Jones
After seeing the line for lil’ mama’s products at Manor Days over the weekend, I had to admit that I was impressed with her. She and Mari clearly had good products. And the fact that they were producing everything on their own by hand meant she was a hard worker. I respected that.
I never bullshitted about a job. But seeing her in boss lady mode made me want to get her project done ahead of the timeline, if I could.
I pushed Felix and Mario harder than normal on Monday and Tuesday.
Wednesday was projected to be a washout with storms all day long.
Since the roof wasn’t complete, we wouldn’t be able to work.
I’d advised them to stay home. We’d covered the roof with a tarp and would pick up on Thursday when skies were expected to be clear.
My plan was to chill all day, but then I got a text from the lumber company that they’d dropped off some wood. Untreated lumber couldn’t be left outside, exposed to the elements. It had to be protected. So I showered quickly and headed to the jobsite. On my way there, I got a call from Bright.
“Ayo, where you at?”
“Headed to the jobsite. Lumber was delivered, and I need to make sure it’s covered from the rain.”
“Perfect. Church needs to make a delivery in Red Leaf. I was supposed to drive her, but I can’t get away right now.”
“Why would she need you to drive her to Red Leaf?”
“She’s not good at driving in the rain. All the hills and the cliffs make her nervous. You think you can take her over there?”
I sighed before replying. “Damn, man, I guess so.”
“What? You had plans?”
“Nah, it ain’t that. It’s just that you know she don’t really fuck with me like that. You need to let her know that I’m the one taking her. I don’t wanna hear her mouth. I’m pulling up now.”
“I’m texting her now.”
I made quick work of getting the lumber elevated and covered. As I was about to knock on her back door, it opened, and there she stood. “What’s up, Church?”
“Hey. Thanks for doing this for me.”
I was somewhat taken aback by her cordialness. Usually, what I got from her was eye rolls and avoidance.
Since she was playing nice, I matched her energy. “What needs to be carried to the truck?” She pointed to two cases sitting on the countertop. “You can get in. I got this.”
I placed the cases on the floor of the backseat, climbed into the driver’s side, and pulled off.
Typically, with a chick, I would’ve kept up a conversation, made her feel comfortable, flirted, laid on the charm.
But I knew Church didn’t really fuck with me, so I stayed quiet.
The sounds of the early 2000s hip hop that I played filled the space instead of words.
After we’d been driving for about fifteen minutes, I spoke.
“I just wanna say that you sold your ass off at Manor Days.”
She chuckled lightly. “Thank you.”
“You know I’m from a haircare powerhouse—”
“I know,” she interrupted. “Your family’s success is so inspirational. When I decided that I wanted to do haircare, the first person I ran to was your aunt. I mean, even before I went to my sister.”
Those were the most words that she’d ever said to me.
It was cool. “Yeah, my aunt Beverly is from the generation when the Sumners were still running the company. Still making the formulas for the products. Still over production. They were the last generation. The generation after them sold everything to the white man. I can’t lie.
I mean, the sale created generational wealth.
But the white man ain’t really care about keeping black hair healthy.
They started switching out ingredients for the cheapest thing they could find the minute my family members signed on the dotted line.
The product the white man pushed out was not the same product that my family members created. Damn shame.”
“It is,” she agreed with a nod of her head. “I mean, I can understand the logic behind selling. But it’s sad when black people are buying a product because we think it’s made by someone who looks like us, when all along, it’s made by some faceless, nameless corporation.”
“That’s fucked up.” We went silent again, but it wasn’t awkward.
We were just both thinking our own thoughts.
I didn’t know what she was thinking, but I was thinking that she had the inside of my truck smelling good as hell.
Something like cake . . . or cookies. Something I wanted to fucking eat.
I’d heard women talk about being a snack.
But she was in my truck, smelling like literal dessert.
She had GPS on her phone. Her Siri was a British man. He told me when I arrived at the destination to pull into the “carport.”
The rain was still coming down like crazy. I quickly grabbed the two cases of product and followed her to the front door of the barbershop.
