4. So, We Meet Again
So, We Meet Again
MEHKI
“When the decisions start affecting y’all pockets, then y’all can make them without consulting me. Until then, everything runs through me first, aight?”
All eight heads nodded in understanding as I conducted a brief meeting with my demolition crew.
I’d just arrived on site at a new property scheduled for demo and a flip.
The plans that I had laid out had been semi altered by one of my leads who felt his way would save time.
And had he brought it to me first, I would have considered his suggestion.
But thinking he could go around me? Fuck no.
That was a violation. After addressing him one-on-one, I talked to the team as a whole, so there would be no confusion going forward.
This was the part of house flipping that people didn’t see –– the decisions made before walls were knocked down, beams were exposed, and drywall was put up.
The planning stage. Before the pictures on Instagram and sold signs were put up, this was where I decided what took priority and where monies would be allotted.
Which parts of a house could be salvaged and what needed to be completely gutted out.
The vision couldn’t be executed without me.
So, anyone thinking they could go around me would never be okay.
Although it could be hectic, I loved the process, especially being hands on and in the field.
I needed to not only see my investment, but I also had to walk through it.
I had to touch the walls and then come up with the plan of execution.
The ideas lived in my head before they became a physical blueprint. My process was what made me successful.
“We’re going with the original plan. Taking that wall first.” I pointed toward the kitchen.
“I want the whole sightline open, so whoever buys it can see straight through to the backyard. Think family home. People wanna be able to see what they kids doing while they cook. Whether that’s for safety reasons or because they just bad as hell, they wanna see. ”
“I was thinking…” Rome, my lead crew member, started, and I cut him off.
“There you go. Thinking with money that don’t belong to you again, Rome. I only want thoughts in the form of feedback, my guy. Which means I’ll ask for them. For now, we gon’ with the instructions provided. Copy?”
“Copy.” He nodded and walked off quickly.
The rest of the team dispersed, and my phone vibrated in my hand. I glanced down to see a message from Karima on the screen. Unlocking it, I read the message.
Baby: Don’t forget about me tonight. We have a reservation at Czen near me at eight. I wanted to stay close to home to secure a proper nightcap.
I held the message down to heart it and replied back.
Me: Okay, bae.
Sliding my phone into my pocket, I walked out front and heard the distinct bars of the Detroit rapper Kash Doll just as an all-white Maserati eased into the driveway. A smiled tugged at the corner of my lips because I realized who the person was –– an invited guest making a grand entrance.
“Damnnnn, whoever whippin’ like that got some paper.” I heard Tank, one of the crew members, say from behind me. “Potential buyer?”
“Somethin’ like that,” I replied, not taking my eyes off the car. I didn’t want to miss the person getting out.
Turning the volume down a bit before pushing the driver side door open, Key stepped her fine ass out the car.
The camo pants she had on, although a little baggy, did nothing to hide that ass that could be seen from the side.
She wore a black, off the shoulder top that showed a little skin, and when I looked down at her feet, I smirked at the black strappy heels she wore.
I nodded, silently giving her props, as she navigated in the shoes without struggle.
“Damn, she bad.” I heard from behind me again. This time, I turned around.
“You got something you need to be doing? Something I’m paying you to do?”
“Yeah. Yeah. Let me get to that.” He rushed off.
I started to walk toward her to meet her halfway.
“You know, when you said you wanted to see me, I thought, he gave me an address and it’s not to a business. I hope this nigga ain’t tryna lure a bitch somewhere to kill me.”
I laughed and shook my head. The fact that she said whatever came to her mind was funny as hell because she couldn’t help it. “What you do, look the address up on Google Earth?”
She stood with her feet shoulder length apart, holding her purse in front of her. “Sure did. Had to scope the scenery out. Word to my bitch, Meatball.”
“Girl, a nigga ain’t tryna do nothin’ to you. Gimme a hug.”
“Oh, I know. They’ll find your body before they find mine,” she said, stepping into the hug, throwing her arm around my neck.
“Heard the gangsta.”
