by Love Belvin
“You mean to tell me ‘The Boulder’ is broke?”
I flinched at that assessment. It was none of his business what condition Jimmy’s financial portfolio was in.
“My point is, I’m not in Neiman Marcus charging up his card. I may not earn the king’s ransom, but with budgeting, I make sure those machines stay beeping in there, the place has a regulated temperature, and I eat. Other than that, Jimmy’s estate takes care of him.”
Silence fell over the room for a while. It gave me time to reflect on this journey. I realized how long it had been since the last time I’d spoken to my mother. Mother’s Day had passed and I needed to decide if I’d still send her something. I missed the holiday, struggling with what to get her. Would she like what I’d send? Life had been lived on a treadmill for me it seemed. Those things that seemed unbearable and stifling had faded to not more than minor nuances, differences I could live with.
Conscientiousness of time flashed again. My eyes rolled over to Rut sitting across the table, sporting a strange but perceptible expression.
“Did I address what didn’t make sense?”
He shrugged with his eyebrows and his head shook softly as he snorted. Then his eyes rose to align with mine, reminding me of how handsome he was. I’d been too caught off guard by his presence here and extremely tuckered tonight to appreciate what caused me to disappear into the night with him last weekend. Not that it mattered. What happened then, happened then. I had no room for another man in my life.
“So you mean he ain’t put you in his will or nothing?” Rut’s face was tight with deep confusion.
It was so palpable it was childlike.
My eyes closed in a combination of shock and defeat. My jaw fell, too. I didn’t have the energy to do this with him.
“Anybody ever tell you you’re an asshole?”
“It’s hyphenated in my name,” he admitted as one big palm patted the air. “but I swear that ain’t what this is all about.”
I shook my head and closed eyes heavy from exhaustion. “Doesn’t matter no ways. It’s been a long day and I have more to do before I hit the sack.”
The moment my subtle dismissal registered to him, it was clear from the way his expression fell. Rut dropped his head, conceding. I didn’t want to be rude, but here was where my patience had depleted for a complete stranger.
I scooted my chair back from the table. “Like I said, I’ve got so much to do. I’ll walk you out and after I need to remember to take something out of the freezer for dinner tomorrow.”
Per usual, Rut was on my heels. He didn’t speak all the way to the door. When his big frame stepped outside, his countenance was still ruminative.
I was surprised when he turned back to me. “You cook every day?”
“No. I try to shoot for three days a week. But for the second night in a row, I’ve had unexpected company with an appetite twice the size of my own.”
“Oh. My bad.” He reached for his back pocket.
“Good night, Rut.” My cheeks managed to lift before I closed the door.
~Six
She opened the door and, like a drama queen, dropped her head.
“You know, they say when you feed a dog he’ll keep coming back day after day.”
She was sexy as shit in a skirt hugging her hips, a blouse opening just above her cleavage, and pantyhose without shoes. It was too bad she was now neutralized to me.
But I couldn’t help myself.
My cheeks stretched horizontally across my face. “I think the saying goes for strays. A stray dog roams from home to home.” I shook my head while I looked her dead in the eye. “Ain’t shit domesticated about me, sweet cakes.”
“Then why are you back for the third day in a row?” Her eyes dropped to my arms. “And with food?”
“I was hoping to catch you before you started cooking again. Didn’t want you to waste your time.”
“Why?” With a tight face and her head shaking back and forth, she asked, “Why are you bringing me food?”
“So you don’t keep using yours on me. You fed me twice. Thought it was fair to return the favor.”
She stepped closer into the door frame and narrowed her beautiful brown eyes. “Why? In case I didn’t tell you last night and the night before, it ain’t that type of party.”
“Oh…” I almost wanted to laugh when I caught her drift. She thought I wanted to fuck. “Trust me, Ms. Parker, if I want ass I know plenty of other addresses I could pull up to.”
“Then again, why are you here?”
“Because…” I thought for a minute. “Wright’s got kids. Why ain’t they helping out? You ain’t mention them.”
