Zedd’s eyes were glossy. He turned quickly and got into his car. I turned away too; not looking back. Zedd had never called me Jyme before, and it felt good that he did. It felt more like we were friends than teacher and student.
Chapter 9
I drove through downtown and ended up in front of my new building. I pulled up to the box and pushed the buzzer.
“May I help you?” a voice from the box called out.
“I’m a new tenant and I have a package with paperwork that I need to sign that’s at the front desk.”
“And your name please?”
“Jamerson Samson.”
“Oh, Mr. Samson, we’ve been expecting you. Please come through.”
The gate opened up. I drove through and parked close to the front entrance. I walked in and saw a freakishly tall man behind the counter. He had olive skin and dark hair. He was sitting, but he was tall enough where you couldn’t really tell either way. I walked over to the desk, reaching for my wallet in my jacket pocket.
“I’m Jamerson Samson and I have some paperwork I need to sign,” I told the man behind the desk.
“Yes, sir. I’m the person from the security box. My name is Cameron and I’m the weekend night attendant. Fabian is the weekend day attendant. We both live here in the building.”
Cameron placed a stack of papers in front of me. There were red tabs where I needed to sign. I saw Zedd’s name was on each page right underneath mine. When I finished reading and signing the pages, Cameron collected the pages and placed them on a copier underneath the counter. I heard the machine copying when he reached underneath the counter and opened a drawer using a key. He pulled out a large box and set it on the counter. He placed a set of keys on the box and reached for the papers from the printer below. He put the papers in a folder and placed it on top of box, pulling the keys from underneath. He handed me the keys and shook my hand.
“Welcome to The Nolo, and Welcome home, Mr. Samson,” Cameron told me with a smile. I shook his hand before he showed me to the elevator. I got on the elevator with the large box and folder. Cameron pressed seven and waved as he walked back to the counter. The doors closed and I took in a deep breath. I couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. My new life was about to start. No matter the new truck, clothes, look, and attitude…there was no turning back now. I was here and this was me. The elevator doors opened and I stepped off. The envelope read 710, and I remember seeing that number on the papers I signed. I walked down the hall from 705 to 709. I turned the corner and there was only one door left on the hall. 710’s door was staring me in the face.
“Hello 710,” I spoke to the door and stood there like an idiot. I guess I was waiting on the door to greet me back. I slid the key in and pushed the sliding door open. The door reminded me of a barn door, but classier. It was made of thick steel and made a deafening sound while it was opening. Once I stepped into the threshold, I slid the door shut behind me. There was a lock and two latches on the door. I locked all three locks and then unlocked and then locked them again. I set the box and folder down on the black granite counter. The kitchen was stainless steel and I quickly noticed there was a steel theme throughout the condo.
The cabinets were stainless steel and the floor was laid with gray, rectangular tile. A large range hood hung over the large island. There weren’t any barstools along the back of the island, but there was plenty of knee room for very tall people to sit and be comfortable. The black granite almost looked like it was a mirror image, and against the stainless steel cabinets, the color of the room was dark. I walked through the kitchen and found a steel, four-seat table in the corner. The table and chairs had a futuristic look to them with the same black granite top as the counters on it. The chairs had black leather cushions with steel legs.
Around the corner, there was a living area. The main wall in the room had a stainless steel, tiled wall with several shades of steel together. The furniture was all black leather with stainless steel accent pieces. The glossy concrete floor looked slippery, but it was safe.
I walked down the hall exploring the rest of the condo and passed a bathroom. It too had the same steel and black theme. The hall had votive lights in the ceiling and art on the walls. I passed a bedroom to my right with black and chrome-themed furniture. A few steps down the hall to my left there was another bedroom with white and chrome furniture. I turned on the last corner to another bedroom, obviously the master. The bed was the first thing to catch my eye. Four steel posts with flat rectangular panels for the foot and head board. The bedding was light and dark gray. The wall behind the bed was black and gray brick. The nightstand and dresser matched the bed’s foot and head boards.
An envelope lay in the center of the mattress.