I watched from the cut as Church handled her business. She was pleasant and professional. Her entire demeanor left no room for anybody to play in her face. Run her the money, and she would run you the product. That was her business model.
The white dude behind the counter was being overly flirtatious as far as I was concerned, even though Church kept mentioning doing business with his wife.
A few times, I thought I would have to speak up, but Church handled it.
He even had the nerve to ask her about holding some product on consignment.
She gave a short laugh and explained to him that she couldn’t make that happen.
If I was her man, she would’ve gotten her pussy eaten like the lady boss she was at home, .
. . and I wasn’t one to really eat pussy.
But she was sexy as hell, standing there, handling dude and her business without breaking a sweat or letting her professionalism slip.
When dude was finally done trying to barter, Church told him to have his wife reach out if they wanted more product. When she turned around to join me at the door, I gave her a smile. She gave me a smirk and rolled her eyes. I mean mugged the shit out of dude, then we left.
“Dude tried it,” I told her as I started up the truck.
“Yeah, I usually deal with his wife.”
“What product do you sell that white men are interested in?” I was genuinely curious.
She giggled. “Beard oil. Hey, I’m hungry. I didn’t have breakfast. You think we can stop and eat?”
“Butterscotch Café?” It was the local diner in Jackson Falls, not far from her house. My eyes were on the road, but I could definitely feel the heat from her gaze as she stared at my profile. “What? You don’t fuck with the Butterscotch Café?”
“Nah, I do. I just don’t mess with drama. And going there with you would cause drama.”
“Why’re you sayin’ ‘with you’ like that?”
“You know why, Jonah.”
“You tryna say I got a reputation or something?”
She eyed me. “Or something, bro. And I’m tryin’ to keep my name off the lips of Jackson Falls’ residents.”
“Is my rep that damn bad?”
She turned in the passenger seat to face me, and I had to chuckle. “Sir, Jackson Falls is a small town. You’re out here, . . . indulging in oral sex in public. How can you expect your reputation not to be bad?”
“Dayum,” I said slowly. “How the hell they know about that?” I shook my head. “One of them must’ve ran their big mouths.”
“One of them?” she basically screeched.
Shit! I meant to think that, not say it out loud. “Come on.”
“You were there with two women?”
“I was there with one woman, and another one showed up.” As soon as it left my mouth, I knew it didn’t help my case.
“Wow.” She dragged the word out. “Maybe we should take our food to go, or just DoorDash it or something.”
“Now you don’t wanna be seen with me?”
“I’m not gonna hold you. You’ve only been in Jackson Falls for a short while, and already, everybody knows your name, and not in a good way.
People have opinions about you. Bad opinions about you.
I’m a private person. I grew up in a city where the literal city motto is real gangstas move in silence.
My business is my business. You’re out here loud as hell with your bullshit.
These fathers are ready to hide their daughters from you.
And the women who would’ve taken you seriously when you first got here, now think of you as community dick.
And really, there’s only two types of women who want community dick: women in the middle of their ho phases or women who haven’t realized their worth yet.
“I’m saying, you’re not even out here turning good girls bad. You’re just choosing to slut out the same ‘pick me’ chicks that every other guy in town already slutted out. You think I want my name intertwined with something like that?”
“You said that shit with your chest.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “People say that what you don’t know can’t hurt you. The truth is that what you don’t know can fuck you up.”
I didn’t even wanna talk after she said what she said.
I wasn’t a sensitive dude, but for some reason, her words stung a little, probably because she was right.
I had only been in Jackson Falls for a few months.
There was no reason in hell why everybody in the town should’ve had an opinion about me.
There was no reason they should’ve known about me getting my dick sucked behind that barn.
Either Jenna or Kylena must’ve run their mouths.
I’d been looking for a reason to start moving differently. Their asses might’ve just given me one.
After I dropped Church off, I reached out to Bright to see if he had time to link up. I met up with him at the bed and breakfast his wife owned.
“What’s up?” he asked as I took a seat across from the desk where he sat. It was his wife’s office, but she was six months pregnant with twins. He encouraged her to limit her time at the business and rest.
