Chapter 10
calvin
She was in witness protection.
Had to be.
It was the only thing that might explain how Amelia had successfully avoided me in the building for damn near a whole week since the night the power went out.
Except I’d definitely heard her moving around over there, so I knew she hadn’t been whisked away in the middle of the night to go be a cashier in the boonies in Indiana or something.
If I could figure out a good, ignore-proof reason, I’d simply knock on the door, but I knew that would only work once fooling around with Amelia. It was basically a last-ditch effort, so I’d have to really make it count.
On the surface, it might look like I cared about this way too much – obviously she didn’t want to be bothered, so I should respect that.
And I could respect it.
Would respect it.
As soon as I knew what I’d done wrong.
If she wouldn’t give me anything, cool – I’d at least tried.
But I had to try.
My musings were interrupted by a knock at the door – a demanding-ass knock, at that. So my face was already screwed up on the way to the peep hole, and was screwed even further when I opened it for Arthur.
I couldn’t even get the what the hell you beating on my door like that for out before he was already walking off, calling, “You ain’t doing shit – come help me with this,” over his shoulder.
“How you know if I’m doing something or not?” I asked, still frowning.
“You doin’ something?”
“No.”
“That’s how I know – you just told me,” he cackled. “Brang your ass on now, I don’t have time for much conversation, got shit to do.”
“This is not how you ask for a favor,” I said, but he’d already walked through the stairwell door. Shaking my head, I pulled on the shoes I’d left by the door, stuck my phone and keys in my pocket, and followed him down.
To hell, probably, knowing him.
A few minutes later, I realized it was actually just the bottom of the stairwell, where the bolts holding the railing down had rusted and broken.
“Hold that still while I try to get this bolt outta here,” he demanded, snatching off his “Arthur’s Tub & Tile” hat to toss aside. “Damn thing shaking all over the place.”
I came down the rest of the stairs, standing near to hold the railing like he needed. “There was no easier or better way than this?”
“Not when it’s this far gone.”
“So why let it get this far gone? Wouldn’t it have been better to take preventative measures instead of being reactionary?”
Arthur stopped struggling with the bolt to glare at me. “Who has the maintenance badge on their chest, me or you?”
“A nigga that ain’t been maintaining shit,” I countered, chuckling. “Clearly.”
“You young motherfuckers are so damn disrespectful,” he huffed, turning his attention back to the bolt – I realized now that the head had snapped off, and he was struggling to get it unthreaded.
I offered to try it myself, and got lectured about the supposed blasphemy of a man touching another’s tools.
How my inexperienced arms were just too weak for this job.
How you had to not be a dummy to not to strip the threads, and he wasn’t sure I wasn’t a dummy.
I… knew I should’ve stayed in my damn apartment.
I stood there for ten more minutes, listening to Arthur cuss and fuss at me, the bolt, the building itself, the government, the weather, and whatever else he could think to rant about.
And then he finally got that damn bolt out.
Held the two rusty-ass pieces up like they were a prize. “You see that? Sixty-two years of experience, that’s what that is?”
“Sixty-two can’t be right, for one. And for two, are you really going to just gloss over—”
“Here,” Arthur interrupted, shoving the broken bolt in my direction, with an equally rusty washer added to the mix. “Run up there to Cooper’s and grab me a replacement. Make sure it’s the same size. Don’t bring me no three inch bolt, you hear?”
I scoffed. “Why can’t you go get what you need?”
“I’ve gotta stay here and make sure nobody gets hurt.”
“You don’t think a sign would suffice?”
“If I thought that, I wouldn’t be asking you to do it.”
I pulled back, chuckling. “Didn’t seem like you were asking to me. But… whatever. I could use the fresh air anyway,” I agreed, slipping the bolt pieces and washer into my pocket. “Any other requests?”
“Just to hurry it up – I got shit to do!”
“Like what? Ignoring maintenance requests until the worst-case scenario?” I quipped, they headed out the door, leaving him behind to cuss.
It would be so easy to just not fuck with Arthur, but honestly… there was a good chance this would be the most entertaining part of my day.
So usually, I just rolled with it.
Why not?
The walk over to Cooper’s – which was actually Heights Hardware & Lumber – was only a few blocks, so it was a good opportunity to stretch my legs without being too much. Especially on a day like today – a bit of cloud cover but still sunny, a little breeze in the trees.
As such, everybody was outside.
Or at least, felt like it.