I walked over to the bathroom which had the same feel. The door right next to the bathroom was the closet; and it was already full with all of my things. The closet had shelves, and it was about the same size as my bedroom back home. The closet had a leather chair sitting in the corner. I went over and sat down. I pulled out my phone and texted the guys to let them know I had the keys and was at the condo. After that, I just sat there. I was trying to think of what I could say to her when I called. I wanted it to be perfect; and I wanted her to know I wasn’t a racist. Kanoke texted me and told me they were outside. I told him I’d be right there and went back downstairs. I got the guys clearance to come through the gate and gave them my visitor’s code passes to get in and out.
When we made it back upstairs and walked into the condo, Kanoke and Sheen stared at the large room. WE busted out laughing and couldn’t stop. Kanoke kept slapping the granite counter in his laughing fit. Once we settled down, I gave the guys the grand tour. I found that I had a working laundry room and a pantry full of expensive and healthy snacks.
The condo had everything already stocked. There were pots, pans, flatware, dishes, bath towels, soaps, razors, combs, hair brushes, tooth brushes, sheets, blankets, extra pillows, and even lounge gear in the guest bedrooms. The guys took full advantage of all of that.
Once I got the guys settled in, I took the large box and folder to my bedroom. I lay in my bed, opened the box, and unfolded the black tissue paper. There was a honey brown leather satchel with a matching belt. The bag was big enough for a laptop, and it had a dozen compartments on the inside. It reminded me of something Zedd would carry on the weekends with his coffee. I looked in the box again and saw a card. The card had, Mr. Samson written in an elegant calligraphy. I opened the envelope.
Mr. Samson,
You have been one of my favorite pupils. I don’t know where to start, but you amaze me. I’ve been helping and teaching boys to become men for over twenty-five years now. My grandfather and father taught me how to be the perfect gentleman. Interacting with you this past month has been an absolute pleasure. To have the opportunity to help shape someone into himself is a pleasure that I enjoy. But Mr. Samson you were different. You didn’t want this; you needed this. I normally teach spoiled rotten brats who, by some chance, have fallen in with the wrong crowd or who are themselves that poisonous crowed. You, sir, learned quickly, and you sucked everything up like a sponge. I looked forward to having our heart-to-heart conversations daily. I think you will do just find in the world, my son. You already had the heart, but now you have a polished craft.
Good Luck to you,
Zedd.
I placed the card back in the envelope and put it in the top drawer of the nightstand. I shut off the lights and fell asleep in my brand new swanky condo.
The next morning I woke up before the guys and decided to take a run through my new neighborhood. My playlist pounded loudly in my ears. I had a mixture of Drake, Usher, Jay Sean, Jay Z, Timberland and DJ Khaled. I passed The Confectional, but it wasn’t the same location Zedd and I visited. But on my way back, I stopped by and ordered a half a dozen of the cupcake cheesecakes.
When I got back, the guys had showered and were dressed for work. I grabbed a cupcake then hopped in the s
hower. We made it to the market and hit the ground running. We were busy as hell all day. I ended up staying until the market closed. We ended up closing with $7,500 for the day. Loon said that was a really good day for us and that we almost ran out of fish. I volunteered to take the left over fish to the men’s shelter over on 2nd. We always donated any extra fish we had to them or to the women’s shelter over on 45th.
As I was turning on Freemont on my way to the shelter, I saw a blue convertible that was almost identical to my chestnut-eyed goddess’s car. I got a lump in my throat and I knew I had to come up with something really good. I made the drop at the shelter with my mind on nothing but her.
Sheen and Kanoke were waiting on me when I got to the condo. “Food??” Kanoke asked.
“Let’s order in,” I told them, exhausted from the day. They agreed, and we ordered a shit load of Chinese food. We shot the shit for the rest of the evening. Later on that night when we all were getting ready for bed, I pulled the leather chair I was growing to love into the closet and swiped my phone on. I went to the contacts and scrolled down to the C’s. I tapped the screen and the phone started ringing. It rang three times and then a sweet voice chimed in my ear.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Cricket?” I asked.
