by Love Belvin
Wright’s eyes were still on me. This time they glistened. Was he about to cry? For what?
“She’s still here with you day and night, bruh. She’s committed to you.” I ain’t like it but thought I’d give him something for answering me.
When I heard a female’s voice from outside of the room, I tossed Wright a nod and turned to leave. Just as I made it by the front door, the white girl who let me in was carrying a tray of food. A big ass aluminum pan.
“You mind getting the door for me?”
I jumped into action, still feeling tight, but now hopeful about not being played. Right after she left out the door, Parker’s little frame strutted out of the kitchen, holding a pan as big. She zipped passed me with the meanest switch. With my eyes glued to her ass in a black dress, I followed her out. That’s when I saw Fats had hopped out of the truck and was accepting the tray from Mandee. Next, Parker handed him hers. Both girls passed me on their way back in the house.
“Where you going?” I asked Parker as she sashayed past me with a smile.
“To get the rest. There are four more.”
That’s when it hit me. This was food for the funeral. I found myself jumping into action again, and I followed them back into the house. In the kitchen, I had Parker stack the last three trays and I carried them out behind Mandee, who had the other one.
A few minutes later, I was in the truck as Parker carried a bag and purse with her. Fats held the door open for her and she thanked him as she hopped in the truck. I didn’t like the distance. Parker sat all the way on the other side. It made the interior feel bigger than what it was. My irritation kicked in again as we pulled off.
The conversation—or communication—with Wright began to play in my mind all over again. Did I overstep? I may be a hard ass, but I did have a conscience. The man was sick. He was still a man, though. He proved it two nights ago when he caught feelings with Parker over me being there. Wright may have lost his body for the most part, but his brain was still intact.
“Did you say hello to Mandee?” Parker’s voice broke my thoughts. “She said you seemed upset.”
I was fucking upset. Didn’t matter I’d just finished pissing all over her man. He was no real competition from a hospital bed. What I really wanted to conquer was sitting next to me, texting the house she just left. I peeped Mandee’s name as she typed, and I was sure it was about Wright.
When she was done, she checked her make up in the little compact mirror she carried in her bag.
“Next time be nice. Mandee canceled plans to do this for me. I’m sure knowing I’d be with you made the deal sweeter. She followed your college numbers.” She looked around, out of the back window after seeing the other black SUV pull up behind us. “And who is that? Are they with us?”
I forgot to mention the security the Kings hired for the day. They showed at my condo first thing this morning. That was a topic I didn’t feel like getting into. Mandee was another. I wanted to tell her I didn’t care about her following my college career, but that wouldn’t have been completely true. I decided to go another route.
“What made you do all this?”
“The other night—you know…the last one you stayed with me—when your mother called with your aunt on a three way and said they needed help with the food.”
“I told them I’d handle it.”
“Okay. Did you? This can be extra food. You know black folk will take food as long as there’s foil. You don’t even need plates.” She laughed at her own damn joke.
“How you even pay for all this?”
“Remember that generous Eat Clean gift card?” Her smile was fucking smug.
I turned my head to fight against the butterflies in my fucking stomach from her prettiness. I hated she was so fucking pretty.
“That’s how you say thanks, by re-gifting?”
“I thought you giving it to me in the first place was a gesture of thanks. I can choose how to spend what’s mine.”
I turned to her. “No. You can use this as a way of flashing that feminist card in my face.”
She cocked her head to the side and her eyebrows touched. “Would it make you feel better if I told you I paid for the To-Go containers myself?” Shit got quiet. I wasn’t answering that. “I can understand this is a difficult time for you. I can even accept if you’re going to be a little distant today. But you don’t get to be cold. You invited me here. I’m prepared to comfort you as best I can, but I don’t work well under ‘punching bag’ conditions. Got it?”
I turned away from her again. She was sonnin’ me and I ain’t like that shit either. She knew better than accusing me of mistreating her. That may have been Wright’s steeze, but it wasn’t mind. I never stayed around a chick long enough to get moody.
