“Fowl.” Natice scrunches up her face as if smelling something rotten. She takes a step back, bends over, and places the palms of her hands on the dirty floor.
“What the hell are you doin’?” Pop appears out of nowhere.
“What does it look like? I’m stretching.” Natice looks up at him from under her armpit.
Pop mumbles a few undecipherable words and stalks off.
A minute later, I’m pulling Natice’s arms up high behind her back into a stretch.
By us working together and me subtly asking questions, Natice slowly starts sharing information about herself, which is exactly what I’ve hoped for. I learn Natice has been working at the pizzeria on and off since she was fifteen years old, which partially explains her relationship with Pop. Pop always threatens to fire Natice, yet he never does, mainly because Natice is loyal to him. I never see her give away free food or soda. Everyone pays. I also learn Natice doesn’t have a boyfriend. The good-looking dude who owns the Lexus is her cousin, Tray.
The biggest surprise, of course, is that Natice is taking classes at a nearby community college to get an associate’s degree in economics. I learn pretty quickly that Natice Gentry is not what she appears to be. She is actually much smarter and, at times, kind and compassionate. One second, Natice will be cursing out a group of teenagers, sounding pure ghetto. The next, she’ll be commenting on how pretty my eyes are. I even watch her work out a math problem that seems totally foreign to me and call it easy.
“They put me in advanced math classes when I was younger. But you ever see who’s in those classes? Shit, I made them switch me back,” Natice says as we’re cleaning the back tables together.
“So did you go to high school around here?”
“Yeah, Cantor High School North. Home of the Eagles pride!” Natice cheers sarcastically.
“How was it?”
“It was a’right.”
“You play any sports?”
“Ran track. Almost got a scholarship too. Would’a been out of this dump and not stuck going to community.”
“What happened?”
“Some shit went down earlier in the year. The coach got wind of it and decided he didn’t want me anymore.”
“What type of shit? Must’ve been something big for them to take it away?” The time coincides with the store robbery.
“Yeah, it was. But I can’t change it, so whatever.” Natice turns quiet and doesn’t offer anything else.
I decide to leave it alone for now.
In return for what Natice does tell me about herself, I continue to reveal only lies. I tell Natice I just broke up with my boyfriend back in Seattle and that my parents are divorced, and I’m an only child. Saying, “I’m an only child” brings on a wave of sadness that I have to fight back in order not to cry. I realize it isn’t a lie. I no longer have a sister. Jenny is dead.
As it turns out, Lori, Cracker, and Ronnie spend a lot of time at the pizzeria. The back room is pretty much their second home. Ronnie is the only one of the three who is ever nice to me, partially because I give her free slices of pizza and partially because that’s just who Ronnie is. Natice gives me shit about the free handouts, but I don’t care. I want Ronnie to like me. I want them all to like me. I’m not quite sure how this is going to happen with Lori and Cracker. Even with my budding friendship with Natice, Lori never acknowledges me, which in a way, I’m grateful for. There is something truly evil about her, as if she would smile in my face like a close friend and then stab me in the back of the head with a ballpoint pen. At least with Cracker, if she were to attack me, I’d see it coming. With Lori, I feel as though it would be done quietly.
I am surprised I haven’t seen Detective Thoms yet. If he is watching Lori and her friends closely, where is he? Other police officers, however, regularly visit the pizzeria, if only to harass Vince. One evening, I witness a cop pull Vince over in his Mercedes and search the car.
“They never find shit,” Natice says. “Vince ain’t stupid.”
It’s clear to me that Vince is a drug dealer. He drives a brand-new Mercedes, yet Natice says he works in a body shop.
Occasionally, Natice and I play the basketball toss game when Pop’s not around. I make sure to keep my scoring to a minimum so as to not bring attention to myself. But once in a while, I’ll crush Natice. Like I am now.
“Shit, girl, you’re good today. You play in high school?” Natice says.
“Yeah. Two years. Then I got kicked off the team for fighting.”
