8
Max
I slept the rest of the day away after Velina left. A just reward for the work I’d put in. Besides, I had a double shift at Denny’s waiting for me that evening. Upon staggering awake, I turned the TV on to SportCenter to see if there were any highlights from last night’s Lakers’ game versus the Hornets, and then went to the kitchen in search of cold pizza. Grabbing a piece, I checked my phone for calls I might have missed while asleep or whatever.
A message awaited me from my cousin, Jay, probably checking my schedule, as he was at the mall tonight. He worked at the TruMale men’s store in the Del Amo Mall, across the street from my job, so we hung out on breaks and stuff. Less than a year my elder, he acted much older. This was out of character, as he wasn’t known for being the most responsible or reliable person. I guess Jay felt like he had something to prove by watching out for his small-town cousin in the big, bad city.
“Hello?” “Hey, Uncle Maurice,” I answered respectfully to the voice that had picked up.
“Max, that you, boy?”
Thirty-plus years on the West Coast hadn’t erased the Frenchman’s accent Uncle Mo possessed. It was almost as if he had never left from “Down East,” as we called the countryside in Louisiana from where most our relatives had originated.
“Yep, it’s me. How are you doing?”
“Doin’ good, boy. Doin’ good. When you comin’ by to eat? I know you don’t be cookin’ any home-cooked meals at your place. Speakin’ of that, you talk to your momma lately?” Uncle Mo loved to pepper you with multiple questions.
“I’ve been kinda busy, so I haven’t—”
“Well, you need to call her. Hold on, I’m getting Maurice Jr. on the phone. Junior!” he yelled without missing a beat.
I could hear Jay mumbling something as he picked up the phone from his dad. Jay was born Maurice J. Chavis Jr., but hated being compared to anyone, hence his preference for the name Jay.
“Whaddup, cuz?”
“Whaddup, Jay. Sorry, but I just woke up.”
“It’s all right. Just checking to see if you workin’ tonight. I gotta close tonight at the store.”
“Yeah, I’ll be there. About to put this funky uniform on now. Samir’s working tonight, though,” I said, referring to my manager. “He’s pretty easy to work for, so it should be straight.”
“A’ight then. I’ll probably pass by on my way in. Any new women workin’ there?”
“No, cuz. Always tryin’ to mack, huh?”
“You know me, cuz. Business, never personal.”
As I jumped in my Corolla in my uniform, I noticed the door had a new ding. The car was already showing its age.
It didn’t need the added help of my neighbors. Something for me to worry about later, I thought as I turned the key.
I took I-405 south down to Hawthorne Boulevard. While stopped at the light on Rosecrans, I felt bass coming from the car on the side of me. It was this sister in a candy-green convertible, nodding her head to the E-40 playing in her ride. She smiled at me as I checked her out. I was admiring her, as well as the chrome dubs on her ride. Both of them had it going on. I could see myself behind the wheel, driving up Pacific Coast Highway with her at my side. Brotherman thought he was about to get the digits, until I remembered I was wearing my Denny’s uniform.
“Shit,” I whispered to myself. She lowered her stereo to talk to me just as I began scrunching down in my seat. The light turned green, so I decided to cut my losses, driving away rather than going down in flames. Denny’s was coming up, but in my rearview mirror, I saw that she hadn’t turned off. I drove into the parking lot, stopping in my usual spot. When I looked back, the convertible was there, just off the street.
Waiting on me.
I thought aloud, psyching myself up, “What am I doing? I’m a good-looking brother, there’s a fine-ass woman out there, and I’m sitting here hiding out?
Because of this uniform?
Shit, I ain’t no punk! I got a damn job, and she should be lucky just to know me.”
I was brimming with confidence when I stepped out of my car... . And that was when she saw my uniform.
The last thing I heard was the chirp of her tires as she shifted gears and sped off down Hawthorne in search of someone that obviously wasn’t me.
Oh, well. I guess she didn’t want to hear about the free Grand Slam breakfast I could’ve given her.
Her loss. Yeah. That’s it.
Who was I kidding? It sucked being treated like this. Even hurt some.
But hurt was a thing of my past. Something I left behind in Louisiana. And the sooner I could exchange these clothes for a nice suit, the better.
