Chapter 7
amelia
Calvin was about to leave his apartment.
After living here for two weeks, I’d already picked up the patterns in the thumps and bumps from next door, the music he typically played, and very loosely, the time of day.
I… was not sure that man had a job.
Which made it all the more difficult to avoid running into him, which was a fucked up thing to even have to do when I was already avoiding a different man from this building.
It was starting to give prisoner in my own home vibes, and I was not a fan.
Fuck it.
I was ready to go, so I was going.
Calvin opened his door at the exact same time I did.
I started to quickly dart back inside – and hell, I probably would’ve if he didn’t spot me.
But he did spot me.
“Good morning, Sunshine,” he greeted. “You get it – cause you’re wearing yellow?”
I sighed, not cracking a smile. “Yes, Calvin. I get it. Good morning.”
He scoffed. “Fine then – how about Pissy? I think it’s more fitting.”
My lips twitched then – I wanted to laugh, but couldn’t have him thinking shit was sweet. “Hey – that’s not necessary!” I scolded, following him down the hall.
“Neither is your attitude, but since that’s what you’re on this morning, let’s match energy.”
He stopped at the elevator to look me dead in the face, waiting on me to challenge that.
Which I did.
“I’m not being pissy,” I replied. “I just… I didn’t want to talk to you this morning, but there you were, and you just came straight out the gate with the charm, and it annoyed me, so I…”
“Decided to be pissy,” he shrugged. “Just own it.”
I let out a huff. “Fine. Maybe I am being pissy.”
“Definitely. You even wore the uniform.”
I rolled my eyes. “So if I’m nice to you, it’s sunshine, if I’m mean, it’s piss?”
“Yeah, exactly.”
Both our heads turned as a loud clang came from the elevator, followed shortly by a long buzz that definitely didn’t seem right.
Calvin let out an audible grunt, then turned for the stairs. After a moment, I was right behind him.
Whatever the elevator had going on this morning, I wasn’t really trying to be part of it.
“So what did I do for your mood to turn pissy just because I spoke?” Calvin asked, taking the stairs two at a time on those long ass legs.
“Can we stop saying that word? It’s starting to grate on me.”
“What, pissy?” he asked, giving me a mischievous grin over his shoulder as we went through the door to the lobby instead of the side door that would take us out to the court – where I’d assumed he was going, for some reason.
He was dressed, but not like dressed.
Dressed to maybe hit the gym, with the accompanying bag slung over his shoulder.
I didn’t ask.
Wouldn’t ask, because, it wasn’t my business.
Except… now we were at the street, walking together.
“You gonna answer the question?” he spoke up, pulling my attention from my internal musings.
“What question?”
“About why you don’t wanna talk to me.”
Oh.
That question.
“It’s not personal,” I explained. “Not really. I just… you make me feel very…”
“Hot? Sexy? Fine?”
“See?!” I laughed. “I’m trying to be serious, and your ass is… silly, and… distracting. And… I’m in this place where I don’t know if it’s healthy or wise to…”
“Have fun?”
“Engage,” I corrected. “I’m just… very uncalibrated right now.
I just moved, just ended a relationship, just took my braids down, my luteal phase is right around the corner – it’s just too fucking much.
And then here you come, looking like you look, making me laugh and getting under my skin, and like I said… distracting.”
His smile dropped – not into a frown, just… focus. He was actually listening. “From the too-muchness?”
“Exactly,” I nodded. “And I don’t want to end up in some weird ass, toxic thing because I got caught up in a moment instead of actually processing.”
“Fair enough. What does processing look like?”
“Uhh… feeling my feelings instead of running from them,” I answered.
“I remember talking about it with my therapist some years back – any time we have negative emotions, we want to rush past it, or push it behind something to avoid it, but that just prolongs it. I have to let myself be sad about the breakup. Mad about it. Hurt.”
“That apply to other stuff too? Just gotta sit in it and feel it?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”
“How do you make sure you’re not like… wallowing, though?” he asked as we approached a crosswalk. “What’s the balance?”
“That is a great question I do not know the answer to,” I laughed. “I wish I did.”
“Yeah, me too,” Calvin chuckled. “Sitting in it just feels so…”
“Bad?” I offered, and he nodded.
“Shit is draining.”
“That’s kinda the point though, right? To wring all the bullshit out, and then… replenish?”
“With what?”
I shrugged as we crossed the street. “I don’t know – that depends on the person. Whatever makes you feel… full.”
“Got it. So.. Family. Basketball. Flirting with my pretty ass new neighbor…”
“Damn – third on the priority list, huh?”
“There’s room to move up in ranks.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think I want to even know what the promotion tract looks like there.”
“Painless,” he swore. “I mean… unless you’re into—”
“Okay this is my stop,” I spoke over him, laughing as I pointed to Urban Grind. “I need to get some work done.”
He chuckled, shifting his bag up onto his shoulder a little more securely. “Yeah, me too. Headed to PT.”
“Physical therapy?” I asked, confused. I’d definitely seen him in action on that basketball court beside our building. He was fast, confident, and often shirtless – a breathtaking example of what God was capable of creating to be quite frank. “Did you hurt yourself or something?”