“So you’re one of those, huh?” Natice eyes me closely.
“One of those, what?” I score another basket.
“You keep it all bottled up inside. And then pop!”
“Pretty much. I’m patient up to a point.”
“Yeah? And when’s that point?”
“When I’ve had enough,” I answer honestly.
“Well, I can’t wait until you’ve had enough of Cracker.”
“What’s her problem, anyway?”
“Shit, what isn’t Cracker’s problem? And trust me, if she doesn’t have one, she’ll find one. But look, it’s probably best if you stay clear of her.”
“I will, don’t worry. Like poison ivy.”
“Good. Now, gimme that!” Natice steals the ball from my hands and takes my shot. “Two points!”
I reach in to grab the ball, and she playfully pushes me away and shoots another basket.
“Winner!” Natice shouts, smiling.
She’s in a good mood, and I want to ask her then and there if Cracker has ever killed anyone. She nails another basket, and as I hold my tongue, waiting for the right moment, an unsettling feeling washes over me, like being home alone, middle of the night, and someone knocks on your front door. You know not to open it. I shift uncomfortably in my sneakers and shove my twitchy hands deep into my pockets. I decide to wait. The last thing I want to do is raise any suspicions when she’s beginning to trust me. Besides, even if Natice were to answer the question right now, I’d have no way of recording it. I’ve forgotten my iPhone back at the motel. So instead, I offer to give her a ride home.
“I don’t live far.” Natice slides into the passenger seat next to me. She can barely keep her eyes open she’s so tired. I’m exhausted too, but I think it’s the excitement of having Natice Gentry in my car that keeps me awake. I’ve been stalking her for weeks, and now I’m giving her a ride home. If this isn’t the biggest game of Catfish, I don’t know what is. I reach Natice’s street and almost turn before she tells me to.
“Make a left here. It’s the last one on the end.” She points. The driveway is empty, so I pull in and park.
“Thank God.” Natice eyes the dark apartment.
“For what?”
“My asshole step-dad isn’t home.” She steps out of the car and slams the door.
Her back is to me as I watch her through the open window. I reach down and lift something up off the floor. “Gentry!” Natice turns and faces me. I’m holding up her book bag. “I think you’ll need this.”
She wags her head. “Damn, that would’a sucked.”
I hand her the bag through the open window. “Good luck on your test. I hope you kill it.”
“Thanks. I’m dead if I don’t. You know how to get to home from here?”
“Yeah, I’m good. If I get lost, I’ll jus’ ask someone for directions.” I see Natice’s face change and say, “That was a joke. I’ll map it.”
“Shit, girl. I was ‘bout to say, ‘Don’t ask in this ‘hood.’ Well, thanks for the ride.”
“Any time. See ya.”
Natice walks to her front door, throwing me a quick wave before disappearing inside. I promptly roll up her window, lock the passenger door, and speed away. I drive back to the motel, thinking about how different Natice is from how I imagined her. I’m glad I was wro
ng about her. I only hope I’ll be able to get Natice to tell me the truth about what happened to my sister.
“Just be patient…” I tell myself. “You’re winning her over.”
Chapter 20
The phone rings twice before my father’s secretary answers the line.
“Good afternoon. John Campbell’s office.”
“Hi, Linda. It’s Alex. Is my dad there?”
“Hi, Alex. Of course. Let me get him for you.”
As I wait for my father to pick up, I pace back and forth across my motel room’s carpeted floor, trying to pretend I am actually at basketball camp. My stomach growls from not having eaten all day, but I just want to get this call over with, especially since my dad is expecting me home tomorrow. I’m at least confident my next story will give me more time than any basketball camp.
“Hey, kiddo, how’s it going?” my father says.
“Good.”
“So how’s the rest of camp? The coaches take it any easier on you girls?”
“No. They ran us twice as hard.” I sound exhausted.
“I guess they got you in shape, then?”
