Trouble with Luv' by Pamela Yaye

in his voice was unmistakable when he said, “I miss dem kids, especially the baby. She was just a few weeks old when my wife left. She’s three now and don’t even know her own daddy.”
    â€œAt least your ma didn’t toss you out on the street so her pimp could move in.”
    Ebony swung her head to the right. Her gaze landed on the slight adolescent-looking girl with the chalk-white lips sitting next to Amelia. The girl reminded her of Halle Barry in New Jack City . The stringy blond hair. Cheap makeup. Too-short skirt and stretchy blouse. Ebony didn’t know what drug she was abusing, but it was obvious she was a slave to something.
    â€œBack in the day, I was the most popular girl in school. All the brothers wanted to get with me. Jocks. Pretty boys. Geeks.” She snorted. “Today, those boys wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole.”
    Silence fell over the table. In the silence, Ebony searched for the right thing to say. “There are places you can go and get help. Agencies. Shelters. Community Centers. They’ll get you off the street, help you stay clean and give you a fresh start.”
    â€œThere’s no help for me. Ma used to say I’d never amount to anything. Told me I’d end up turning tricks like her. Said it was in my blood.” With a flick of her head, she said, “Guess she was right.”
    Ebony extended a hand. “I’m Ebony. What’s your name?”
    â€œWhy do you care?” The woman’s eyes hardened, and her shoulders arched like she was gearing for a fight. She took in Ebony’s perfect hair, flawless complexion and polished nails. “You must feel pretty good about yourself, huh? Serving poor black folk. I bet you think you’re better than us. All dressed up in designer clothes and shit.”
    It took a lot for Ebony to get embarrassed. But when a hush fell over the room and people at surrounding tables gawked at her, she felt her face flush. She didn’t dare look over at Xavier; she could feel the heat of his angry stare right where she was. Drinking from her glass didn’t loosen her airway. Keep your cool, she told herself. Don’t argue with her. If you ignore her, she’ll get bored and move on to something else.
    No such luck.
    â€œIs this your good deed for the year, Ms. Socialite? Feeding homeless bums? Giving advice? Pretending to care? Trying to make the world a better place, huh?”
    For the first time in Ebony’s life, she was speechless. Running a shaky hand through her hair, she wished that she were back at home, in bed, figuring out the latest mystery on CSI .
    â€œDon’t you hear me talking to you?”
    Ebony’s eyes spread. Is she talking to me?
    â€œYeah, you heard me, Miss I-think-I’m-Better-Than-Everybody-Else. You’re too good to answer me now, huh? People like you make me sick. You walk up in here like you know what’s going on out there on the streets, but you have no idea. I’ve been taking care of myself for years—y-e-a-r-s—and I don’t need no damn agency making my life worse.” Her eyes tapered. “I don’t need your advice, either, ya hear? I can take care of my damn self!” She leaped out of her seat and the plastic chair sailed back on the floor and landed with a clunk. Leveling more insults at Ebony, she snatched up her frayed windbreaker and then stormed out of the hall.

Chapter 5
    â€œM y dogs ache,” Sister Bertha announced, hobbling into the kitchen some three hours later. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but my shift is over. Come on, Willy, let’s go home. Mama needs to soak her feet.”
    The other two couples followed suit, leaving Xavier and Ebony alone to finish up. The next forty-five minutes flew by quickly, as they worked to get the church basement back in shape.
    Ebony couldn’t remember the last time she had worked this hard. She had swept and mopped