“Old nagging injury,” he explained, moving to cross the street alone. “No big deal, just keeping on top of it so I don’t end up in a bad spot with it.”
“Oh, gotcha. Well… good luck with that.”
“And good luck with work,” he said, with a parting wave.
I did not watch him cross the street.
I went inside.
And watched him travel the sidewalk from there instead.
Like a proper lady.
But then I was off that, and onto what I’d gotten up to do – work.
I ordered my latte and pastry and then found myself a little spot where I could settle into my task list. Before I knew it, an hour had passed, and Shia was slipping into the other seat at the table I’d chosen, with her own coffee in hand.
“Morning,” I greeted with a smile. “Thank you for making time.”
She gave me a dry laugh in return. “Man, please. I didn’t have a choice – that Jeanie chick is a lawsuit waiting to happen.”
My eyes went wide, and I leaned in. “Nooo,” I whispered. “Did you find more red flags?”
“Enough to lead a communist revolution.”
“Don’t tell me that,” I whined, and Shia shook her head.
“I’m sorry to have to – look at this,” she said, opening her laptop to turn the screen in my direction.
“She’s had two more complaints in the time since you flagged her.
One was just late, but the other… the groceries didn’t have bags.
She just put the stuff on the doorstep, scattered, and a neighbors dog got into it and got sick. ”
I dropped my head into my hands. “We’ve terminated her account, right?”
“For the third time, yeah,” Shia explained. “I’ve got the security team trying to figure out how the hell she keeps getting around the background checks.”
“Three times?!”
“She’s persistent, if nothing else. And well-reviewed at the none-delivery deliveries.”
I frowned. “What does that mean?”
Shia smirked, clicking around a bit on her screen before she turned it to me again. “Read this new review.”
“I’m scared.”
“Just read it,” she insisted, and I accepted the challenge, focusing on the words she’d directed my attention to.
My mouth fell open halfway through the second sentence.
“This reads like a damn erotica. I’m not grown enough for whatever this is,” I said, pushing it away. “It’s for sure not about groceries or take out.”
“Oh, she’s been taking something out for sure,” Shia laughed.
“Flag that girl’s license, social, birth certificate, diploma, library card, hell, her shoe size – whatever it takes to keep her off my shit before she gets me raided by VICE.”
“Can you imagine the headline?”
“Yes, actually,” I huffed. “Lewd Lesbian Lunches Linked to Local Logistics.”
“Groceries Gone Wild,” Shia countered, making me laugh even harder.
“Yeah, yeah – exactly the branding we’ve been going for!”
If it wasn’t actually serious, the humor of it all could be a great marketing tactic – and Shia was the perfect person for it, as my Partner Relationship manager. She was the one who worked closely with the people providing the services on Proxy – making sure they were prepared and happy.
We joked a little longer about our Jeanie woes, but then someone else’s laughter – familiar laughter – cut through the air, pulling my attention.
I immediately found the source.
Hunter.
I was tucked into a corner, out of direct view from most of the shop. I could see him, but he couldn’t see me.
He was several tables away, leaning in close to the woman he was with. They’d pulled both chairs to the same side of the round table, obviously wanting to be next to each other. Laughing, grinning, googly-eyes, all that.
Oh.
“Uh-oh,” Shia muttered, clearly having followed my gaze, seeing the same thing I’d seen.
“No,” I shook my head. “Not uh-oh. Just… a regular oh. Not a big deal.”
She sucked her teeth. “Definitely a big deal – he’s already grinning in another woman’s face and it’s barely been what… a damn fortnight?”
“In his defense, he saw me hugged up with my neighbor like a week ago.”
Shia blinked. “Wait a minute… hugged up with a neighbor? Who?!”
“Nobody,” I denied. “Or… not nobody, it just wasn’t actually like that. He thought he was doing me a favor.”
And shit… maybe he had.
Cause being posted up in Urban Grind with another woman – like he wanted it to be seen, to get back to me… Maybe I was overthinking it.
Or… maybe it was just a bitch move.
Either way, it was a poor use of my attention.
“So… about this Jeanie situation,” I said, directing our meeting back on track. Shia gave me a look but didn’t push it, shifting back to the matter at hand.
Thirty minutes later we had a plan in place – not just about Jeanie and her antics, but how to prevent future occurrences. When Shia decided she was going to head out, I opted to go too, hoping that having company would help me get out of the shop without interacting with Hunter.
Even though it was fine to leave your used dishes at the tables, I never did, opting to drop them off at one of the little stations instead, to save the staff a bit of work.
It was just my luck that today, I was almost there, almost free… and then my mug slid off the saucer, rolling right into the dish station with a loud clang that brought all eyes to me.
No good deed goes unpunished.
My gaze immediately went to Hunter, who was, indeed, looking.
Hard.
Wondering.
I let my eyes narrow.
Yes, I see you.
Yes, I see her.
Yes, I care.
I looked away.
Slid my saucer into place where it was supposed to be, and went on about my business.
“You okay?” Shia asked as we left.
“Peachy.”