Chapter 4
F ridays are always pretty busy but this one is on another level. Between tax season and this MLK Day weekend sale, we are swamped. Customers were actually waiting at the door when I opened at nine and it’s been nonstop all day. It’s all hands-on deck and I’m fully staffed from eight to eight to make sure every customer gets serviced.
“Mr. Goode. You are needed in the warehouse,” my assistant, Melia, announces through my two-way.
“Give me five,” I respond then turn to one of my salesmen, Kurt. “The young lady standing by the outdoor furniture display wants express delivery. Set her up and waive the express fee. She purchased five rooms. I’ll be in the warehouse; hit me if you need me.”
“Sure thing, boss man.”
When he heads to the customer, I trek through the showroom floor, then through the back employee area and into my office for my keys. When I purchased my store, it was an old outlet furniture store, Odd Pieces. I acquired the 65,000 square foot store and showroom along with a 125,000 square foot warehouse and distribution center. The warehouse is about a mile from the store so we usually use one of the two golf carts out back to commute to it. However, it’s the end of January and cold as fuck out so I’m going to take my ride.
After grabbing the keys from my desk, I start my ride remotely then head out. I need the seat warm before I slide in. My iron levels stay low and I can’t stand to be cold. I had to get an iron infusion yesterday because it was too low. I had been anemic prior to my accident but after it and my surgeries, it’s gotten worse. The moment I’m in my warm seat, Melia hits me on the two-way again.
“Did you leave yet?” she asks with a sense of urgency.
“About to. Why? Something’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to hitch a ride. I need to get the inventory for the outdoor Kingsly set with the firepit. Some popular couple from Cliqued posted a video with them having a romantic dinner on the set and everyone wants one. We’ve been getting inquiries all morning.”
“I haven’t pulled off yet. Just come outside.”
“Perfect.”
After placing my two-way into my middle console, I turn on the passenger seat warmer then pull right up to the back door. Melia cautiously steps out and inches the few steps to me. There’s snow on the ground and she has on her usual heels. No matter the weather, she wears those damn shoes. I lean over, open her door, and she gets in.
“Whew! It’s cold as hell,” she says then shivers.
“Very and it’s supposed to snow again on Sunday.”
“I know,” she sighs. I drive to the warehouse, park in my spot, then get out and help Melia. There’s some ice on the walkway and I don’t want her falling. “Thanks. They will kill me if I fall and mess up our one hundred- and eleven-days free of incidents.”
“Especially these warehouse workers.”
To ensure the safety of all employees, I run safety bonuses. Every two hundred days of no incidents, no accidents, and no injuries, each employee gets a two-hundred dollar bonus. It’s a small incentive but it works and they work hard but carefully to ensure that they earn the bonuses, limiting my liabilities.
We enter the warehouse and my manager, Furley, greets me at the door. He and Melia worked for the previous owners and I rehired them along with about twelve other former Odd Pieces employees. It eased my transition into furniture. Truth is, I didn’t know shit about the furniture business when I bought this place. I was a boxer who needed something to do with his money and something to keep my mind occupied, so surrounding myself with vets in the industry was essential.
Furley and I walk the warehouse floor and he points out pieces with nicks and other minor defects. Only the best is allowed on the floor and sold in the main store. However, once a month, we run an Oops Sale on those flawed items not purchased by employees. They get first look with a fifty-percent discount. Whatever is left is then reduced by thirty percent and sold as-is to the public. It’s a bargain because the defects are truly minuscule. Truly damaged or defective pieces aren’t sold at all.
After I inspect and approve all the pieces he identifies, I find Melia and we head back to the main store. As soon as I’m in my office, my cell rings. It’s my mom and she has Aryel. Because she’s retired and loves her grandbaby, my mom helps out when needed and today she picked Aryel up from school.
“Rex,” I answer.
“You know it’s me so why do you answer the phone like that? I prefer, hello Mom,” she says with a chuckle.
“Hello, Mom,” I say to appease her. “Is everything okay with Aryel?”
“She’s fine. Lyra is here and she’s going to braid Aryel’s hair if you want.”
“Just her hair, none of that stuff added. I don’t want them going all down her back.”
“No weave. Just her hair braided up into a cute ponytail. With all that thick hair on her head, she doesn’t need any weave. I’ll send you a picture of the style for your approval.”
