by La Jill Hunt
“Hey, Daddy,” Peyton said when her father opened the rear door where she was sitting.
“Hey, sunshine.” He kissed her on the forehead. Garry then opened the door for Aunt Connie. “Hey, Aunt Connie. I’m so glad to see you.”
“Garry, nice to see you too. You know I got some choice words for you about this whole situation, but I’ll save them for when you and I are alone,” she said, giving him a hug and a kiss.
“Yes, ma’am. We’ll have to sit down and have a talk.” Garry nodded.
“Oh, trust me, we will be having several conversations, young man,” Aunt Connie told him.
Garry looked over to Sylvia for help, but she offered none. He headed in her direction, and knowing he was going to try to open her door, she grabbed the handle and did it herself. She hopped out before he even made it to her side of the car.
“Good morning, Syl,” he said.
“Good morning,” Sylvia responded, walking past him and standing beside her aunt. It was freezing, and Sylvia was ready to get all of them out of the cold.
“Is that her in the car, Daddy?” Peyton asked.
“Yeah, sunshine.” He nodded. “That’s her. She’s scared and sad. I told her she can take her time getting out.”
“Should I go talk to her?” Peyton asked, looking at her mother for approval.
Sylvia admired her daughter’s willingness to care for the girl, even under the uncomfortable circumstances. Peyton had a good heart, and it let Sylvia know that she had done a good job raising her. It was apparent that her loyalty in this ordeal was to her mother. Sylvia gave her a nod.
“If you want to,” Garry encouraged their daughter.
“We’re gonna go ahead inside and get a table,” Sylvia said, taking Aunt Connie by the arm and leading her inside. “Come on, Aunt Connie.”
They entered the restaurant, and the waitress seated them.
“You’re a good woman, Sylvia. Your mama would be proud. You know that, right?” Aunt Connie told her with a nod of approval. Reaching across the table, she gave her hand a firm squeeze.
Sylvia looked over at her aunt, who looked so much like her mother that it was scary. “Yes, ma’am. I like to hope and think she would be. I wish she was here now more than ever, so I could talk to her.”
“I miss her too, and even though she ain’t here, I am. And I love you. I’ma say to you the same thing I know my sister would probably say.”
“What’s that?” Sylvia sighed.
“I know taking in Garry’s child is not an easy thing to do, and although I want it to be smooth sailing for this family, it probably won’t be.”
“Aunt Connie, I’m not foolish enough to think we’re gonna be the Brady Bunch.” Sylvia shrugged, thinking that her mother probably would’ve said something a little more positive than what her aunt said.
“I just want you to know that I’m praying for you. And I’m here to help in whatever way I can. Now, you sure you’re ready for this? Because if you are, I got your back. And if you aren’t sure, then I got your back on that too. But this is a child’s life that you’re about to be dealing with—a child who just lost her mother, and you of all people know what that loss feels like. You’ve mourned the loss of yours.”
Sylvia closed her eyes and let her aunt’s words settle in her mind. She knew that although this decision was not an easy one to make—it may even be one she would regret when it was all over—but she did what her heart was telling her to do. There was no way she could see a young woman, whether it was Garry’s daughter or not, go through the loss of her mother alone.
“I know I’m doing the right thing, and thank you, Aunt Connie.” Sylvia reached over and grabbed her aunt’s hand. As much as the woman got on her nerves, she was still her aunt, and she meant well.
Moments later, Garry and Peyton arrived at the table, followed by a beautiful young woman, looking very much like her husband.
“Mom, this is Jordan.” Peyton did the introductions. “And this is Aunt Connie.”
The girl looked at Sylvia briefly, then looked down at the table.
“Nice to meet you,” Sylvia told her, hoping no one heard the nervousness in her voice. Her heart was racing, and she felt jittery even though she hadn’t had her usual cup of morning coffee yet.