I guessed she got the hint when I kept on my side of the truck with my mouth closed. I heard her shuffling over there before she relaxed in her seat. So many things ran through my mind. How was I going to get through today? What if B-Rocka had kids? What would be needed to hold them down? Would my moms hold it together, at least until the repass? She was off the hook with hers lately. If she couldn’t keep her shit together, and pops was locked the fuck down, who would be there for me? This lost was painful as hell.
You invited me here. I’m prepared to comfort you as best I can.
My head swung over to her. Parker was staring out of the window, probably not even paying attention to the cars zipping past us on the highway. In that moment, I didn’t feel vulnerable. I felt safe. I didn’t think twice when I reached over and pulled her little ass next to me. I wanted her closer. Wished I could bury my face in the soft skin of her neck. I didn’t want to scare her off, so I settled on just holding her.
~Twelve
“This bitch killin’ the game!” Paula slapped the table with one hand while holding a bottle of Corona in the other.
The folding table shook and the Connect Four chips rattled. It was my seventh game in a row and my sixth win. My only loss was game two with another one of Rut’s cousins because I got distracted when Rut walked away, appearing weary. I decided to give him his time and kicked the butts of everyone wanting smoke out here.
“You fittin’ in very well, Miss Lady.” Paula nodded so hard I thought her little body would tilt over.
But she stayed on her feet, even as she wobbled away to the picnic table next to me. Rut never mentioned his mother had a high tolerance for alcohol. In fact, since I was introduced to her a few hours earlier at the funeral, I tried to recall all things he’d said about her. I turned to find the next person taking to the table.
“And what’s your name?” I asked the lanky brown skinned gentlemen with old box braids sitting across from me.
He snickered, shyly with yellow eyes. “Bootsie,” he croaked.
“Hi, Bootsie. I’m Parker, Rut’s friend. How’re you related to him?” Because everyone claims to be. I’d been trying to keep up with names and relationships.
“Cousins. My Daddy and his’ cousins.” He gathered the red chips that seemed favored by all the relatives I’d played when I offered them to pick a color.
No one picked black, so I stopped asking.
“Okay. Let’s go.” I sat up, offering him to go first.
We were in Rut’s childhood home where B-Rocka’s, also known as Brian Barton, repass was hosted. Jeff Redd’s “You Called and Told Me” sprouted from the speakers in the spaciously green backyard. It was here where I, too, learned Rut had moved to, away from the streets of Trenton. Apparently, the “General” he told me about had purchased Paula and Rut a home to get him out of Trenton and in a safer environment so he could focus on football. But B-Rocka and the rest of the family lived back in Trenton where the funeral was held. And what a sad funeral it was.
B-Rocka’s mother, Tameeka, was completely distraught at the church. She wailed to painful volumes and even laid out over the body. His imprisoned father was able to view his body minutes before the service began. The sight of a blac
k man shackled from wrist to waist to ankles as he quietly sobbed over his son’s dead body had me swallowing back tears. It was an intense service to say the least. The entire time, Rut sat tall and thick in one position next to me. His long arm rested on the back of the pew behind me and one leg lay over the opposite thigh. He only brought the one leg down twice the whole service.
The food I made was here when we arrived after the service. Apparently, Fats had someone run it over during the funeral. Rut only introduced me to his mother, grandmother, and B-Rocka’s mother. That was an awkward introduction, but Tameeka made it bearable by shaking my hand and speaking sweetly. I knew that was out of respect for Rut. Apparently, everyone respected him. It had been made clear since we showed to the church, Rut was a leader amongst this group of people. There were few men older than him around.
And his mother…
I didn’t know what I had in mind before meeting Paula. Maybe a mother who didn’t have the countenance of a sister? I couldn’t decide. But who I met was a slender, rather short woman, who doted heavily on her son and was a veteran drinker. When we were officially introduced here in her home, Paula was polite and offered me a shot of vodka. It was the last thing I would’ve guessed Rut’s mother would do, but I understood the family was grieving, so I accepted it when I saw Rut reluctantly agree to one himself. Since then, she hadn’t been without a drink in her hands.