Her head dropped to the side. “You using my personal misfortunes for your entertainment or something?”
My eyes blew the hell up. “No! On god, I ain’t. It’s just…” I shifted the pizza box in my arm then took a deep breath. “I talked to my therapist about you.”
Her chin dropped toward her chest this time. “Your therapist?”
“Yeah, but I ain’t crazy or no shit like that. A black man is the most misunderstood species in America, even to other so-called black men trying to keep them down—” When I caught the anger sprouting in my chest, I mentally shook it off. “My point is she challenged me to get to know you…try to understand you.”
“Me? Why?”
“Because…” I didn’t want to go there. “It’s all related to my draft. My employment. Me having to see her, my run in with you…her thinking I go too hard on females. It’s all related—in her opinion,” I wanted to make clear.
“So now I’m a part of your therapy?”
I smirked. It was slick but deserved. “Let’s just call it an experiment.”
Her eyes fell to the food again then she opened the door wider and waved me in.
When she closed it behind me, her arm swung toward the kitchen. “You can set it up in there. It’s early and I worked at the front office today. The nurse just left but I need to take care of few things with Jimmy. I’ll be a minute.”
I nodded, understanding it was more than an hour earlier than I showed the previous two nights. When I took off for the kitchen, I thought about the shit I had to move around on my schedule to be here this afternoon. In the kitchen, I lay the box on the counter near the stove and put the bagged groceries on the table. She said she’d be a while so I unpacked most of the items, putting some things in the fridge and others in the freezer. As I pulled out a chair, my phone pinged.
Lifting it from my pocket, I sighed at the name. I swear to god I was good with the challenge but what I didn’t like was paper thin people around me. Nobody answered when I asked how long this would last.
I tapped to accept the FaceTime.
Her alabaster skin appeared on my screen. She sat at a table with a pool serving as the most picturesque sunny Cal background. I couldn’t tell if it was her crib, her sister’s or mom duke’s. I didn’t care to figure it out but something about her appearance today did catch my attention. Today her puffy lips were a light brown, outlined beyond the natural lining of them, but she made the look work for her. Long dark lashes sprouted around her lids and I spotted a new mole on her cheek.
“Yeah, shawtie?” I sang dryly.
Her shoulders lifted and eyes squinted. “My Rutty-Putty,” she squeaked in the baby voice she used from time to time. It never sat right with me.
“I see your mole’s moved.”
Emily’s dreamy expression went south.
I was being an ass and I knew it, but I couldn’t help it most times.
She flashed her teeth, obviously embarrassed. “My new guy suggested I move it a few weeks ago. I finally okayed it.” Then she pouted. “You no likey?” That’s when the baby voice sounded again.
I chuckled. “You good, shawtie. What’s real out there?” I wanted to hurry this call along.
“Oh.” She seemed to have awakened. “I haven’t heard from you since Saturday.” Those tanned shoulde
rs rose again. “Just wanted to know if I’ll see you in a few days.”
“We’re still on. I think my flight leaves Friday night.”
“Yaaaaay!” she cheered but not too loud. When I didn’t know how to respond, I could tell it made her feel awkward. “Well…” she pushed. “What’re you up to?”
My eyes circled the spotless but plain kitchen. “Just chillin’ at a friend’s.”
“Yeah? Where?”
Emily wasn’t being territorial or particularly nosy with that question. She was trying to make basic conversation. I knew the game and understood what we were supposed to do. And don’t get me wrong, I liked ol’ girl. She was crazy cool and down for whatever, but I couldn’t put my finger on what was missing the mark for me.
My eyes brushed from left to right again. “Kings’ circle. That’s all.” That reminded me. “I need to go. Don’t wanna be rude. I’ll hit you tonight when I get in. Don’t think I forgot you never told me where that birthmark is.” I winked.
A stroke of red grew from her neck to her cheeks like a rash. I enjoyed having that effect on chicks.
“Okay, Rut.” She puckered her lips. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
With a fake chuckle, I ended the call with, “Easy style” and tapped to dead the line.