“Well, good morning, Ms. Jordan.” Aunt Connie stood up and moved over, allowing Jordan to take the seat beside her. “I know you’re glad to be able to eat something other than that hospital food, huh?”
Jordan gave Aunt Connie a puzzled look, then sat down and said, “Um, yes ma’am, I am.”
“Then let’s order you some pancakes! Where’s that waitress? She ain’t even brought us no hot coffee, but I bet she’s gon’ be looking for a tip when we leave.”
There was no time for awkwardness or tension because Aunt Connie took over and dominated the entire breakfast conversation, as usual, talking about everything from the news to what Jordan’s favorite foods were. And Sylvia was glad. She and Garry remained silent most of the meal and allowed Aunt Connie to serve as moderator between the family. By the time they finished eating, Sylvia felt a little more at ease about Jordan moving in.
Janelle
“She wants to go where?” Janelle asked.
“To a strip club called Mango’s,” Nivea answered.
“Wait, did you say strip club? Why the hell would Natalie wanna go to a strip club? Is it a male strip club?”
“No, it’s a female one.”
“Is she batting for the other team now?”
“Not that I know of. She wants us to meet her there at like eleven tonight. Do you wanna go? Where are you?”
Janelle looked at the time. It was after seven, and she was still running errands. “I’m at the pharmacy picking up my aunt’s prescription, and I have to run to the store. I still don’t understand why we are going.”
“Me neither, but she is really hype.”
“Wait, is she one of the strippers?” Janelle couldn’t picture Natalie swinging on someone’s pole. Maybe filing books away in someone’s library, but a stripper, never.
“Hell no, she’s not a stripper. She barely wears short sleeves in the summertime. You know she ain’t taking her clothes off. I don’t care who’s making it rain.”
“Oh, well, I guess we can go see what the hype is all about. I will call you when I get home.”
Janelle pulled into the parking lot of the pharmacy and walked straight to the back to pick up her aunt’s medicine. She was pleasantly surprised that instead of the regular pharmacist, there was a nice-looking black man behind the counter. The name on his tag read: ROD CRAWFORD.
“Picking up or dropping off?”
“Picking up for Connie Turner.”
Janelle noticed his dimpled smile and dark, seductive eyes. Instinctively, her eyes scoped out his left hand for a ring, and she was happy when there wasn’t one there. Not that it meant anything. She knew plenty of married men who didn’t wear wedding bands.
“Here it is,” he said, holding up the small plastic bag with three pill bottles. “Will there be anything else?”
“I need to get these too.” Janelle handed him the small arm basket she carried with the rest of her items. The pharmacist took out the bottle of Centrum vitamins, the twelve pack of Ensure, and a pair of support pantyhose out of the basket then looked at her strangely. She was wondering why he paused until she remembered the box of magnums she had tossed in.
He smiled as he rang them up. “Will this be all, Mrs. Turner?”
“Yes, that will be it. And I’m not Mrs. Turner. She’s my aunt.” Janelle acted as if she wasn’t embarrassed at all.
“Okay, then that will be forty-seven dollars and sixty-nine cents.”
Janelle reached into her purse and handed him her check card.
“I’m gonna need to see some ID. Ms. Lee, is it?”
Janelle gave him her license, signed the receipt, and completed her transaction. “Thank you.”
“Enjoy y
our night.”
She laughed all the way to her car. She was still laughing about the incident hours later as she and Nivea walked through the doors of Mango’s.
“At least he knows you have safe sex.” Nivea snickered.
“I know it must’ve looked so random: all of those senior citizen goods, and then a box of magnums.”
“Old people need love too!” Nivea giggled.
“Nivea, Nelle, over here,” Natalie called.
They went over to the bar where she was sitting along with two other women. The club was crowded with male and female patrons. There were several strippers giving lap dances in the corner and scantily clad waitresses serving drinks. Rihanna’s “Pour It Up” blasted from the speakers.
“I can not believe we are in a damn strip club.” Janelle shook her head.
