The Mule And The Underboss

Chapter 1

Ajori Kensington

The scanner beeped like it was mocking me; each sound dragging me closer to snapping and tossing the whole register in the breakroom microwave.

I’d been on my feet for damn near eight hours straight, and my ankles? Yeah, they were past complaining… they was protesting. My knees had been giving me warning shots since hour five, and my soul clocked out around noon and didn’t even bother to say goodbye.

Barely lifting my eyes from the screen, I heard that dreaded little beep signaling a declined transaction. Instantly, I sensed a heavy shift in energy radiating from across the counter.

The woman in front of me frowned. Her body language shifted subtly, as if repositioning herself might magically alter her financial fate.

“Oh, hell no! That can’t be right! I got money on there! I just got paid!”

Lady, please! Do you know how many times a day I hear those lines?

“Do you have another form of payment?” I asked, keeping my voice neutral. However, inside, I was screaming, Get yo’ broke, lying, or confused ass out of my line!

The checkout belt was already loaded with three family-size packs of chicken, two gallons of milk, four bags of chips, and enough soda to stock an entire vending machine.

Behind her, a man with a basket full of healthy food kept tapping his foot, his irritation palpable and contagious.

My own patience was nowhere to be found; it was probably lost somewhere back on aisle four along with my sense of normalcy.

The woman bit her lip, glancing at the growing line behind her and then back up at me, her brows knitting together in a mix of worry and frustration.

“Nah. Shit! Just take the cakes off… and the ribs… and…”

This shit is about to take forever, I thought, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.

My arms moved on autopilot as I scanned, removed, and then scanned again, desperately trying to keep up with her shifting requests.

When the system froze after the fifth change, I had to call the manager over so he could manually void the items one by one.

Five minutes and a steadily worsening headache later, we finally managed to bring her total down low enough for her card to miraculously approve.

“See? I told you it would go through!” she exclaimed, all proudly.

I never understood why people would go into a grocery store and shop like they’re catering the Last Supper without checking their cards first…

whether that’s their EBT or debit card. Then be looking shocked when the card declines.

If you didn’t check before you swiped, the problem isn’t the system or the cashier, it’s you.

Every time that happened, I lost a few minutes of my life and a little bit of my faith in humanity. Sis really had me playing coupon fairy and food magician just so she could keep the soda and family-size chips.

I plastered on the “friendly cashier” smile I’d perfected over the years, as I handed her the receipt. “Have a good day.”

When she walked away, I glanced at the clock.

Three more minutes. I can survive three minutes.

At three o’clock, I didn’t waste a second getting my drawer counted.

Once the numbers matched, I clocked out, trudged to the breakroom, grabbed my purse, and headed for the door, ignoring the overly cheery “See you tomorrow!” from my coworker.

The door eased shut behind me, muffling the last bit of store chatter as I stepped outside.

January weather in Charlotte, North Carolina, didn’t always come that harshly, but that day, the cold didn’t ask permission. My breath came out in bursts as I tugged my coat tighter and hustled across the parking lot.

I slid into the driver’s seat of my 2016 Honda, its seats stiff from the chill, and jammed the key in the ignition.

The engine turned over and grumbled like it hated the cold as much as I did.

Nonetheless, I was grateful it responded on the first try.

My car carried its own share of battle scars from years of use and the occasional fender bender but it was dependable.

I immediately cranked up the heat, the vents pushing out air that was still lukewarm.

Leaning back, I closed my eyes for a brief moment, allowing the silence of the parking lot to envelop me, a moment of calm before I mentally prepared for job number tw

***

The city was halfway asleep by the time I clocked out of my second job.

As I walked on the concrete, streetlights flickered in uneven patterns.

Somewhere down the block a drug deal was going down behind the corner store, and across the street, a baby mama was yelling at her baby daddy, braids swinging while she balanced a toddler on her hip.

He shouted back, pacing with his shirt halfway off and hands flying.

The child looked bored. She was probably used to the chaos.

Same scene, different night.

I let out a slow breath and shook my head. I was tired of pretending that mess didn’t drain me, tired of patching up peace in a place that stayed cracked, and tired of walking past struggle as if it didn’t belong to me. I kept it pushing, but in my chest, a stubborn hope stirred inside of me.

