Chapter 8
8
I recognized her instantly. Same cherry-red hair, same sweet looks—only now as I spotted her in Italo’s brightly lit pizza parlor, I could really take in her pretty brown face. She was void of makeup and wearing a baggy sweatshirt and khaki pants. Looking youthful as ever, she was reading a book at a lone table and eating a serving of Italo’s ice cream. Not many were in the restaurant, and something told me Sabrina was alone.
I shouldn’t have done anything. But seeing how I was about to head to the community center to mentor the city’s youth, it only felt right.
After putting in my large order for a few party-size pizzas, three in cheese, three in pepperoni, and three in white vegetable, I hesitantly made my way over to the young girl in the corner of the room.
TLC was playing on the radio throughout Italo’s that Friday afternoon. It was eighty degrees outside, and so the cool AC was blasting, keeping us cold as we escaped the heat.
The spine of Sabrina’s book was worn, letting me know she’d read it a dozen times and cared deeply for its content. The way she sat engrossed, spoon in her hand with melting ice cream, let me know this tenfold.
I cleared my throat as I stopped a few feet from her, not wanting to crowd or intimidate her.
Sabrina looked up at me, her nicely shaped brows lifting in surprise at my intrusion. It was seeing her up close that I again found myself questioning her age. Perhaps she was legal and just making a living at Crazy Legs. Kennedy—why was I thinking about her?—appeared younger than twenty-four herself.
I had Sabrina’s full attention, there was no backing down now. “Must be a good book.”
A smirk tugged on her lips, almost as though she couldn’t believe I was opening with her book. “I only read it twice a year. Sometimes three.”
I whistled, questioning the last time I’d read a book. My mother was good with giving me quotes when I was coming up, but I’d never been a reader.
“What’s it called?”
Sabrina fiddled with the paperback. “ Night Changes .”
I dared to step closer, spotting a young-looking Black couple in an embrace on the dark blue cover. “About?”
She perked a brow. “You really wanna know?”
I glanced over my shoulder at the back kitchen, where the staff of Italo’s were busy getting my orders together. I had a while when it came to those nine pizzas. Returning to Sabrina, I bobbed my head. “Yeah.”
She pursed her lips, appearing doubtful. “It’s about a young woman who still lives with her parents. And one hot and sticky summer, this older guy down on his luck moves into their garage and starts fixing things around their house to get on his feet.” Sabrina’s teeth dug into her lip as she cradled the book and spoke of its plot. “So, the girl is totally infatuated with him. Unlike her gilded world of fancy bullshit, he’s real . But he’s mean and standoffish, and doesn’t think he’s good enough for her.” Sabrina gushed as she looked up at me. “It’s like… Poetic Justice meets Dirty Dancing . I’m obsessed.”
Sounded like more than just romantic fairy-tale fluff, but a more modern take on real relationships. Too many of us weren’t perfect Mr. Suit and Tie. “How does it end?”
Sabrina didn’t hide her smirk as she bookmarked her page. “You gotta read it on your own and find out.”
I took a step back, wanting space between us. I didn’t want to insult her, but if she was a minor, I didn’t want to take a chance and leave her alone either. So, I got down to why I’d come over. “I’m Keith, by the way.”
Those teeth of hers bit into her lip once more as she blushed a little. Her energy was light, pleasant, and warm. I could see why she’d be the top dancer at Crazy Legs. Something about her drew you in. Made you feel safe.
“My name’s Eden,” she said with a coy smile on her face.
Huh. Of course “Sabrina” wasn’t her real name.
I tipped my head at her. “Nice to meet you, Eden.” Maybe she was a kid, or maybe she wasn’t. “So, listen, I’m on my way to the community center to have a little surprise pizza party for the kids. If you, or anyone you know—a brother, cousin, friend, ever need guidance or help, you should stop by,” I let her know.
That smile arrested her face as she narrowed her eyes. “Do you say that to all the people who come here?”
“I’m not hittin’ on you,” I clarified.
Something like disappointment crossed Eden’s face as she peered down at her book and shook her head. “Of course a good-looking guy isn’t here to hit on me. Being a romantic is a gift and a curse, I tell ya.” She lifted and dropped her shoulder. “Okay, though, on the community center. Sounds nice.”
“I haven’t been in a while, but I usually volunteer to mentor a few of the guys who stop by,” I said.
“Aww,” Eden responded, resting her chin on her fist. “That’s sweet.”
It was necessary to stop those in circumstances like mine from taking the path I’d chosen. “Offer always stands.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said, making no promises to stop by.
It was something. I thumbed a finger over my shoulder at the counter. “You enjoy that book. I’ma wait on my order.”
Eden watched me back off before going and opening her book again. She ate her ice cream with a grin when something interesting happened in her pages and I couldn’t help but smile at the scene.
It was the simple things.
The sounds of bouncing basketballs could be heard as I entered through the gymnasium at the Jackson Community Center on Eleventh and Twelfth Street. Boys from their tweens to their late teens were inside having games at the various hoops littering the gym floor. On the bleachers I found other boys reading books, graphic novels and contemporary works. Some were doing homework. And a few were entertaining girls or boys.
Savon stood at the sidelines with an all too familiar young face. Dominique, a kid who was sixteen goin’ on thirty. Hardheaded and headstrong, we often butted heads a lot when I attempted to guide his way. He currently stayed with his single mother and younger sister.
“I’ve been a man since I was nine,” he’d boasted when we first ever chatted.
Dom had a slick mouth that sometimes made me want to knock him upside his head, but because I was once an arrogant little knucklehead, I couldn’t fault him too much.
I made my way over to Savon and Dominique. “Hey.”
Savon dapped me up, but Dom kept his distance. His eyes were guarded as he took me in. “Look who finally showed up.”
