Tall Red Dude With Tattoos: An African American Romance

1. Halo Cater

Halo Cater

“ W ho had the crab cakes?” I asked the elderly couple when I approached their table.

“Me,” the woman responded with a smile etched across her face. As she sat there with her salt and pepper hair, I couldn’t help but wonder exactly how long they’d been together. Relationships these days couldn’t make it past a month.

The hot, white plate clacked against the wooden table when I placed it down in front of her. I rested the steak plate in front of her partner and said, “Enjoy. Let me know if there’s anything else I can get for you,” with a warm smile.

“Oh, can I have another water?” the woman questioned me and pointed at her almost empty glass.

I nodded. “I’ll be right back with it.”

Waiting tables has never been my ideal career, but being a high school dropout with no GED, there weren’t many jobs I could get out here. I’d told myself a million times that I was going to go back to school and get my GED but never had the time for it. I was a single mom, trying my best to raise my son, Brave, to be the best man he could be. When I say single mom, I mean the mom that has her child twenty-four-seven unless he’s at school. No breaks. I didn’t have help like that besides from my best friend, Krissy.

I was the product of growing up in a single-mother household. My mama wanted me to grow up and be better than her. Imagine the heartbreak when I came home seventeen years old, a senior in high school, valedictorian at that, and pregnant. That shit crushed my mama to the point that she damn near lost her mind. She had such high hopes for me.

Around Thanksgiving of that year, I was two months pregnant with my son. I received the phone call that my mama had gotten arrested with her boyfriend at the time because he decided that it was a clever idea to rob some dope boys and shoot them. My mama had no idea what that man’s motives were. He called her like any other time and asked her to ride with him. I remember her telling me how terrified she was when he ran back to the car bloody with a duffel and a gun in his hand. Someone must have seen him do it and called the police because shortly after they got onto the Boulevard to head back home, the police were in their rear-view mirror with flashing lights. That man took them on a high-speed chase and crashed. Unfortunately, Mama got arrested as an accomplice, and they hauled her off right to jail with him.

Luckily for me, I only had a few months before I turned eighteen, so I wasn’t placed in the system. I started working at Waffle House as a server to stay afloat. Balancing work, school, and doctor’s appointments caused me to start falling behind in school.

My high school sweetheart, Eno, made me a promise that I would not have to work hard forever, and he made good on that promise. He moved me out of my mama’s house that I barely was able to pay the rent on and into our own spot within a couple of weeks. My man was the man in the streets, and I was proud of him. He was buying me all sorts of designer, from Louis Vuitton bags to Fendi. All the girls at school were hating.

Christmas day, he surprised me with this brand-new white Mercedes Benz. I was so freaking happy because I never had a car before, let alone knew how to drive. He promised that he was gon’ teach me and I would be driving by the time I graduated.

That night, I received a phone call from his mama letting me know that he had been gunned down in that very car. My heart was so broken. They took my child’s father away from me, leaving me to fend for myself. I ended up going back to Waffle House. I was so depressed because I lost the two people closest to me within a month’s time to different circumstances. Being young, I didn’t know how to cope and ended up missing so many days of school because I could barely drag myself out of bed, to just not going anymore at all. I was eventually able to get a better job waitressing at a more upscale restaurant, Lotus.

“Watch where the fuck you’re going! Ugh!” a woman’s voice grasped me from my thoughts. Going into autopilot was normal for me. I hadn’t even realized I’d already fixed the water and was on my way back to the table. Standing in front of me was this chick whose skin looked like the caramel you poured inside your black coffee. Her breasts resembled two large balloons inserted in her skin in the crème-colored bralette she wore. She brushed her wavy, ash-blonde hair back behind her ear with her index and middle finger then proceeded to swat away the damp spot on her flared pants.

“You ruined my clothes,” she said and snatched a napkin off the table next to us. She hastily scrubbed the wet spot. If she rubbed any harder, she’d put a damn hole in her pants.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t see you. If it helps, it’s just water.” I smiled a lopsided grin at her.

Her eyes turned into slits, and she frowned up at me. “I don’t give a damn what it was. You need to watch where the fuck you’re going.”

“What’s going on?” this deep, masculine voice asked. I turned to the right of me, and my heart leaped to my throat when I saw the guy approaching us. My eyes went toward the ceiling to look up at his square-shaped face when he stopped in front of me. Had this man walked through my front door, he’d have to bend down just to get through it. A thick, iced-out Cuban link chain with a Joker name charm rested against his tattooed neck. No… it can’t be. Squinting my eyes a bit more, I realized my eyes weren’t deceiving me. This man had a detailed tattoo of Joker’s face smack dab in the center of his throat. The word damaged etched across his forehead right at his hairline. His dark eyes were low as he stared at me.

I heard talking, but I couldn’t zone back to reality to see what was going on. This fine man before me had my complete attention. “Ma,” rolled off his tongue, and I finally snapped out of it.

