The Union

by Tremayne Johnson

  His eyes fell to a picture that was stuck on the refrigerator.

  “Do you miss her, Auntie?” He stared at one of the few visual memories of his mother.

  “Miss who, Mox?”

  “My mother…”

  Sybil turned and faced Mox. “Of course I miss her. I think about her every day.”

  “I do too… you know something,” Mox opened the refrigerator and grabbed the pitcher of Kool-Aid. “I wanted to ask you this for the longest, but I was always afraid of the answer.”

  “Ask me what?”

  Mox leaned against the wall. He needed some closure, seven years was long enough.

  “Do you remember that night?”

  She sighed, “Like it was yesterday.”

  “Do you know why it happened?”

  “I don’t have a clue, Mox. I wish I did.” She peeled the picture off the refrigerator. “I really miss my sister.” Her eyes got watery and a tear rolled down her cheek.

  Mox ripped a paper towel from the roll that was on the counter and handed it to her.

  “Lately, it’s been on my mind. It just bothers me that nobody knows anything.”

  Sybil listened to Mox. She knew more than she led him to believe, but she was afraid to expose her dark secrets.

  “Sometimes the truth can cause pain, baby.”

  “No more than it’s already caused—.”

  A knock at the door disturbed their conversation.

  “Who is it?”

  “Open up lil’ nigga.”

  Mox unlocked the door and Wise Earl strolled into the apartment.

  He looked around the peaceful room. Something was going on. It was too quiet for this to be his sister’s house.

  “What the hell is going on in here? Why y’all lookin’ so sad?”

  “Uncle Wise, I was just asking Auntie if she knew anything about the night my mother and father got killed.”

  Earl was shocked. His eyes moved from Sybil to Mox, and then back to Sybil. He didn’t expect to walk in on a subject so personal. He could tell his older sister had been crying.

  “Mox, sometimes things happen and we can’t do anything about it. That’s life.”

  “Naw, Unc… I ain’t tryna hear that.”

  “Well, that’s what it is.”

  “That ain’t what it is, Uncle Wise. Listen to what you saying; basically you gave up. Y’all don’t even care about what happened.”

  “It’s not that I don’t care, because I do. That was my sister, I love her, but—”

  Mox cut in. “But what, Unc?”

  The room went silent.

  “I believe if y’all did know something y’all would tell me…” There was a pause. “Right?” he glanced back and forth.

  “C’mon, Priscilla.” Mox hugged his aunt. “I’m old enough to know now Auntie, and if somebody doesn’t tell me, eventually I’ll find out on my own,” he said.

  Earl grabbed his nephew’s arm and brought him in close. “I love you boy. Be safe out there, Mox.”

  “I got you, Unc. Hey, Auntie, tell Casey I’ll be through at nine o’clock tomorrow so I can take him to his game.”

  He walked out the door and Priscilla followed.

  Wise Earl shook his head and then looked at his sister. “You gon’ have to tell him one day, sis.”

  TWO

  Priscilla and Mox’s unity had begun only two years prior. It was the summer of 2000, before young Mox’s freshman year at New Rochelle high school. At the time, he was into sports heavy. Baseball and track and field were the ones he favored.

  Currently under his aunt, Sybil’s care, it was a struggle for her to raise three growing boys. Things were tight, but they managed to get through.

  All three of the boys played sports, so the refrigerator was always empty and the laundry was always dirty.

  Mox took it upon himself to go out and find a part time job washing cars down at the Shiny Gleam car wash in Mamaroneck, which was about ten minutes away. Most of the staff was illegal immigrants and young black kids Mox’s age, so they didn’t mind working with him as long as he did what he was asked.

  He made a few dollars every week and was able to contribute to the household, contrary to how to his cousin Cleo saw things. He figured he didn’t need to work because in a few years he was going pro. But that was in a few years, this was now and Mox was not only pulling the weight of him and his brother, but also Cleo. He never once complained.

  It was the top of the morning on a 96 degree summer day when the dark blue Honda Coupe with five star rims and an awful paint job turned into the car wash.

  Mox arrived to work fifteen minutes early after having an argument with Cleo over the bathroom. Rather than a fist fight, he walked away, figuring he’d be the sensible one.

  The blue Honda was the first car to pull up. It was only 8:50 and they usually didn’t start washing cars till 9:15, but when the passenger side window came down, Mox approached the pretty creature sitting behind it.

  He smiled bright and asked, “Welcome to Shiny Gleam. How can I help you today?”

  She smiled back, but the driver answered. “Fuck is you smiling for nigga? Lemme get the full wash, Armor All and all that… how much?”