Throwing up my hands, I went inside and clocked in. Business was light, which was good for me. Samir was explaining something on the menu in his best dime-store Spanish to this elderly Mexican guy when I returned.
A heavyset brother with a gold tooth, Samir was one of the nicest people I’ve ever known. He worked his way up straight out of high school, and was promoted to manager a couple of years back. Samir had confessed to some gang-banging in his early days, but was now married and living in Gardena with three kids, one of which was his own. Samir was all about helping brothers get ahead, and I was lucky to have him providing me with some guidance.
“Glad you could make it, Max,” Samir said, looking up from the menu he was explaining to acknowledge me. You always knew where you stood with him, and he was never one for bullshit.
“Thanks, Samir.”
There were a few tables that needed cleaning, so I got started on them. I did a little bit of everything when I worked this shift, be it cleaning tables or waiting on customers. While on my third table, I noticed Jay’s glistening red BMW outside. Jay always kept his pride and joy clean. When he strolled in the door, he had on a shirt and tie with a pair of black slacks. His typical work attire.
“You missed a plate, Country!” he yelled. Jay loved to clown me, but couldn’t take it when he was on the receiving end.
“Nah, I left that one for you. You might need the scraps for some of those little crumb snatchers around town that you don’t claim.” I made that up, but figured it would bother him.
“Awww, you know that ain’t me. I know better than to fall into that trap.”
Jay was a
true player fo’ real
. Twenty-six, with the style, the looks, and the car, Jay also had that straight black shit atop his head, courtesy of the “good hair fairy,” that drove the ladies crazy. Due to the hair issue alone, he had a lot of sisters out here wanting to have his baby.
For all Jay supposedly had going for him, he was drifting through life. Jay still lived with his parents, worked in the mall, and dropped out of college after a year at UCLA. Hell, Uncle Mo bought him the Beamer just before he dropped out.
“Jay, do you ever think about going back to school?”
“What made you bring that up, cuz?”
“I don’t know. I was just thinking.”
“I might ... one day. I just need to be ready up here when I do,” he said, pointing to his head. Jay seemed to be a thousand miles away before he caught himself.
“I hear ya, cuz. Well, I’ve got work to do. Samir’s cool, but he does expect me to work some of the time.”
“Yeah, I feel ya. I’ve gotta get over to my job and get that commission. Oh! Before I forget ... Pops wants you to come over for dinner this week. You are lookin’ a little poor.”
“How about this Friday?” I asked, knowing a free meal wasn’t something to take for granted. Besides, it was always good to see family.
9
Glover
I finally got my Civic out of the shop, so I made plans to hang with Mona Friday night. We decided to lounge at her crib down in Santa Monica. Lord knows Mona’s view was better than mine. I picked up Robin Thicke’s new CD on my way to her crib down on Ocean Avenue and was scanning through the tracks as I pulled into Mona’s parking lot. The sun was setting over the Pacific as the waves rolled in along the beach. I stayed in the doorway of my car for a couple of seconds, absorbing the breathtaking view.
California. It doesn’t get any better.
I walked into the colorfully splashed lobby, past the doorman. He had seen me before, so no questions were asked. Just a simple smile and a charming hello before the elevator opened. I gave the doorman a parting smile as I pushed the number seven button and ascended to Mona’s crib.
When I arrived outside Mona’s door, I could hear the exact same Robin Thicke CD playing. I let out a giggle over the eerie similarities between us two as I rang the doorbell.
Mona answered the door and probably wondered what was so funny. She wore her usual home apparel: a long T-shirt, this one emblazoned with her dad’s real estate company logo, and a pair of black capris. What surprised me was the do-rag, which came to a knot in the front of Mona’s head. Mona almost never let anyone catch her with a hair out of place, or out of her diva-wear. If you hadn’t kicked it with her like I had, it would be hard to believe that Mona possessed a tomboy side.
I couldn’t let the do-rag thing go, so I said, “What’s up, thug-life?”
“You are the funny one, Ms. McDaniel,” she said, holding back her own laugh.
“You better duck back in before your neighbors see.”
“Oh, they’ve seen me like this before.”
“When? Last time the building caught on fire?”
“Get in here!”
Mona yanked me through the door, causing me to almost trip over my own feet.
