Chapter 2
Loso
Sweat ran down my face as I slid from beneath the SUV on a creeper.
I had been under the truck for longer than I should have, but I would rather pass out than provide lackluster service.
There were a lot of lessons my father tried to instill in me that didn’t land, but I took heed to his advice about having a strong work ethic.
“Loso! Ms. Jones is upfront.”
Casey’s squeaky voice soared from the lobby to where I worked in the garage. I pulled my body off the metal then went up front to where I found my customer waiting with perky nipples and all thirty-two teeth on display.
“Hey.” She greeted me with a light tone. “Is my baby ready?”
“I need a few minutes to wrap things up, then you’re good to go.” I stepped to the side and motioned for Ms. Jones to walk ahead of me.
When she entered the garage, her high heels clicked against the pavement, drawing attention to her long, thick legs.
The fruity aroma housed on her dark skin replaced the stench of exhaust trapped in my nostrils.
Ms. Jones had been coming to my spot to have work done for two years.
Every time, I had to stop myself from fucking her or giving in when she tried to fuck me.
Our first encounter happened after she and her dude went back and forth destroying each other’s shit.
That was all I needed to know to keep things professional with her.
“I know we spoke about fixing your brakes and changing your oil, but you needed more work,” I explained while closing the hood of her truck.
“Hol’ up. I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“Had I not, you’d be walking home instead of driving. Don’t trip. I know you’re a single mother, and the holidays are around the corner. The extra work is worth five hundred, but you can just pay for the parts, and we’re good. We can establish a payment plan like last time if you need to.”
“No need,” she answered, tossing her braids off her shoulder. “What forms of payment do you accept?”
“Same as always. Cash. Credit. EBT.”
“Pussy?”
I laughed. “You know better than that. Pussy is good, but money is better.”
“Not better than this honeypot.” In three steps, she intruded on the space between us. “I’ve been coming here for years. I see the way you look at me.”
“Of course I look at you. You’re beautiful. You’re just not pretty enough to leave without peeling your purse back.” I snatched the rag from the pocket of my jumpsuit and ridded my fingers of oil. “How about you settle your bill, and I use the bread to take you out.”
I knew I had her when Jones shifted her weight to one leg and peered at the ceiling.
“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” She ran her finger over a chain I hadn’t taken off in years. “It actually sounds amazing. What’s my total?”
“Eight hundred.”
Those doe eyes of her stayed launched on me as she retrieved a bank envelope from her purse. Never pressed for cash, my vision remained on hers as she counted my fee. I smirked when she shoved the money so deep into my pocket, she almost touched my dick.
“Italian food is my favorite,” she professed.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Our closeness was interrupted when Casey barged into the garage. “Loso. Your alarm went off. Twenty minutes until your next car comes in.”
“Bet,” I replied then faced the lady staring a hole in the side of my face. “I’ll get you a receipt, then I’ll call your pretty ass about the date later.”
Ms. Jones hung around a few minutes until I handed her a slip, but as soon as she sashayed out the door, my nosy little cousin snarled at me.
“What’s the problem, Casey?” I asked with a low laugh.
“You are such a manwhore.”
“She tried to fuck me in exchange for the work I did, so get the fuck out of here with that shit.”
Casey shrieked then grabbed the glass jar off her desk. “Pay the lady! I told you the only thing I want for Christmas is a profanity free work environment.”
Juice, another one of my employees, walked up shaking his head. “Loso gives good gifts. I can’t believe that’s what you asked for.”
“Oh, baby. I’m a hustla.” She lifted her half-full jar of cash. “I get to keep every penny I collect. I’m up to at least three hundred, and it’s only been a week.”
Juice groaned. “I can’t wait for Christmas to come and go. You got it looking like the North Pole in this bitch.”
“Ugh. You’re just mad because you aren’t allowed to bring a Christmas tree in that motel room you call a home.”
I frowned at the low blow. “Hey. Get off his back. A man has to start from somewhere. Just because your spoiled ass was blessed with loving parents doesn’t mean everybody was. Besides, he’s right about the decorations. Got my shit looking like the mall.”
