Chapter 7 #2
“Bree, if you don’t get yo ho ass on. We tryna order!” yelled one of the niggas in line.
“Nah, this bitch trying to be funny. I should jump behind there and—”
“And what?” Moe asked. “Get beat the fuck up?”
“Chill, chill, chill,” said someone else. “Baby girl valid. My nigga Mike, too. Ain’t shit wrong with yo burger. You just want some shit to complain about, bitch.”
Turning the corners of my mouth up, I looked away from her, and at Harold. “What you say you wanted, Harold?”
I paid that bitch dust.
I was good where I was at. This was my hood.
My coney. Everybody fucked with me because I was cool.
Known up here as the sweet girl who didn’t take any shit.
Any time I interacted with people, it was good vibes and good vibes only.
I might’ve been carrying the grief of losing my brother heavy, but I didn’t let that affect how I showed up at work.
Yeah, I might’ve been a little snappy. I might’ve been on edge.
But I didn’t walk in with negative energy, making my problems everyone else’s.
I smiled. I thanked them. I wished them a good day.
Every single time, regardless of what I had going on.
And in return, they kept my tip cup full and looked out for me whenever shit got a little hectic.
Not only did I have the support of the community, but Moe, Mike, Warren and the rest of the girls had my back too.
I was one not to play with. Aside from that though, people swore up and down I was a witch because I wore crystals.
They stayed joking, saying I would turn the people that fucked with me into roaches. I found it hilarious.
“Let me get a… uhhh… wing ding dinner. Throw chili and cheese on them bitches too,” Harold said, fishing a wad of money from his pocket. “Ay, Mike! Look out for me on the wing ding dinner, my baby. You hear me?”
“Hell yeah! I got you, fa sho!” Mike yelled back.
Meanwhile, the boot mouth hood rat bitch stood there, arms crossed over her shoulders, steady talking shit.
I paid her no mind, doing my job with a smile on my face, interacting with the people who needed to order.
After a while, though, Warren came from his office to address her.
He examined the burger and I told him she asked for extra mayo.
We locked eyes briefly before he wrapped the burger back up and handed it to her, saying she got what she asked for and told her to leave or she wouldn’t be allowed back into the restaurant.
Warren got on our nerves for the most part but one thing he always did was back us when he knew for a fact a customer was being a bitch on purpose.
Bitch carried her mayo burger and left the restaurant after that.
Like I said, Kobra’s Coney was the best in the area and if there was one thing a bitch didn’t want to lose out on it was access to some good ass coney.
Hours later, the time was inching in on eleven.
My feet were killing me. Back and hips too.
Swear, sometimes I felt like I was a lot older than twenty-one.
It was the shoes and standing up all day that had been doing my body bold.
The restaurant was jumping and I’d changed my tip cup four times today already, with cup five overflowing. It was a good ass night.
After getting the line down, I walked away to grab me a cup of water. When I returned to the counter, I was greeted by Zeke.
“What up doe, sis?” he spoke.
“Hey. The usual?” I asked, getting ready to take his order down.
Chili fries, double bacon cheeseburger, and red Kool-Aid. It was the same thing every time he came in here.
“That and throw two corned beef sandwiches and two more orders of chili fries on that bitch, for me. Extra cheese on both. One, put the cheese on the top and bottom. Throw some extra cheese on them sandwiches too, for me, sis.”
He fished around his pocket and pulled a fat knot out.
All big faced hundreds. He peeled one off, handed it to me, and stuffed another one in my tip cup.
I looked at it and then back up at him with raised brows.
After I rung him up and handed him the change, he took it and put that in the tip cup too.
We made eye contact for a minute before he leaned on the counter and looked off.
“Thank you,” I mumbled, still feeling some type of way towards him. I wasn’t sure if that would ever change.
“Fa sho,” he replied. “You already know.”
I turned away to grab orders from the back counter.
My eyes filled with tears. I took a deep breath, looked up and gripped one of the brown paper bags, reading the receipt.
My vision grew a little foggy as I tried to fight off tears.