One day I’ma get out of here for good… but not tonight.

By the time I made it to my best friend Lainey’s apartment building, my legs were screaming for me to sit down.

Lainey had been my best friend since freshman year of high school.

We’d been stuck together in homeroom; two girls with nothing in common except that we didn’t fit in anywhere else.

She was loud and fearless. Then there was me…

quiet but stubborn. Somewhere along the way, that mix turned into sisterhood.

On the nights I had to work, she’d watch my brother for me.

I trusted Lainey with him more than I trusted most of my family.

She lived on the third floor of a red-brick walk-up, so I took the stairs slowly.

The smell of hair grease and burnt popcorn seeped out of one of the tenants’ door, and I could hear a baby crying somewhere in the back.

When I approached her door, I half-wanted to turn around.

Two dudes were posted against the wall near her neighbor’s door.

A blunt glowed between them, as smoke curled in lazy spirals.

One of them was looking at me a little too long, like he forgot how to blink.

The other just gave me a quick nod and a slick little grin.

“Sup, yellow-bone. Damn that ass fat.” That comment came from the one staring too hard.

He was licking his lips like the winter wind had been chapping them all day, and I was the first sign of warmth he’d seen.

Paying him no mind, I fished in my bag for the spare key Lainey had given me when she first got the apartment.

“Damn… you just gon’ ignore a nigga?”

“Yup,” I muttered, putting the key in the lock as if I didn’t hear the desperation clinging to his ego.

“Shid… I was just trying to see you smile. You look like you’ve had a long day. I’m just trying to brighten it. And I do think one compliment deserves another.”

I paused, then exhaled through my nose, and faced him.

“If you’re trying to impress a female like me, you might wanna start by not treating every woman like she owes you attention just for surviving your little weak-ass compliments.

You telling me I got a big ass isn’t a revelation; I was there when it grew. ”

His smirk twitched.

“If you wanted to come correct,” I continued, stepping a little closer but keeping my distance, “you could’ve led with, ‘Hey, you look like you had a long day. Can I take you to get something to eat? Maybe put a little gas in your tank, lighten the load a bit?’ Now that might’ve gotten you a conversation…

maybe even a number if the vibe was right. ”

I turned back to my door, unlocking it halfway before glancing back one last time.

“But throwing tired lines from a hallway while blowing smoke in the air that smells like it was purchased with loose change?” I scrunched my nose, giving him a once-over. “Respectfully… no. Please try again on someone else because I’m not your target audience.”

I shot him a look so dry it could’ve sparked a drought.

I eased into the apartment and shut the door behind me without waiting for a comeback. Once inside, I closed my eyes and pressed my back against the door in exasperation. All I wanted was five seconds of peace.

No such luck.

“Well, look at you. Miss Honey Eyes just out here breaking hearts, and you don’t even know it,” Lainey called out, seated on the couch in a plush robe, wine glass in hand, and her legs curled under her.

I cracked one eye open and stared at her. “You heard that?” I asked, not moving from my spot.

She smirked and held up her phone, screen still lit from her Ring app. “Heard it? Girl, I watched it. Not him trying to adopt you for the winter! That nigga looked at you like you was the plug for heat, food stamps, and a peace of mind.”

I rolled my eyes then strolled over to the couch and flopped down. “Girl, men get one whiff of cold air and start shopping for a wife with benefits. Nigga, I am not the solution to your seasonal depression. Whole time I’m running on caffeine and audacity.”

We cracked up. That laugh loosened the weight of the day just enough to breathe.

I glanced around, realizing someone was missing. “Where’s Kyrin?”

Lainey pointed near the hallway, towards the back room. “He’s asleep, bathed, and fed before you ask.” She sat back with pride. “We had beef tips smothered in gravy, mashed potatoes, green beans, and dinner rolls. And yes, I fixed you a plate. You’re welcome, bestie.”

I beamed. “I know you fed him,” I replied in a knowing tone. “And thank you for saving me a plate, because your girl is starving. But how did he eat?” I asked in a more serious tone.