“What? Huh?”

“We need to get this bitch fired. Look what she did to my pants,” the woman spoke, and I rolled my eyes heavenward.

“It’s just water. Get over yourself,” I said and spun on my heels to go back and fix my customer another glass of water.

Resting that glass in the sink, I grabbed another one and placed it underneath the drinking fountain. Trotting back through the restaurant, I took the glass back over to the table and said, “Sorry about the wait. Let me know if there’s anything else I can get for you.”

Soon as I turned around and looked across the restaurant toward the double doors for the kitchen, I saw the same chick over there tossing her hands all over the place, explaining bullshit to my manager, Steven. This bitch had her panties in a bunch all because she got a little water spilled on her. It was probably the only water she’d seen all day. Relax.

Steven beckoned for me, and I sighed. The woman walked off before I could reach Steven, so I didn’t know exactly what had been said.

“Can I speak with you in my office?”

“It was just water…”

“My office, Halo,” he said and turned to walk away.

I followed closely behind him to his office that was at the back of the kitchen. He pushed his door in, and I stepped inside with him behind me. Steven’s office was small, like a janitor’s closet, but that wasn’t gon’ stop him from walking around here acting as if he owned the place. I hated working for him, but the tips were good, and the schedule went well with Brave’s school schedule.

He rounded his tiny metal desk and took a seat. “Halo, how many times do I have to tell you to check your attitude at the door? If customers keep complaining about you, I’m going to have to let you go.” Tilting my head backward, I gazed up at the white ceiling. I fucking hate this job! I fucking hate this job! I screamed and stomped in my head, then gained eye contact with Steven again.

“I apologized to her after it happened. She’s the one who?—”

“I don’t care. Go out there and apologize again.”

“Are you kidding me right now?”

“Does this face look like it’s kidding?” he asked, drawing an imaginary circle around his face.

“Fine. Anything else?”

“That’s all.”

Wrapping my right hand around the knob, I opened the door and exited. Steven always gave me racist vibes. There were two other black waitresses that worked here, everyone else of color was in the kitchen. He treated the white servers as if they were gold and talked to us nastily like we were children.

“Go apologize again,” I whispered as I marched through the kitchen. This is stupid as fuck. I’d already apologized to the ho. What was I coming out here to do it again for?

Swinging the doors open, I stood there, eyes scanning the restaurant for the dumb mufucka. There she was, sitting at the table with that fine specimen of a man.

Men were off my radar, but it didn’t stop me from admiring one from time to time. After Eno’s death, I swore off men because I was so hurt and didn’t want to feel that heartbreak again. That vow wasn’t long lived. I ended up getting into another relationship with this guy when Brave was three months old. Dude seemed like he was everything I needed. He bonded with Brave. Bought us stuff. Made sure that we always had food in the house. Come to find out, he had a whole wife at home, which explained why he never really stayed the night with us. The woman called my phone and told me that I could come pick up his shit off the front lawn. First of all, lady, I had no idea this man was married. He’d been lying to me for a whole year. I was so heartbroken because I found myself attached to him, especially with the bond he had with my son.

After that, I didn’t get into another relationship ’til a year later. That one was an epic failure as well, and the one after that, and the one after that. I’d gotten to the point that I didn’t want no man in my life. I’ve given up on love and actually hate men. I despise the fuck out of them. They were embarrassing, and I wasn’t about to give another man a chance to invite me to their circus. No ma’am.

Shutting my eyes, I inhaled deeply and released before strolling in the direction of their table. I stopped and dude’s eyes bored into mine. Quickly looking away, I glared at this woman. She sat there, showing all thirty-two of her pearly whites.

“I came to say that I’m sorry. It was my fault. You were right. I should’ve been watching where I was going.”

“See, now was that hard?”

Stab. Stab. Stab. Whole time I’m stabbing this bitch with the steak knife in my head.

“Enjoy the rest of your lunch,” I said and spun on my heels.

The rest of the day was pretty smooth. I got out of there at one thirty and went down the street where the bus stop was located. “Hey,” I said to the guy sitting on the bench.

“Sup,” was his response. I took a seat on the edge with decent space between us and held my purse tightly in my lap. A couple younger girls approached behind us with their khaki pants and royal blue shirts on.

“She’s carrying a Louis Vuitton and catching the bus. Someone doesn’t have their priorities in order,” one of them said, and the other snickered.

“Firstly, this bag was a gift. Secondly, shouldn’t y’all be in fucking school somewhere, and thirdly, y’all need to mind your fucking business,” I said and stood to my feet as the bus bent the corner down the street.

The green and white bus stopped in front of us. I stepped on, swiped my bus card, and found a seat in the center of the bus. The two girls walked past me, rolled their eyes, and took a seat at the back of the bus. People love being in other people’s business. They had no idea why I was riding the business. My car could be fucked up. I could have PTSD from driving and don’t want to drive myself. They needed to learn to mind their own business.