  “Would you like the interior done, sir?”

  “Ain’t that part of the full wash? I said full wash!”

  Mox stayed cool. “No it isn’t sir, that’s why I’m asking.”

  The driver became annoyed. “I don’t want no extra shit, jus gimme the full wash… and make sure you put Armor All on my shit! Last time them fuckin’ Mexicans got me.”

  Mox continued to ignore his obnoxiousness. He wrote out the receipt and passed it to the pretty female.

  “Pull up to the yellow line and I’ll take it from there.”

  Once the driver put the car in park, he hopped out and went inside to pay for the wash. His beautiful accomplice stood outside.

  Mox used this opportunity to strike a conversation.

  “Is that your boyfriend?” He inquired.

  She didn’t even look in his direction. “No.”

  “Then why you riding with him?”

  “Little boy, you need to mind your business. Don’t worry about why I’m riding with him.”

  Mox admired her from head to toe. She was perfect. Her mesmerizing eyes spoke volumes and he was feeling her sense of style. He knew she was older because of the way she dressed. She wore zebra print leggings that showed off her firm thighs, shiny red pumps that accentuated her calf muscles and a tight fitting, short sleeve shirt that emphasized her well-formed breasts.

  “What’s your name beautiful?”

  She smirked. “Why you wanna know my name?”

  “I’m sayin’… I’m just being formal.” He extended his hand. “Mox Daniels.” He said.

  “Priscilla Davis.” She replied, shaking his hand. “Ain’t you Cleo’s cousin?”

  “Yeah… Priscilla,” He paused. “I like that name, it fits you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. How old are you Priscilla?”

  “Older than you.” She remarked.

  “That won’t be a problem. I like older women.”

  They laughed.

  “I love your enthusiasm.” She said, getting ready to get back into the car. The detailer was wiping the last tire down with Armor All. “Keep it up, you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

  “I already did.” He responded.

  Out the corner of his eye, Mox saw the driver coming out to his car. He recognized the light skinned skinny kid, but he couldn’t figure out his name. He was a halftime hustler from the other side of town.

  “Yo!” the driver shouted. He had watched Priscilla and Mox talk the entire time. “Why the fuck is you even talkin’ to this lame ass nigga?”

  “Dee, shut up and get in the car.” Priscilla replied.

  Dee. That was his name. Deandre Foster.

  Mox knew exactly who he was now. Deandre’s younger brother i
s the same age as Mox and Dee is only two years older than both of them.

  Once again, he ignored the slick talk and continued to do his work. He would see Priscilla another day and when he did, he would be determined to get her. As for Dee, he wasn’t a bit worried about him. Mox already knew who the victor would be if it came down to a one on one.

  As they pulled away from the car wash, Priscilla gave Mox a tasteful look and winked her eye. At that point, he knew he had her.

  A few days later, a black Lexus GS 300 with stock rims and dark tint slowly pulled into the car wash.

  Mox got up from the crate he was sitting on and hurried to the car.

  The driver let the window down halfway.

  “Welcome to Shiny Gleam. How can I help you today?” Mox smiled.

  The window came all the way down and his smile grew bigger. “What’s up beautiful?”

  “Can you take off for lunch?” She asked.

  Mox turned to see where his supervisor was. “Hold on.” He shouted to his co-worker. “Yo, Javier! I’m taking an early lunch, you want a sandwich!?”

  “Aight! Yeah, bring me one back!”

  Mox tossed the drying towel he was holding into the bin and went around to the passenger side of the luxury vehicle.

  “This joint is nice.” He ran his fingers along the custom wood-grain paneling and inhaled the fresh scent of the new leather.

  “Thank you,” she shifted the gear to reverse and backed out of Shiny Gleam.

  “Is this your man’s car?” Mox watched as she maneuvered the sedan. Her finger nails were manicured and polished light pink and her hair was in its natural curly state.

  “No, this is not my man’s car. I told you, I don’t have a man and for the record, this is my car.”

  “This car cost sixty-thousand dollars and you telling me it’s yours.”

  “How do you know the price of this car?”

  “I specialize in cars and women,” he laughed.

  “Is that right?” She was already in love with his humor. “Sixty-thousand dollars ain’t a lot of money.” She boasted.

  “To who?”

  “What if I told you that you could make sixty-thousand dollars in one night?”

  Mox looked at her in disbelief. “What I gotta do?” He was anxious.

  Priscilla chuckled. “Just like that, huh? No questions asked.”

  “Maybe, one.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Would I have to kill anybody for it?”