I sat back, pushing my arms in the air and my legs out in front of me as I stretched. My life was full…blessed, but this league business came with a lot more backroads than I cared to take.
My hands drummed the table as I waited. The clock ticked on. I wondered what exactly was she doing in there. I’d never been the patient type of guy. Shit, I’d never waited on a female for nothing. This was different for me but not hard. I had no idea what kept me glued to my seat in anticipation, but it was real. I checked all my social media accounts, responded to two emails, and about six text messages. Parker still hadn’t come back. When I checked the time, I’d been waiting for twenty-two minutes. Then my phone rang, ripping me from my curiosity.
I took a deep breath. “Yeah, ma?”
“Rut, I told you I needed the money for the fridge!”
I scratched my head. “I took care of it for you.”
“How? When?”
“I paid Leon an’ them. Sent them the money last night.”
She pulled in a heavy breath. “Rut, how the fuck you pay them?”
“PayPal. Like I said, I sent it last night, ma.”
“What the fuck is a PayPal and since when do we use it to treat our mothers like fuckin’ babies?”
I rolled my eyes, stretching my legs out. “Nobody’s treating you like a damn baby. You told me you needed the fridge fixed and who was gonna do it, so I made it happen. What’s wrong with me taking care of it?”
I knew what was wrong. She wanted the cash.
“How the fuck—” I cringed then looked around me. “—you even know how much to pay?”
“You told me it was three-fifty, so I was goodie,” I tried to argue, avoiding the truth we both knew, which was the repair was only one hundred seventy-five dollars.
But I didn’t get mad at my mother for being my mother. She always ran game like this, trying to squeeze cash out of me.
After a long pause, she sucked her teeth. “That’s fucked up, Rutledge. You always sonnin’ me.”
“Girl, ain’t nobody sonnin’ you,” I tried with a playful tone. “You know I said we gotta move different now. I may be signed, but the money ain’t here this year. We’re basically on the same level we was before I got picked up.” I had to make my finances seem tighter than they were. And while I wasn’t broke, I couldn’t give her the impression we’d made it. There was still so much more bread to get. “Just be easy. I got you. The fridge’ll be ready for your lil’ bingo party.”
I knew that was a big part of her social life. She invited her crazy ass circle of friends, and they’d play and cuss each other the hell out as they got drunk. She’d smoke her cigarettes, drink her Henny, and brag about how bomb her life is because her son was on the come up. I wasn’t mad at her. She deserved whatever good life she was living but had no clue of what it cost me to provide it.
“Any-damn-way,” she dragged out, and I could imagine her rolling her eyes. “you need to call Kim. She been on my last damn nerve, calling me about you.”
“What about me?”
“How you ain’t calling her like you used to since you been up there!”
“I been working!” I served her the same energy she gave me. “What the fuck she think I’m doing? Up here holding my sacs, waiting for the season to start?”
“I ‘on’t fuckin’ know. All I do know is she a damn Hawkins and them Hawkins can be spiteful as hell. I told you I went to school with her aunts and uncle. Them mufuckas be on their shit. Just call the girl once in a while!”
“I do,” I answered honestly. “I called her last week. She ain’t even answer. Ain’t nobody gone be sweatin’ her. She ain’t my girl.” That quickly, I was mad as fuck.
“Just do what I tell you to do, Rutledge!”
I twisted the base of my palms into my eyes, rubbing away the stress these “women” caused in my life.
“I gotchu, ma.”
“Okay,” she snapped. “I gotta go. Mommy want me to take her to get some crabs.”
“A’ight. Y’all be safe.”
“Bye, baby.” Her pitch wasn’t as soft as it could be, but I understood it was because she didn’t get what she wanted.
Money.…
I took a long breath, tossing my phone on the table as gently as I could.
“Rutledge?” Her soft voice had my damn belly jumping. When my head shot up, she was gliding past me in sweat shorts, a black tank top, and slippers. She never looked my way when she asked, “Is that one of your many nicknames?”
