by Mz. Robinson
“Deal,” he agreed.
After my shift, I called Shaundra to inform her of my change of plans, and she was actually thrilled for me. “We’ll get together tomorrow, “she said. “Besides, I got my own cutie I wanna spend a little time with.”
“Blair? That dude you met at the gym?”
“That’s him, Mr. Chocolate Thunder.” She giggled. “Have fun, girl, and don’t worry about being good, because I sure as hell won’t. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay,” I agreed.
I told Gator to follow me to my apartment so I could shower and get ready for dinner. Inside, I stood in front of the floor-length mirror in the corner of my bedroom, admiring my reflection. I was dressed in a red, strapless, above-the-knee sheath dress and large, gold hoop earrings. My ensemble was sexy but classy, hopefully perfect for the evening. I bumped the ends of my hair, then stepped into my gold, open-toed heels, grabbed my handbag, and left my bedroom.
Gator was sitting on the sofa in my living room, flipping through the leather-bound album I kept under my coffee table. When he looked up at me with appreciation in his eyes and a smile on his face, I knew I had chosen the right dress. “You look beautiful,” he said, standing.
“Thanks.”
“I was just looking at your pictures,” he stated, pointing at the album. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, it’s cool.”
“Are these your parents?” he questioned.
I walked over to the couch and looked down at the slightly faded picture of my mother and father. The photo had been taken when my mother was six months pregnant with me. The two of them were sitting on a small park bench, wearing smiles on their faces, with their arms wrapped tightly around one and another. “Yes, that’s them,” I said proudly. “My father was Oscar, and my mother is Anna.”
“I can see where you get your beauty. Your mother is gorgeous.”
“Thanks. That picture was taken before I was born,” I said. I leaned forward, then flipped to the back of the album, where there was a photo of me, my mother, and my brother, a picture taken the previous Christmas. “This is Mama now.”
The more recent photo showed the three of us in my parents’ living room, standing in front of my mother’s Christmas tree. There wasn’t much difference in my mother’s appearance. She still had the same mocha-colored skin and doe eyes, but her smile was much smaller.
“Is that an old boyfriend?” Gator asked, referring to Randall.
I laughed out loud. “No! That’s my brother, Randall.”
“Now that you mention it, you do slightly favor him,” he said.
“Yeah, we’ve got the same eyes, I guess, but I look more like my mom. He takes after our daddy.”
“Where was your father? Not home for the holidays?”
“Uh…that was a month after he died,” I said, wincing and holding back a tear, “our first Christmas without him.” I stared at the photo, reminiscing about how difficult that day had been for me, for all of us. A wave of sadness coursed through my body, causing me to tremble.
“I’m sorry, Diamond. If you don’t mind me asking, how did he pass?”
“Heart attack,” I said lowly.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated.
“Me too.” I sighed. “You woulda liked him. He was super cool and funny.”
“Tell me more about him,” Gator said, easing down on the sofa.
“What about our reservations?”
“They’ll wait for us,” he said, looking up at me. “Trust me. What did your father do for a living?”
“He owned an auto repair shop, off of Meridian Street,” I said, sitting down beside him. “It was called Tinsley’s Auto Repair.”
“I’ve heard of that place,” he said, nodding. “Your father had a good reputation in the city.”
“That he did,” I said proudly. “He was a good man, a hard worker who did a lot of his jobs for free or next to nothing. He wasn’t in it for the money. He just loved what he did, and he loved helping others. He was one of the best men anyone could ever meet and the best father anyone could ever ask for.”
“So, the two of you had a good relationship?” Gator concluded.
“We did.” I sighed again. “Daddy tried his best to keep me and my brother out of trouble, but we’re both so damn hardheaded. On the day he died, we got into this huge fight about my choice of friends. He was telling me right, but I just snapped at him about me being grown, and then I stormed out. Later, Randall stopped by the shop and found Daddy on the floor of his office, dead.” I paused, attempting to fight back my tears. “I never got to apologize or tell him he was right. I hate that. I hate that my last words weren’t, ‘I love you.’”
“I’m sure he knew you did,” Gator said empathetically.
“I know,” I said, forcing a smile. “It just hurts that my last words to him were so harsh.”
He reached out and stroked my forearm gently with the tips of his fingers, causing the fine hairs on my arms to stand up and tiny flutters to waft through my stomach. I looked at him, caught up in the comfort of his eyes, lost in the understanding within his gaze. There was a peaceful moment of silence between us, until Gator finally pulled his hand back.
“I was twelve when my mother, Sara, was murdered,” he said, clearing his throat. “So, I know how it feels to lose a parent.”
“Now that you mention it, I remember. Venetta told me, and she said the same thing,” I said, remembering my conversation with his sister.
“I was there with her, with Mama, the night it happened,” he continued solemnly. “I talked to her and held her in my arms until she took her last breath.”