Paula worked her grounds, greeting everyone in her yard. She occasionally circled back to my little table to check in. This Bootsie here was more skilled than any of the other players I’d battled today. As our game commenced, Paula’s loud voice could be heard throughout the yard. I had to focus to be sure to stay ahead of my new opponent. It took a few strategic moves, but Bootsie became a victim of my tactical mastery. If only I could be that deliberate in real life. I did my shoulder shuffle to express my seventh victory, and Boostsie offered a hand-slap before standing to leave the table. I had to crack up at his moping promenade over to the coolers where drinks were.
“Who he paid to make all that food?” That startled the crap out of me.
I glanced up over my shoulder and saw Paula standing there. One hand rested on the back of my chair and one leg crossed over the other. She was inarguably comfortable around me. Familiar.
I blinked her way. “Paid? You mean…”
“Who made all that?”
“I did.”
She stomped her foot as she laughed, offering a hi-five with her bottleless hand. “Girl, you know how to work ‘em. That’s fuckin’ right, bitch!”
Stunned and confused, I raised my palm for Paula to slap.
“It wasn’t that big of a deal. It was my pleasure. Honestly,” I tried.
“Them niggas tore that shit up the first hour we got here. They said that mac-n-cheese was bangin’.” She gulped down a bit of her Corona. “They ain’t leave me none of that, but I had everything else: macaroni salad, potato salad, string beans, baked chicken, and uhhhh…” She tapped her head, thinking.
I cracked a smile. “You taste the rice and beans?”
“Yeah!” she blasted like a water hose. “That shit was bangin’!” She offered another hi-five. “You make sure he line ya pockets for that hook up, girl!”
“It’s all good,” I assured. “He actually paid for it, so we’re even.”
Paula’s neck popped back. “No, y’all ain’t! Bitch, you better get a few dollars for that shit. All these muthafuckas feasted today. It gotta be close to a hundred people out here!”
I wanted to remind her there was other food here. There was no opportunity when a young girl appeared at Paula’s side. They exchanged a few words before Paula acknowledged me.
“This here Rut’s lady,” she told the girl, who had to be around sixteen years old. Then Paula peered over to me. “This Rut’s god-sister, Aisha.”
“Hi, Aisha!” I went for her hand, a move that clearly made her uncomfortable, but she reciprocated with a limp wrist. “I’m Parker, Rut’s friend.” I attempted to correct his mother.
Aisha, Rut’s god-sister, with a thick coat of shimmery silver lipstick and counterfeit Gucci bag, didn’t have much to say with her mouth after that introduction, but she did communicate to Paula by way of her eyes. The message, however, was unclear to me.
“Where he at anyway?”
“Who?” Paula’s frail frame bounced when she croaked out that one syllable.
“Rut.”
“Oh, he in the house. Probably in his space in the basement,” Paula seemed to sulk. “It’s been hard on him.”
“Aye, Paula P…” Another woman, a much older one cut in. Aisha took off, leaving the two women. My attention went to cleaning up the Connect Four chips, seeing no one else came over to play. I was over it anyway. “You got that for me?”
“Got what?” I peered up in just enough time to see Paula’s face go taut with contempt.
“That money you owe me from bingo last week,” the woman with big framed black sunglasses made clear.
“Oh! Dammit!” Paula slapped her forehead. “Shit, I forgot, Gina.” Her eyes brushed around the yard. “Rut! Rut here. I’mma get it from him! How much I owe you? Fifty?”
“Yeah. And I’m about to go. Junie waiting for me in front of the house. I’mma catch a ride back to Trenton with him, but Georgie staying. Give it to him.”
“Oh. Okay! I’ll give it to Georgie.” Paula glanced around.
“I mean it, Paula,” Gina whispered. “I need it to pay on my Rent-A-Center!”
