As soon as I stepped into the kitchen, she shouted, “You better be here to help and not to steal my damn inventory!”
“Damn, I am here to help,” I said. Then I mumbled, “Mean ass.”
“I heard that, heifer. You can cut some more of that pork roast up for me. These Negroes keep coming in here rushing me like this some damn McDonalds. I swear they gon’ make me quit.”
As I sliced the roast up, I said, “You ain’t gon’ quit. You love this.”
“Yeah, but I’m getting old. Shit, I need me a damn crew or something.”
I was quiet for a minute. Then I asked, “You ever thought about having a real restaurant?”
“With tables and people to serve and shit? Hell, naw.”
“No, it could be all carry-out. Like, in a building with a big kitchen so you don’t have to have folks in and out of here.”
“Yeah, that’d be nice, I guess...” She moved to the sink and peered out the window. “Shit, it’s a nice car out there. Someone must be on their way to the door.”
I stood next to her. “That’s my car, Mama.”
She spun around and frowned at me. “I thought you got fired.”
“I did, but I got a really good severance package, and I got a settlement check in the mail,” I lied. I hated to lie, but I knew it was best not to tell her the truth. My mom couldn’t hold water if her life depended on it.
“A settlement?”
“Yeah. This class action thing. Anyway, I found this great space over on Toller Avenue. Used to be a chicken shack or something. Fully equipped. Really clean. It’s attached to two other businesses. Well, the middle space is actually vacant, but there’s a beauty shop on the opposite end. The space I’m referring to is in a good spot and it already has a drive-thru window. I think it’d be perfect for you.”
She nodded as she stepped back over to the table and stared at a pile of Styrofoam trays. “Sounds real nice if I had the money for it.”
“Well...I went ahead and signed the lease for you, paid six months’ rent. All you have to do is move in and start cooking.”
“W-what?”
“And you’ll need a sign. Maybe Friend knows someone who can make you one? And I can help out until you can hire a staff. I was thinking Ms. Jenny’s would be a good name, since that’s what everyone calls you, and—”
“Denise! Shit! Hold on a minute! What are you saying?!”
“I signed a lease and paid the rent for you. We can go see it tomorrow if you want, or later tonight...”
I watched my hard-as-nails, mean-as-hell mother’s face crumple right before me. Then she grabbed me and pulled me into a tight hug. “What did you do?! What the hell did you do?!” she shouted. She backed away from me and swiped at her eyes. “Damn-it, I’m crying! My damn eyes gon’ be swole and shit when the people start coming for their plates.”
I smiled. “You’re welcome, Mama.”
*****
I was sitting in my little living room surfing the net, trying to figure out a new career for myself. Yes, I had a bunch of money, and I was weighing the investment options the financial advisor had given me, but even if I made the soundest investments and tripled my money, I knew that money wouldn’t last forever. I needed a job, even if it was a part-time one. Something that was location-independent in case I decided to move to Houston. I was good at the bank, but I didn’t want another bank job or any other nine-to-five, for that matter. I had enough money to create my own path. I just had to decide which path I wanted to follow. The possibilities were endless. And that made the search a little more than overwhelming. So I took a break and decided to check my email, smiled when I saw a message from Hasaan. I hadn’t heard from him since his thank-you message.
From: [email protected]
Hey, Denise. Just wanted to thank you again for your help. I’ve exceeded my fundraising goal! An anonymous donor donated $10,000. I signed the lease today. You have no idea how good that felt! As soon as everything is set up, I want you to come check it out. I’ll give you the grand tour. And I know I’ve already said this, but I’m sorry again for going off on you in your office. You were just doing your job. I’ll be in touch later.
Hasaan Peterson
I finished reading the message and caught myself grinning like a fool. I had planned to make a big donation to his fund, but it looked like someone beat me to it. Oh, well, I was just glad he met his goal, and I couldn’t wait to see his place. Shit, who was I kidding? I couldn’t wait to see him with his fine ass. Just thinking of him made me moist. So I grabbed my phone to call Christian. Then I told myself I shouldn’t be using him for sex. Then I told myself to shut the hell up and called him.
Four hours later, my legs were in the air, his mouth was clamped to my coochie, and there was a big smile on my face.
10
I broke up with Christian, or since we weren’t really a couple, I suppose I just cut off our booty calls.
I had to admit to myself that we weren’t going anywhere. I couldn’t get past him dumping me no matter how good the sex was. Plus, I needed to be alone for a while to adjust to my rapidly-changing life and to figure out what I was going to do with my future. And more than anything, I wanted to be fair with Christian, because he was a good guy. He just wasn’t the guy for me. If he was, I wouldn’t have been so hesitant about being his woman again.
But as I mopped the front part of my mother’s restaurant and listened to her rant and rave about how stressful opening a real restaurant was, I began to regret letting Christian go. Shit, Mama was working my nerves so bad; I was a second from calling him and setting up another booty call. The sad thing about it was, I was one thousand percent sure he would’ve said yes.