“You betta know it. Why didn’t you tell me I was coming to a demolition site?” She looked down at her shoes. “This is nowhere for Roberto Cavalli.”
“I ain’t think you was gon’ come on your Next Top Model shit.” I held my hand out to guide her the rest of the way and inside the house. “I just wanted to see your face.”
“Mmhmm.” Her eyes scanned the foyer, nodding thoughtfully, as we walked through. “A work in progress, huh?”
“A blank canvas on its way to a beautiful piece of art.”
She glanced over her shoulder at me. “That’s a way to sell it.”
Stopping in the middle of what would eventually become the living room, she spoke to the crew who was busy looking over the blueprint and gathering materials. “Hey, y’all.”
Their eyes shifted to me before glancing back over to her, but nobody spoke. Whether it was out of respect or fear, I was glad I didn’t have to take my business hat off and get on some street shit. She wasn’t my woman, but any woman with me, a nigga needed to tread lightly around.
Key snickered, and her eyes found mine again. “I know dats right,” she said, like she was conducting some kind of test. Making her way over to one of the walls in the center marked demo, she pointed to it. “This wall gotta come down?”
“Yep.”
“Lemme get the sledgehammer,” she said confidently.
I heard muffled chuckles from the crew, and we both cut our eyes at them.
“Chill,” I let out.
“Yeah, ‘cause I know Fat Albert and the junkyard band ain’t laughing at me.”
Mark, the big man out of the crew, quieted first, confirming that he was Fat Albert.
“Chill on my staff, Ma.” I held my hand out to her. “I don’t need you to lift a finger. That’s what they get paid to do. And you’re not dressed to be doin’ this kinda work.”
She cocked her head to the side slightly. “You think I can’t do it?” Although it was a question, it came out more as a challenge.
“As long as you got the right mind frame, you can do whatever you wanna do, Ma. I’m saying…”
“Cool.” She cut me off. “Gimme a minute.” She walked past me and back outside to her car.
I watched as she popped the trunk and disappeared behind it for a few seconds.
I stood there, confused, not knowing what she was up to.
And then, the trunk closed. She proceeded to walk back up to the house, this time more grounded than she had been in her heels.
As she got closer, I saw why. She’d traded the heels for a pair of Sauconeys.
The sneakers matched her fit as if she’d included them as a backup in the event her feet got tired from walking in the heels.
“I’m ready,” she said, confidence unwavering.
I stood back and looked over at the guys. “Somebody hand me a pair of safety googles.” Handing them over to her, I helped her step into a pair of coveralls. I zipped them up halfway then paused. “You sure about this?”
I still couldn’t tell if she was showing off, but the look of determination in her eyes was unwavering.
“Yes.”
Her reply was all dainty and shit. I wanted to tongue kiss her fine ass down in the middle of the room.
“Need anything else, boss?” someone asked.
“Nah,” I answered, not taking my eyes off her. “I got this. Y’all can tackle something else.”
“Aight.”
“You know you fine as fuck, right?”
She cracked a toothy smile. “I can imagine you know that I’m well aware.”
“Ya lil’ ass so cocky. Put this mask and gloves on.” I pulled the goggles down over her eyes and proceeded to cover myself the same way. “You ever use one of these?” I asked, handing her a sledgehammer.
“No. But I’ve swung a few bats in my day. And not in the field. Ouuu,” she lifted the sledgehammer, “she a lil’ heavy, ain’t she?”
“Yeah. But you got it, remember?”
“Shut up.” She laughed softly, pulling the mask up over her mouth. “I do got it. Move back a little. I’m not even gon’ tell you not to look ‘cause I know it’s big back there,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at her ass. “Just don’t let nobody else get no free show.”
“Admire and pop one of these niggas if they try to. Got it,” I confirmed as she raised the sledgehammer again. “Hit it where the X is,” I instructed.
“Okay.” She swung, missing the spot by a few inches. The wall didn’t budge, and I knew why.