It wasn’t that people in the neighborhood didn’t know who I was – again, I wasn’t a superstar like some of my Brawler teammates, but for a fan, I was recognizable.
Most people just left me alone.
This wasn’t the court – I was in my neighborhood, at home, I didn’t want to be mobbed, inundated with questions, none of that. It was nothing to return a wave, grin at a double-take and nod, dap up a group of teenagers on the sidewalk.
I crossed the street to avoid passing too close to the greenspace on this end – there were basketball courts, and I was not trying to get sucked in.
It didn’t take long at all to make it to Cooper’s, and once I did, I headed straight for the fastener aisle. I’d only been there a moment, hunting down the section I needed, when I heard heavy footsteps coming toward me.
I was already turning in that direction when the source of the footsteps yelled, “Crossover!” and hit me with my own “signature” on-court move – a quick fake to one side, then cutting back to the other before the other person even realized what was happening.
Not some shit anybody would be alert for or expecting in the middle of a damn store.
So… he got me with it.
Bad.
“In boots nigga?!” I huffed as I caught myself to keep from falling over my own feet. “You trying to kill me?!”
“Oh shit, my bad,” Marquis cackled, holding out a fist for me to bump with mine. “I announced it and everything though, you losing your handles or something?”
My face went blank. “Why would I need handles among the general public?”
“Oh, that’s how it is? I’m general public?”
“Yes, the fuck?” I laughed, finally returning his dap, and adding a quick side hug. “When did you get back in town?”
“Just a couple days ago – we’ve got it looking a lot better down there now.”
The down there he was referring to was the Gulf, where recent storms had wielded a devastating level of damage that impacted several majority Black communities, including some family I had down there.
It was a helpless feeling, watching people that looked like you hurting, and not knowing what to do beyond sending funds.
Like, that helped, sure, but it felt… distant.
When Key – Marquis – sent out the signal, saying he was gathering a group to go down and help with cleaning up and rebuilding, I was quick to answer that call.
For some selfish reasons alongside the noble ones – the timing happened to coordinate well with the end of the professional basketball season I’d been excluded from, so the tough, sometimes dangerous physical work was a great distraction.
And I got to help some people along the way, too.
There did come a point though, where my presence was noticed – in the celebrity kind of way.
As “regular” as it was for me to walk around in the Heights and Blackwood, that wasn’t the case down there.
Media picked it up, and I had a conversation with the director of the organization we were working with and Marquis, who both agreed – it was time for me to get out of there before the headline became Troubled Tech-foul Magnet Takes on Rebuilding Town or some similarly dumb shit.
So I went home, earlier than planned.
Two weeks after that, Amelia moved in next door.
So… shit, maybe that was just in the grand plan.
“Good,” I nodded, responding to the progress update. “I still hate that I couldn’t stay longer.”
Key shook his head. “You did what you could, and that’s what matters man. What are you in here for though? We inspired you to take on a project with the building?”
“Nah,” I scoffed. “Arthur sent me over here,” I explained, pulling the broken bolt and washer from my pocket. “Need a replacement for this.”
“Let me guess – this bolt is supposed to be holding the building together, and Arthur is holding it until you get back?”
“Something like that,” I laughed, turning with him to gaze at the wall of fasteners. Luckily they came in a set – bolt plus washer – so there was only one drawer to find. Key found it first, which came as no surprise.
His grandfather was the original “Cooper” the store was originally named after.
Heights Hardware was some shit Key had decided, and got talked about for.
Bad.
“Ay… somebody call you about training camp yet, or…?”
I groaned a little over that question, closing my eyes for a moment as I considered my answer – an answer I was saved from when Key spoke again.
A soft, appreciative, “Goddamn.”
My eyes popped open, and my gaze was drawn like a beacon to the reason.
Amelia.
In her signature workout shorts and oversize tee combo, natural hair braided back into a puff, fresh face, skin glistening.
Goddamn indeed.
Her eyes went wide when she realized I was standing there, and she immediately pivoted in one direction, then another, clearly mapping her escape before she took off.
“Yo – is she… running from us?”
I chuckled. “Us? No. Me? Probably.”
“Ohhhh… I don’t think I’ve seen her before, that’s you?”
“In the sense that she’s off limits to you… yes,” I answered, then started walking off, determined now to find her.
After weeks of avoidance, I didn’t believe for a second that it was just “by chance” that we’d run into each other at a damn hardware store.
