Chapter 4 #2
However, King pulled a chair not far from the high-rise table, smoked a blunt, and watched me like a hawk. To date, he has never said anything to August, as I promised him not to. I didn’t have to tell my cousin not to say anything. She knew to keep her mouth closed.
Pulling over into the golf course parking lot, a few miles from the beach, I put the gear in park. Needing to make sure he never became angry at or defied King for keeping a secret from him, I asked, “What would cause you to defy him?”
Slouching, he said, “Not too much of shit. You see, King went through something on a different level than Kingdon, Kingsley, an’ me.
Yeah, we went through it too, but we ain’t feel that hurt on the level he did.
Honestly, King mo’ wise than us ‘cause he had to leave to relearn the man he was an’ why.
He had to look death in the face fo’ months after it was given to Tree, her family, an’ him.
He had to do the unthinkable. He transformed into a money-makin’ machine fo’ her.
When he was supposed to have lost his shits …
he didn’t. He kept his cool. We lost our shits fo’ him while being angry wit’ him fo’ not.
Then, he broke down why he couldn’t lose his mind ‘bout the death sentence given to Tree. It wasn’t the doc’s fault.
They just delivered the news. King traveled far to learn mo’ ‘bout love an’ life.
He understand an’ accept life cycle better than us ‘cause he had to deal wit’ it on a romantic level.
We can’t defy someone who decided to strip just to care of his dyin’ girlfriend whose insurance flaked out on her.
He felt her parents shouldn’t have to take care of her if he was in her day in an’ out befo’ she was diagnosed.
He felt it was he who should go above an’ beyond to care fo’ her.
She wanted to leave him alone. That motherfuckin’ nigga was close to smilin’ in a mugshot when he kicked in them folks doors ‘bout Tree endin’ things.
She tried to tell him the cons of being in her life while his life was put on hold.
He told her all the motherfuckin’ pros of him being right where he was.
The police couldn’t arrest him. Her parents couldn’t utter a word.
Kingdon, Kingsley, Ryan, an’ me was on our knees along wit’ him, prayin’ she would let him be her man ‘til the end. He sold that dick well fo’ her an’ her love.
He did the unthinkable to avoid missin’ extended periods from her life.
That’s why Ryan, Kingsley, Kingdon, an’ me won’t ever defy that nigga.
Ever. If anything, we comin’ to him fo’ solution on how to handle a situation that require wisdom. ”
With tears forming at how much of a man King was, and fearful that August would become angry with him, I nodded. “I understand much better now.”
“You mad at me?” he questioned as I dropped the gearshift into drive.
Shaking my head, I honestly said, “No, sir.”
“Thank you.”
“You are welcome,” I replied, driving away.
As I resumed the music, August lit the blunt and interlocked our fingers. My mind went silent, and I was thankful. I was able to rap songs gleefully while tapping my fingers on the steering wheel. Before I knew it, I was at Momma Orthella’s living facility.
“Who that old ass man up in Momma’s face?” August asked as I grinned, opening the door and shutting off the engine.
“Oh, that’s Mr. Earlington. He’s a sweetheart. Always holding her hand while walking around the flower bed,” I said messily, hopping out of the truck, ensuring my ass clapped.
My truck rocked hard as August fussed, “So, yo’ trout mouf ass ain’t tell me som’ ole nigga sniffin’ undah them drawls I bought fo’ her to put on her ass.”
Looking at my angry man over my shoulders, I slowly shook my head like our daughter and held out, “Nope.”
“When it get darker than yo’ skin outside, I’mma fuck yo’ spine loose,” he fussed, turning me on.
Laughing, I nodded. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”
“Yeah, ya ass better!” he hissed, opening the passenger door.
Still giggling at the heated man talking cash money shit, I didn’t move from the driver’s door. I kept my eyes aimed at the front of my truck. It was always a pleasure to see August mean-mugging me before he demanded that I connect my fingers into his.
When he stepped beside me, looking at me angrily, I smiled. “Are we okay?”
Extending his left hand into my direction, August hissed, “You know what to do wit’ that slap a bitch to sleep hand.”
Tooting my own horn, I connected our fingers before leading us onto the grounds of the elderly people’s living quarters.
While August growled, I looked at the many elderly folks who sat off to the right.
I softly smiled at the men playing cards and talking their shit.
I wondered if they were still the same people they were in their youth.
As one of them slapped a card on the table aggressively, I was certain it was the two of spades, making its way into becoming his book.