“Hol’ up.” I positioned myself behind her. “Follow my instructions. That means you don’t talk because I’ve done this enough times that I can guide you. It’s okay to not know everything. Cool?”
“Mmhmm,” she mumbled and nodded.
Now, that shit turned me on. Her listening in a way that wasn’t combative meant she was open to learning. That was attractive. Placing my hand over hers, I adjusted her grip on the handle. “Hold it like this and swing as hard as you can.”
“Okay. That first one don’t count either.”
“What first one?” I played along, taking a step back to give her room for perfect execution.
She raised the sledgehammer again and swung. This time, she hit her mark, leaving a hole in the drywall.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout!” I clapped loudly.
She hit her Dougie and smiled, flexing. “You see it! Come on, let’s do the rest.”
I laughed and picked up another sledgehammer nearby.
We spent the next twenty-five minutes taking the wall down together.
In between swings, she asked about my plans for the house.
How the deadlines worked and how I leveraged my investment to make sure I turned a profit once the flip was completed.
By the way she responded with follow up questions after I answered, I could tell she wasn’t trying to have idle conversation. She was really interested.
“Woo,” she let out, pulling the goggles off and unzipping the coveralls once we were done. “That was a cool little workout, but I’ll definitely be leaving this kinda activity to the men.”
I laughed at her dramatics and took my gloves off. “Here, lemme help you out of these,” I offered and unzipped the coverall fully for her to step out of them. “You want a water?”
“Yes, please. Wait, what brand is it?”
“Not sure. My assistant had it delivered. Why, you funny ‘bout what kind of water you drink?”
“I’m funny about anything that goes in my mouth.”
My dick reacted before I did. My face must’ve gave it away though because she smirked at me.
“Down, boy.” Her laughter filled the space. “Get the water and we’ll measure its quality on this app I have. Wait, that came out wrong. You can grab the water, and we’ll check.” She self-corrected.
“Self-awareness. That’s sexy.”
“I give respect where respect is due.”
“Yeah, and I’ma need mine off the top. Gimme a second.” I walked into the kitchen and grabbed us both a bottled water from the mini fridge. The label read Eternal Naturally Alkaline Spring Water. “Bet,” I said out loud to myself, heading back out to her.
“What time you need me there?” she spoke into her phone, mouthing thank you and giving me a thumbs up after examining the bottle. “An hour?! Damn, Jay, what kind of notice is that?”
Whatever the person said on the other end of the phone clearly had her blown by her facial expression.
“Well, that’s the baby mama you chose, nigga, not me. I’m on my way though. Yeah, I know you love me that much. Bye.” She ended the call and held the water up, tapping the bottle. “Your assistant knows ball. Give her a raise.”
“She makes good money,” I assured, taking a sip of mine.
“Shout out to her. I have to get going though. Gotta handle some family stuff. Thanks for the drink and the workout. I’d love to see the finished product once you do your thing.”
Nodding, I raised my water bottle in salute. “I got you.” Pausing briefly, I found myself thinking of another way to get in her presence again. “You play spades?”
“Fucks the spades table up,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Bet. I need a partner.”
“You have two,” she countered, grinning.
“A spades partner,” I corrected.
“Refer to my last response.”
“Mannn.”
Laughing, she swatted my arm. “I’m just playin’. When we playing?”
“This Saturday at two. My boy hosts an annual spades tournament up in Harlem.”
“Ohhhh. They must suck at spades.”
I sipped my water again, smiling. It was true, but I wouldn’t confirm verbally.
“So, you down?”
“I’m not sure yet.” Running her tongue across her bottom lip, she bit it. “What do I get when we win?”
Closing the small space between us, I looked down at her. “It’s $500 a hand. You take the winnings, and I take you out to dinner.”
Grinning, she nodded. “So long as you do your part, the pot will be split evenly. I’m all for being fair. But yes, you can pay for dinner.”
“Aight. I’ll text you the details.”
“You do that. Good day, Mehki.”
This time, there was no physical contact on departure, and that was cool with me. Her presence still lingered long after she sped off.