I sighed as she complained about having to pay for an alarm system. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe I should’ve used the money I spent on the lease for something else. That thought stuck in my mind to the point that I actually said the words out loud. I expected her to curse me out as usual, but instead, my mother said, “I’m sorry, Denise.”
I leaned on the mop and faced my mother, who was scrubbing the spotless front counter. “Mama, I know this seems stressful and new and everything, but it’s really not. You’ll be cooking and selling food like you’ve been doing since I was a little girl. The only difference will be that you won’t have folks coming to your house. That’s it.”
She stopped scrubbing and looked up at me. “I guess you’re right. It just seems more official now. I had to get a permit and the health inspector is coming tomorrow, and—”
“You were supposed to do all that stuff a long time ago anyway. You been selling those plates illegally.”
She chuckled. “Shit, I have, haven’t I? Well, Friend said the same thing, that I just need to act like I’m selling food like I’ve always done. I guess y’all are right.”
“You driving Friend crazy, too?”
She rolled her eyes. “If anybody is being driven crazy, it’s me.” She then went on about some argument they had. I wasn’t really listening, but knowing my mother, I was sure she was in the wrong.
As she talked, I began mopping again, moving closer to the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up the front of the restaurant. A nice car pulled into a space next to my SUV, and a tall, thin man got out and began carrying boxes from the trunk to the space adjacent to Mama’s.
“Looks like you got neighbors moving in,” I said, not realizing I had said it out loud.
Mama moved closer to the window. “Lord, it’s black folks.”
I shook my head and glanced at her. “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re black.”
“Yeah, but he looks young. Probably gon’ be selling dope outta there.”
“Mama, I don’t know many drug dealers that lease a place to sell dope out of.”
“But you do know some drug dealers, huh? It was that Dre boy, wasn’t it? That grown-ass man you dated in high school. I knew he was selling drugs.”
“No, he wasn’t. You just di
dn’t like him.” So, he actually did sell weed, but I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of being right.
“Mm-hmm. When you get through mopping, clean those windows for me.”
As the guy climbed back into his car and left, I sighed, and said, “Yes, ma’am.”
11
I was balancing my checkbook when Mama called that evening. The restaurant had been up and running for a week, and I hadn’t been by there to check on it yet, because her crazy ass was calling me nearly every hour to rant or complain about something—her new employees being too slow, the oven not cooking like the one in her house, some customer getting on her nerves, and any and everything else. My mama needed more friends, but she had a bad habit of sleeping with folks’ husbands, including my late father who eventually left his wife for her. If she had more friends, maybe she would stop calling me. At that moment, I started not to answer my phone, but for some reason, I did.
“Hey, Mama…”
“Why you sounding like that?” she asked.
“Like what?”
“Like you don’t wanna talk to me.”
Bingo. “What’s going on, Mama?”
“Whoever the hell moved in next door got their damn music up loud as hell! I can’t hear myself think!”
“Did you go ask them to turn it down?”
“Hell, no! I’m not going my old ass over there. Nothing but young, thuggish-looking men over there. They be done raped me or something.”
“Don’t you think that’s a bit extreme?”
“No.”
I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead. “Well, send one of the workers over there.”
“They’re working! We’re busy right now.”
“Then call the police.”
“Now you know I don’t trust no damn police. Here lately, the folks calling for help end up getting arrested or killed. They might shoot my ass for nothing.”
“Mama, is it really that loud?”
“Come see for yourself.”
I was hungry as hell and had no groceries, so I said, “Fine. I’m on my way. Have me a plate ready.”
The music was loud, very loud. And it was trap music, so I understood why it was getting on my mother’s nerves. Shit, it was getting on mine, too. I peeked in and let Mama know I was there, and then I headed next door. The windows and glass door were covered with newspapers, but the music and the cars parked out front told me someone was inside. Some fool, no doubt.
My civilized knocks went unanswered, so I banged on the door. Almost instantly, the music stopped and I heard the lock click on the door.
The same guy I saw moving in the other week stuck his head out the door and looked me up and down. “Yeah?”
I placed my hands on my hips. “Yeah? I need to speak with whoever’s in charge of whatever this is.”
This fool just closed the door in my face without saying another word. So, I banged on it again.
“Hey! You’re gonna break my door!” a voice yelled before the door swung open.
My mouth dropped open.
So did his.
“Ms. Buhari?”
“Mr. Peterson?”
“Yeah...” He gave me a smile that made my coochie tremble. “Uh, this is my place, Elite Ink. I would show you around, but we’re still getting things ready. We open in a couple of weeks.”
With raised eyebrows, I said, “Oh...well, um, my mom owns the restaurant next door and your music was really bothering her and her customers. Do you think you could keep it down some?”
He dropped the smile. “Oh, man. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so loud. I don’t even like that kind of music. Got a few of my friends helping with the painting and stuff, and they had the music on. I’ll make sure they keep it down.”
“Thanks. I’ll tell her.”
I had turned to leave when he said, “No, I’ll tell her. I should apologize to her.”
“Oh, okay. And can you tell whoever answered the door that it’s really rude to shut it in a lady’s face?”
