by La Jill Hunt
“I really didn’t think Ephraim—that’s his brother—was going to come up.” Caldwell shrugged.
“Uh, Caldwell, this was where he lived before he died, wasn’t it? How did you think he wasn’t gonna come up?” I shook my head.
“Well, that’s true. But Mama G knew you didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I really like her.” I nodded.
“Everyone does. And believe it or not, Josh used to be a really cool dude.”
“I find that hard to believe.” I laughed.
“No, seriously, he was. Our families have always been close, and at one point we were like cousins. Even after he played ball in the league—”
“League? What league?” I frowned.
“He played a couple of years in the NBA. He wasn’t a starter or anything like that, but he was a league player. This house was the first thing he bought. He thought it was going to be for his parents, but they wanted to stay in the house where they were living. So, he moved in and lived here for a while. Then, a few years later, after he got married and moved away, he gave the house to Ephraim, who was barely out of high school.”
“Wait, Josh is married? Where’s his wife? Shouldn’t she care what we do to the house?” I was confused.
“She’s no longer in the picture.” Caldwell shrugged.
“Oh.”
“Anyway, he got married and was gone for a while. He rarely came home, and when he did, he didn’t stay for long. When his dad died, he came the day before the funeral and left right after the service. He didn’t even stay for the repast, and they had some really good cake, too,” Caldwell commented.
“Did you really just think about the cake they had at someone’s funeral?” I gave him a strange look.
“I did. Come to think of it, they had really good cake at Ephraim’s funeral, too. I think the same lady made it.”
“Caldwell, please stop talking about cake and go on with the story. I gotta get to work,” I said.
“Well, after their dad died, Ephraim kinda started running the streets, and Mama G tried to get Josh to come home and talk to him, but Josh was always too busy. Then, Ephraim died. Josh came back for the funeral, like he did for his daddy’s. Didn’t stay that long. The house sat here empty. Then, a couple months ago, Josh moved back.”
“What made him move home?”
Caldwell shrugged. “No one knows. He just came home.”
“So, what does he do now? Where does he work?”
Again, Caldwell shrugged. “I don’t know.”
I checked my watch and saw that if I didn’t hurry, I was going to be late for work. Caldwell walked me to my car. As we stepped out of the house, he paused, looked back, and said, “The thing about this entire situation is that when he first bought this place, it was kinda like the family’s man cave. Josh, his dad, Ephraim, me and my brothers, and all the guys from the neighborhood would come over and hang out and talk. Mr. G was a monster on the grill, and he would give us all sorts of advice. Those were the good old days. I guess that’s why I was kinda honored when Mama G approached me about doing the work, and that’s also why I told her you would be perfect. I didn’t want just anyone touching this place.”
“I’m off tomorrow, so I guess we can go over some ideas then,” I told him.
“I’ll be here,” he said, then added, “Hey, you better get your new decal before you get a ticket.”
“What are you talking about?”
He pointed to the license plate on the front of my car. “Your tag expired last month. A nice-looking black woman driving this nice, fancy car. You know they will pull you over in a heartbeat around here.”
I walked over and saw that he was right: the tag had expired a month ago, and I hadn’t noticed. My good mood suddenly faded. Although I drove it every day, the fact was that the fancy car, as Caldwell called it, wasn’t mine. And I was not looking forward to calling the person it belonged to.
Chapter Fifteen
Although technically I had the day off from Loehman’s, I still had a full day planned and left the house early to get a head start. After stopping at the bank to deposit my check from Georgette, I headed to the DMV to see if there was some way I could get the tag renewed without having to involve Var. I had the registration and insurance information, so I figured it would be no problem. I waited in line for almost an hour and a half before my number was called, and when I finally got to the counter, I made certain that I was extremely polite to the customer service worker named Valerie, according to her nameplate, who looked like she would have rather been anywhere else in the world except at work.
“Can I help you?” she asked in a robotic tone without even looking up at me.
“Good morning. I need to renew my license plate, please,” I said with a smile that she couldn’t see.
“Tag number,” she droned.
I slid the registration card across the counter, and she picked it up, still without even glancing up at me. I decided to offer some small talk while I patiently waited.
“How are you doing this morning? Y’all are pretty busy, but these lines are moving.”
“Yeah,” she mumbled.
“Well, the good thing is the busier you all are, the faster your day will go by and you can get on up outta here, girl.”
For the first time since I’d been standing in front of her, she finally looked up and gave me a slight nod. “That’s true. Well, it looks like I can’t renew this for you.”
“Is something wrong?” I began to wonder if Var had done something stupid like reported the tags stolen or something to prevent me from getting the tags without his knowing.
“It’s already been renewed and the decals issued,” she said.
I should’ve known that Var had already renewed the tags. He always stayed on top of things like that. Whereas I would wait to pay a bill on the due date, sometimes after, Var would pay it before it was due. He probably had the decals months ago but didn’t say anything to me about them.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” she asked. I could see that she was being sincere.
“No, that was all I needed.” I took the registration from her, feeling slightly defeated. “You enjoy the remainder of your day.”
