“Last, explain to me why Bobby hasn’t paid?” Bobby the fucking weasel that didn’t pay for his shipment and skipped out on his own business when Joaquin and I went to go find him.
“Man turned into a ghost. I have Joaquin tracking his movements. He won’t go anywhere that we can't find him.” I reassure him.
“Good, we have two runs this weekend, all hands on deck for this.”
“Yes sir.”
“Now I believe you have your orders.” He rushes me out the door. Yeah, I do.
Looking at my watch, the kids are gone from the program, but knowing a certain purple-haired woman, her work wasn’t going to be done.
Darkness cascades the city, neighborhoods lit up with street lamps. Families inside their homes may be having their dinner. A sense of security, a sense of safety. I arrive in the parking lot, parking in the back. The back entrance is the most used for us, enough that we had our own pin on the pad to get us in after hours.
There is only one car, a small blue ford car. She is still here.
I walk through the hallways, up the stairs that still give me a shiver down my spine. Glass that once was shattered on the floor. The stairs we found Tessa bleeding on the floor in the arms of Jackson.
There isn’t anyone else in the building but maybe the cleaning crew and the late night shelter people.
There is a dim light illuminating the small corner of the building where her office lays. She’s never far away from people, she’s in the mix. She’s welcoming and open.
I knock on the ledge, announcing my presence. Partially because I know she knows how to shoot a gun and carries a knife with her.
“Tessa.” I look for a simple acknowledgement to come in. I’m not a brute, I know respect, well most of the time.
She didn’t look at me, keeping her head down, looking over what I imagine are reports. “You can come in, Keola, don’t have to stand there and sulk.”
I’m not sulking.
I know that I have a lot to say, more like ordered to say. But there is a slight guilt in me that I screwed up. Something I know she is familiar with, especially from the club.
I sit on her couch, my hands folded in my lap. I hate this feeling. The feeling that anger can screw you over with harsher words than the truth. No matter what your mind wants to believe that it’s the truth.
“Are you going to say something? Or am I going to assume why you are here?” She tosses her glasses off her face, they land on the pile of folders.
“I’m sorry,” I rush the words. Forcing them out before I drag it out longer than needed.
“Come again?” She leans back in her chair.
“I’m sorry Tessa.” I grit out again.
“For what? There are a lot of things to be sorry about.” Her cheekiness is showing.
I let out a small growl. “For the way that I spoke to you at church.”
She nods her head. “You want to know why I didn’t lash out at the meeting, although I was ready to come across that table and pummel you into the ground.”
“What is it with you women and wanting to hurt people?” I question her.
“I didn’t lash out, because you may have a point. And before I could say something, you shut it down and commented and I wasn’t going to fight someone who’s not ready to listen.” She sighs, “I can’t bring in Lottie on this. It’s too much.” She admits, but something in me tells me the opposite. “Which is why Rawlings and I are in agreement that she completely stays out of it and if it comes time to, we’ll tell her. We are on orders to avoid it.”
“We can’t say shit.” I reiterate. She nods her head.
This just adds an extra level of challenges. Because I’m starting to realize, I’m in disagreement.
“Look, I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you at church. You didn’t deserve that. Especially for us.” The words that I spoke to her returned back to me. An echo that has no end.
“I may be stubborn, but I have my reasons for why I fight.” She leans forward on her desk. Waiting for me to guess. But I don’t get the chance, “Because that is what you do for the people you care about. Don’t underestimate me, Keola.”
