Authors: Silhouettes
Street Soldier 2 (2 page)
“Go ahead and finish dryin' your clothes,” I said. “I apologize for what I said to you. I do appreciate yo' business.”
She ignored me and continued to remove her towels. I found her stubbornness to be sort of sexy, but not the mean mug on her face. The straps of her tank kept falling down and she pouted while putting her straps back on her shoulders.
“Did you hear what I said?” I asked.
No answer. Her towels were all in the laundry cart and her clothes were in another one. She rolled the carts toward the door, but one of the kids ran into it. One cart fell over, knocking her wet clothes on the floor.
“Dang, watch where y'all going,” she shouted at one of the kids who knocked her cart over. The kid didn't even apologize, just laughed as the chick bent down to pick up her stuff. The mother walked over to apologize, but she was ignored as well. I had already tried to calm her down, but it was obvious that she wanted to be left alone. She rushed outside, filled the trunk of her red Ford Focus, and left. I shrugged and headed back to my office. It was barely big enough for a desk and two chairs inside, and was also where I kept some of my laundry detergent to fill the machines. Some items were in a closet. Needing a quick nap, I laid my head on the desk and closed my eyes. Within seconds, I was out.
It had to be less than thirty minutes later when I was awakened by a knock on the door. I wiped the dripping saliva from the corner of my mouth and rubbed my tired eyes.
“What's up?” I asked the person on the other side of the door.
“I need change,” a woman said. “The change machine is out of coins.”
I opened the door and gave the woman change for three dollars. When I checked the coin machine, it was indeed out of coins, so I had to fill it. Just as I was doing so, I felt a tap on my shoulder. “Somebody lost this,” a youngster said, handing me a purple wallet.
I thanked him, then finished filling the coin machine, stocked the detergent machine as well, and swept the floor again. Afterward, I went back to my office, and almost forgetting about the wallet, I pulled it out of my pocket. When I opened it, there was a driver's license inside that belonged to the mean chick from earlier today. Her name was Poetry Wright and she lived nearby on Page Boulevard. I snickered as I saw her name, and went through her wallet to see what else I could find. She had a few pictures inside, about forty-two dollars, a food stamp card, and a pair of tiny diamond earrings that were wrapped in plastic. I didn't know if the earrings were real, but I opened my drawer and dropped the wallet inside. I thought about trying to find her number, or possibly going to her house to take her the wallet, but as shitty as she was to me, I squashed the thought. I got up to go clean the nasty-ass bathroom that was next to my office, and had to find a plunger for the overflowing toilet piled high with shit. I gagged, trying to clean up the mess, and once I was finished, I sprayed the bathroom down with Lysol. I took the trash to the dumpster behind the laundromat, and as soon as I got back inside, I saw Poetry coming through the front door. She walked to where she had been, moving newspaper out of the way and looking underneath the tables. I was leaned against one of the tables in the far back, pretending to be interested with the cartoons on the TV.
“Excuse me,” she said, heading my way. “Have you seen a wallet in here?”
I ignored her, until she got close to me. “Wha ... what did you say? I didn't hear you.”
“Have you seen a purple wallet?”
“Maybe,” I said, keeping my eyes on the TV.
She waved her hand in front of my face. “It's either yes or no. Have you?”
Her attitude was working the shit out of me. “No, I haven't seen nothin'.”
“Well, why did you say maybe then?”
“Because I felt like sayin' it, that's why.”
She rolled her eyes at me and continued with her search. After nearly fifteen minutes of looking around, she headed for the door. I wanted to fuck with her, so I yelled out her name.
“Poetry!”
Her head snapped to the side and she turned around. “How do you know my name?”
I shrugged and walked toward her. “I just guessed it. Besides, you look like you could be a poet, and I bet that when you put all of that madness aside, there's a real sweet side to you.”
She held out her hand, displaying no smile on her face. “Give me my wallet.”
I slapped my hand against hers and shook it. “Poetry, Prince Perkins. If you want your wallet, you gon' have to get at me better than that.”
She pulled her hand back and folded her arms. “Prince? What kind of name is that? You damn sure ain't charming. Can I please have my wallet?”
“We won't even go there with the names, but at least you know ain't shit charmin' about me. You're so right,” I said, winking at her. “But, I can be nice when I want to be. Follow me.”
Poetry followed as I made my way to my office. She stood in the doorway, watching me remove her wallet from my drawer. I handed it to her.
“Here you go. Some young man found it and gave it to me. I don't know if he took anything out of it, but at least he didn't take your driver's license.”