“Yes, this is she; may I ask whom I’m speaking with?”
“This is Jyme.”
Shit, she probably had no idea who I was. I’m sure Charlotte told her my name was Lil Samson. Everyone called me Lil Samson even though I preferred Jyme but I never corrected people.
“Uhh, okay,” she sounded confused.
I laughed and explained myself. “I’m the guy who helped you get out of the mud last night.”
I heard a squeaky bed and then the phone fell silent.
“Hello?” The phone was still silent, and then I heard a dial tone. I had four bars. I redialed, but the phone went straight to her voicemail.
Hello, you have reached Cricket Hooper with Starbucks Corporate International Consumer Methods department. My office hours are Monday thru Friday 8:00 a.m. till 5:00 p.m. Pacific Standard Time. If this is an urgent matter, please contact Starbucks Corporation on Utah Ave S in Seattle, Washington.
And then the sweet voice was gone. She was a professional at being professional; I could tell it in her voice. I was a thick-headed beast, and she was the most delicate of chocolate Swiss mousse. I thought about her voice for the rest of the night.
When I slept, Ms. Cricket Hooper joined me in my dreams. We were in a movie theater watching a movie; sharing a bucket of popcorn. Our hands met in the middle of the bucket and then the bucket was gone all together and Cricket was giving me a hand job. She wasn’t afraid of the beast below at all. She worked him up and helped him release. When I woke, I realized the beast had released himself in real life, so I stripped the bed and put on fresh sheets.
I couldn’t get her out of my mind. I went for a run and instead of clearing my mind, it just made me think of her more. I had to talk to her; I had to let her know I handled everything poorly and that I wasn’t a racist.
When I got back, the guys were up and ready to go. I showered quickly and went to the leather chair. I swiped the phone then scrolled back down to the C’s. I tapped the phone again and waited for the rings to start. The phone rang twice.
“Hello?” she didn’t have the same sweet tone from before or from her voicemail. I had to get out what I needed to say to her.
“Look, I talked to Sal. That’s the man’s mailbox you knocked down. I told him I would come down and fix it, and he was cool with that. So the mailbox is back in the land of the living,” I assured her. The phone fell silent again. I looked at the phone and it was still lit up with her name so she was still there.
“Are you still there?” I asked her.
“Yes, I’m here. You really didn’t have to do that and I will pay you for your services.”
She was starting to piss me off. If she only knew all the shit I had to do to get that fucking mailbox back up for Sal’s greedy ass. If she only knew Sal was the one person on the reservation you never wanted to have any interactions with. He was a pure crook and tried to get something from everybody.
“Listen, I wanted to do this, and I feel horrible about what I said. Charlotte told me you were from the South and that you took total offense to what I said.”
“Wait a sec. Did she give you my number?” she popped off at me.
“Yeah.”
What difference did it make to her if Charlotte gave me her number? I handled the situation for her. The only thing she should have been saying to me was thank you.
“Unfuckingbelieveable! The Rangers are now giving out people’s private numbers. I mean, that’s my own private information,” she yelled in the phone.
“It’s not like that around here,” I told her.
“Okay, I’m done with this conversation. Thank you, and have a pleasant day,” she hung up on me again. I slammed the phone to the floor. I heard the guys beating on my bedroom door. I got up and left the phone where it fell.
I was in a fucked-up mood for the rest of the weekend. Everyone stayed away from me as much as they could. Sheen and Kanoke tiptoed around the condo. I stayed in my room as much as possible.
At the end of Sunday’s shift, Loon walked up to me as I was packing a box. “Hey man, what’s up?”
“Nothing.”
He cocked his head at me and laughed. “Man, you’ve been over here working like He-Man. No one wants to cross you. Now who pissed you off?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I got time, brother,” Loon told me, genuinely trying to help the situation.
I told him the whole story. I hadn’t mentioned Cricket anymore to the guys, so they knew nothing of my obsession about making sure she didn’t think I was a racist. Loon listened to me ramble on about her and what had been done for over thirty minutes. By the time I was finished, Sheen, Kanoke, and few of the other guys were behind me listening. I didn’t know they were listening to me tell Loon my troubles. I felt embarrassed, so I started packing the neglected box.