“Ayo, I’m hearing things about myself out in these Jackson Falls streets.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, dawg. It didn’t take you long to make a rep for yourself around here.
Revving your motorcycle all loud down Second Street after 10:00 p.m. Sleeping with their nieces and granddaughters.
Public fucking. What you thought? This ain’t D.C.
, dude. You got these senior citizens looking at you like some kind of oversexed boogeyman.
” He paused. “Keep it up, and they’re gonna run your ass outta town. ”
I didn’t respond right away, so he kept talking.
“Right now, I’ve got you on Church’s project.
She’s fam. She trusts me. She’s gonna let you make it.
When this job ends, I’m hoping there won’t be a problem placing you on another job.
It’ll probably have to be for a transplant or an investor.
I don’t see the locals really messing with you on that level. ”
“Why didn’t you say something? Tell me to reel that shit in? Anything?”
“I did. I told you when you were late for your first day on Church’s job. I told you what it was. Plus, what a grown man look like telling another grown man to control his dick?
I told you point-blank that if your shit started affecting my bottom line, I would have to fire you.”
I sighed. “I’m getting too old to keep bullshittin’ around with my life. It’s just so fucking boring here—”
“Nah. It’s not boring here. I mean, it was boring as hell when I was a teenager. But as an adult? Shit. It’s not enough hours in the day or days in the week for me to do everything I wanna do.”
“You’re on your family man shit. You’re taking your kid to the zoo, having date nights with your wife, and eating Sunday dinner at Bayliss’ crib. I’m young. I’m single.”
“You ain’t that young.”
We both laughed.
“But cous’, for real. Jackson Falls—Oregon in general—is all about outdoorsy shit.
ATVing, horseback riding, hiking, biking, canoeing, sailing, fishing, rock climbing, camping.
You can always find something to do that isn’t fucking up your reputation or literally fucking.
And if you ain’t into the outdoors, you’re grown.
Get on your motorcycle and ride up to Portland.
They got the NBA, professional football, soccer, probably hockey.
There’s stuff to do. Some of it might require you to drive for a minute, but there’s stuff to do. What are you tryna do?”
“Shit. Stay entertained.”
“Doing what?”
“Something other than sitting in my RV.”
He eyed me. “Sometimes, boredom exists in our own mindset. Let that thought sink in.”
I didn’t respond.
“Say, this Sunday, come through for dinner.”
I shook my head. “Nah, that’s a y’all thing. I’m not up to being on the outside, looking in.”
“It’s a family thing. Come through as my guest.”
“Don’t y’all go to church together and be all Caucasian on Sundays?”
He laughed his ass off. “Nah. We’re never Caucasian. And church is in the morning. We don’t expect you to show up at church. Just come through for dinner. My mom, Brewer, and Alisha be throwing down in that kitchen.”
That swayed me. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal. “Shoot me the time and the address.”
We dapped each other, and I stood to exit. Back in my truck, I couldn’t help thinking about what Bright said. Sometimes, boredom exists in your own mindset.
Were there things to do, things to keep me occupied and entertained, that I was overlooking on purpose?
Jackson Falls was the smallest town I’d ever stayed in.
My aunt Beverly had been telling me for years that there was opportunity in the town, but I could never get past how damn slow and dull it seemed.
When I was honest with myself, I could admit that my mind was already made up before I arrived. I decided when I left Denver and headed to Oregon that I would make my own entertainment. So I did what I always did. I let pussy and trouble amuse me.
At almost thirty-five years old, it was time for me to find something besides new pussy fascinating.
After my conversation with Bright, I started looking for local things to keep me occupied.
Wednesday and Thursday nights, I went to Lex’s barbershop after I finished up my day on Church’s project to shoot the shit and hang out.
I actually took the time to ask him what he did in his downtime as a single dude in this area.
Though his shop was in Chinook Woods, he actually stayed in Red Leaf. It was a bigger city and, apparently, offered options. He talked about being on a bowling league and a softball team. He occasionally went to the movies. He did football games on Friday nights. He figured it out. I could, too.