At the main aisle, I stopped and thought about it for a moment, searching my brain for facts that might lead me to where she was hiding out – assuming she hadn’t left the store.
More likely than not, it was something for her apartment, but with it being an older building, there were myriad possibilities for things needing to be fixed.
We did have a little breaker overload – electricians were coming out later today to make sure it didn’t happen again – but in the meantime… we’d lost air conditioning last night.
Which meant using fans, open windows…
Did she say something to me about her windows being hard to open that night I came over?
I couldn’t remember.
But… I had a hunch.
I followed said hunch to HOME MAINTENANCE – weather stripping, draft stoppers, the random size batteries, and… silicon spray.
And there she was.
“Got yourself a sticky situation, neighbor?!” I called, and she didn’t look up, but her grip on the can she’d been reading tightened.
Real bad.
“I’ve got a can of this already – you could’ve borrowed mine,” I told her as I approached, and she finally gave me her attention, via the fakest of fake smiles.
“Calvin, Hi. Funny running into you here,” she gritted through her teeth as I frowned.
“Doesn’t seem like you’re amused at all. You seem pretty horrified, actually.”
“Do I?!” she asked, high-pitched as fuck.
“You do!!” I answered back at a similar pitch, making her drop the fake smile.
“Okay – so if you see that I don’t want to be bothered, why are you doing it anyway?”
“Speaking to my neighbor is bothering?”
She pointed the can at me like a weapon. “Now you know damn well you came to do more than speak. This is borderline stalking, actually.”
“I was here first.”
“And you followed me over here,” she countered. “Now what?”
“You know what – now nothing,” I shrugged. “You want to be pissed at me for… whatever you’ve decided I did wrong, what-the-fuck-ever.”
“I’ve never said you did something wrong!”
“Well you’re sure as shit acting like it,” I told her. “As if you didn’t want to fuck too.”
“I didn’t!” she countered, and my eyes went wide, hand to my chest, head drawn back—“Wait,” she said, shaking her head.
“I don’t mean that like that,” she sighed.
“I’m saying… shit,” she huffed, moving closer so we could lower our voices.
“Listen… I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at me, okay?
” she explained. “Are you hot? Yes. Was I curious what your dick was like? Also yes. But was I even remotely ready to be doing what we did, fresh off a breakup? Hell no. And the only reason I did was because Hunter had pissed me off. Which really pisses me off. But again – not at you. At myself, for being so freaking reactionary, and I just… oh my Goood!” she… shrieked?
Growled?
Whimpered?
Kinda all three, but it wasn’t loud, it was just… pitiful.
“It’s all too much going on right now, okay?” she said, voice cracking, eyes glossy… damn.
“Okay,” I nodded, reaching out to pull her into a – friendly – side hug. “I get it, okay? What can I do? You want to fuck again?”
“No,” she hissed, scooting away from me. “Did you not hear what I just said?”
I shrugged. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with that cube-head ass ex. Besides – we’ve already done it once now anyway, so it’s not like an additional body if you’re trying to avoid a hoe phase or anything like that,” I rationalized.
“It would be because of him, if that’s the logic, because the first time was because of him.”
“So you’re saying what… I’m like… disqualified from your pussy now or something?”
“Kinda.”
I sucked my teeth. “Man – that’s some bullshit!”
“Seriously, Calvin?”
“It’s not fair!”
I crossed my arms, turning away from her, just to peek back over my shoulder a moment later to catch the horrified look on her face.
And I couldn’t hold my laughter.
“My goodness,” she huffed, clearly relieved. “You are a fucking fool, you know that?”
“Been told a time or two,” I nodded. “But to be real clear – I don’t think that shit is fair… just saying… but… if that’s how you feel, nothing I can do but respect it. You ain’t gotta dodge me though.”
She blew out a sigh. “Fair enough.”
I extended my arms in her direction for another hug – thinking she would blow it off, but she didn’t.
She stepped right in, smelling like shea butter and oranges, and still I behaved myself, not pulling her closer, tighter, like I wanted to.
“Awww,” I heard – and Amelia did too, cause she pulled back, looking around with a frown.
“Oh, shit.” Came next, and then I started looking around.
Locked eyes with Key spying on us from the next aisle.
“Really nigga?” I asked.
“Don’t mind me, I just love Black love,” he grinned.
“Black l—you see? This is exactly… let me get my ass out of here,” she grumbled, walking off.
I looked back at Key, who tossed his hands up.
“My bad!”