Chapter 2
“Ooh, wee. This muthafucka stank,” the lil’ bastard said after dropping the last box on the living room floor.
My head snapped in his direction, and I sneered, “You better watch your mouth. Do I look like one of your lil’ friends?”
Tink straightened up quickly. “No, ma’am. Sorry ‘bout that,” he said, bobbing his head as if he’d suddenly remembered what had happened outside.
“Good. Show me respect, and I’ll do the same. Got it?”
“Got it,” he replied, dragging his hand over his nose. “You need me to do anything else, or can I go?” He gagged slightly between words.
Rolling my eyes, I shooed him away. “Hurry up and leave before I find something else for you to do.”
“Thank God,” he mumbled, did an about-face, and darted for the door.
Could I blame him? Not at all. My apartment smelled like mildew, a can of bounce that ass, and straight feet. I could tell it hadn’t been cleaned in ages. The landlord probably hadn’t even done a make-ready before I moved in here.
Cheap muthafucka.
Still, it wasn’t worse than some of the public restrooms I’d used. I could deal with this smell for a little while if I had to.
But I didn’t.
As soon as everything was unloaded from my car, I headed back out for cleaning supplies. But first, I opened the windows to let some fresh air in, then grabbed my keys, and walked out the door.
On my way to my car, I checked my MyChart to see if my doctor had sent over my prescription. I could feel an intense migraine creeping in, and needed to have it filled before it got out of hand.
The closest Mega Mart was over twenty minutes away, so I decided I’d go to a hood store to handle my business. As long as they had a pharmacy, I was good to go.
The further I drove, the more the neighborhood started to feel familiar.
It wasn’t full memories, just quick flashes that hit without warning.
I saw myself sitting in a car that wasn’t mine, heard a voice I should’ve recognized, and caught the outline of a face that slipped away before I could place it.
I found myself slowing down before certain turns and looking at places a little longer than I needed to, expecting something to come back to me. I tried to piece it together, but nothing lined up. I knew I had been over there before. I just couldn’t remember when or why.
Ten minutes later, a pharmacy sign came into view, and I damn near cried. What had started as a dull ache was now a steady pound, and my vision was beginning to blur at the edges. I had to take something fast, or things were going to get a lot worse.
I whipped into the lot and snatched up the first space I saw. Didn’t even wait for the car to stop rolling before I cut the engine and shoved the door open. The bumper was still hanging out in the driving lane, but with my head the way it was, that was somebody else’s problem.
I jumped out and rushed inside, squinting against the harsh sunlight until the doors slid shut behind me. The pharmacy counter was empty. Nobody was in line, nobody was waiting. I thanked God out loud as I ran for it.
I gave the pharmacist my name and planted both elbows on the counter, pressing my fingers into my temple while she pulled up my prescription.
“Come on, come on, come on,” I muttered, my patience growing much thinner than before.
“Did you call your prescription in?” she asked without looking up from her screen.
“No.” I had forgotten all about the prescription sitting in my MyChart.
I pulled out my phone and slid it across the counter. “It’s in there.”
She nodded and scanned the prescription barcode. “Your total is $38.”
I dropped two twenty-dollar bills down on the counter. It was almost my last, but it was money well spent.
The woman scooped them up and slid my change back a moment later. “Give me a few minutes. I’ll call your name on the intercom when your prescription is ready.”
“Aight. Thank you.”
A few minutes felt like forever.
The lights above the pharmacy counter were doing the most. I pushed off the counter before my mouth could get me in trouble with somebody who hadn’t done anything to me.
I grabbed a basket and headed down the first aisle I saw.
The store was small, so there wasn’t much to choose from.
The only things available were chips, lunch meat, processed cheese, bread, canned meats, candy, and snack cakes.
None of it required real cooking, which worked for me. I wasn’t in the mood to cook anyway.
I tossed enough junk in my basket to hold me over for a few days.
My stomach had been quiet, but now that I was looking at food, it started acting up.
On the next aisle, I grabbed disinfectant spray, a pack of rags, and a couple of things strong enough to kill whatever had been living in those walls rent-free. Somebody had to handle it, and it wasn’t going to be the landlord.
