Chapter 3
Xai
“God, I’d give anything to hear you snap and say, Adora, stop calling so much. Just once. I miss you so much,” she says and I end the voicemail.
She sounds so sad, sadder than normal.
Listening to her voicemails have become a part of my routine.
At first, I listened out of pure curiosity, but after hearing her angelic tone, I continued.
Deep down, I know I shouldn’t listen to anyone’s private messages but I can’t stop listening.
I almost feel compelled to check the messages and hear her voice.
It’s odd as hell but I feel a connection to the voice on the other end, Adora.
I’ve had this phone since that fucking night.
When Kadean went to find my phone, he grabbed this one and mine because he was unable to distinguish them in the dark night.
When I realized he had grabbed both, something in me wouldn’t let me get rid of hers.
I just couldn’t. I was already fucked up about leaving her at the hospital like I did; discarding the phone didn’t feel right.
When we got back to my crib, I couldn’t even look at Kadean or talk to him.
He was fucked up anyway and wouldn’t have remembered the shit.
I jogged up the stairs to my room, took a long hot shower, then stared at her phone for a long ass time.
About an hour later, it started ringing.
It rang back-to-back and finally, the caller left a voicemail.
Straight curiosity had me trying to check it and there wasn’t any lock or passcode on the phone.
After listening to the voicemail from her daughter, I became even more curious and the next thing I knew, I went through the entire phone.
It’s a flip phone and very basic. It has a few text messages but no pictures.
From the basics, I quickly learned her name, Beverly Mitchell, and that changed everything.
The lady I’d left at the hospital was no longer a stranger and the guilt I was feeling got heavy as fuck.
It practically crippled me when I learned she’d died.
“Whose old ass phone is that?” I hear, causing me to look up.
It’s Narissa, to my surprise. She’s holding a bag in her hand and walking into my office. We didn’t have plans today, so I don’t know what’s up.
While placing the phone back into my desk drawer, I say, “I found it in the restroom. The lost and found is in here,” I lie. “But what are you doing here?”
“Since you snuck out on me early this morning, I thought I’d bring you breakfast. Well, early lunch,” she says with a grin. Then she walks in and places the bag on my desk. She stares into my face then asks, “What’s wrong? I can’t be back here?”
“Just caught off guard,” I admit. She and I have been kicking it since that night but it’s just been on some fuck and chill shit. This…this pop-up at my job shit with food ain’t really us. I haven’t even been back to her job, McCall’s. “We don’t do lunch.”
As if she didn’t hear shit I just said, Narissa steps behind my desk, leans in, and kisses the side of my face.
“It’s just food. You gotta eat and so do I before I go in.
I won’t take up too much of your time. Besides, they have my car.
I’m stuck until she’s clean.” She pecks the side of my face again then walks back to the other side of my desk.
“It’s Smokey’s,” she says when she sits.
Then she pulls out two containers and two bottles of coke.
After checking both, she passes me one. “I got you brisket; you don’t eat pork, right? ” she asks.
“Yeah, I don’t. Thanks,” I say, a little taken aback that she knows that because, again, this shit isn’t us.
As if reading my thoughts, she says, “I cooked bacon twice, and when I asked if you were hungry, you said no.”
“Bet,” is all I say.
The truth is not only do I not eat at everybody’s house, I also wasn’t trying to have a meal with her.
Narissa is cool. I really like kicking it with her and her head is fye but I’m not trying to be in a relationship.
Right now, I’m about my business and trying to open up my second location on the northside.
I don’t have time for any relationship and eating together is very much relationship shit.
“You eat beef?” she asks with so much concern in her tone.
“Yeah, I fuck with it, especially Smokey’s brisket.
Thank you,” I tell her. This definitely wasn’t expected but I’m not a mean man.
She bought me food and I am hungry. However, before I eat it, I reach into my pocket and pull out a bill.
I place it on the desk. “I can’t have you buying me food though. ”
While grabbing the c-note, she says, “You didn’t have to give my money back but thank you.”
She digs into her box and I sanitize my hands then open my box. She got me the brisket, potato salad, and smoked corn. Shit looks good as hell and my stomach growls on cue.
As I eat, even though Narissa is here and looking good, my mind is stuck on Adora and her message.
