I’m gonna let it slide, but if you feel like you gotta come at me sideways, then we don’t have to say anything to each other.”
“Shorty, you better take that shit back down to Ninety-whatever Street you’re from and recognize that this is my hood—”
“My bad, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” A well-built man, wearing a white shirt under his burgundy smock, stood at the top of the aisle, watching the altercation. He was a handsome brown-skinned fellow who wore his hair cut low and tapered on the sides and in the back. He ran his hand over the top of his hair, lightly disturbing the swirls of thick waves.
“Yeah, we were kinda in the middle of something,” Scar said bitterly.
“No, we weren’t.” Porsha pushed her cart toward the worker, leaving Scar standing in the aisle.
“A’ight, so Ima see you on the block, Porsha,” Scar called after her.
“I guess so,” she said over her shoulder.
She waited until Scar had disappeared down the other end of the aisle before acknowledging the young man in the smock. “Thanks, Alonzo, that dude was getting on my last nerve.”
“Ain’t nothing, I peeped ya body language and figured you could use an assist,” he told her. “So what brings you into our fair market, and with a shopping cart no less?” he joked.
“I’m cooking dinner tonight,” she explained, riffling through the items in her cart, still feeling like she was missing something.
“You should have somebody cooking for you!” Alonzo said.
“In a perfect world.” She sighed.
“Hey, it ain’t gotta be perfect to be right.”
Porsha looked up at him and saw that he was seriously trying to court her. “Alonzo, go ahead somewhere with that Jodeci shit. Right now I come with way too much baggage for a man to deal with.”
Alonzo flexed under his fitted dress shirt and showed her all thirty-two of his teeth. “I got a pretty strong back. But on some G shit, Porsha, you ain’t never even thought about giving me no play.”
“Alonzo, you’re fine as hell but there’s no way it would work out. I’m moving fast right now, trying to get where I gotta get on the express train, and you’re riding the local,” she said seriously. Seeing that she had offended him, she explained, “Alonzo, I don’t mean that as any kind of slight to you, but I’m into a certain type of dude that’s on the same page as me. Working a nine-to-five for as many years as you’ve been here is beyond impressive, but—”
“But what?” he cut her off. “Porsha, before you give me the ‘good kid working in the supermarket’ speech, don’t forget that working here is one of the only things that are keeping me outta prison,” he reminded her. Alonzo had been a notorious stick-up kid in and around the Bronx until a four to nine slowed him down. He started working at the supermarket as a condition of his parole, and by the time he was off parole he was next in line for the manager’s position so he stayed on. People often clowned him for working in the supermarket but Alonzo had a plan.
“That shit Scar and them doing,” Alonzo waved his hand dismissively, “been there done that, and ain’t none of them built like I was when I was popping, but unlike them knuckleheads, I realized that there was more to life than a fucking five by nine and a chow call. This shit,” he motioned around the supermarket, “is an ends to a means.”
“I hear you talking,” she said with a smirk.
“Don’t hear me talk, watch me move.” Alonzo winked and walked away. “You gonna stop playing with me and act like you know Porsha,” he called over his shoulder.
CHAPTER 8
After successfully tackling the grocery shopping, Porsha headed home to catch a quick nap before she started dinner and went to work. She passed Scar and a few of his cronies leaning against he fence in front of the community center, obviously up to no good. He looked at Porsha and smirked, but she just rolled her eyes and kept walking.
To
“Shorty, you better take that shit back down to Ninety-whatever Street you’re from and recognize that this is my hood—”
“My bad, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” A well-built man, wearing a white shirt under his burgundy smock, stood at the top of the aisle, watching the altercation. He was a handsome brown-skinned fellow who wore his hair cut low and tapered on the sides and in the back. He ran his hand over the top of his hair, lightly disturbing the swirls of thick waves.
“Yeah, we were kinda in the middle of something,” Scar said bitterly.
“No, we weren’t.” Porsha pushed her cart toward the worker, leaving Scar standing in the aisle.
“A’ight, so Ima see you on the block, Porsha,” Scar called after her.
“I guess so,” she said over her shoulder.
She waited until Scar had disappeared down the other end of the aisle before acknowledging the young man in the smock. “Thanks, Alonzo, that dude was getting on my last nerve.”
“Ain’t nothing, I peeped ya body language and figured you could use an assist,” he told her. “So what brings you into our fair market, and with a shopping cart no less?” he joked.
“I’m cooking dinner tonight,” she explained, riffling through the items in her cart, still feeling like she was missing something.
“You should have somebody cooking for you!” Alonzo said.
“In a perfect world.” She sighed.
“Hey, it ain’t gotta be perfect to be right.”
Porsha looked up at him and saw that he was seriously trying to court her. “Alonzo, go ahead somewhere with that Jodeci shit. Right now I come with way too much baggage for a man to deal with.”
Alonzo flexed under his fitted dress shirt and showed her all thirty-two of his teeth. “I got a pretty strong back. But on some G shit, Porsha, you ain’t never even thought about giving me no play.”
“Alonzo, you’re fine as hell but there’s no way it would work out. I’m moving fast right now, trying to get where I gotta get on the express train, and you’re riding the local,” she said seriously. Seeing that she had offended him, she explained, “Alonzo, I don’t mean that as any kind of slight to you, but I’m into a certain type of dude that’s on the same page as me. Working a nine-to-five for as many years as you’ve been here is beyond impressive, but—”
“But what?” he cut her off. “Porsha, before you give me the ‘good kid working in the supermarket’ speech, don’t forget that working here is one of the only things that are keeping me outta prison,” he reminded her. Alonzo had been a notorious stick-up kid in and around the Bronx until a four to nine slowed him down. He started working at the supermarket as a condition of his parole, and by the time he was off parole he was next in line for the manager’s position so he stayed on. People often clowned him for working in the supermarket but Alonzo had a plan.
“That shit Scar and them doing,” Alonzo waved his hand dismissively, “been there done that, and ain’t none of them built like I was when I was popping, but unlike them knuckleheads, I realized that there was more to life than a fucking five by nine and a chow call. This shit,” he motioned around the supermarket, “is an ends to a means.”
“I hear you talking,” she said with a smirk.
“Don’t hear me talk, watch me move.” Alonzo winked and walked away. “You gonna stop playing with me and act like you know Porsha,” he called over his shoulder.
CHAPTER 8
After successfully tackling the grocery shopping, Porsha headed home to catch a quick nap before she started dinner and went to work. She passed Scar and a few of his cronies leaning against he fence in front of the community center, obviously up to no good. He looked at Porsha and smirked, but she just rolled her eyes and kept walking.
To
Similar Books