I listened quietly as Gator recounted to me the events that had led up to his mother’s murder. Prior to Sara’s death, she’d met a man named Raymond, whom Gator and Venetta both thought was an ideal candidate to date their beloved mother. Unfortunately, Raymond turned out to be a woman-beater.
“I came home and found Mama and Raymond in the middle of an argument,” Gator said. “The bastard had been drinking heavily. I could smell the alcohol from the door. Mama was lying on the living room floor, curled up like a baby, and he was just standing over her, hittin’ her repeatedly. I can still hear the sounds of his fist pounding against her flesh. I can still hear her whimpering.” He paused, and then rose from the sofa, walked over to my living room window, and stared out the partially open blinds, into the dark night. “I attempted to pull him off of her, of course, but he was bigger and stronger and just knocked me outta the way like he was swatting at a damn fly. I was just a kid then, but he called me weak, said I was nothin’ but a piece of shit, born to a whore. He kept beating her, cursing the whole time. I was angry and hurt. I felt weak and helpless, absolutely useless. Mama looked over at me, and her face was bloody and bruised, her eyes red and swollen from her tears. I saw the pain in her face and felt the hurt in her eyes, but that woman somehow managed to pull herself up off the floor and stand in front of Raymond like a bull ready to charge when he put his hands on her baby, on me.”
I hung on Gator’s words, envisioning the events as he continued on.
“Raymond just laughed and taunted her,” he said. “He threatened to beat my ass like he was beatin’ hers, but Mama warned him not to lay another finger on me or he’d regret it. While the two of them went back and forth, I crawled away and finally got up and ran into the kitchen. Raymond yelled after me, demanding that I come back and stand up to him like a man, even though I was only twelve. I made it to the kitchen drawer and grabbed the biggest butcher knife I could find. When I turned around, he was standing there with a smug grin on his face. ‘Do it!’ he said. I raised the knife, telling myself I had it in me to take the man’s life. He laughed. He knew I couldn’t do it. He grabbed me and pried the knife from my hands. Mama came up from behind him and started beating him in his back, ordering him to get the hell away from me, and he…that was when he did it. He didn’t even blink twice. He just turned around and
took that knife and…”
I watched Gator as he fell silent, undoubtedly lost in his memories, trapped in his own world. I stood and walked over to the window, then placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and stared at him. The pain was evident in his beautiful features, as evident as if he’d been wearing a scarlet letter on his chest.
Once he was able and ready to carry on, he explained that Raymond stabbed Sara three times, once in the neck and twice in the chest, then dropped the weapon on the floor and ran out of their house.
“Did they ever catch him?” I asked, referring to the authorities.
“No,” he said. He turned and looked at me intensely. “They didn’t, but I sure as hell did eventually.” There was an eerie, almost frightening undertone in Gator’s voice that told me things hadn’t turned out well for Raymond when the two of them had run into each other again. “You know,” he said, stepping away from me, “maybe you should go out with your girlfriend tonight instead.”
“Why?” I asked, confused.
“I-I just think it’s best. This probably wasn’t a good idea,” he stated, staring at me. The change in his demeanor was unsettling, and I knew he felt vulnerable and exposed after sharing such an emotional, intimate part of his life with me. It was clear that he wasn’t accustomed to opening up like that, and as crazy as it seemed, that only made him more attractive.
“You don’t talk about your family much do you?” I coaxed.
“In my line of work, the less people know about you and your loved ones, the better,” he stated flatly.
“So why do you do it?”
“I was…pulled in,” he said, ready to open up some more. “I accumulated a debt, and my only option was to repay it or die. I chose to live. After that, it became a lifestyle, one that pays better than your average nine-to-five. Once you know how it feels to have real money, you’ll never be content with minimum wage.”
I was tempted to ask just how much “real money” he was working with, but out of fear that he would think I was a gold-digger, I refrained. I truly wasn’t impressed, but I sure was curious. After all, I hadn’t forgotten that when we met, it was after he’d made a sale at the corner store. In my opinion, any man getting “real money” wouldn’t be so blasé as to pull off some local dope-boy bullshit in broad daylight, in the middle of a minimart parking lot.
“I have an idea,” I said, kicking off my heels. “Why don’t we stay in? We can talk some more, get to know each other a little better.”
He was silent for a moment, as if he was considering my suggestion.
“C’mon! You’ve been stalking me for weeks now,” I teased. “You owe me a date.”
“I don’t consider it stalking.” He laughed lightly. “I consider it…research.”
“That’s just a classy way of saying it.”
He smiled, then shook his head, and I was pleased to see that his jovial mood was returning. “If that’s what you prefer,” he said. “I can call D’Alessandro’s and have them deliver.”
“You were really going to take me there?” I asked, impressed.
“Yes.”
“I’ve only been there once, but I loved it,” I said, recalling my one visit to the upscale Italian restaurant on the south side of the city. The first and only time I’d patronized the establishment was when my father had treated me to dinner for my twenty-first birthday. “Do they really deliver?”
“I know the owners,” he informed me. “They’ll deliver for me.”