Dazed for no reason, I mumbled, “Nah. I ain’t really big on nicknames.”
She turned to me with chary eyes. “You expect me to believe your momma named you Rut?”
A deep chuckle bubbled from my belly. “Nah. But she did name me Rutledge. Took me a few years to grow into it, but I made it do what it do.”
That’s when she turned her whole body to face me. “Your real name is Rutledge?”
I scoffed, unoffended yet amused. “Hell yeah!”
“Rutledge?”
“Yeah.” I gave a firm nod. “Rutledge Kadar Amare. The one and only.”
At first she was quiet, obviously thinking as she went back to the stove and slid the pizza onto a metal tray then into the oven.
She walked to the other side of the table. “Kadar and Amare sound like Arabic names…” She left it open for discussion.
“Kadar is. It’s got a few meanings: strength, fate, destiny, predestination, to have power, to be master—a whole bunch of shit.” I scratched the tip of my nose. “I forgot about ‘to be capable.’ My pops wanted me purposeful. And Amare is righteous, his last name.”
“Righteous?”
“Five Percent Nation.” I gave another strong nod then pulled up my left sleeve to show her the inked universal flag. “The Nation of Gods and Earths. But Amare is African. It means possesses great strength.”
“Is that his legal name?”
I shook my head, slightly embarrassed by that fact. “He made sure it was mine, though. Him and mom dukes fought over the name. He wanted all my names to reflect destiny and purpose, but she wanted tradition. He fought her all the way till the delivery date and loss.” I shrugged. “He thinks he lost. I always thought he came out on top.”
“Yeah.” She smiled. “He got two out of three.”
“Yup.”
“Where did Rutledge come from?”
“My grandfather. His pops, too. There’s a bunch of Rutledges in my family. I guess my moms thought the first name was stronger than the last.”
She didn’t speak, just stared at me. It was strange but not uncomfortable for a man like me. It did make me wonder what she was thinking.
“Spit it.” I exhaled, si
tting back in my chair.
“Nothing!” She kind of giggled, kind of blew me off.
“Nah. I can see it dancing in your eyes. You’re thinking and a lil’ too hard.” Just like she did Saturday night before hopping in the truck.
“It’s just…” I could tell her restless legs kicked underneath the table as she repositioned herself in her seat. “I think…” Her head leaned to the side, eyes narrowed, and lips pushed together hard. “Don’t they believe the being of God isn’t supernatural, but rather a component found in every black man?”
I nodded. “It’s true.”
“It’s also their belief black women don’t have the god component in them and are considered subordinates but still hold a higher standing than white people.”
I nodded again, agreeing.
“So…” Her head shook. “You find many women aligned in that belief?”
That one threw me. I didn’t understand her question.
“Many? There’re lots of females in the Nation.”
“But any of the ones you pursue?”
My brows shot up when I thought I understood. “I honestly don’t know. I don’t ask,” was the honest to god truth.
Then I caught a faint smile in her eyes that wasn’t matched on her face. “Well, I’m sure Emily Erceg wouldn’t have the strongest position on it, but what about other girlfriends from the past?”
“Emily ain’t my girl, for one. And two, the one girl I used to have ain’t active in the organization like her pops is, but she’s righteous.”
“And okay with being subservient to you and every other ‘woke’ black man?” She rolled her eyes then stood from the table.
I wasn’t going to be baited into a debate about my beliefs, especially not by a corny ass Christian. They may outnumber most groups, but they were dumb as hell for accepting a white savior taught to them by slave masters.
“Let me guess…” I watched her grab a pitcher from the fridge then check on the pizza. “Your grandma, who your childhood pastor would never let step foot on the pulpit, wouldn’t approve of men being closer to god than women?”
“My grandmother would burn a pulpit, God rest her soul. But it wouldn’t matter what she thought, I could never believe women are inferior to men. We women are equally built and oftentimes lead in intellectual and emotional development, scientifically speaking.”
