“‘Preciate it, my baby. Check on that one thing for me, aight?” I said to Rocc who stood at the bottom of the porch.
He saluted me and told me he would get up with me in a little bit. I watched him walk away before turning my attention back to Sereia who hadn’t moved.
“You gon’ come in?” I asked.
“You didn’t tell me I could.”
“I stepped aside.”
“But you didn’t?—
“Come in, Sereia.” Shaking my head, I said, “You a vampire or some shit? You need an invitation? The fuck?”
Sweetly, she smiled and placed a piece of hair behind her ear.
Because I was starting to pick up on her personality, I knew the smile wasn’t genuine. She was being sarcastic.
“If I was, it would be too late now, wouldn’t it? Not Exodus Christ lackin’.”
I laughed and eyed her. “Yeah, aight.”
She was silly.
I liked that shit.
Once she was inside, I closed and locked the door behind her. She stood in the grand foyer, hand resting on her little replica bag, looking around, eying the skylight. Before I could tell her to, she slid out of a pair of pink Crocs that had seen better days and sat them on the shoe rack.
“This is nice,” she complimented.
“Thank you,” I said. “You can put a pair of the slides on if?—
“I’m good,” she said, looking down at her black socks before wiggling her toes. With a deep breath she said, “I’m not taking another step until you tell me why I’m here. All the way across the bridge in some… mansion. That’s,” she paused and looked around. “Clearly not yours. You don’t give floral wallpaper.”
I stared at her briefly, studying her. Brushing my hand over my cheek, I put my eyes on the accent wall she noticed. It was a custom piece. Designed by an artist that went by L. Johnson. She didn’t design wallpaper but after seeing one of her paintings at an associate's spot, I had to speak with her directly. The wallpaper wasn’t just floral. It was of a botanical garden and some more shit. It was layered. The way my moms used to be.
I looked away from the wall and put my attention back on Sereia. “You lack patience.”
“I do,” she admitted, boldly, like it was a good thing. Or rather a character trait she owned.
“I need you to look after my ma,” I said.
She drew back. “What?”
“My ma. I need you to?—
“No, I heard you. I work at Coney Island, Exodus. I’m a cashier. At. Coney.”
I laughed and walked away, gesturing for her to follow me. “I’m hip. You don’t need to have a certificate or none of that extra shit.”
“How? I can’t do that. I don’t know anything about taking care of people. I don’t?—
I looked over my shoulder at her. “Relax. Can you do that for me?”
She eyed me up and down again. This time with a little fire behind her eyes. “You’re not about to keep telling me to relax.”
“I don’t mean it in a disrespectful way, sweetheart. I just want you to chill. You jump to conclusions a lot.”
Her energy was busy. Frantic.Nervous. Shit made me a little uncomfortable, low key.