I’d dropped the ball. I deserved that. “Yeah, I know, man. I’m sorry for not bein’ around. Had some personal struggles to get through.”
“Uh-huh,” Dominique said, as if he couldn’t care less.
I was only going to take so much of his attitude. “I got some pizzas in the truck. Come help me unload them in the cafeteria.”
For the quickest second Dom’s eyes lit up, but he hid any emotion from bubbling to the surface. I didn’t know his mother’s financial situation, but I did know he had trouble keeping jobs for himself. He didn’t like being told what to do. Had an issue with authority. I knew what it was like to be young, Black, and angry, so I stuck by Dom the most because he worried me the most.
Outside, Savon and Dominique followed me to my truck where I opened up the back where the pizzas were in the trunk.
The smell of Italian spices and herbs mixed with melted cheese and sauce had my stomach rumbling.
“Damn, I’m definitely taking some home,” Dominique commented at the sight of all the pizza.
“Be my guest,” I insisted.
As Dom dug into my vehicle to grab three boxes, Savon peered at me over his head, nodding at me. He silently grabbed three boxes and went in ahead of us.
I leaned against my ride and watched as Dominique got a good hold of his stack. “So, how you been?”
A grim expression covered Dom’s face. He caught on quick. “Man.”
“Just curious,” I said.
“Why?”
“I been there,” I said.
Dom rolled his eyes. “You know, if you wasn’t from around here, I’d feel like you was full of shit.”
“Language,” I corrected.
“There you go,” he sighed.
“Dom,” I said, sounding serious. “How are you?”
His dark eyes met mine and he dropped his guard, if only a little. “I mean, I’m straight. I’m trying to do what I can to help Mom out.”
“You working?” I wanted to know. Outside of working at the garage fixing cars, I had a steady flow of money coming in from those around the neighborhood who wanted me to customize their rides with detailed paint jobs or fresh interiors.
Dominique set the pizzas back into my trunk and leaned against the back of my Tahoe. “I got a job at the grocery store, but they be ridin’ me, Keith. I don’t like that.”
“It’s a job,” I told him. “Go in, do your work to your fullest capability, and that’s it.”
Dom clicked his tongue. “I know. I know. My people be settin’ me straight, though.”
A muscle in my jaw tensed and I had to still myself from reacting. Dominique hung around an older crowd—a crowd of bad influences who did questionable things.
“Dom,” I started gently.
He groaned. “Keith, man. These my brothers. It ain’t that big of a deal.”
I stroked at my jaw, practicing some patience. “Sometimes you can be too blind to see what’s wrong for you.”
Dominique wasn’t hearing me as he thumbed at the material of my trunk.
Disclosing my past wasn’t something I liked doing, but for Dominique it was necessary. “Me and Von used to own this neighborhood. Or, at least we thought we did. I didn’t like school either. Hated teachers telling me what to do or think. Didn’t like the law. So, I cut class and did what I wanted.”
Despite his tough guy stance, I could tell Dominique was listening as he quietly fingered a path along the pizza boxes.
“Sometimes you’re just walkin’ around mad, and you don’t know why,” I said.
“It be like that sometimes,” Dominique agreed.
It was the simple truth. “I hated the world and everyone in it, and I just couldn’t get a grip on anything. I hung around guys who I felt were like me. Guys, who at the time, I didn’t see didn’t have my best interest at heart,” I confessed. “I got in a lot of fights. I had my mom and my grandma in my ear, and the school in the other. I was pretty hotheaded too. Didn’t want to hear a thing.”
“What your dad say?” Dominique asked me curiously as he lifted his head up.
I shrugged. “Don’t have one. He died before I was born. Can’t say if he would’ve had an influence on me or not, but there was a time my mom couldn’t straighten me out.”
“So, what happened with you?” Dominique pressed for me to go on.
“I just hung around a bad crowd. Made a lot of stupid choices,” I said. “Toted guns, stayed out all night—a lot of reckless shit.”
“Were you scared?”
I shook my head, telling the truth. “There used to be this one guy in the neighborhood. From the moment I met him, I knew there something off about him. One time there was someone picking on a friend of his, trying to jump him, and this guy just takes out a knife and…” I made a slashing gesture through the air as I shook my head at the buck-fifty I’d witnessed. “I just remember catching eye contact and seeing nothing there. No soul. No heart. Nothing. He never messed with me, and I never messed with him. We kinda just had an understanding.”
“He still around?”
That was the thing, not many were from my teen years. Some stayed on that path and ended up in prison. Others moved away, and I could only hope bettered themselves like what I was trying to do. “Nah, haven’t seen him in a grip. A lot of those guys didn’t turn out so well.” I looked over into Dom’s eyes. “Point is, I had a chip on my shoulder for a long time. Didn’t even know why I was so angry, but it took my mom and grandma dragging me out of school and sitting me down to realize I needed help. That I wasn’t making good decisions.”
“I hear you,” Dominique said.
I nodded as I held my fist out. He was a big guy, about as tall as me, almost the same build, and same complexion. Sometimes looking at him felt like I was talking to a mini me. I was sure the kid could handle himself, but only so much.
I wasn’t going to lecture him too long and hard. It was Friday. The weekend. Today was about pizza and catching up. “Point is, I don’t want to see you end up in a rough patch. The thing about hittin’ rock bottom, is sometimes you crack. You only get one shot sometimes, and I want you to make the most of yours.”
Dom smiled a little as he quickly jabbed his fist against mine. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ma stick with this job, or I’ll try to.”
It was a start. And that was all I needed to work with.
I grabbed three boxes of pizza and Dominique grabbed the other three. Together we headed for the back entrance for the center, the warm sun on our backs, and the bright day forging on.