“Yeah, for sure. So, Dad, a girl here at camp just invited me to her summerhouse in Ocean City, Maryland. It’s right on the beach and sounds awesome. I’d really love to go. Do you care?”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line, followed by what I imagine to be my father smiling. I haven’t shown any interest or excitement in anything since Jenny’s death, except of course, for wanting to go away to basketball camp. “I wish I had a friend with a summerhouse,” my father says, sounding happy for me. “Of course you can go. What’s your friend’s name?”
“Natalie. And really, you don’t mind?”
“As long as her parents don’t mind, it’s fine with me.”
“They don’t. She already asked them. They have plenty of room.”
“That’s great. How long you going for? A few days?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a week? I guess it depends on how much fun I’m having.”
This time I do hear my father smile, probably because we both know I haven’t had fun in a long time.
“That’s great, honey. Well, tell Natalie’s parents thank you. And you’re leaving tomorrow afternoon?”
“Yup, right after camp.” I keep up my enthusiasm.
“Okay, kiddo. Just make sure you call me as soon as you get to her house. I’ll let
your mother know.”
“I will. Thanks, Dad.” I don’t bother to ask how my mother is doing simply because I don’t want to spoil my father’s good mood.
“Drive safe. Love you, honey.”
“Love you too. Bye, Dad.”
I hang up the phone and plop down on the bed, ten pounds lighter. I stretch out my body, tapping my feet on the bed, relieved my father didn’t ask to speak with my new friend’s mother. I think any other parent from Middletown probably would have, but considering all that I have been through and my father’s own state of mind, he probably feels that being away from home is doing me good. After all, I sound much better than I have in a long time.
Later, I pay for an additional two weeks at the motel.
It’s my day off from the pizzeria when my Cantor cell phone rings. I know immediately who it is. It’s the only person I have given that number to. I pick up the phone, curious to know why she is calling. “What up?”
“Hey, can you pick me up?” Natice asks in a rushed voice. “I need a ride to work.”
I drive over to Natice’s house, and she’s waiting outside.
“Thanks, girl!” Natice hops in the car. “Tray was supposed to pick me up, but that fool got stuck in Philly. Calls me at the last minute. ‘Sorry, cuz, ain’t gonna make it.’ I’m like, you could’ve given me more than five minutes.”
“It’s no big deal. I wasn’t doing anything, just watching TV with my grandmother.”
“You’re not working?”
“Nope, I’m off today.”
“And you came to pick me up? You’re all right, Cheerleader.”
“No big deal. Tomorrow, I’m gonna ask Pop for another night. My grandmother keeps torturing me with Judge Judy on my days off, and I could use the extra dough.”
“Well, I hope he gives it to you ‘cause I hate working with him alone. The other day, I was doin’ homework, and he freaks out on me. Starts yelling and shit, right in my face. And lemme tell you, his breath was somethin’ awful.”
I laugh.
“It’s true, girl.”
“Dude, I know. And he’s a close talker too. I’m always backing up, and he’s always creeping in. I don’t know how his wife deals. His breath can knock flies off a shit truck.” I roll my eyes, thinking about it. Strangely, I feel more myself around Natice.
Natice laughs. “Shit, she’s a nurse. Maybe she wears a mask around the house.”
A few minutes later, I speed through the pizzeria’s parking lot, slamming into just about every pothole in the ground, before pulling up to the door.
“Girl, you’re the worst driver.”
“I’ve been told. Tell your lover I said hi,” I say, referring to Pop.
“Thanks. I will, and I owe you!” Natice jumps out of the car.
I watch as she walks into the pizzeria on time—thanks to me.
Chapter 21
The next day I bug Pop for another night. I’m expecting him to say no since he’s a bit cheap, but surprisingly, he gives it to me. In fact, he’s actually nice about it, patting me on the back and telling me it’s good to see a teenager who wants to work and isn’t so goddamn lazy. So now out of the six nights I work at the pizzeria, Natice and I share four. It makes going in a heck of a lot easier, but the one thing that is really starting to bother me is getting hit on by thugs. One guy won’t take no for an answer, and it makes me want to call in sick every day, especially when he starts sitting in the back room, staring at me all night. He won’t even order food. He’ll simply sit and stare. It’s creepy. When he brings me flowers, I decide to take another approach.