“You too,” Valerie said. “By the way, your scarf is dope. I really like it.”
“Thanks.” I smiled as I looked down at my scarf, similar to the one Georgette had complimented me on the day before.
As I walked out of the building, I took out my phone and sent Var a quick text, asking about the decals. I hoped he would send a simple reply, but I knew that was wishful thinking. Just as I suspected, my phone began to ring, and his name appeared on the screen.
“Hello,” I answered, trying to be just as polite as I had been to Valerie moments earlier.
“Hey Zen. How are you?”
“I’m well. Thanks for asking.”
“I do have the new decals for the car. I tried calling you a couple of weeks ago, but your phone kept going to voicemail,” he said.
“Really? You must’ve been calling when my phone was dead,” I told him, knowing that the real reason his call hadn’t gone through was because I had placed his number on DO NOT DISTURB when I moved out and forgot to take it off until recently. “Why didn’t you leave a message?”
“You’re funny, Zen. I know you had me on DND. I sent you plenty of texts that were delivered but not read. I ain’t crazy,” he replied.
“I know you’re not crazy, Var.” I sighed as I opened the car door and climbed in.
“When you wanna meet up and get the stickers?”
“I’m actually off today, so whenever,” I told him.
“All right, why don’t we meet at Doc’s at like six?”
“Doc’s? Uh, I was thinking more like in the Walmart parking lot.”
“Damn, Zen, you can at least let me buy you a drink for old time’s sake. Don’t be like that.” Var sounded like he was pleading. I reminded myself that despite e
verything that had happened, the car that I drove every day belonged to him. I at least owed him a conversation.
I sighed. “I’ll call you at six, Var. We’ll decide then.”
“Sounds like a plan. Talk to you then.”
As soon as the call ended, I dialed Josh’s number. When he didn’t answer, I sent him a text, asking him to give me a call so we could talk. Next on my agenda was Home Depot, where I was headed when he called me back.
“This is Zen,” I answered when I saw his number flashing on my phone.
“Hey, this is Josh Miller. You sent me a text.”
“Hello, Josh. I actually met with your mom yesterday, and she gave me the go-ahead on redesigning your place. I was trying to schedule a time when we could sit down and discuss some ideas or any plans you may—”
“Yeah, my mom mentioned that she went ahead and hired you. I don’t really have any, so you can just do whatever. Just please make sure everything’s up to code,” he said.
I was taken aback by his statement. It wasn’t exactly my dream job to be designing for a client who couldn’t care less what I did with his place. It took a few moments for me to respond. “Well, I’m sure you know Caldwell is going to make sure that everything is up to code, and so will I, but we would both appreciate your input. I’m heading over to Home Depot to look at flooring, and I wasn’t sure if you wanted hardwood floors throughout the house, or did you want carpet in some of the rooms?”
Josh exhaled loudly, then said, “Seriously, it doesn’t really matter. I don’t really care either way. I don’t plan on living there. Do whatever you wanna do.”
Although I had already accepted the job and been paid, I quickly decided that convincing a stubborn grown-ass man to say what would happen during the reconstruction of his home was way above my current pay grade.
“Okay, well, I guess that’s all I need to hear. Sorry to have bothered you,” I told him.
“It’s cool. I’m sure whatever you do in that house will be fine. Caldwell says you’re the best, and I believe him,” he said and ended the call.
“Good-bye to you too, asshole,” I said aloud. I was tempted not to even go get the samples, but I went ahead anyway. I would remain professional, even if my client was an uncooperative jerk.
My plan was to be in Home Depot for an hour, but when I got inside, as usual, I became caught up in looking at lighting fixtures, toilets, appliances, and everything else instead of what I went in there for. I finally returned to my car two and a half hours later with the samples I needed and dialed Georgette’s number.
“Zen, how are you?” Her mellow voice welcomed my call.
“I’m fine, Georgette. I picked up some flooring samples and wanted to bring them by for you to look at, if that’s okay. Caldwell says we need to order them as soon as possible.”
“Wonderful. Let me text you the address.”
“That would be great. See you soon,” I said.
“Sending it right over, Zen. Thanks again.”
The text came in, and not only did it contain an address, but also a security code and parking instructions. Well, that sure wasn’t something you see every day. I couldn’t wait to see what kind of house needed such detailed instructions.
I plugged the street address into my GPS. When I arrived, I understood why the instructions were necessary, but I was a little confused. Caldwell had told me the reason Josh’s parents didn’t want to move was because they wanted to stay in their house, but the address Georgette brought me to was a luxury apartment building.
I parked where she had instructed and grabbed the samples from the back seat, along with my portfolio. I walked to the building, entered the code to the doors which held the elevators, then continued to the designated apartment. When I stepped into the hallway, I admired the thick carpet, immaculate sconces, and artistically painted walls. Based on those features alone, I could assume that the monthly rent was astronomical.
I rang the doorbell and patiently waited. A few seconds later, the door opened, and for a split second, I wondered if I had been given the wrong address.