She’s been leaving voicemails almost every day for her mom.
The number hasn’t been disconnected. I also found an old charger that I use to keep the battery full.
Listening to her soothes something in me I can’t explain but it’s just not about me.
It’s her and her loss. I was there; I tried to help her mom, and now, I just want to help her somehow.
Since that night, Kadean has insisted Miss Beverly ran him off the road and caused the accident but, I don’t know if I can trust that.
I love my little brother but I also know he’s reckless.
If there’s something wrong and he’s around, nine times out of ten, his ass is involved or caused the problem.
Because of him, I’m indebted again to fix another fuck up.
This one was the ultimate; a lady lost her life.
There’s no amount of money I can pay to cover this one and that fucks with me heavy.
“Is the corn good?” Narissa asks, pulling my thoughts away from Adora.
“Yeah. It’s straight. You didn’t get any?”
“No. I just got this sandwich and the potato salad. Can I taste it?” she asks and I hold back my frown. I’m real particular about my food and this definitely isn’t us.
“You can have the rest,” I tell her.
She reaches her fork toward my container. “I just want to taste it,” she insists.
I hold my hand up to block it. “You can have it. Hold up,” I say and she laughs.
“You are a trip. Let me get this shit straight. I can suck your dick but you won’t kiss my lips and you won’t let me put my fork in your damn food. You better be glad you’re cute with good ass dick. Otherwise, I would leave you.”
“Leave me?”
“Yeah, end this, stop fucking you.”
“Say that then. ’Cause that’s what we’re doing,” I reiterate, making it known yet again what it is between us.
“Trust, I know,” she says, then rolls her eyes. “But I was hoping we could move past that. We’ve been doing this for almost two months and I’m only fucking you, Xai. Are you fucking another bitch?” she asks and I just glare at her. When I don’t respond, she rolls her eyes again then huffs.
I close my box then look at her. “I told you what I’m on and it ain’t a relationship right now. You’re pretty as hell and cool as fuck. I like kicking it with you but if what you want is more, I can’t do it. Real shit, you can move on. I’m not gon’ hold you. Any man would be lucky to have you.”
“But just not you, huh,” she says.
“Nah. It ain’t. Not right now. I got a lot of shit going on, mainly my business.”
She closes her container then her entire face drops, her smile first. “I really like you, Xai and that’s my fault. I know what we said that first night but I can’t help how I feel. I think you like me too, so look. I’ll take whatever you give me,” she admits.
Her words cause me to sit all the way up. I hate when a woman doesn’t know her worth and just takes what a man dishes out. I saw my momma do that shit with too many non-deserving lowlifes. I had been young as fuck, but even then, I knew no woman should let a man treat her any kind of way.
“I’m not gon’ let you do that,” I tell her, then stand. My office has huge ass glass windows and I can see the front lobby and the outside cleaning bays. They are finishing her red Camry. “They’re ’bout done with your ride. It’s on the house. Thanks for lunch for real.”
“You’re really ending this?” she snaps then stands.
“That’s what I keep saying, Narissa. There is no us; there never was.”
“So fuck me and my feelings? Wow! Negroes ain’t shit for real,” she scoffs.
I let her have her words. She’s upset and words can’t do shit to me. However, when I see her eyes shift back and forth, then her hand stretches out like she’s about to do some fucked up shit, I grab her hand and step into her space.
“You not ’bout to fuck with any of my shit,” I grit. “It’s time for you to go.”
“Fuck you,” she snaps.
She snatches her hand free, grabs her small bag, then storms out of my office. I follow to make sure she acts with some damn sense as she walks through my front area and outside. When we both pass the front desk, Trista, my front desk clerk, gives me the “You good” look and I nod.
Terrance, my ace from back in the day and one of my best workers, pulls her Camry to the front. When he gets out and asks for her ticket, she pushes right past him.
“It’s good. I took care of her,” I say and he nods and steps away from her car. She hops in and speeds out of the lot, tires screeching.
“Ol’ girl was hot,” he says as he walks toward me.
“She’ll be alright,” I tell him.
We walk back into the lobby and Trista stands. “She didn’t pay,” she says.
“I know. That was on me,” I tell her. “And don’t let her or anybody else to the back again without checking with me.”