“Yeah, no. I’m gay.”
“You gay?”
“Yeah, I have a girlfriend in Seattle. Sorry.”
“Damn. I don’t mind.” He smiles, and I see a gold tooth in the back.
Thankfully, Natice steps in.
“Hey, Cotton Mouth, illiterate dumb motherfucker, the girl said no! You deaf? Or just stupid?”
“What the fuck you say, Natice?” he mumbles as if his mouth is stuffed with cotton.
“Oh, you hear me now? Your hearing’s okay, then?”
“You lucky you Tray’s cousin.”
“You’re lucky you’re ugly. ‘Cause when he beats your ugly dumb ass, nobody will notice.” Finally, the guy walks off. Natice turns to me, her perfectly unblemished face angry. She chucks an empty can of soda hard into the trash. “Damn, these brothers are stupid. Don’t even leave ya alone when you tell ‘em you’re gay.”
Later that night, Lori, Ronnie, and Cracker roll into the pizzeria. Their bloodshot eyes and obnoxious voices let me know they’re both high and drunk. “What up, Cheerleader?” Lori says with a huge smile on her face as she walks past with Cracker.
It’s the first time Lori’s acknowledged me since I started working there. Cracker, however, ignores me as usual.
“Yo, Cheerleader. Give me two pepperoni and a Coke.” Ronnie stops at the counter.
A moment later, I hand off the pizza and soda.
“What up, Pop?” Ronnie asks.
He shoots her a look and waits until she pays before walking away. Apparently, Pop knows Ronnie well.
As soon as Ronnie and Cracker sit down, Natice goes on break to go hang out with them in the back room. I’m alone at the counter when the glass door swings open and a rough-looking group of girls enter the pizze
ria. I can tell they do not play well with others.
“Gimme a large pie to go,” says a girl wearing a purple bandana around her neck. Underneath that is a thick gold necklace with an iced-out “T” dangling from it. She’s the prettiest out of the bunch and has an exceptionally large ass. She sparks a cigarette and stares back at Lori. But by now, Lori and the others have already noticed her.
“What the fuck is this ho doin’ in here?” Lori yells.
“It’s on!” Cracker says.
Within seconds, Lori, Cracker, Ronnie, and Natice are in the front of the pizzeria.
“You must be stupid,” Lori says.
“Nah, just hungry,” Tonya replies.
“You better take your fat ass to Popeyes, ‘cause you ain’t getting shit to eat here!” Cracker says.
“Cracker, you need to get a fucking tan, ya ugly-ass corpse,” says another girl.
“You need to brush your rotten teeth, you ol’ snaggletooth!” Natice says.
“You really are stupid.” Lori gets in Tonya’s face.
“Silva, you need to lay off the booze,” Tonya replies.
They stand eye to eye, and I think for sure a fight is going to break out, when Pop emerges from the kitchen.
“In two seconds, I call the cops!” Pop yells to Tonya and her crew. “Get the hell outta here! Now!”
Tonya hesitates then glares at Lori. “You’ll be seein’ me again, Silva.”
“You know where I am.” Lori holds her stare.
Tonya smirks then pushes through the glass door. Her crew of girls follows her out like a pack of mutts.
“That’s right. Popeyes, bitch!” Ronnie yells after them.
“Let’s go kick their asses!” Cracker says.
“What the hell is wrong with you? You’re ladies! Act like it!” Pop screams.
“Pop, no one says ladies,” Cracker tells him.
“Yeah, we women! Sexy bitches, baby!” Ronnie does a dance and runs her hands over her body.
Cracker and Lori laugh.
“Funny. Always funny.” Pop storms off.
“C’mon, Pop. Don’t be mad! They low-rent. You don’t want them skanky asses in your store!” Ronnie yells.
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