Three buses and a twenty-minute delay later, the bus stopped in front of the school, and I stepped off. I speedwalked down the sidewalk toward the entrance of Park Grove Elementary. Mrs. Davis stood there with Brave leaned into her side and her arm draped around him.

Brave’s black eyes lit up when they landed on me. He peeled away from Mrs. Davis and jetted in my direction. His arms wrapped around my waist, and he buried his head into my ribcage. “Hey, Poppa,” I said, calling him by the nickname I’d given him since birth. Brave leaned his head back, and that’s when I saw the cracks in his glasses’ lens.

Gripping his face, I peered down at Eno’s twin. From the amber skin to the curly brown hair was all Eno. “What happened to your glasses?”

“He broke them outside playing with the other kids,” Mrs. Davis spoke up, and Brave’s eyes lowered, alerting me that was very much a lie. I pulled my son deeper into my side and glared at her. These were his brand-new pair of glasses. I didn’t get health insurance. I saved up four checks just to take him to the eye doctor and get a pair because the old one’s prescription was getting low. “You’re late picking him up again.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry.”

“This is the third time this week, Ms. Carter.”

“It is?”

“Yes, ma’am. At least call if you’re going to be late. If this keeps happening, I won’t have any other choice but to report you.”

“Okay. Let’s go,” I told Brave and gripped him by the hand. “Are you going to tell me what really happened to your glasses?” I asked as we strolled down the sidewalk in the direction of our apartment. We only stayed a few blocks over, so it wouldn’t take long to make it home.

“Jeremy called me four eyed and pushed me down. They fell off my face and he stepped on them.”

“I’m gon’ rip his lil black ass a new ass hole.”

“Mommy, please don’t.” Brave stopped in his steps.

“Why? You have to start standing up for yourself. If you don’t, they are just going to keep picking on you. Glasses aren’t cheap, Brave.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” His head lowered, and he fiddled with the strap of his book bag.

Shutting my eyes, I counted in my head to cool off.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five…

Opening my eyes, I replied, “It’s not your fault, baby. I’ll get them fixed. For now, you’re going to have to wear the old ones.” Brave unzipped his bookbag and pulled out a flyer and handed it to me. “What’s this?” I asked as I skimmed the piece of paper. It was a flyer for the Hooligan Hawks youth football team. “You want to play football?” I eyed him and questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“All the boys in my class is playing. Please, Mama?”

His hooded eyes searched mine. What I wanted to say was, if everyone jumped off a bridge, you’d want to do that too? But instead, I said, “Okay. I’ll make it happen. Come on.” Draping my arm over his shoulder, we continued our walk to the house, passing the package store that was on the corner. I knew that I didn’t have the money, but somehow, I was going to have to produce it for my baby to play football. He never asked me for much, so whenever he did ask for something, I tried my best to make it happen.

Ridgeview Projects, where we lived, came into view—standing at six stories tall. It was the only thing that I could afford at the moment. I planned to get us out of here sooner or later, but I had to tackle getting my GED first so I could get a better-paying job.

Ridgeview was a terrible place to live, especially if you have children. It was decent on the inside, but outside those red-bricked walls, there was so much crime. I never allowed Brave outside after dark without my supervision. Hell, I barely wanted to come out there myself.

Gunshots were like doorbells. Crack fiends and dope boys hung around the front of the building. The playground needed a bit of work. The swings were hanging to the ground. The sand was filled with trash most days.

Gripping Brave a bit tighter, we closed in on the entrance where two of the local dope boys stood with their bookbags hanging from their shoulders. “Wassup, Lisa?” Jah asked and held the door open for me. It was a nickname they’d given me ever since I first started living here before they knew my real name.

“Nothing, just tired.”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you to let me come pick you up from work. I can spare a few minutes away from the spot.”

I shot him daggers. “You know I don’t mess with niggas like you, and you too young for me anyway.”

“You just got me by four years.”

“Go find you a real job and see if I change my mind,” I told him and pulled Brave toward the staircase. Lucky for us, we lived just on the third floor.

“Bitch, ’cause I said so!” a masculine voice yelled as we passed a door. Removing my keys from my pocket, I stuck the key in the hole and unlocked the door. We entered our two-bedroom apartment and Brave immediately dropped his clear bookbag to the floor.

“Aht, aht. What I told you about that. Take it and put it up.” Brave snatched his bag from the floor, and I asked, “Do you have any homework?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Dinner will be ready in a minute.”

“Okay.” He ran off to his bedroom, and I kicked my Nikes off at the door.

Sliding the chain lock on, I pulled my phone from my purse and went into the kitchen that was just off the living room. The chicken thighs I took out this morning were completely thawed out, just like I knew they would be. I trekked into my bedroom and placed my purse on the dresser. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I plugged my iPhone up and went to the contacts. Hovering over the name with my thumb, I took a deep breath and pressed the phone icon.

“I need a favor,” I said as soon as the call connected.