She opened her wallet and looked through it. “Yeah, my license is in here, but I had a fifty dollar bill in here, too. Either he took it, or you did.”
I defensively held out my hands. “I didn't take nothin'. Fifty dollars ain't enough for me to steal, but I wish the young man was still here so you could confront him instead of me.”
“I wish he was too, but I have a feeling about where my money went.”
She turned around and I was pretty uptight that she, in her own way, had called me a thief. Not only that, but she didn't even thank me for giving the wallet to her. I rushed out of my office, hurrying behind her.
“Thank you too, you ungrateful ass ...”
She turned around, halting the word that was about to slip from my mouth. “Thank you for what?” she said. “For stealing my money? Okay ... thanks, Prince Perkins, for stealing my money. I had an electric bill to pay, but thanks to you, this bitch's electric will be getting cut off.”
She hurried outside, and only because I was getting accused of something that I didn't do, I chased behind her, fuming. “Listen, you dumbass-actin' chick. I didn't take your money. But since you think niggas ain't shit, here,” I said, reaching into my pocket. I had a wad of dollar bills that covered several hundreds. I pulled a hundred away from my wad and reached out to drop the bill down her top. “Take that shit and pay your damn electric bill. Make sure you get the money, before it slip through those tiny-ass titties of yours. Be gone, and for the record, yo' ass ain't welcome back to my laundromat again. Peace!”
I walked off and she started laughing. I didn't see what the fuck was so funny, but maybe she knew, so I asked.
“You are. Getting all uptight and shit. I was only kidding with you about the fifty dollars, but you damn sure won't get this hundred back. Thanks, Prince. For my wallet and for my mani and pedicure you just paid for. I'll be sure to come back and show them to you.”
This chick was seriously about to get hurt. This is why I didn't fuck with nobody on a regular basis and it was also why I had so little respect for women. They played too many damn games, were liars, and didn't know how to keep their big mouths shut. I decided not to waste any more of my time or energy on this chick. This was a wrap, and all I could say was she'd better hope like hell that I never saw her again.
Chapter Two
Same Ol', Same Ol', Some Things Never Change
Things had settled down at the laundromat, so I stopped by the liquor store to see how things were going with Nate. He said business was booming, and I could tell it was by how many people were standing in line. Nate stood behind the tall glass windows that separated him from the customers on the other side. A cigar dangled from his mouth and he scratched his bald head as he waited for a customer to count out pennies for a can of Stag beer. The customers behind him were frustrated and so was Nate.
“Say, man,” Nate said to the wrinkled-face man. “Why don't you move over to the side and count out your money? I need to tackle this line real quick, all right?”
The man nodded his head, and moved over so Nate could wait on the other customers. I'd seen the man in the store before, and nearly everyone knew that he was a neighborhood crackhead. His beady eyes shifted around, and realizing that he was short on money, he asked one of the customers in line for twenty-five cents.
“Nigga, back up,” the man shouted. “I can't stand no beggin' motherfuckas!”
Nate just shook his head, and so did I. And unable to pay for his beer, the man walked out the door.
“His ass always comin' in here short on change,” Nate griped. “I guess he think I'ma give him that shit for free, but that ain't happenin'.”
“It better not be,” I said, smiling as I sat on a stool behind him. I wasn't in business to give nobody nothing for free. If people were willing to pay the white man for his products, then they damn sure had to pay me. The only person who got shit free from me was Mama. I had to look out for her, even though she hadn't been looking out for herself. She was still seeing Raylo's abusive ass. We had squashed our beef with each other some time ago, but I still didn't like the fact that he was hitting on my mama. For years, he'd been saying that shit would stop, but it hadn't. I guess they had this kind of relationship where that kind of head-banging mess was okay. If she was cool with it, I had to be. But I knew that it would be near impossible for me to continue living with her under those conditions. Eventually, somebody would get hurt and I didn't want it to be me. That's why I moved out and never looked back. Mama and Raylo could continue their dysfunctional life, as I wanted no part of it.
Before I left the liquor store, I helped Nate knock out a few customers, then I filled a brown paper bag with the items Mama had asked for earlier, which were a bottle of ketchup, some mayo, a Vess Soda, and some Doritos. She also needed some aspirin for her headache, and when I got to her house on Goodfellow Boulevard, I definitely knew why. The whole left side of her face was fucked up and I didn't have to ask why.
“Don't be looking at me like that,” she said, taking the brown paper bag from my hand. “I asked for this stuff four hours ago, Prince. Had my mouth set for some potato salad and I don't even want it now.”