“Gerald, do you have to be so aggressive to prove a point?” a beaming woman knitting asked, looking at the card slammer.
I didn’t bother to keep my eyes on him and pay attention to his response once an elderly lady off to her lonesome snatched my breath.
She looked lonely as she stared at a large photo in her hand.
I wondered who was in the image that caused her to look as if she was close to withering away, eager to pass on.
“What’s wrong?” August asked, stopping and looking at me.
“Nothing. Why do you ask?” I inquired, sliding my eyes to him.
“Yo’ grasp became tight.”
“Oh.”
“Which old person had yo’ attention?” he questioned as I slid my eyes back to the woman on the wooden swing, still looking at the photo.
August was great at paying attention to someone’s head to see what held their attention. Thus, he said, “The lonely old lady?”
“Yes.”
“Go talk to her.”
“I will once I talk to Momma Orthella.”
“A’ight,” he said, sliding in front of me.
As I gave him my undivided attention, he declared, “I see you workin’ in a place like this.
You a carin’ person when you ain’t pressed to knock a bitch’s back in.
You love to listen, mentally takin’ notes.
You said you want to be a taxpayin’ citizen.
Start here. It seem this where you belong.
Before choppin’ it up wit’ Momma an’ the lonely lady, go see what it take to work here. ”
“Okay.” I nodded, hopeful that I fit the profile and had the credentials to become a caregiver/companion.
Leaning his head toward mine, August whispered, “I can’t wait to see you in them scrubs. Ass bussin’ through the seams. Pussy print on overload. Go make that shit happen, so me an’ Azaria got a reason to come up in here in tactical gear makin’ sho’ these old geezahs stay in they place.”
Blushing, I rolled my eyes and giggled. “You are too damn much.”
Resting his lips on mine and gazing into my eyes, he acknowledged, “But I’m yo’ too damn much.”
Planting my hand on his cheek, I nodded. “That you are. Wish me luck.”
After tenderly kissing my lips, August smiled. “Good luck.”
“Thank you,” I responded, stepping around him.
Of all the times I had visited Momma Orthella, I was thankful I was dressed properly to inquire about a job. Most of the time that I slid through, I was always sweaty and in tactical clothing.
When I stepped inside the cool, refreshing, and always-smelling-like-flowers establishment, I looked around the well-kept facility.
Nothing was out of place. The receptionist smiled and waved at me.
While I reciprocated the friendly love, an elderly lady who always complimented my looks was watching the news.
The scowl on her pretty face told me she was disappointed by what she had heard. Politics did me the same way.
Once I finished my usual observations, I sauntered toward the receptionist, pleasantly looking at me with her hands under her chin. Smiling, she said, “Wow, you look completely different out of tactical attire. What’s the occasion for you to be in regular clothing?”
“It was a relaxation day at Oak Mountain Park,” I answered, resting my arms on the tan and ivory marbled countertop.
“That’s my favorite place. Maybe we should go sometime,” she offered before slowly licking her lips and eyeing me slowly.
Before I could catch my tongue, I asked, “You eat pussy only, don’t you?”
Her pretty face grew red as her co-worker howled in laughter.
“Yes.” She answered, nodding.
“And you think you will have this cat in your mouth?” I inquired as her co-worker leaned on the counter, laughing harder.
“Yes, I do,” she cooed, removing her hands from underneath her chin.
“Um,” I held out, looking at the big windows, scouting for my man.
Spotting him, I pointed at him and said, “He’s the only one who will eat this monkey. Understood?”
“Yes. So, you came to this desk to seek something. How may I help you?” she voiced, sounding as if she was hurt from being rejected.
Giving her my undivided attention, I asked, “What are the qualifications to work here as a caregiver?”
“Be able to lift at least fifty pounds, be compassionate, and willing to dress, bathe, and feed residents. You are more than capable of doing that. I’ve seen you with Ms. Orthella. Would you like an application?” she asked, reaching toward a clear bin filled with papers.
“Yes. May I fill it out while I’m here?”
“Of course.”
“You won’t toss my application in the trash since I denied you access to this pussy?” I questioned seriously, staring into her dark brown eyes.
“No. It would be a pleasure to see you whenever we work the same shift, go home and masturbate to you,” she answered bluntly as I wiggled my fingers for the application.
“Oh, baby, you are laying it on thick,” her co-worker said messily as I removed the application from the flirty chick’s hand.