“He did that? Hold up.” He ducked back inside and returned shortly. Behind him, stood his rude friend or whatever he was. “Ms. Buhari, this is Steve, a mindless friend of mine. He has something to say to you.”
He basically pushed Steve out the door, and the young man said, “I’m-uh-I’m sorry for shutting the door in your face.”
“All right. Thank you for the apology,” I said.
Hasaan stepped around his friend and followed me next door. Mama not only accepted his apology, but sent him back to his place with a free dinner. My mother was a sucker for a fine man, but so was I. I suppose that was why I insisted on walking this big, burly man back to his shop like he needed my protection or something.
“Thanks, again,” I said once we reached his door.
“No problem. I’m not into disrespecting my elders, and I’m not into letting anyone disrespect a lady.”
I smiled. “That’s good. Well, I’ll let you get back to work.”
“Yeah. I guess I’ll see you around since your mom is next door.”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
12
“You’re working for your mother?” Greer asked. “Like, for real?”
“Well, she ain’t paying me, if that’s what you mean,” I replied. For the third day in a row, I was working the closing shift at Ms. Jenny’s. I took a seat on the stool behind the register and activated my speakerphone since I was the only one working and there were no customers there at the moment.
“No, I mean, you’re working in the same proximity as your mom?”
“Oh, she leaves when I get here. That’s why I chose to work this shift. I know how she hates closing and having to leave so late at night, so I do it for her.”
Greer held the phone a moment or two before saying, “Either you’re bored as hell without a job or you’re up to something.”
I frowned as I watched a couple exit a vehicle on the parking lot and approach Hasaan’s place, which was still not open. “What would I be up to?”
“Well, you dumped poor Christian, so you got someone else on your radar or something?”
“No.” Well, it wasn’t a total lie. Yes, I was attracted to Hasaan, but I kind of liked the friendliness that had settled between us.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Seriously, there’s no one else. And what do you mean ‘poor Christian?’ I didn’t do anything to him that he didn’t do to me.”
“Denise, please tell me the whole booty-call-semi-relationship thing wasn’t a ploy so you could break up with him as some revenge or something!”
“No, no...look, I’m just not feeling him like that anymore. I was at first, but you know me, once you hurt my feelings I put you in a box that it’s hard to get out of. I tried, but no matter how sweet he was to me or how good the sex was, he never worked his way out of the ‘I still have feelings for my ex’ box. Girl, you know I’m a one-strike type of woman.”
“Yeah...that you are. Well, it must be boredom, then.”
“Shit, girl, that’s exactly what it is. I was tired of sitting around my apartment looking crazy. I needed something to do. So, here I am.”
“You should take a vacation.”
“From what? And I’m still scared to spend any money.”
Greer sighed into the phone. “Denise, it’s a million dollars. You’ve invested some of it, helped your mom, and now you deserve to enjoy some of it.”
“I did. I bought a vehicle.”
“No, I mean, really enjoy it.”
“I will...”
“You better. Hey, I gotta go. Kennedy’s down for the night and I’m tryna jump my husband’s bones.”
“Have fun.”
*****
I locked the front door and glanced around the restaurant with a sigh as I stepped into the kitchen and began packaging up some of what was left of the day’s special—ox tails, creamed potatoes, purple hull peas, corn fritters, and glazed carrots—to take home with me. I was wi
ping down the counters when I heard someone knocking on the door. I started to ignore whoever it was, but something told me to at least check and see who it was.
I was glad I did.
Standing there peering through the glass of the door was Hasaan in jogging pants and a t-shirt, and shit, he looked good. I damn near started drooling, had to compose myself as I made my way to the door.
“Hey,” I greeted him once I opened the door.
“Hey, girl. Y’all closed?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I’m cleaning up now.”
“Damn,” he said, shaking his head. “My buddy came and got some ox tails earlier. I been feenin’ for some ever since.”
“Well, there’s some left. I’ll hook you up. On the house.” I lowered my voice and added, “Just don’t tell my mama.”
He grinned. “I ain’t saying a word.”
He leaned against the counter as I made him a tray. “Your mama can burn. I mean, she can really burn! I wish I’d known about this place a long time ago. I don’t know how I missed it. Where was it located before?”
I scooped up a huge helping of peas. “In her house. She sold plates outta her kitchen on Fridays and Saturdays, so unless you grew up in my hood, you probably wouldn’t have heard of her.”
“Oh, okay. Well, I’m glad I found a place right next door. I could eat her cooking every day.”
I laughed when I looked up to see him rubbing his stomach. “As fit as you are? I can’t believe you’d eat this fattening stuff every day.”
“Oh, I’ma work it off. Gonna hit the gym on my way home in a few.”
I handed him the heavy tray. “Oh, okay. How’s Elite Ink coming along? About ready to open up?”
“Yeah...next week.” He hesitated, and then said, “Wanna see?”
I glanced around the kitchen. “I’d love to. Just let me grab my keys so I can lock up. I was almost ready to head out when you knocked.”
Real Love Page 4