Yeah, she wanted it, but I ignored her tone. It's the way she and I got down, and even though we loved each other, the respect wasn't quite there. Not as far as conversation was concerned, but I was doing my best to change some things around. I was getting older and was starting to realize some things that I hadn't seen before. Mama may have had some serious issues, but when it came down to it, she was there for me when I needed her to beâsometimes.
“You're welcome,” I said, taking the bag away from her. I placed it on the kitchen table and pulled the mayo out from inside. “Here. Better late than never. Go ahead and fix the potato salad. I haven't eaten all day and I'm hungry.”
She snatched the mayo from my hand and started to whip up the potato salad. I put the other items on the counter, then headed back to the cramped bedroom that used to be mine. Mama still had everything left as I'd had it, and had even taken it upon herself to keep it clean. I wasn't the tidiest person in the world, and my one-bedroom studio apartment above the laundromat was a mess. Maybe I could talk Mama into stopping by and cleaning up for me. She often griped when she stopped by to see me, but it never failed that she would call me trifling or nasty before she left. I told her to call before coming over, but Mama wasn't one to play by my rules. She showed up whenever she felt like it, and many times my place looked as if a tornado had run through it.
Thing was, I could never get down with cleaning like she could, and I didn't have a womanâwell, no one on a regular basisâwho could do it for me, either. For now, I was sticking and moving with my neighbor who was fifteen years older than I was, and with a chick named Francine who had moved into the same building about a month ago. It was hard trying to juggle the two of them, but they both knew it was just a fuck thing for me. Since Nadine had been killed, and since I'd found out that the woman schoolteacher I'd been fucking was my sister, Patrice, I chilled with the whole relationship thing. I wasn't feeling that shit at all, and at this point, it was all about making money: money for me, for my son I was dying to see again, or for the one who I still had no ties to. Word on the street was I'd had another son by a chick named Monesha that I swapped juices with in high school. She gave me a STD, so that caused me to leave her ass behind. I was never really sure if the baby was mine, but the truth had always weighed heavily on my mind. There was one way to clear it up, and that was by making one simple phone call. Thing was, I just wasn't there yet. My life was on a peaceful path, and I wasn't ready for Monesha's whack ass to be a part of it again.
I sat on my twin bed that was neatly made, looking at the mail Mama always left for me. There was a cable bill that I agreed to pay for, and my cell phone bill was there, too. Some junk mail was included, and even a card from Romeo that was sent to my mother on her birthday. Why she put it on my bed, I wasn't sure. I tucked the pieces of mail in my pocket and made my way back into the kitchen. Mama was scooping some potato salad on a plate that already had several slices of saucy, meaty ribs on it. Raylo was the one who knew how to barbecue his ass off, so I suspected he had cooked the meat.
“The 'cue smells good,” I said, sitting at the table. Mama put the plate in front of me, and kindly poured me a cup of the strawberry Vess Soda. She fixed her plate then sat at the table with me. I couldn't help but be discouraged by the bruise on her face.
“What did y'all fight about this time?” I asked.
Mama bit into one of the ribs before responding, “None of your damn business. And, how do you know Raylo did this to me?”
“Who else did it, Mama? A ghost? I wasn't born yesterday, and we both know that shit has been goin' on for years.”
“If that's the case, then don't sit your tail over there actin' all brand new. If you think my face is bad, you should see his.” She laughed. “I fucked his tail up, then made him cook me some barbecue.”
Finding no humor in Mama's comment, I shrugged and changed the subject. “Why you leave Romeo's card on my bed? He sent that to you for your birthday, didn't he?”
“Yes, but I don't accept mail from jailbirds. Romeo fucked up his life, and I'm just glad that you ain't get yourself caught up in no mess like that. I know what you did after Nadine was killed, but that shit was justified. Just hope you're done with that kind of foolishness. I've been proud of you for handling your business. Real proud.”
I wanted to fall out of my chair. Mama's words had left me speechless. I had never heard her say that she was proud of me, and to hear her say it today just did something to me. A chill ran over my body and I kept staring at her as she lowered her head to eat. Over the last year or so, our relationship had changed. When I had Prince Jr., she seemed to come back to life. We had spent more time together and a lot of the money that I had I used to help her get on her feet. She was always a beautiful woman to me, but had let herself go down over the years. I remember my friends always comparing her to Diana Ross, and that made me feel proud. The abuse that she had taken from the men in her life, especially Raylo, had taken its toll. And to still be going through that shit at almost forty years old, it didn't make sense to me. That's why I hated when Nadine's mother took Prince Jr. away. Mama's life seemed to go flat again, and even though she hadn't said much about him, I knew she was missing his presence as I was.