“Thanks, Ma. I should be there around six.”
“Take your time. She’s fine. You know what? Actually, she can just stay here tonight and maybe you can go somewhere and meet somebody.”
“She has Girl Scouts in the morning and it’s cookie time. I’m picking her up.”
“Okay,” she sighs, worrying. She’s so concerned that I don’t have a life but she doesn’t have to be. I’m good. I date casually, fuck when I have needs, and chill. I just haven’t brought a woman around them or Aryel yet and I’m not until it’s right. I’m not confusing my princess by bringing different women around her. Aria confuses her enough as it is. “Take your time and don’t worry about dinner. Your daddy wants oxtail stew and they are already on the stove.”
“Thanks, Ma, and tell Lyra thanks too.”
“She’s your sister; tell her yourself when you get here. She’s not leaving here without my stew. See you tonight. Love you.”
“Love you too, Ma.”
When I end the call, I text my sister. She’s a beautician and we disagree a lot about Aryel’s hair. She’s always talking about protecting my baby girl’s hair by putting that weave shit in it. I don’t want it. Aryel’s too young for that. I don’t even allow it for cheerleading. She has enough hair and doesn’t need any added.
Me: Ma said you braiding Aryel’s hair. Thanks. Send me a picture of the style.
Lyra: I know you. It’ll be cute with no extensions.
Me: Come on. Picture.
A few seconds later, she sends a picture of a little girl with a ponytail made up of about twelve big braids.
Me: Okay. I like that. How much?
Lyra: She’s my niece.
Me: And you do hair for a living. I’m paying you.
Lyra: You don’t have to.
I love my sister and I know she loves me and Aryel. However, I don’t take money out of anybody’s pockets. If they have a skill or service and I utilize it, I’m paying, family or not. So, instead of going back and forth with her, I just Zelle her two hundred dollars. She doesn’t respond with words, instead, she sends back a heart. Taking anything from me or our brother Dax is hard for her. She feels like she owes us.
When she was nineteen, she married a piece of shit. None of us liked his bitch ass but she thought she was in love and let him take her away. They moved to Florida and would never come home. However, when she stopped calling, my mom got worried and me and Dax went to go check up on her. When we found her, that shit was bad. The nigga was an addict and putting his hands on her.
Lyra was actually in the hospital when we found her in Orlando. He had bruised her kidney, cracked her ribs, dislocated her jaw, and permanently scarred the left side of her face because she wouldn’t give him money for his habit. What made the shit worse was she didn’t have anything to give him. They didn’t have shit; he had sold or pawned it all and an eviction notice was waiting on her once she was released from the hospital.
I flew my mom down to check on Lyra and Dax and I hit the streets looking for her so-called husband because he was already dead in my eyes. For three straight days, we looked for him but he was hiding. Unfortunately, I had to fly back to Vegas for a fight. While I was busy knocking Franco Jones out in the fourth round, Dax found Lyra’s husband and beat his bitch ass into a coma. Lyra was released and she came back home to Crescent Falls.
My brother was arrested and charged with attempted murder. I hired the top criminal defense team, and thankfully, they were able to plea him down to three years. That whole ordeal tore our family apart but we healed and so did Lyra. However, she still carries a lot of guilt for Dax losing three years of his life and she feels like she owes me for clearing all of her financial problems in Orlando and setting her up here but she doesn’t owe me shit. She’s my sister and I’ll do it all over again.
Since dinner and Aryel’s hair are being taken care of, I don’t rush out of the store. I stick around even after six, helping out with the customers. When it starts to quiet down around seven, I check out and leave. My evening manager will close, as usual. I come in early so I don’t have to work late on most days. I’m typically out of here around three.
When I pull into my parents’ long driveway, I park behind Lyra’s ride and get out. Although I have a key, I ring the doorbell before letting myself in. My mom meets me in the foyer as I remove my jacket and hang it on the coat hooks by the door.
“It’s getting colder out there,” my mom says.
“Yes. It’s going to snow this weekend. You and Pops straight on wood?” I ask because they still use wood burning fireplaces.
