reason.
Noisy’s car cut off, but his headlights were still on. I glimpsed his way. He peeped my way. I shivered and looked the other way. Late night and broad daylight brought out some of the rudest people in L.A.
I grabbed Shelby’s steering wheel Club from the floor. I pulled it loose and handed her one side of the metal.
Shelby said, “What are you doing?”
“In case that brother steps to us acting crazy. You use that side as a club, I’ll use this half as a bat. Do like we did when we played softball and knock the living—”
“Give me that.”
She clicked it back together and put it on the steering wheel. Snoop Doggy Dogg music thumped from the brother’s car. Hearing gangsta rap was not a good sign.
I said, “Shelby, let’s cancel this.”
“Hell, no.” Shelby adjusted her Old Navy baseball cap. She snapped, “After the way you’ve been bitching about how hungry you are. You will get out and you will eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
The moment we opened our doors, the brother stepped out of the Celica. Like he timed it. Then a crunching noise scared me more. He had stepped on an empty Ruffles bag. My legs felt awkward. My eyes went to him, then darted to Shelby. I sort of rushed, but didn’t make it look like I was being hasty, pretended I was busy with my handbag and went to her side of the car. Two screams would be louder than one.
Then his soft-spoken voice came out of the darkness, its tone pleasant and cheery. Positive. But like I said, that didn’t mean a thing. Ted Bundy sounded pleasant before death row.
The brother said, “How are my sistuhs doing tonight?”
He moved into the light. Dark skin with Asian eyes. Broad shoulders, which could’ve been an illusion caused by his short leather jacket. Neat hair, cut short on the sides, longer on the top, sideburns that stopped at the bottom of his ear. Thin mustache over a nicely shaped goatee. Circular earrings in both ears, which I hated to see on a man.
We made eye contact. For a moment. A moment that felt like an eternity.
He said a light “Oh, can’t speak? See, that’s what’s wrong with the black woman. Brother says hi, sisters walk on by.”
Shelby said, “What’s up?”
I cleared my throat and released a slow “Hello.”
He said, “Hello.”
The next thing I knew, I sucked my stomach in and hoped my breasts didn’t look lopsided in my bra. Prayed my jean jacket covered it all, including whatever bad smells sitting in the sun had roasted into my body. I ran my tongue around the inside of my mouth, over the film on my teeth. I needed to brush and floss.
He smiled at me and said, “You okay?”
I said, “I’m fine. You caught me off guard.”
“Both of y’all wearing new jazz festival T-shirts,” he said. His smile and his eyes were glued to me. I unglued mine from him, chewed my bottom lip, wished I had makeup on and didn’t have raccoon eyes, got shoulder to shoulder with Shelby, and kept moving toward the door. He was right behind us. I felt his aura. Following. My reflection was rough. Smelled like a day of dried-up sweaty perfume. Felt a lump in my throat. Adjusted my jacket to make my hands busy. The brother stepped closer to us. I gripped my purse a little tighter. Fixed my mouth to scream. He stepped around us, held the door open, and let us in.
Then we were all at the counter, waiting for the waitress to find seats. Denny’s was crowded. It looked like a busload of brothers had dropped by here to flirt with the vixens and vice versa. Most of their eyes drifted toward us when we came in. Seeing them notice mademe take notice. I’d have to admit, the better lighting gave him some serious appeal. Maybe I felt safer about being out of the dark parking lot and in a crowd.
He asked, “How was the concert this year?”
I said, “What was that?”
He repeated himself.
“It was nice,” I said. “Real nice. Beautiful. Everette Harp
Noisy’s car cut off, but his headlights were still on. I glimpsed his way. He peeped my way. I shivered and looked the other way. Late night and broad daylight brought out some of the rudest people in L.A.
I grabbed Shelby’s steering wheel Club from the floor. I pulled it loose and handed her one side of the metal.
Shelby said, “What are you doing?”
“In case that brother steps to us acting crazy. You use that side as a club, I’ll use this half as a bat. Do like we did when we played softball and knock the living—”
“Give me that.”
She clicked it back together and put it on the steering wheel. Snoop Doggy Dogg music thumped from the brother’s car. Hearing gangsta rap was not a good sign.
I said, “Shelby, let’s cancel this.”
“Hell, no.” Shelby adjusted her Old Navy baseball cap. She snapped, “After the way you’ve been bitching about how hungry you are. You will get out and you will eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
The moment we opened our doors, the brother stepped out of the Celica. Like he timed it. Then a crunching noise scared me more. He had stepped on an empty Ruffles bag. My legs felt awkward. My eyes went to him, then darted to Shelby. I sort of rushed, but didn’t make it look like I was being hasty, pretended I was busy with my handbag and went to her side of the car. Two screams would be louder than one.
Then his soft-spoken voice came out of the darkness, its tone pleasant and cheery. Positive. But like I said, that didn’t mean a thing. Ted Bundy sounded pleasant before death row.
The brother said, “How are my sistuhs doing tonight?”
He moved into the light. Dark skin with Asian eyes. Broad shoulders, which could’ve been an illusion caused by his short leather jacket. Neat hair, cut short on the sides, longer on the top, sideburns that stopped at the bottom of his ear. Thin mustache over a nicely shaped goatee. Circular earrings in both ears, which I hated to see on a man.
We made eye contact. For a moment. A moment that felt like an eternity.
He said a light “Oh, can’t speak? See, that’s what’s wrong with the black woman. Brother says hi, sisters walk on by.”
Shelby said, “What’s up?”
I cleared my throat and released a slow “Hello.”
He said, “Hello.”
The next thing I knew, I sucked my stomach in and hoped my breasts didn’t look lopsided in my bra. Prayed my jean jacket covered it all, including whatever bad smells sitting in the sun had roasted into my body. I ran my tongue around the inside of my mouth, over the film on my teeth. I needed to brush and floss.
He smiled at me and said, “You okay?”
I said, “I’m fine. You caught me off guard.”
“Both of y’all wearing new jazz festival T-shirts,” he said. His smile and his eyes were glued to me. I unglued mine from him, chewed my bottom lip, wished I had makeup on and didn’t have raccoon eyes, got shoulder to shoulder with Shelby, and kept moving toward the door. He was right behind us. I felt his aura. Following. My reflection was rough. Smelled like a day of dried-up sweaty perfume. Felt a lump in my throat. Adjusted my jacket to make my hands busy. The brother stepped closer to us. I gripped my purse a little tighter. Fixed my mouth to scream. He stepped around us, held the door open, and let us in.
Then we were all at the counter, waiting for the waitress to find seats. Denny’s was crowded. It looked like a busload of brothers had dropped by here to flirt with the vixens and vice versa. Most of their eyes drifted toward us when we came in. Seeing them notice mademe take notice. I’d have to admit, the better lighting gave him some serious appeal. Maybe I felt safer about being out of the dark parking lot and in a crowd.
He asked, “How was the concert this year?”
I said, “What was that?”
He repeated himself.
“It was nice,” I said. “Real nice. Beautiful. Everette Harp
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