Though we may have had different reasons, I shared the same disdain for the later months of the year as Juice.
Holidays held memories for me that sparked a dark headspace I couldn’t return to.
I was only eleven when my brother died on Christmas; years later, I lost the woman I thought I would marry around the same time of the year.
She stayed throwing hints about marriage, so I went above and beyond to pop the question, only for her ass to skip out on me.
Ever since, I got a bad taste in my mouth around the anniversary of the last time I got my heartbroken. Twice.
“You over there daydreaming,” Casey called out, breaking my trance. “You thinking about Ms. Jones? Are you going to call her?”
“Hell nah. I don’t play about my money, but I wasn’t in the mood for a fight. I told her what she wanted to hear.”
I went to my office and showered before heading to the clubhouse.
The dark clouds in the sky concluded my decision to hop in my truck instead of on the back of my bike.
My meeting with the members of the Sons of Eshu was scheduled for six, and I prayed traffic didn’t make me late.
There were some people who considered us a car club, and others who called us a motorcycle gang.
Either way, niggas knew we were a brotherhood that had been solid for well over a decade.
As I attempted to rid myself of the Christmas music playing from the radio, my phone rang, drowning out the noise.
“What’s up, Ma Dukes? Everything all right?”
“No, it’s not,” she blurted out. “Have you spoken to Essen about the party? People are flying in. We can’t cancel.”
“You don’t have to. I told you, I have it taken care of. The party is happening.”
Her heavy sigh poured through my speakers, triggering the knot in my throat to expand.
Though I got my shit together over the years, my past stifled her faith in me.
The overnight jail stints, guns in her house, and my obsession with the streets created a barrier between me and my parents.
True enough, my unruly behavior was rooted from unresolved grief.
The reasons behind my actions didn’t dismiss the pain it caused.
“I don’t want to stress you out, Son. It’s just important that everything goes well.
We almost lost your father a year ago.” Her lungs emptied fast. “This is a celebration of love, life, and the holidays. That’s one of the reasons I chose to get married around Christmas.
This time of the year always promotes good energy. ”
“If you say so.” I paused. “How’s the old man doing?”
“He’s okay. He would be better if he heard from you. Your dad has never been big on affection, but he misses his boys. That shouldn’t be the case when one of his sons only lives thirty minutes away.”
I ran my tongue over the gold in my mouth and gripped the steering wheel.
I knew my mom’s intentions were good, but I hated how she pretended not to know why shit was sour between me and my pops.
My brother’s death sparked his need for control, and my need for space.
The combination was dangerous. I turned to the streets to numb the pain then joined S.O.E.
That only led me further away from my family.
On my eighteenth birthday, I moved out, and we didn’t speak until I was almost thirty.
I thought opening my shop would make him proud, but he was too concerned with asking if the money was clean to applaud my success.
“Ma. I’m pulling up to the clubhouse. I don’t want you to worry about the party. I scheduled a meeting with Essen. I’ll send you the details once she confirms the date.”
“All right, baby. Call me back.”
As I walked into the Sons of Eshu hangout, I frowned at the Christmas lights hanging from the ceiling.
Just like Casey, the women associated with the club went overboard with the holiday cheer.
The way the president of the club acted around this time of year, I would bet bread Shiloh encouraged them to fill the building with any prop they could find.
I bypassed the bar and went straight to a room we converted into a meeting area when we purchased the multi-room property.
The long tables that usually rested in the middle of the room were pushed against the wall and covered in appetizers.
As I trekked more into the space, I grimaced seeing Durk’s arms loaded with plates of food.
“I swear sometimes, you act like you were raised by wolves,” I commented when I walked up on him.
Like an idiot, the youngest of the bunch started howling at the ceiling until his lady, Clover, smacked his arm.
“Yeah. Beat his ass before I have to,” I joked while giving her a hug.
“Don’t hug this nigga when he came in here talking shit. Ever since he lost weight, he been fucking with me like he need a fade.”
I grinned. “Big or small, I’ve always stayed on your head because you act like you don’t have sense. I love you though. That’s what big brothers are for.”