“Hmm. Well, I was thinking we could do something a little less serious,” I stated. “Something fun, to lighten the mood.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“I’ll whip somethin’ up for us,” I said, walking toward my kitchen.
“You cook?” he called after me in utter surprise, as if it was impossible.
“Of course I do.” I swung open my refrigerator door and frowned when I saw only a dozen eggs, a loaf of bread, a half-gallon of orange juice, and a pack of chicken bologna in a slightly greenish hue, likely past its prime. I shut the door and opened my pantry. Hmm. I know I said something fun, but this guy doesn’t seem like the Captain Crunch or Ramen type.
“I’d love a home-cooked meal,” he said, entering the kitchen.
“Um…okay,” I said, sucking my teeth. “We just have one problem.”
“And that is?”
“I’m fresh outta groceries.” I laughed, slightly embarrassed.
“That’s not a problem at all,” he advised me, then pulled his cell phone out his jacket. “It’s merely a temporary setback.”
I waited as he instructed someone over the phone that he needed a delivery immediately, then handed me the phone.
“Tell him what you want and need,” he said with a wink.
* * * * *
An hour later, Gator and I were sitting on my sofa, side by side, laughing and talking, basking in the aftermath of the homemade pizza and salad he’d prepared for us.
Thirty minutes after our phone call, an associate of Gator’s, someone who worked at one of the local grocery stores, had shown up at my front door not only with the things I’d requested, but also cases of meat and other household items.
Once I had everything put away, Gator had removed his jacket and tie and instructed me to go in the living room and wait until he finished dinner. I’d graciously accepted, and to my delight, Gator had put it down in the kitchen and looked sexy as hell while he was doing it.
During our dinner conversation, he advised me that he held an associate’s degree in business and was bilingual. I told him that I wanted to go to college or take up a trade, but my family’s financial situation would not allow it, so it would have to wait.
“What happened to your father’s business when he passed?”
“Mama didn’t have anyone to run it, so she closed the shop and sold the building to help cover other bills,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “Daddy was a good man, but he was too kindhearted. That generosity left him in a lot of debt, with not enough income to cover it.”
“What about Randall, your brother? He couldn’t run the shop?”
“Pssh!” I laughed and took a sip of my tea. “My brother is the poster child for the jobless. He can’t hold a job, and even if he could, he doesn’t want to.”
“Hmm. Maybe he just needs more motivation,” Gator suggested.
“If having your own money doesn’t motivate you, nothing will,” I disputed. “Randall lives under the delusion that the world owes him something. I don’t know what it’s gonna take to make him understand that life doesn’t owe us shit but death.”
“Would you like me to talk to him? I can be very persuasive, and maybe I can hook him up with some steady income.”
“Some of your ‘real money,’ huh?” I smirked. It was an interesting offer, but there was no way my enlisting a man who made his money illegally to talk to a man who wanted a free ride could work in my brother’s or my family’s favor. There was no way in hell working for Gator was the better alternative to not working at all. “I’ll keep it in mind,” I said politely, not wanting to insult or offend the man further.
“I’m serious, Diamond.”
I paused to gather my words so I wouldn’t come off as being rude, then finally asked the question that had been plaguing my mind: “I know you’ve got some pull. You proved that tonight.”
“Yes,” he said confidently.
“But if that’s so, why were you at the store that day, pushing from your car?”
He gave me an arrogant grin, then exhaled. “Things aren’t always what they seem, my dear. I wasn’t pushing anything,” he informed me. “The man you saw me with that day is an undercover cop.”
“A cop? Shouldn’t someone in your, uh…position try to avoid the police?” I asked, confused.
“Under normal circumstances, yes, but I’m not the norm…and neither are you.” He looked at the diamond watch on his wrist, then stood. “I should get going.”
I darted my eyes to the iron clock hanging on my living room wall and saw that it was a minute after midnight. A date hadn’t ended that early for me since high school, and no man had ever volunteered to leave my place so early. I had to conclude that Gator was different, like he said, or married. I waited until he had his jacket and tie on, and then I stood up too. I wasn’t ready for the evening to be over, but at the same time, I didn’t want to experience that awkward moment of having to kick the brother out. All things considered, it was best to let him go if that was what he wanted to do. “Thank you for everything,” I said sincerely. “I had a great time.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” he said, walking to the door. “It’s still early. If you and your girlfriend wanna hit up a club, my offer still stands.”
“Nah, I’m good,” I said, following him. “I think I’ll slide into my jammies and do some channel-surfing.”
“Call me tomorrow, Diamond,” he said, staring me in the eyes.
“I will.”
Gator leaned in close to me, causing the place between my legs to jump slightly. I closed my eyes like a girl home from her senior prom, anxiously awaiting the touch of his lips against mine. When I felt his lips on my cheek instead, I opened my eyes and felt like a dumbass. I wondered if I’d given him the wrong impression, if I’d led him to believe I was not attracted to him or thought of him as an older brother or something. I waited for him to make another move, to try to plant a better-aimed kiss, but he never did.