“Okay, bitch,” Paula droned. “I’mma get you yo’ shit.”
“Alright, now,” Gina warned before walking off.
Feeling uncomfortable from having privy to that exchange, I grabbed my bag from the back of my folding chair.
I stood. “You said Rut’s downstairs?”
“Yeah,” Paula answered before taking a last gulp of her beer. “Let me get another one of these and I’ll show you.” I began to follow her. “You want another shot?”
My eyes swelled. “Oh, no.” I rubbed my empty belly. “That one from earlier is still in my system.” I tried laughing it off.
Truth was I was hungry and wanted Rut. I hoped he was okay. On our way there, she was stopped by a school-aged boy.
“Hey, Aunt P!”
“Hey, Rocky!” Paula’s arms shot up in the air before wrapping around the young boy. “You seen Rut?”
“Yeah. He flipped me on my head!” His big smile exposed his missing tooth. “You ain’t seen that?”
“Naw, baby! He give you a few dollars?”
“No.” The boy shook his head.
“Why the hell you ain’t ask him for some? He coulda gave you five or twenty.”
The boy could only laugh, not being that developed mentally when an adult is encouraging him to ask another for money. Then his eyes shifted to me.
“Oh!” Paula turned toward me. “This Rut’s new lady.” She glanced my way. “This Rut’s god-brother.”
Another god-something?
I swear, that had to be the fifth one she introduced me to in the past hour and a half. First it was a god-aunt then cousin. I guessed they made up titles in this family.
All to be connected to Rut…
When we made it inside the house, Rut’s grandmother, Annalise, was at the table, playing cards with two other women. She was a beautiful caramel coated woman in her sixties, maybe. She kept a low natural cut that resembled a high-top fade, just not as extreme as I’d seen. It actually worked for her.
“Ma, Rut-Rut downstairs?”
Annalise nodded and hummed her answer. She returned my smile as I fussed with my purse and tote on my one shoulder.
“Ma, you know this girl made all the food by herself?”
“Oh, nice!” Annalise noted. “I woulda done it myself, but he ain’t give me the money so…” She flicked her wrists over the table. “You told him about my front door?”
Paula scratched her head, visibly overwhelmed with the details of
her son’s wallet.
“I got so much shit to tell him already. You may be on your own with that one, ma. How much is it?”
“The guy said two seventy-five.” Annalise shrugged and went for her red Solo cup. “I’ll make him some grits in the morning.” She winked, taking a sip from the plastic cup.
“He ain’t staying!” Paula informed. Then she peered over to me. “Y’all leaving tonight. Right?”
My palm went to my chest. “I’m going home.”
Suddenly, I was unsure about Rut. Had he planned on staying down here?
“Shit. I gotta pee,” Paula groaned. “There go the basement door right there.” She pointed to a small hallway just off the kitchen. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
Without a moment of uncertainty, I crossed the room and found my way down the stairs of the door. The steps were carpeted and I could smell a little water damage the further down I went. I jumped in my heels when I turned the corner and saw a half a dozen male figures dispersed throughout the open area. The smell of alcohol and marijuana mixed with “boy” had my nostrils flaring immediately.
Then I recognized two of the men standing erect with their hands crossed over their pelvises. They were the security Rut brought down with us. One gestured with his forehead to the opposite end of the expansive space. My eyes traveled to a king-sized bed with a thick, lanky body stretched across it. I knew it was Rut. I managed to tread around the other guys down there sitting in silence, likely stoned out. One smoked a blunt and the others were not without double Styrofoam cups.
“Hey,” I offered softly as I sat on the bed next to him.
Gently, I touched his back. Rut still had his suit jacket on. I heard him sniffle first. Then his head pulled up and his squinted eyes appeared. They were red and the skin of his face wrinkled from the folds of his jacket.
“You okay?” I spoke close to him.
Rut didn’t respond at first. He seemed dazed. But this close to him, I didn’t smell alcohol or weed.
“What time is it?” he grumbled.
