That voice.
Montana’s eyes radiated fire and menace as he stepped toward her booth. “Or you want that chocolate pie?”
“Y’all don’t have no choc—oh.” Genèse rolled her eyes.
“Yeah. That’s right. Her name is Journey.” To me, he offered a “Chère,” sounding all rugged and manly.
My hello squeaked out.
Genèse cut in. “Cuz, why you tripping?”
“Why is my name in your mouth anyway?” He slid into the booth across from her.
Okay, he’d given me the green light to exit. It took everything out of me not to stop and thank him for starting a rotation with hisbrothers. Tennessee followed Darius and me home. He even replaced my tire. Washington arrived on the next shift. During the night, I’d taken Darius to the potty after his restless movements. I hadn’t woken up in awaterbedfor quite some time. One time, he’d peed so much, hell, I thought we both suffered from uncontrollable-bladder syndrome. Anyway, I’d checked outside the window.
Why did Montana take the late shift?
Texas, with his thick, beautiful dreads, was the morning closer. He followed me to work, cooked himself breakfast—we were so not a breakfast place—and caught his momma’s flak about being unemployed.
A while later, I headed for a bathroom break when an argument erupted in the office.
“He’s suing me, LaShawn? Wash? One of y’all better speak! Ezekiel’s suing?—”
Washington replied loud and clear through the speakerphone. “No, Ezekiel hasn’t filed for damages. He’s requesting an out-of-court settlement. I’m in your shoes. I feel you. Take a breath.”
“A breath?” Montana barked. “If someone else told me to breathe—they’d be Exhibit A.”
“Listen, I called with LaShawn to help her break the news. Don’t shoot the messenger. Maybe I can’t counsel you no more since I’m a judge now. Choose your words before I bill you for stress hours, little brotha. Your team’s gonna counter. Trust me.”
“Less money? He ain’t getting?—”
“Montana”—Washington cut in—“your representation will request a contingency, which includes y’all in front of the cameras.”
“Sounds good,” a grating feminine voice responded. Maybe LaShawn?
“For the price, Ezekiel will get in front of cameras and admit to old beef?—”
“I’ma wipe my Black ass with every dollar he ask for. Put that in front of the cameras. Coz he still ain’t getting a penny! LaShawn, tell my attorneys not to respond to no mess.”
I’d taken a rear step when the woman asked, “Whatchu thoughtwould happen? You threatened to kill the man! This is why he didn’t press charges. Now, address the situation.”
I stepped away. That sounded bad. Who was Ezekiel, and why the hate?
In the ladies’ room, I leaned against cabinets made from antique shutters and found a video of Montana pushing a guy. My fingertip tapped the screen, scrolled back, paused, looking at facial features.
Last time I’d assessed expressions, Montana had triggered me. Triggered nerve endings. Butterflies. Desire. Today? I was all over the grainy video where Montana hit a man so hard he flipped over a table.
Still wondering how Montana and Ezekiel knew each other, I set out an appetizer for a young couple. They had looked as shocked as I did when first seeing the menu prices earlier. I said, “Good call. These are the best wings, ever. Perfect when you’re not too hungry. Basket comes with enough for three. Maybe four if you’re polite about it.”
The guy chuckled.
“Yeah,” the girl mumbled, cheeks gone red as she sipped theirSwampwaterSangria.
Oops. I’d meant to help. So, my conspiratorial smirk said,I get it, girl.These prices. “You know, TikTok sensations. The prices gotta match the hype.”
“Right?” The girl cracked a smile while her guy took edible selfies.
It was strange. I was trying to commiserate, but really, I just wanted conversation. A connection. I hadn’t really had that since punching Montana’s arm. Pointless. Man didn’t even flinch.
