Daymir
Imani: How long do I have to get ready?
Imani: Who’s driving?
Me: You
Imani: What should I wear?
Me: Clothes. No more questions.
Imani: Alright, damn! ?? I’ll be ready.
Me: Are you sure you don’t want me to bring you something to eat?
Imani: Oh so you can ask questions but I can’t? JK. No, I’m good.
“Nigga, are you gonna take your fucking shot or not?” my cousin, Dodge barks, tearing me from my phone and her.
“Chill, nigga,” I bark back then place my cell on the table.
Since I hadn’t kicked it with him in a minute outside of the business, we met up here at the pool hall, The Local Cue.
We have one of the tables on the VIP side of the hall.
We’ve been playing for a minute. I’m two balls from winning and it’s my turn.
I tap my cue on the floor a few times, chalk my cue tip, then call my shot before taking it. “Six ball, corner pocket.”
“That was her?”
“Eight ball, side pocket,” I call my second shot instead of answering him.
Right as I take my shot, he asks again, “That was yo’ girl, right?”
Distracted, I don’t make my shot. “Yea, that was Imani but you did that shit on purpose,” I say and step back for him to take his shot.
“Me talking didn’t have shit to do with that shot. Three, side pocket,” he says. “You know Presha wants to meet her. She’s all over my ass about having ya’ll over,” he says referring to his wife.
“I’ve barely known her for a week. I can’t bring her around my family yet. Ya’ll niggas might scare her off or some shit,” I say then set up my shot because he missed. “Eight ball corner pocket,” I say then take and make my shot, winning the game. “Drinks and wings on you, nigga.”
We place our cues on the rack, grab our drinks, then walk over to a table by the bar. As soon as we are seated, a server approaches and we order our burgers, some wings, and another round of drinks.
“How about Sunday?” he asks.
“For what?”
“Dinner, nigga. Pay attention,” he says. “Hazel told Presha that you have been smiling and shit all week at the warehouse. You’re freaking Hazel out,” he jokes because Hazel swears that I never smile.
“Hazel’s full of shit.”
“Nah. You were just blushing and shit at the pool table so she’s telling the damn truth. Just bring her Sunday for dinner before my wife tries to kill a nigga.”
“I’ll ask her and let you know.”
Things with Imani and I are good as hell. After I cooked her dinner, we did exactly what she wanted. I stayed in bed with her sexy ass for the rest of the day. I spent the night with her last night and after this, I’m taking her to the race. I know that’s her thing so I want to surprise her.
“Nigga, you falling kinda fast?”
“You must’ve forgot how gone you were the first night you met Presha. It was her birthday and you couldn’t stop bumping your gums about her that next day. I called yo’ ass, remember?”
“Ion remember shit like that,” he lies then finishes his drink.
That nigga been stuck under Presha since that night a few years ago and their bond has only gotten deeper since they finally got married last summer. He’s happy and so is Dodge and I’m happy for them both.
“Bruh, yo’ ass remembers,” I tell him.
A runner brings our drinks first and our server is right behind him with our food. For a pool hall, The Local Cue knows how to cook a burger and fry some chicken. I don’t really fuck with too much else on the menu because I’m not trying to eat no salad or wrap from any pool hall.
After blessing the food, we both dive in.
Today, like I do each Friday, I completed a second check on the warehouse inventory.
We use a three-check system. First the girls give the count, Hazel recounts and verifies, then I complete the final.
Even though we vet each girl and each one is a hard worker, I don’t trust anyone completely in this game.
I was burned once and that shit will not happen again.
Inventory is tedious and takes a minute so I worked through lunch and my breakfast is long gone. I’m hungry as fuck and this burger is hitting the spot.
“Do you guys need anything else?” our server returns and asks.
“A bottle of water,” I say.
“And a Heineken. I can’t eat wings without one,” he adds. “Oh, and I need to get something to go. The ten piece with sweet potato waffle fries. Hot honey, extra sauce, all flats with honey mustard and make sure the wings are extra crispy.”
“I got it,” she says before walking off.
“For wifey?” I ask.
“You know it. It’s Friday and she doesn’t cook on Fridays and Saturdays.”
“Plus, she’ll kill yo’ big ass if you come home full and shit and don’t have food for her.”
“Yea, her mean ass will shoot me right at the fucking door,” he agrees with a smirk. “But check this. I got to holla at you bout something,” he says less jovial.
“What?”
“I talked to Vee Vee on the way here,” he says, referring to his sister. She’s in Philly now. Her and Aunt Vivian moved there once Brick and Dodge got locked and stayed.
“Is she good?” I ask, concerned. Vee Vee just came seem to get it right with niggas. If he’s a fuck boy or no-good, she wants him and she’s always calling her brother to get her out of some shit.
“Yea. I think she finally found a decent dude. He’s in the church and shit and works at that Brewery, Yards or something.”
“That factory on Spring Garden,” I say, knowing where it is.
“I think that’s what she said but she sounds happy so, as long as she is, I am. But, that’s not why she called.” He shifts in his seat and right when he starts to talk, our server returns with my water and his Heineken.
“Your to-go order should be out in fifteen,” she informs him before walking off.
When she leaves, I get right back to our convo and ask, “Why did Vee Vee call?”
“You ain’t gone believe this shit. Makenna popped up at my mom’s; she was looking for you,” he says.
“Why?” I genuinely ask. Makenna fell back from me almost seven years ago, when I needed her the most. The feds came and she left our relationship. She disappeared on me and I pushed her out of my mind. So, what the fuck does she want now?
“I don’t know but you know how yo’ aunt is. She told Makenna that you were out, doing good, and living here now.”
“Yo’ momma talk too damn much,” I admit.