By the time I walked back toward the front, my head had gone from bad to worse. The whole store tilted sideways every time I moved too fast, and the fluorescent lights didn’t help.
“Konika?” the pharmacist called my name.
I spun around and made my way back to the pharmacy counter, red knuckling the basket handle the whole way.
“I’m here.”
The pharmacy tech handed over the bag. “You’re all set.”
“Thank you. Can I pay for this other stuff here, or do I need to go to the cashier at the front of the store?”
“You don’t have much, so you can pay here,” she replied, and I didn’t waste time throwing my things on the counter.
She rang me up, and I threw my money down, barely paying attention to the total.
“Thank you,” I said as I snatched up my receipt.
Before I stepped away, I had the pharmacy bag open, the cap twisted off, and two pills in my palm. I tossed them back dry, then chased them with the bottled water I’d just bought.
Outside, the heat hit differently than it had on the way in. I stopped just past the sliding doors, bags hanging off both wrists, and waited for my vision to catch up with the rest of me. The sun was doing too much.
I got my keys out before I even cleared the curb, and by the time I slid behind the wheel, the pounding in my head had dropped from a scream to an irritating throb. The migraine was still there, just not enough to take me out completely.
I started the car and pulled out of the lot, turning in the direction I thought would take me back to my apartment.
A few blocks in, I missed a turn. I knew I did.
I just didn’t care enough to correct it.
My focus stayed locked on the road ahead, one hand gripping the wheel while the other pressed against my temple, trying to keep the pressure from building back up.
The streets twisted and turned, and I blew through stop sign after stop sign, and corner after corner. Nothing looked familiar, but I wasn’t paying enough attention to question it.
I just needed to get home.
At some point, the ache started to ease. It wasn’t gone, but it was manageable. I let out a slow breath and dropped my hand from my temple, blinking a few times to clear my vision. When it finally did, I realized I was lost.
A cold wave of anxiety washed over me as I scanned my surroundings, each unfamiliar street and shadowed corner spiking my heart rate.
“This ain’t right,” I whispered, glancing left, then right.
The houses were old, and the streets were narrow, with cars parked tightly on both sides. A couple of men stood on the corner, their eyes tracking my car as I passed.
I slowed down, pulled over, and put the car in park while I reached for my phone. The screen lit up, and I opened my maps, then typed in my address in disbelief at what I’d just done.
A few moments later, the route popped up. A blue line cut across streets I should’ve known how to navigate without help. I set the phone down in my lap, ready to follow it, then I looked up.
My eyes landed on the street sign across from me and stopped. I read it once. Then again. My hands went still on the wheel, and for a second, the migraine, the heat, the whole afternoon just dropped away.
And just like that, I was no longer in the present.
Club Exo’s bass was still thumping in my chest when I pushed through the exit doors. As soon as we were outside, the night air hit me like a splash of cold water, and the sidewalk tilted under my heels. To keep from falling, I caught the rail with both hands, cracking up at myself.
“Hold on.” I shook my head as I continued to giggle. “I almost just busted my ass.”
I couldn’t believe it.
After I straightened, I looked around to make sure no one saw me and continued on my way once I was sure they hadn’t.
My feet hurt like hell, but the night was still young, and my girls were ready to hit the next spot.
Supposedly, the drinks were stronger, cheaper, and the DJ didn’t stop rocking the place until five in the morning.
On any other night, I would’ve been right there with them, but the four drinks I’d downed had my head spinning. My mind was caught somewhere between the dance floor we’d just left and what it would feel like to crawl into my bed. I was beyond tipsy and didn’t know how much longer I could hang.
All I wanted was water, maybe some food, and sleep. Sex would’ve ended the night on a good note, but that was only wishful thinking. I didn’t have a man, or a friend with benefits that I wouldn’t have minded spreading my legs for.
My friends were going back and forth about where we were going next, and I was halfway listening, catching pieces here and there. Telling them I was going home was sitting right on the tip of my tongue, and one of the girls noticed. This one obviously knew me well.
“Koko,” she dragged my name in warning, linking her arm through mine as we walked toward the cars. “Don’t even try it. Your ass is going to the next spot with us.”
“Girl, I’m hanging on by a thread,” I groaned, but she wasn’t having it.
She didn’t play when it came to our nights out.