“I see you got that new Robin Thicke too. Sexy-ass white boy. Matter of fact, I just picked mine up.”
“Yeah, Craig bought it for me,” she admitted nonchalantly. “He left it with my doorman. He also bought those flowers on the counter over there. He’s still trying, but I’m not feeling him. I do appreciate the CD, though, and the flowers do smell good.”
I hustled across the carpet, walking over to Mona’s counter to get a whiff of the flowers. They not only smelled good, but they were a beautiful collage of colors—purple, yellow, and pink. The card that came with them was lying there, but I didn’t want to be
that
nosey.
“Aw, they’re beautiful! I think it’s really sweet of him to do this for you. You guys do make a cute couple. Are you sure about dumping him?” I gave Mona an accusatory look, trying in vain to make her feel guilty.
“Yes, I’m sure. Besides, we were never really a couple. I made that very clear to him.”
Mona had met Craig at an exhibition game his team was putting on at the Staples Center. Mona’s tickets to the game were a gift, courtesy of a promoter named Rico. Rico had a thing for her too, but that’s another story. Well, Mona strolls in to the practice session to pick up her tickets, wearing one of her cute little designer workout sets, and runs smack into Craig. I wondered if she was going to have the nerve to keep accepting tickets from Rico after this all played out.
I plopped down on her couch and began thumbing through one of Mona’s
Essence
magazines. “Are you ever going to settle down, girl? I thought you might do that with that Brazilian dude a while back.”
“Who? You mean Romi? I wasn’t about to move back to Sao Paulo with him. I was fond of him, though. Besides, we all can’t have someone like Lionel, now, can we?” Mona remarked, tired of my sermon and deciding to turn the tables.
“Okay. Touché. Let’s move on to another subject besides men. What are we getting into tonight?”
“You hungry? I’ve got some leftovers in the fridge.”
“Nah. I picked up a turkey burger after work. Did you get your hair done?”
“Yeah, girl. I was overdue for a relaxer. Naps were starting to show. I headed straight for Inglewood when we got off. Can you believe that I actually got out of there at a decent time? The stars must be in alignment. And speaking of decent, when are you going to let me do those jacked-up feet of yours?”
“Fuck you, bitch,” I replied jokingly. “They’re not crusty. But feel free to give me that manicure, girl.” Mona was da bomb when it came to manicures. She could probably do a mean pedicure, too, but Ms. Mona wasn’t about to go near these toes without a license.
While Mona tightened up my nails, we spent the rest of the night reminiscing and yakking it up. Robin Thicke continued to play as we talked about this great book we’d both read but could not remember the author’s name. All was well in the world with us, but that had to change, as the subject eventually returned to relationships, of course.
“Lionel has something up his sleeve for next week, but I don’t know what.” I was actually thinking out loud.
“You think he’s going to pop the question?”
“I don’t know, Mona. Real talk, I’m not sure that’s what I want. Maybe he’s not who I want,” I mumbled, letting a random silly notion get the best of me. Mona’s mouth dropped to the carpet, but she tried to play it off. “That’s not what I mean,” I gasped, trying to take it back.
“Girl, you know I’m wary about any kind of commitment, but it sounds like you’ve got a lot of issues yourself.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I just want to be certain that it’s real for me if it comes to that. God, I wish my mom was here. She could relate to this.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” I sighed, treading on a subject I kept to myself. But it was Mona, so I continued. “She parted ways with her family over someone that was too good to be true. My dad.”
“I’m familiar with being disillusioned, girl, but you can’t let that eat you up. That was their life, not yours.”
“You’re right. But this kind of talk makes me realize how much I miss her.” I’d begun crying and hadn’t realized it until Mona reached over and handed me a tissue. She gave me a long hug. No words needed.
“Mona, you know what would be good now?” I said, removing my damp face from her shoulder.
“No. What?” She didn’t know where I was going with this.
“Ice cream. Lots of it. My mom used to fix me ice cream and it would make everything better. Is Ben & Jerry’s still open this time of night?” Even with my droopy red eyes, I managed to crack a smile like a spoiled kid.
“Girl! You know damn well I’m not going out looking like th—” She sighed before giving in. “Oh, let me get a hat or something.”
Mona was a true friend.