Chapter 30 Chevy
Chevy
I felt bad that I wasn’t able to go to Lola’s last week and see Eric play.
I had every intention of going, but I was so tired, all I did was sleep the weekend away.
On Monday, goddamn Anja had me on a train to Connecticut at the eleventh hour to meet with some new rapper named Loose Change so that I could pick up a copy of his yet-to-be-released CD.
Anja was the queen of the “exclusive,” whether it was gossip or a much-sought-after cut from a CD that wouldn’t be released for another month.
“Anja would send you in a private car, Chevy, but you know there are spies all over the place, and Anja can’t risk having you followed.”
“I don’t understand,” I said stupidly on the phone.
“What don’t you understand?”
I flipped the phone the bird, then said brightly, “Will there be anything else, Anja?”
“No, just make sure you don’t miss the train; it’s leaving in exactly twenty minutes.”
Click.
I looked at the phone for a while, amazed that someone had actually given birth to someone like that. And when I finally looked at the clock, I realized I had been sitting there for two full minutes! I now had eighteen minutes to get to Grand Central Station.
Snatching the printout of the information from my Lexmark, I scooped up my Louis Vuitton bag and ran out of my office, barely avoiding a head-on collision with Dante.
“Hey, hey, what’s the rush?”
“I gotta catch a train,” I said as I moved swiftly past him.
Out in the hallway I jabbed the down button for the elevator twenty times before the bell chimed and the doors opened. It was packed with people, hardly enough room for a small child, but I squeezed in anyway, as I ignored the annoying hisses of air from the person I was pressed up against.
Once out on the street, I practically ran down the middle of Sixth Avenue as I waved my hand frantically for a taxi. At least five passed me by, and that’s not because I was black, it was because I looked crazed!
Finally, this brother wearing a kente-cloth tunic stopped. I jumped in and said, “I’ll give you twenty dollars over the meter if you get me to Grand Central in three minutes or less!”
Who knew in this administration that twenty dollars had the same effect on a person now that it would have had during Clinton’s reign?
I buckled my seat belt, tucked my tongue behind my teeth, closed my eyes, and braced myself as the cab tore off.
When we hit 42nd Street, he made a sharp turn and screeched to a stop.
I thrust the money at him, leaped out, and when I found the train and rushed on, I had exactly thirty seconds to spare.
Out of breath and shaking like a leaf, I eased myself down into the seat. I pressed my hand against my heart and found that it was galloping fifty miles a minute. I was sweating profusely, and my mouth was as dry as the Sahara.
Looking out the window at the scenery that sped by, I wondered if this job and the money was worth all the aggravation.