“Why not? It’s so much fun. The music is live, and the drinks are banging!” Natalie told them. “And look around. This is where all the fellas are.”
Janelle looked over to the group of men where Natalie was pointing. They all looked as if they were straight out of a rap video. “Uh, I don’t know if I wanna date a man I met in a strip club. That don’t seem right.”
“Why not? It’s some ballers in here, girl. The other night I met a guy who owns a Lexus dealership! And the week before that—”
“Oh my God, Natalie, how many times have you been here? Let me find out you’re a regular at the strip club now.” Nivea gasped. “Is that why you can’t hang out with us?”
“You’ve been dissing us for the strip club? That is just wrong!” Janelle shook her head.
“Shut up,” Natalie said and ordered a round of drinks.
It didn’t take long for Janelle to sit back and enjoy herself. Natalie was right. The music was hype, and the drinks were amazing. They were having a great time when she looked up and saw a familiar face coming through the door.
“Oh my God,” she hissed into Nivea’s ear. “That’s him!”
“Who?” Nivea looked over in the same direction as Janelle.
“Don’t look. I don’t believe it,” Janelle said, trying be as discreet as possible so he wouldn’t see her looking in his direction while talking about him.
“Who is it?” Nivea looked again.
Janelle was just about to explain who the guy was when suddenly her friend jumped up and ran over to the man Janelle was pointing out and hugged him.
“Oh my God! What are you doing here?” Nivea squealed in delight.
“Nivea, wow, I can’t believe it’s you!” he said with a wide grin on his face.
“This is crazy! I haven’t seen you in forever.”
The two walked over to the bar, and he noticed Janelle. Their eyes met, and they stared at one another. She tried to say something, but for some strange reason, no words came out of her mouth. She was rarely at a loss for words and figured it was happening now at the shock of not only seeing him in a strip club, but also the fact that Nivea knew him.
“Ms. Lee, right?” He smiled at her.
Janelle was glad that he spoke first, giving her a few more moments to get herself together. She sat up a little higher in her chair, making sure her body was situated perfectly, and quickly looked him up and down.
“How do you know each other?” Nivea asked.
“This is the pharmacist I was telling you about from earlier,” Janelle told her.
“Oh, wow, that is hilarious. Sherrod, I didn’t know you lived here.”
“I just moved here a few weeks ago,” he told them. “I’m still learning my way around town.”
“Well, looks like you had no problem finding the strip club,” Janelle said and gave him a slight smirk.
“That’s true,” Natalie agreed and nodded.
“One of my frat brothers is having a bachelor party. I normally wouldn’t be in here. Well, I mean . . .”
“Rod!” a guy called across the club.
Rod waved over at the rowdy bunch. They were tossing dollars at the woman dancing in front of them. The group of about ten men were so loud and rambunctious that Janelle couldn’t tell which one was the groom to be. It seemed as if all of them were intent on enjoying a last night of freedom.
“Well, we’ve gotta exchange numbers before you leave,” Nivea told him.
“No doubt,” he said, hugging her again. “Nice seeing you again, Ms. Lee.”
“Same here,” Janelle told him. “Don’t make it rain too hard.”
“Never that.” He laughed and winked at her, causing her to raise an eyebrow at him.
Wait, is he flirting? She wondered as she watched him turn and walk away.
“How do you know him?” Janelle asked when they took their seats at the bar.
“We went to middle and high school together. He lived in our neighborhood,” Nivea told her.
“Oh, okay.” Janelle shrugged.
They went back to partying with Natalie and her friends. By the time they finished one drink, the bartender had placed another one in front of them, compliments of some dude in the club. One guy even sent one of the dancers over to give Nivea a lap dance, which she respectfully declined.
Janelle was having such a great time that she didn’t realize she had several missed text messages until she took her phone out to check the time. Jarvis texted her twice, Titus three times, and her phone was now ringing with his number flashing on the screen.