“You should send her some chocolates,” one of the guys called out.
“No, an expensive purse,” Kanoke said aloud. The guys talked amongst themselves, trying to figure out what I should do. Loon was the only one who was silent. He was looking up at the sky.
When I was done packing the box and the guys were almost done fighting over who had a better idea, Loon cleared his throat.
“Can you get her work address?” Loon asked.
“I already know where she works,” I told him.
“You know where her office is?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Send her flowers,” he told me. Everyone fell silent and then the crooning began. They all agreed that would be the best idea. I liked that idea too. I would send her the biggest flower arrangement I could find. I would send it to her job and that would get her attention. I had a mission now and I had to win.
Sheen and Kanoke had been planning to go back to the Res, but they wanted to help me out.
“Man, we’re staying here until you talk to her,” Sheen said.
“We don’t care how long it takes. You help us with everything, and you never ask for anything in return,” Kanoke told me.
“Thanks, guys.”
We stayed up for the majority of the night trying to find the biggest and baddest flower arrangement out there. We came up with a frosted vase and wild flowers and a few plant leaves. I ordered the arrangement from a native I know from a sister reservation. I added a few of the jumbo sunflowers and cat tails myself. Kanoke made the delivery for me. Kanoke said he asked for her and held the work clipboard in his hand. They buzzed him in and told him which floor she worked on. He said he never saw her, but that the receptionist in her office floor was cute. I didn’t hear from her that day. If I didn’t hear from her by tomorrow, I would call her myself.
That night, the guys and I were watc
hing Deadliest Catch when my phone rang. I looked down at it. Cricket was calling me.
“Shit, it’s her,” I said.
Sheen muted the TV. “Be cool, man. Don’t sound desperate.”
“Play hard to get and bored with her. That always work for me,” Kanoke said.
I tapped answer on the phone and pulled it to my ear.
“Hello,” I said in gruff voice.
“May I speak to Lil Samson Jyme?” my sweet caramel goddess voice was back.
“Speaking,” I laughed because she said my name all wrong. It was a mouthful, but damn, she fucked it all up.
“I owe you an apology, and I assume a thank you is in order as well,” she grinned into the phone. I could hear it in her voice. I had to shake her up a bit. I didn’t want to sound too desperate.
“What exactly are you thanking me for?” I asked her. The phone was silent for a minute, and then she went in.
“Well, first off, for helping me get out of the mud, second for repairing the mailbox, and third for the amazing floral arrangement. They’re beautiful and I’m so grateful.”
I couldn’t help but to smile at her. I swallowed and collected myself.
“You forgot one,” I told her.
“Um?” she thought for a minute.
“And for not killing you,” I told her. That silenced her again. I could hear her panting through the phone.
“I’m really sorry about all of that,” she whispered. My face dropped and I felt sorry for doing her like this. I didn’t want her to feel bad anymore.
“We’re even,” was all I could get out before Sheen snatched the phone out of my hand and hung it up.
“What the fuck, man?” I yelled at Sheen, jumping to my feet.
“You will thank me later, man. Listen, you were sounding too desperate.” Sheen admitted.
“Yeah man, you were sounding like a straight pussy. I’m sorry, but you were.” Kanoke joined in.
I snatched my phone from him and went to my bedroom.
“Don’t call her back. Let her call you,” Sheen called out to me from down the hall. I started to text her back, but decided to sleep on it. When I woke the next morning, I was anxious. I wanted to talk to her again and make everything all right this time. I went for a run and decided I would call her at a more decent time while she was on her way to work. When I got back from the run, the guys were still sleep. I showered and slid on a pair of my custom-fit boxers and went to the closet and my favorite chair. I swiped the phone and brought it to life. I tapped on recent calls and tapped Cricket’s name. The phone rang three times, and then I could hear wind in the background.
The Enclave of Jyme (G Street Chronicles Presents) Page 12