“My bad. She said she had your lunch like you were expecting her. I should have checked with you first. Sorry.”
“You good,” I assure her before walking back to my office.
Once back in my office, I throw away the food containers, wipe my desk down, then drink my Coke. With my distraction gone, I can handle business. I’m meeting with my real estate agent, Merrick, today at two. He’s got three possible spots for my second Clean Ridez location.
Rick and I go back to elementary school.
His family is big shit in Crescent Falls.
He’s one of the Redmonds; they actually founded the town and own the best soul food restaurant here along with a few other businesses.
His dad is the NFL legend Deondre Redmond.
Like a lot of ballers in the league, he has a ton of kids.
Rick is one of nine but he doesn’t even fuck with his dad. Shit, none of them really do.
Instead of leaning on his dad’s name and fame, Rick did his own thing and got into commercial real estate right after college. When I decided to get my first spot, I reached out to my boy. Naturally, I hit him again when I decided I wanted a second location.
Me: We still on for 2?
Rick: Yeah. I’m at the one off Broadway now.
Me: Bet. I’m OMW.
Before walking out of my office, I grab the cash deposit from my safe. I still have a lot of customers who pay in cash so I typically make bank runs daily. Today, I’m depositing a grip. Weekends are busy as shit and on Mondays, my deposits are substantial. This one is no different.
“I’m out for the day,” I tell Trista before walking out to my ride. I’m driving my Charger today because she needed a complete detail. As soon as I start her and my phone connects, my cell rings and Kadean’s name pops up on the screen.
“What up?” I answer.
“You at the shop?” he responds.
“No, just left,” I say as I pull out of the parking lot.
“Just wanted you to know before you got home and start tripping. I let Dutch get my motorcycle,” he says.
“Why the fuck that crab need your ride?” I bark.
“Because his shit in the shop. It’s just sitting in your garage anyway,” he scoffs.
“As it should. Every time you drive it, some shit happens that I have to either take care of or pay for.”
“You act like I don’t do shit right,” he sighs, and for a split second, I feel bad.
He’s partially right. All I seem to do is preach or bitch at him, but shit, I can’t help it. He refuses to grow up and do shit responsibly. Like today, he was supposed to be working at my shop but he called out. I can’t count on him for nothing and it’s frustrating.
“You don’t do enough things right,” I say, trying to soften the blow.
“If you talking about today, I’m sick for real. Peaches lil boy coughing and shit and I got it,” he insists.
Then he coughs for added measure. I’m not buying it though because I know him. He prefers the streets over a nine to five and barely works the part-time hours I have him scheduled for. Work ethic and him are complete opposites.
Hell, I’m partially responsible for his lack of work ethic.
I’ve always taken care of him, even when our mother was alive.
She loved drugs more than her sons and we suffered.
Being evicted too many times to count, having to steal shit from the corner store just to eat, and eating cold canned goods because the lights were off forced me to start hustling when I was thirteen. It all fell on me.
There were no real men around. Yeah, a few would lay up with my mom, treat her like shit, and sometimes even put hands on her, but none ever manned up.
I have no clue who my father is and I can only guess who’s Kadean’s.
Coming up, shit was bad, real bad, and I was forced to grow up fast and become a man in the streets too early.
For me, the streets were out of necessity, but for Kadean, it just seems like something to do.
“Get better because you need to come in tomorrow.”
“If I had my box truck, I wouldn’t have to come in at all.”
“Finish your class, come to work, and stack your checks, and when you get your license back in December, you can get your truck.”
“Like you not the reason I fucking lost my license. I’m fucked up ’cause of you and you know it.
That’s why I drink. It’s not like I can call my momma or no shit like that,” he says, causing a boulder of guilt to form in my throat.
“Yeah. You ain’t preaching now,” he grits.
“I’m not the only one who makes mistakes.
Man, I’ll see you tomorrow if I’m feeling better,” he says, then ends the call.
I’m stuck. I always am when he brings that shit up. I’d fucked up bad, and no matter what I do, that shit haunts me and fucks with Kadean. Because of me, we lost our mother. That mistake is forever cemented in my mental and I’ll never be able to make that up to Kadean. Never.