“Um, hi,” I said to Josh, who stood in the doorway.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m supposed to be meeting your mom. She sent me this address,” I replied.
He was dressed in a pair of basketball shorts, a T-shirt, and Nike slides. He obviously had not been expecting me, and based on the way he was looking at me, he was not happy to see me at his front door. I wanted to tell him that had I known he would be there, I would’ve suggested we meet somewhere else.
Instead, I smiled and said, “Is she here?”
“No, she isn’t. And she didn’t mention anything to me about coming over and meeting anyone. Come inside, though,” he said, opening the door wider. He still couldn’t hide the annoyance on his face, but at least he wasn’t so rude as to shut the door in my face.
“I can call her or just wait in the car until she gets here,” I offered. “It’s no big deal.”
“No, come on in.” He stepped aside and gestured for me to enter.
I hesitated, not really wanting to interact with this cranky man, but then I reminded myself I was hired to a job, and as a professional, I was going to do it well. I walked inside, Josh closed the door, and I followed him into the large living area. It was practically devoid of furniture, containing only a green leather couch, a small coffee table, and one of the biggest televisions I had ever seen, which was mounted on the wall.
“Have a seat,” he said, picking up the remote and turning off the blaring TV.
“Thanks.” I sat on the sofa and put my belongings close beside me.
“I’ll call my mother and see what’s going on. In the meantime, you want anything to drink?” he offered.
“No, I’m fine,” I told him.
He shrugged and walked out. Not long after, I heard him speaking on his phone.
“Well, you could’ve called and let me know. What if I wasn’t home, or I was busy? . . . I know you asked me earlier if I was gonna be home, but you didn’t mention you or anyone else coming through. What if I woulda had company? . . . You ain’t funny, Ma. Listen, this girl is here waiting on you, so you might wanna—What? Ma, no.... Because I already told you, I don’t care.... Why? . . . So, you can’t just reschedule or come after your meeting? . . . Yes, ma’am. . . . Yes, ma’am. . . . Fine, Ma.”
I gathered my things, stood up, and was ready to leave when he came back in the room. “Listen, I’m sorry there was a miscommunication. Like I explained, I called her and told her that I had the samples, and she said bring them over and text me the address and security code. I’ll just give her a call and reschedule.”
“No, no, you’re here, and I told her I would look at what you brought. Just give me a second to get myself together.”
“Really, you don’t have to.”
“I’ll be right back,” he said.
I remained standing as I tried to decide if I was going to stay and deal with this asshole or leave and enjoy the rest of my day off. I closed my eyes and tried to think of the most professional way to handle this situation. Finally, I decided it wouldn’t take that long for him to flip through the samples, especially since he didn’t care anyway, so I sat down. When he returned, I had the various hardwood and carpet squares laid out and waiting for him.
“Here you go,” he said.
I looked up and was surprised to see him holding a bottle of Pellegrino water toward me.
“Would you like a glass?”
“Thank you. Uh, no, the bottle is fine.” I took the water from him, then asked a question that I already knew the answer to. “Would you happen to have a coaster? I don’t want to mess up your table.”
“No, I don’t. You can just set it on the floor.” He opened his own bottle of water.
“What? No, that’s even worse than putting it on the table. You don’t want these beautiful floors to have water stains,” I told him. “Do you have a napkin I can
set it on?”
“Is it really that serious?” He gave me a strange look.
“Yes, it is.” I didn’t care if he thought I was crazy. As a designer, how would I look mistreating these expensive floors?
He left and returned a minute later with a handful of napkins.
“Will these work?”
I took the napkins from him, noticing the fast food logo on them, and fought the urge to laugh. “Yes, they’re fine.”
“I’m sorry if I seemed kinda irritated. I was asleep when you rang the bell, and I didn’t know you were coming.”
I was surprised by his apology, but happy to hear it. If we had to work together, it would be better if he could chill a little with his attitude. “It’s cool, and I promise I won’t keep you long. I have the samples right here,” I said, pointing to the table.
He reached over and picked through them. “I’m not trying to be mean, but really, I don’t know what I’m supposed to be picking or how to pick.”
I glanced over at him and saw that he was being sincere. “Well, the first thing we really need to start with, honestly, is a budget. What’s your overall budget for the remodel?”
He sat back and stared into space, looking like he was deep in thought. “Honestly, I don’t know. The house has been sitting dormant for almost a year. It’s been vandalized, and it’s in bad shape.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“That house was brand new when I moved in six years ago. Now, it’s trash. My bro—” He couldn’t even finish the word. He cleared his throat, stood up, and said, “The budget is however much it takes. I know Caldwell ain’t gonna hit me over the head. He loved that house as much as we did.”
I nodded. “Still does.”
“Yeah, he and my mom are on a mission. But, whatever.” He picked through the floor samples again. Surprising myself, I felt a twinge of sympathy for him. He was a difficult client, for sure, but he was obviously hurting over the death of his brother.
“We can keep it simple. It boils down to either carpet or not. From what I can see, I’m thinking you don’t like carpet.” I looked down at the floor.
