house, chinchillas, Jaguars, and shit! I don’t need all this! This shit is for you! You the one cried to me that you couldn’t stand livin’ in that crampy two-bedroom apartment with ya mom, sharin’ a room with ya alcoholic sister! Remember that? Now, I take you out of that situation, and you bitch and complain when I miss a fuckin’ dinner date!”
“You know what, Kenny, go ’head and throw that in my face! But you and I both know that you ain’t miss our dinner date because you were out hustlin’!”
“Aww, here we go,” Kenny mumbled.
“And if I would’ve known that I was goin’ be more miserable in this six-bedroom than I ever was in my mom’s two-bedroom, trust me, I would’ve stayed put!”
“Bitch!” Kenny shouted as he slapped me across the mouth. “I’m dodgin’ bullets tryin’ to give you a better life, and this is how you talk to me?”
I stood stiff, holding my hand over my lip. I could tell it was busted. I didn’t feel the need to say anything else because I had gotten Kenny where I wanted him. He snatched the Sneaker Villa bags off the table, held them upside down, and shook them until sneaker boxes fell to the floor. Along with the boxes fell brick-sized packages of a white powdery substance that I presumed to be cocaine.
Picking up one of the bricks, Kenny yelled, “This ain’t hustlin’? Huh? This ain’t what I was out doin’ when I missed Le Fec Be
c Fin, whatever the fuck!”
I remained stiff as I lowered my eyes, counting the number of bricks in my head.
“Now you owe me a fuckin’ apology,” Kenny said in a calmer tone. “Go in the bathroom and wash that blood off ya lip. Then come back in here and suck this anger up out me.” He began unbuckling his belt as I walked to the powder room. I stared at myself in the mirror while dabbing my lip with a wet paper towel. I fought so hard to hold back tears that I ended up laughing. Then like a crazy woman I started talking to myself under my breath.
“You wasn’t out grindin’, nigga! I seen those Sneaker Villa bags over a week ago! Matter of fact, it was the night we staged that accident! And you goin’ bring them in from the garage to cover up ya dirt! I know you was with a bitch!”
I threw the paper towel in the trash and walked back into the living room. Kenny was positioned on the couch with his pants down just under his butt. I dragged my feet getting over to him.
“Come on now,” he said.
I got on my knees in front of him. Putting him in my mouth, I shut my eyes. As his dick filled the space in my mouth and his hand forced my head up and down, I couldn’t help but wonder whose seconds I was getting—and on our anniversary of all days. Kenny, you son of a bitch, I thought, every dog gets his day.
Nasir
Medic Nine, Six-one and Chestnut.” I jumped up out of my sleep and sat up in the driver’s seat. I listened intently to the next words to come out of the dispatcher’s mouth. My foot was already on the gas and gear shifted to drive. All I needed to hear was…
“Injuries from an accident.”
Skirrrrrrrt, I pulled out of the gas station parking lot like I was in a race car. My tow truck skidded up Spruce Street, disrupting the peace for sure. I got to a red light and stopped. But when I noticed out my side mirror that another tow truck was fast approaching, I put my foot back on the gas and ran through the light without hesitation.
The other tow truck followed right behind me, riding my ass, trying to get in front of me. I wasn’t letting it happen, though. At the next red light, the same thing—I ran right through it. The chaser behind me didn’t give up. He was still on my ass.
A line of early-morning rush-hour traffic was ahead of us, and it was a race to the front. I had two options: drive in the lane that was reserved for traffic going in the opposite direction and risk a head-on collision, or drive up on the curb and take the pavement to the light. I had to think fast because my competitor was right there on me.
I quickly looked around, getting a glimpse of everything that surrounded me—pedestrians, traffic, and the green light ahead that caused a flow of traffic to pour in the lane to my left, which I was considering taking. The pavement it is, I thought, as I jumped my truck on the curb and rode it to the intersection, where I was able to make a right turn off the busy street.
At that point my competitor was no longer in my rearview. I guessed he didn’t have the balls to jump the curb like I did. And with that my adrenaline pumped.
“Yeah, nigga, you ain’t got that in ya!” I shouted, sitting up in the driver’s seat. Both of my hands were on the steering wheel, one maneuvering the big truck around small corners and the other on the horn ready to press down whenever the need came for me to run a stop sign or a light.
I pulled up to the accident scene just seconds before the other chaser who had been racing me to it. I could see the jealousy all in this nigga’s face. He had to be sick. First of all, I beat him to the hit. Second, it was only one car. Apparently the driver lost control and ran into a light pole.
I jumped out the truck, clipboard in hand, and walked over to the passengers who were standing on the pavement looking in disbelief at their crashed newer-model BMW X5. I did a quick assessment of the vehicle as I walked past it to get to the owner. It looked to me like a home run. I was wide awake then.