“You haven't heard anything from Nadine's mom, have you?” I asked.
Mama picked at her food, still looking down. “Why would I hear anything from her? That bitch was wrong for what she did, and if I ever see her again, I'm going to tell her about herself. I doubt that she'll call me, and what you need to do is go to the police and tell them she kidnapped your damn child. Make them arrest that heifer. She had no right to do what she did and I miss my baby around here.”
I felt what Mama was saying, but I wasn't one to run to the police for anything. They'd start asking questions about me, and I didn't want them putting two and two together about what I had done. Mama seemed to be getting upset, so I hurried to change the subject.
“I'll tell Romeo how you feel about him sending things to you, that way he doesn't waste his time. And, as for you being proud of me, thanks. I needed to hear that.”
Finally, Mama looked up and smiled. We got down on our food, and when Raylo came in, he had to find something to fuss about.
“Fool, why you got that Camaro parked in my driveway? I had to park on the street. When a man comes home, he likes to park in his own driveway. As soon as you get time, move yo' car so I can get my car off the street, before one of those niggas out there hit it.”
Mama pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. She had been standing up to Raylo a lot, even though it caused her some damage. “Prince only comes here about once or twice a week. Ain't nobody gon' mess with that raggedy-ass Cadillac of yours. You can wait until he leaves, can't you?”
“No, I can't,” Raylo said, looking at me. “Either move yo' car, or I'll move it for you.”
How he intended to do that without any keys puzzled the hell out of me. And don't get me wrong, Raylo was a big and strong old dude who definitely had some muscles. But, moving a car? Not. Not mine anyway, but to prevent any arguments from transpiring, I got up from the kitchen table to go move my car.
“Thank you,” Raylo said in a sarcastic tone. He and I were just okay, but lately he'd been seeming kind of jealous of me. He used to make money by slanging dope, but for some reason much of that had been put on hold. I was doing my shit the legit way, and to be honest, I thought it kind of bothered him a bit. Why? Didn't know, but I chalked it up as another nigga hating.
I moved my Camaro, parking it on the street. I knew I wasn't going to be staying much longer, and as I heard Mama and Raylo arguing all the way outside, I hurried inside. I could barely get a word in over the loud screaming and yelling, but was finally able to say, “I'm out,” to my mama.
“Take some of this food with you,” she said, but Raylo had something to say about that.
“He makes enough money to buy his own food. Let him fend for himself. We barely have shit over here to eat! I didn't stand outside for hours and hours for somebody to come over here and eat up my damn food!”
Mama shot a dirty look at Raylo, then she piled more ribs on my plate, wrapping it in aluminum foil. “Here,” she said, shoving the plate toward me. “And if you want some more, you're welcome to it. I paid for that meat with my own money and ain't no damn nigga gon' tell me not to feed my own son.”
“Bitch, you ain't worked since 1982. What money did you use to pay for that meat? I paid for it, and if I don't want Prince to have none of it, he won't get it!”
I was starting to get a headache. They went back and forth about who paid for what and what I could or should not have. “Fuck it!” I yelled. “Ain't no big deal, Mama, 'cause I already ate. Y'all get on my nerves with this shit and that's why I hate comin' over here. Don't y'all ever get tired of arguin'? Damn!”
They both turned to me, looking as if I were the one out of line. Mama pointed her finger at me. “Keep your mouth shut, Prince. Now, take this damn food and get on out of here.”
Raylo didn't say nothing else. He stormed off toward the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
I took the plate from Mama's hand. “Thanks,” I said, kissing her cheek, because I was still on high from her telling me she was proud of me. “I'll stop by in a few days. Let me know if you need anything.”
Mama nodded, and as we walked to the door, I could not help but ask her, “Why do you keep puttin' up with his shit? It's timeout, ain't it?”
Mama threw her hand back. “Just let it be, Prince. You know I got this. I always have, haven't I?”
Not to me she didn't, but I left it at that. I seriously wondered if or when enough would be enough. Or, when it would be too late for Mama to get herself out of such a fucked-up situation.
I returned to the laundromat, only to find it crowded as ever. Somebody had a radio on that was blasting so loudly I could hear it outside. If I didn't know any better, I would have sworn that I was at a nightclub or something. Ladies were standing around yakking and the kids running around were driving me crazy. I couldn't do nothing but smile at one of the ladies who was sitting down, minding her own business and reading a book.
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