My mom refuses to upgrade their fireplaces to electric or gas. I’ve offered several times but she and my pops both declined. Besides new furniture, hardwood flooring, and normally required house repairs, this is the same four-bedroom, three-bathroom home I grew up in. My parents worked hard to move from The Manor to this neighborhood, Crescent Pointe, right after I was born and it’s theirs, mortgage paid in full.
“Yes. Your daddy picked up some wood today. We are fine. Stop worrying about us and give me a hug.”
I pull her small frame into a hug and she squeezes me tightly. “We already ate but I’m warming your food now. Your dad is in that den of course, watching the Royals play, and your sister and my grandbaby are upstairs. I think she’s asleep though,” she says.
After planting a kiss on her forehead, I follow her into the kitchen then leave her there. I travel around the corner and walk into the den. Pops is on his recliner, nursing a Heineken, and barely watching the game. From the doorway, he looks almost asleep. Unlike my mom, he isn’t retired yet. This is his last year at the distillery though. His 401K totally vests at forty years and he wants all of his hard-earned money. I paid off their mortgage and added the solarium to the back of the house so their bills are minimal but he’s not leaving Black Ops until he reaches year forty.
“You sleep, Pops?”
“If I’m talking to you, I can’t be, son,” he utters so I walk all the way in and sit on the sofa. My brother and I get our height and size from him and Lyra is petite like our mom. The genes in this family are strong as hell. Dax looks just like our Pops. “You picking up baby girl?”
“Yeah after I eat. Them oxtails smell good too. I smelled them as soon as I walked in.”
“They taste good too. That’s why I can’t keep my damn eyes open. I’m good and full.”
“Then go upstairs.”
“I will after my game.”
He takes a swig from his beer and I stand and leave him to the game. I’m recording it and will watch it when I get to the crib. Before heading back into the kitchen, I go upstairs. Lyra and Aryel are in the open area we call the game room to the left of the stairs. It’s really a small living room. Lyra is on the sofa and Aryel is laying across her lap, knocked out. Her head is wrapped in a scarf so I can’t see her braids.
“She’s out,” Lyra says, lowly. “You can let her stay; I’ll be here. I don’t feel like driving back home tonight. Them oxtails got me sleepy too.”
“She has Girl Scouts in the morning.”
“What time?”
“Ten-thirty.”
“Then she can stay. Just come get her in the morning or I’ll bring her to you. Shit, go get a drink or something. You look stressed,” she teases.
“I’m good, sis, but I’ll let her stay. Momma wants her to anyway but I’ll come get her in the morning at nine-thirty. You don’t have to bring her and thanks again for doing her hair.”
“Stop thanking me, Rex. For real.” She presses the power button on the remote and turns the TV off. “Carry her in the room for me though. Her little ass is heavy,” she says, while smiling. Nothing about Aryel is heavy; she’s little just like her aunt and Yaya.
When I grab Aryel, with her eyes still closed, she wraps her arms around my neck and I carry her into my old room. It has been gutted and converted for Aryel. My mom went all out too, even getting one of the walls painted pink. As I lay her in the bed, I notice she’s dressed in pajamas. I wasn’t taking Aryel home tonight even if I wanted to.
“Good night, Daddy,” she utters as I turn on her TV.
“Good night, baby.”
After kissing her cheek, I lift the comforter to cover her then ease out of the room and close the door. When I head back downstairs, I wash my hands then open the fridge for a bottle of water. My mom walks in as I open my bottle.
“You ready to eat?” she asks.
“So Aryel already took a bath?” I counter and she smirks.
“It was getting late and she wanted to get comfortable.”
“Well, she’s going to stay. I’ll pick her up at around nine-thirty.”
“Was that so hard?” she asks as she walks to the stove.
She motions for me to sit and I walk over to the kitchen dining table. We are not allowed in my momma’s pots so I sit back as she prepares my plate of mashed potatoes and stew.
After nine, I leave my parents’ and head home to Chandler Heights. I’m good and full and planned on going straight to the crib but when I’m midway to my house, I change my mind. Instead of going home, I turn on Main and head toward the northside location of Flavor, a cigar bar and lounge. There are four in the city but the northside location is closest to me. I actually went to school with the owner, Krew.
Like always, it’s filled to capacity and the bar is jumping. I start to make my way to a small, empty booth but something at the bar catches my eye. Truce is there, sitting on a stool at the end.