I approached an older woman. She was just ending a call on her cell. Beside her stood a young bull, probably like thirteen, fourteen. He had to be her son. I thought about what I would say first to break the ice between the lady and me. I had to be sensitive to the fact that she had just been in an accident and was most likely fragile. Not to mention the fact that she was a white woman in a black neighborhood. And her posh demeanor gave me the impression that she was the type of white lady who would clutch her purse in the presence of a black man. Now here she was, forced to be out on the corner surrounded by a bunch of black people, bystanders and tow truck drivers alike. I didn’t necessarily take her as being prejudiced, just sheltered and misinformed.
“Are you two all right?” I asked.
The woman shook her head yes, but her eyes told me that she wasn’t. She looked like she was scared and shaken up all at once. Her son looked a little timid, too. He probably wasn’t used to being around black people, either. I gotta help make these people feel comfortable, I thought. The first thing I learned about how to put at ease people who were in distress, and in this case fearful, as well, was to say something that would make them feel safe right away.
“The police are on their way,” I said. And before the woman could ask me how I knew, I explained to her that I had a close relationship with the Eighteenth District and that I was the person they contracted with to handle accidents in the area. I handed her a business card with all the shop’s information on it and explained that my father’s body shop was close by. I told her I would gladly tow her car for her and securely lock it indoors at my dad’s shop at no charge to her. Then I would help her set up an insurance claim, get her in a rental car, and have her adjuster come out to the shop to give us an estimate right away. That way my guys could get started repairing her car ASAP. She was feeling what I was saying and was even more compelled when I told her I could save her from having to pay the deductible.
By the time the cops arrived, there were about a half-dozen other chasers on the scene. They were green with envy, too. It had been slow for a while, at least for the past three weeks I had been back on the streets after training Leah. And it seemed whenever it did pick up and start hittin’, it was only totals and junk. This was the first homer that any of us came across in a minute, and niggas was mad that it was me and not them who got it. I even noticed one chaser try to approach the lady after it was clear that I had been talking to her first. I wanted to knock the pussy out to show him not to disrespect me like that again. But I wasn’t about to let him make me lose the job. So I kept my composure and, as politely as I could, told him to back the fuck up. He complied. One thing about the streets: my name rang bells in them. Between the work my pop put in before he opened the shop and the numerous niggas I done knocked out, niggas knew not to take shit too far.
The cops got out of their car, and I realized I knew them from being on accident scenes with them in the past. I greeted them with handshakes as they walked up to where the lady and I were standing. And it was that small gesture that sealed the deal for me. After giving her statement to the police, the lady agreed to let me tow her car. She signed the tow agreement I had written up, and then she got in the back of the ambulance to be taken to the hospital. Meanwhile, I hooked her car and towed it to the shop.
As I was pulling up in front of the shop, I noticed Leah was just opening up. My dad had given her the key two days ago as a one-month promotion-type thing. I threw my truck in park and jumped out to tease her.
“It’s ya second day opening and you late? That’s why you can’t give a black person a promotion.”
“Shut up,” Leah said dryly, not even giving me the giggle that I usually got out of her.
“Is today not a good day?” I asked, unhooking the car.
“No, not really,” she said, walking into the shop.
I followed behind her, determining I would bring the car I just towed inside later.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” She sighed.
“All right.” I sighed
back. “I ain’t goin’ hound you. I know you got some stuff to do before it get busy around here. But if you wanna talk about it, I’ll be available at lunchtime at the Breakfast House on Fifty-Fourth and Woodland.”
Leah managed to smirk. “Thank you,” she said.
“No problem.” Then I let her get to work as I drove the smashed-up BMW inside the shop. I left the tow agreement and the keys on Leah’s desk so she could set up a file, and I rolled out, headed back to post up and listen to the scanners.
It was close to one o’clock when I walked into the Breakfast House. My stomach was growling and I could taste the fish and grits I planned on ordering. I took my coat off and sat down when I was alerted that I had a text message.
Does that lunch offer still stand? Leah
I wrote back, I’m waitin’ on you. Then before I pressed Send, I wrote, How you get my number?
It was on the tow agreement, duh was her reply.
I laughed to myself as I imagined Leah saying all that with her usual sass. For the hell of it I wrote back Oh, all right, then put my phone back on my hip.
Although I knew what I wanted, I looked at the menu to pass time. I was hungry as hell, but I wasn’t going to order until Leah got there. As soon as she walked in the door, though, I got the waitress’s attention. Leah and I put in our orders and drank down our iced teas with peaches while we waited for our food.
“Let me ask you something,” she broke the silence.
“What’s that?” I asked, taking the opportunity to look into her light brown eyes.
“Why you always so nice to me?”
I chuckled and asked, “What you mean? I’m nice to everybody, ain’t I?”
“Yeah, but you be extra nice to me. Even before I started working at the shop. Whenever Kenny brought you around, you would give me these looks…like you cared about me or something.”
I could feel myself blush as I thought about how to explain myself to Leah. I mean, I was flattered to know that she noticed me lookin’ at her. That meant she was lookin’ back. And if she didn’t bring it to Kenny’s attention, that meant she liked it.