Today had been such a good day money wise.
The best I’d had since I’d been back to work.
Any time someone would put something other than a couple of dollars in my cup, we’d make eye contact and I’d feel like they did it on purpose.
To support. Because, hello… everybody knew.
They knew my brother was gone. My fucking heart.
To know me, was to know Meech and vice versa.
Regardless of if you knew either of us or not, word about him passing spread around Wildermere like wildfire.
He was widely known. Either personally, or just by name.
I swallowed my tears, took another deep breath and piled two bags into a plastic handle bag to pass out to the customer.
Turning, I stood at the counter and called out for them to come get their stuff, shifting my eyes to the big clock on the wall.
10:40PM. Just twenty more minutes. I was running out of this muthafucka.
Twenty minutes went by pretty quick, thanks to the continuous rush of customers.
It got so busy that Warren had to ask the other cashier, Quisha to clock in early, before eleven.
We tag teamed customers, getting them up out of there.
They wanted me to stay later, but because I was already pushing it, staying until eleven, I told them I couldn’t.
After grabbing my purse and the grilled chicken pita Mike made for me, I told them goodnight and headed out.
Walking into the crowded lobby, I looked around for Vellz.
He said he would be here before I got off to talk and to take me back to The Woods.
I looked around for a couple of minutes before realizing he wasn’t there.
Shaking my head, I frowned and fished around my purse for my pocket knife before turning to walk out of the restaurant.
The Woods was only a fifteen-minute walk away.
Not that bad. But for eleven o’clock at night, it was horrible.
Meech would whoop my ass, knowing I was getting ready to walk home this late.
Because I was a little scared, I called Lakeland. She answered almost immediately, yelling at RJ in the background.
“Hey bitch. How was work?”
“Good as hell. I made a nice amount of money,” I said, pushing the door open, the bells attached to it chiming.
“Straight up? Damn, that’s wassup.”
“Right. Why Vellz bitch ass come up here earlier, right? He on my ass, trying to talk, annoying me. He say he gon’ come pick me up and take me home so we can talk… nigga ain’t here.”
“Swear to God? Don’t tell me you walking home. Why didn’t you just ask Mike to drop you off?”
“Mike stayin over. It’s cool. I got my knife.”
“I’m about to put on my shoes and meet you half way—”
“Girl, I’m good. Just stay on the phone with me.”
I walked out of the coney into a crowded ass parking lot.
The drive thru line was jumping too. Music was blasting.
There was a combination of all types of sounds colliding with each other.
Some old school, some new school. Drake, Che, Doughboyz Cash Out, Sada…
just about everything. So much was going on that you could barely catch a beat.
The bitches were out too. As a matter of fact, extra mayo and her girls were posted up, against a raggedy ass Malibu.
I’d be lying if I said I was surprised to see her.
When she saw me, she tapped one of her girls and pushed up off of the car.
“Oh my fuckin’ God,” I mumbled, rolling my eyes, hating that I was about to get into some shit.
I wasn’t in the mood.
It was four of them and one of me with my little pocket knife. It would do some damage but not enough before they got me on the ground to stomp my ass. This was a fight I was about to lose, fa sho.
“What?” asked Lake, sensing the stress in my voice.
Sighing, I looked over at them, shaking my head. “Bitch, I’m about to get jumped.”
“What?”
“Yeah, let me call you back.”
I was chill.
There wasn’t a fearful bone in my body. It was what it was. I accepted it but they for sure wasn’t about to get off on me. I wasn’t going to go down without taking at least one of them down with me.
I stopped walking, took my crossbody bag from around my neck and sat it on the ground, next to my bag of food, waiting.
“What up, bitch?” said extra mayo. “You think shit sweet?”
“Don’t talk me to death, bitch,” I calmly said, never with that extra talking shit. If we were going to fight, why talk? Just throw them. It was just that simple.
“Ayo!”
I looked over my shoulder at the sound of Zeke’s voice. He was hanging out of the back window of that all black Wagoneer. Exodus’ truck.
“You good sis?!” Zeke yelled.