“Blood is the only thing keeping yo ass upright right now,” he warns lightheartedly.
“Blood and these hands. Nigga, you couldn’t fuck with me when we were kids and you damn sho’ can’t fuck with me now,” I assure him and we both laugh. “Plus, you know I’m speaking facts about auntie.”
“I know. She’s worst than a reporter. I already checked her too.”
“It’s cool. Makenna can look me up all she wants, I don’t have shit for her, no time and no energy. There’s only one woman on my mind right now and she has all my damn attention. Real shit.”
“Good for you,” he says and I notice the smug look on his face. I know my cousin and when he has that look, he’s about to say some slick shit. “Is she fine though? Cornbread or dressing thick?”
“Nigga, what the fuck is that?”
“Cornbread is thick and has just the right amount of ingredients like ol’ girl, our server. But dressing thick, that’s better. It’s thick with all the extra that makes it better, like my baby, Presha. She’s that good ass dressing thick, extra in all the right places,” he says and I shake my head.
“I swear. You don’t have no sense.”
“Just answer the damn question.”
“She’s perfect,” is all I say. That nigga will just have to see when he meets her.
We finish up our food and drinks, pay and tip, then leave. Before heading to Imani’s, I stop off at an ATM and get some cash. I’m pulling up to her place at fifteen till eight. Since we are taking her ride, I park on the street so I don’t block her in then get out.
When I get ready to ring her doorbell, she opens the door and I swear all the air leaves my lungs. She looks good as hell in body hugging, black leather-looking pants, a black graphic shirt with a picture of 2Pac on it, and black boots.
“Are you ready? Or do you need to come in?” she asks with a smile.
“I’m ready but damn. You look too good for us to be going any damn were. Lett’s just Netflix and fuck.”
“I think it’s chill.”
“Nah. Looking like this,” I say then step into her space. “I said the right thing; it’s definitely fuck.” My arms wrap around her waist then I lean in close to her ear, “Don’t you want me?”
She twists her neck then kisses my cheek. “I want you and I’ll have you later when you bring me back home. It took me almost fifteen minutes to jump in and squeeze into these damn jeans. You are taking me out as planned.” She playfully pushes my chest, steps back, then smirks, “I’m ready.”
I concede because I think she’s really going to like where we’re going.
So, I step back to her, kiss her lips, then hold the door for her.
She walks to her kitchen, kills the lights, then turns on the Blak-people night light on the stove.
After she grabs her little purse, we leave her crib and hop in her ride.
Under normal circumstances, I always drive, especially with my lady, but for her, my lady driver, I fallback and let her do her thing.
As she drives, I lead her right outside of town to Beacon Road.
I didn’t know exactly where the race was been held but when the traffic starts to slow then comes to a stop, I realize, that we are here.
“Pull over right here,” I direct and she does.
Her eyes scan the cars and motorcycles parked on both sides of the street then she looks at me. “What’s going on?” she asks with a spark of excitement all over her beautiful face.
“They’re racing tonight,” I tell her. “I thought you might like it.”
“Like! I love it and I want to race. Let’s go see what’s up?” Excited, she hops out before I can come open her door. With a smile, I just shake my head then get out too. When I walk over to her, she grabs my hand. “We need to see who’s running the race.”
“Some nigga named, Juice,” I tell her. After I heard about the race at the barbershop, I asked a few of the girls and they filled in some of the blanks for me.
“I wonder how much is the buy in.”
“A grand,” I say and her eyebrows peak.
“Did you know about this before me?” she asks.
“No. You told me you love to drive, so I found out about this.”
Her arms fly around my neck then she pecks my lips over and over. “I’ve been so busy at the hospital, I didn’t even think to see if they raced here. Thank you,” she gushes.
A group of people walk by as we embrace and one of the guys says, “Bruh, nice ride. That bitch clean.”
“It’s hers,” I say and he stops.
“Shit. We got two bad ass females with hellcats out tonight,” he says.
“Two? Where’s the other one?” she asks.
“Closer to the line. It’s a deep wine challenger.”
“Thanks.”
“Aye, my man. You know who Juice is?”
“Yeah. Short nigga with the wicks. He’s posted up in front of the black Whipple F150. You’ll see him.”
“Thanks.”
“I hope you’re racing,” he says to her.
“Me too.”
He walks off and we follow. Both sides of the street are packed and lined with cars.
Some are still running, blasting music and showcasing their engines, rims, and lights.
Her excitement is off the meters and as we approach what appears to be the starting line, she gets even more excited.
Her pretty smile is cemented on her face.
Before we reach it, a loud bull horn sounds over back-to-back and engines start to rev up.
The people who are filling the street start to move off it to the shoulders.
The street parts and an ATV creep by. The driver is blowing the horn and a female is standing up behind him waving two red bandanas.
“I think they are about to race,” she exclaims.
Hurriedly, we make our way to the F150. It’s off to the side but still in the road, engine and high beams on, spotlighting two motorcycles lined up right in front of the railroad track.
Just like ol’ boy says, there’s a nigga with wicks posted up on it.
He’s collecting money from a few people.
Imani and I approach and he looks up. I watch as his eyes size me up. I’m at least twice his height.
“Who’s up after this?” she asks.
“Three races but you can be after those if you have the buy in? What’s your ride?”
“2023 Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat Redeye, with a 6.2L Hemi V8.”
“Shit!” he says, impressed and shit so am I. She sounds sexy as hell talking about her ride.
“Give me your money and I’ll find your match. Cash only though.” I reach into my pocket, pull out the cash, and hand it to him. He nods as he counts the bills. “It’s track to track, start to finish, a mile and a half. Winner takes fifteen hundred.”
“Got it,” she says while nodding.
“Come up now while the road is clear.”