  For a moment, Priscilla didn’t say a word; she just focused on the road in front of her. Twenty feet ahead, she came to a stop at a red light.

  She answered. “Only if you want to.”

  That day Priscilla and Mox ate lunch together at Subway and then she dropped him back off at work.

  Even though she was three years older than him, Priscilla really liked Mox and the feeling was something new to her. She was rarely interested in guys her age, let alone someone younger than she was, but Mox was different. It was something about his ambience that caught her attention the first time they met. He was truly eager and confident, not to mention his cockiness was attractive.

  __________

  After a few dinner dates and two trips to the movies, Priscilla invited Mox over to her apartment.

  The grey cab pulled up to the huge building on Pelham Road.

  “760.” The driver said. “That’ll be six and a quarter.”

  Mox paid the fare and stepped out into the summery night air. He was rocking a dark blue pair of Guess jean shorts, a white short sleeve, three-button polo shirt and his brand new white on white Air Force Ones.

  He walked into the building and looked for Priscilla’s last name on the intercom list. She told him the buzzer number, but it slipped his mind that fast.

  Searching through the long list of tenants, he finally spotted her name.

  Davis. He said to himself. He lined his finger up with the name and slid it across to find out the apartment number.

  Seeing it was 7C, he pushed it and waited.

  “Who is it?”

  “Mox.”

  The buzzer sounded and he entered the well-lit lobby. The view he took in was surprising, he marveled at how nice the building was. He had become used to the debris filled hallways and urine drenched elevators of the projects. This was a world away from that; and it was only five minutes away from the hood.

  Mox checked his outfit in the large, rectangular wall mirror and then rode the elevator to the seventh floor. He followed the sign on the wall and turned right toward 7A-7E.

  When he got to the door, he could hear music. The door was cracked open for him to walk right in.

  Damn this is nice. The luscious scent of herbs and spices tickled his nose. Admiring the paintings on the wall, he noticed each one of them was of African Americans.

  Mox took a few more steps down the hallway and into the living room where Donell Jones’ ‘Where I Wanna Be’ boomed through the surround sound.

  “This is that joint!” Mox sang along.

  Girl, the love that we share is real

  But in time your heart will heal

  I’m not saying I’m gone but I

  Have to find what life is like

  Without you…

  Priscilla heard Mox’s voice and was moved. She joined in.

  But when you love someone

  You just don’t treat them bad

  Oh, how I feel so sad now that I wanna leave…

  She grabbed the remote and hit mute. “Let me find out. What you know about Donell Jones?”

  “I like that song right there. My mother was big on R&B, so that’s pretty much all we listened to. She hated when I put on rap music.” Mox laughed at the memory.

  “That’s cool,” she said. “So, that’s two things we have in common.”

  “What’s the first?”

  “Our love for cars.”

  “Oh, yeah… definitely.” Mox looked over the warm, plush apartment. It was nicely furnished and laced with wall to wall carpet, a brown micro fiber sectional couch with matching love seat and a big screen floor unit television. “Damn, you look good.”

  Priscilla blushed. “Thank you.” She was really feeling Mox’s air. He was unique in a way she couldn’t describe. Extremely mature and incomparable; a far cry from the ordinary.

  Mox spread his arms and went to hug Priscilla.

  She had to get on her tippy toes just to wrap her arms around his neck, she was 5’7, but Mox was two inches over six feet.

  She looked good rocking a pair of off white linen shorts, a pink tank-top and a pair of white ankle strap Louis Vuitton heels. The perfume she wore was seductive and sweet.

  Her soft breasts pressed against Mox’s chest and he wrapped his arms around her curvy waist.

  After their embrace, Mox went to take a seat on the couch.

  “You live here by yourself?” He asked.

  “Yup.”

  “Wassup wit’ your parents?”

  Priscilla didn’t mind sharing her personal issues with Mox. It was confusing, but she was comfortable with it.

  She sat down on the couch beside him and took a deep breath. “Well, my father…” She paused and looked to the ceiling. It was a touchy subject. “I don’t even know. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a father.”

  “Nah, don’t say that. I mean, he’s still alive right?”

  “I guess so.”

  Mox could tell it was difficult for her to explain the situation. He had been going through the same issues with his expression of the traumatic incident in his life, but the more he spoke about it the better he handled it.

  “I’m being nosy, but what about your mother?”

  The matter of her and her mother’s affairs were far more sensitive to discuss than the absence of her father. Priscilla slighted her mother for reasons she withheld from the world, but you could see the affliction in her eyes when it was mentioned.