“Hello,” Janelle answered, covering one ear so that she could hear him over the loud music.
“Where the hell are you at?”
“Why?” Janelle asked.
“Because I wanna know.”
“Nosey,” she said, sucking her teeth as if she were frustrated by the call, which she wasn’t.
“Where are you?”
“Mangos.” She giggled, thinking of what his reaction would probably be.
“The strip club? What the hell are you doing there?” Titus laughed. “You into lap dances now?”
“As a matter of fact, I just had one,” she lied. Janelle glanced up and saw Sherrod looking at her, smiling. She smiled back. “Look, I gotta go. It’s loud in here.”
She hung the phone up without hearing what Titus said. Nivea was up dancing with some guy, and Natalie danced with a girl. It was getting crazy. The later it got, the more people came into the club. It was nearly two a.m., and people were just arriving.
Her phone rang again, and she saw she had gotten another text from Titus. She was shocked when she read the words: come outside.
“I’ll be right back,” Janelle told Nivea.
“Where are you going?” Her friend frowned.
“I’ll be back in a minute.”
She grabbed her coat and slipped it on, heading out the door into the parking lot, where Titus flashed his lights at her. She walked over to his pickup truck, and he rolled down the window.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded to know.
“I came to check on you and make sure you were okay,” he said. “This place can get real crazy.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve been here a couple of times.” He shrugged.
“I bet.” She laughed at him.
“Get in the truck.”
Janelle looked around the parking lot. There was no one outside except the huge security guards posted in front of the club. The last thing she needed was one of her friends coming out and seeing her talking to him.
“No, I’m fine,” she told him, shivering.
“It’s cold as shit. Get into the truck. It’s warm,” he coaxed.
“No, I’m not gonna be out here that long.”
“Get in and stop tripping.”
Janelle relented and climbed into the truck beside him. They laughed and joked for almost thirty minutes before she told him she had to go.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because I’ve been out here long enough and my friends are inside,” she said matter-of-factly.
“So it’s like that? You don
’t wanna stay out here with me? I’m your friend,” he leaned closer to Janelle and whispered in her ear. She felt his hands on hers, enjoying the warmth they provided. “Aren’t I?”
“Yes, you’re my friend.” Janelle reached over and hugged him. She released from his grasp, opened the door, and got out. She waved at him and walked back toward the club. Just as she got to the front, she looked up and saw Sherrod Crawford staring at her.
Sylvia
Between Jordan, Aunt Connie, Garry, Peyton, and work, Sylvia’s life was total chaos. She knew having Jordan move in was going to take some getting used to, but Sylvia did not know that meant having to deal with Gypsy, Jordan’s one-year-old Pomeranian. The dog constantly barked, and although Jordan and Garry said she was trained, the puddles of pee and poop that Sylvia found all over her home showed otherwise. She wasn’t necessarily a neat freak, but she took pride in keeping a clean house. Her newly acquired teen did not seem to have that same attitude, mainly because she had so much stuff that there didn’t seem to be enough room to store it all. To say that Jordan was spoiled was an understatement. Clothes, shoes, purses, electronics, and then to top it all off, there was now a silver BMW in their garage that belonged to Jordan.
“She’s not even old enough to drive,” Sylvia said to Garry when she and Peyton came home a few days after Jordan arrived to find the car parked there.
“I know, and she doesn’t drive it. It was her mother’s old car, and she gave it to her when she got a new one,” Garry told her. “I didn’t see any harm in letting her keep it.”
“You told Peyton she couldn’t get a car until after she graduated from high school, and even then only if she had a three point seven GPA and got a scholarship. I’ve seen Jordan’s grades, and they are nowhere near a two point five, Garry.”
“I didn’t give her the car, Syl. Her mother did. I had nothing to do with that,” Garry responded as if it was no big deal.
“And the dog? How many times did Peyton ask for a dog and you flat out said no? It wasn’t even up for discussion,” Sylvia pointed out.