“Okay.” She said. She didn’t sound too timid and wasn’t no need to ask how I knew where she lived either.
“I’ll call you when I’m outside.”
Without waiting on another question, I ended the call and pulled out of the lot. About twenty-five minutes later, I turned into the apartment complex and eased the truck to the curb directly in front of her building. Kids were riding bicycles through the parking, and it looked like every other apartment complex in Miami. Ordinary.
I grabbed my phone and hit her number again. “I’m here.”
“Okay…give me one second.” I heard a door shut on her end before she spoke again. “Actually…can you come around to the side of the building?”
I frowned. “The side?”
“Yeah.”
I looked toward the front entrance, then over at the narrow drive that wrapped around the building. “Aight.”
I shifted the truck into drive and rolled slowly around the side, curious about what the difference was. The front entrance was just as easy, so why have me come back here? The answer came about a minute later. The rear exit opened, and Navy stepped outside carrying a small black backpack over one shoulder. I understood immediately that she didn’t want the whole complex watching her climb into a truck, or maybe she was hiding from somebody.
She walked toward me, adjusting the strap of the backpack before stopping beside the driver’s window. This was the first time I’d seen her looking like herself. Meaning, no hospital scrubs, no glitter, and no six-inch heels. She just had on a pair ofblack leggings, a fitted white crop top, Gucci slides. Her hair was wrapped into a loose ponytail that fell over one shoulder, and her face was completely bare without makeup, lashes, or none of that shit. She didn’t need any of it.
There was something different about a woman who could wash everything off and still look better than most people did dressed up. I caught myself holding the thought longer than I should have because this was business, that’s all this was.
She walked to the driver’s side, and I rolled down the window. She lifted the backpack slightly. “I have it. It’s nineteen thousand.”
I unlocked the passenger door. “Hop in.”
She hesitated with her eyes moving briefly around the parking lot before she walked around the front of the truck and climbed inside. The smell of vanilla followed her in, mixing with the faint scent of fresh laundry. She set the backpack on her lap and unzipped it showing me the money like she was in the middle of a dope transaction.
“Why you ain’t at work?” I quizzed.
She looked up while pulling out a thick envelope wrapped in a rubber band allowing a small laugh escaped her lips. “I slept so good after I got home, this morning I called out.”
“You needed it. I don’t see no bags underneath your eyes.”
“I guess I did.” She handed me the envelope. “I’ve been baking all day instead.”
As I reached for it, I noticed the streak of white dust running across the front of her leggings. There was another smudge near the hem of her shirt that she’d apparently missed while brushing herself off. “So that’s what that is.”
She frowned. “What?”
I nodded toward her leg. “You got flour all over you.”
She looked down and immediately laughed, brushing at her thigh with the palm of her hand. “Oh my God.” She shook herhead. “I’ve been in the kitchen since this morning. I didn’t even realize.”
“You must’ve had a few orders.”
“I did.” She smiled, allowing her expression to reach my eyes this time. “Birthday cake, cupcakes, and a baby shower cake. I still have one more to finish tonight.” The smile faded just as quickly as it had appeared. “I’m really trying to get this money back to you, Lev.”
I looked down at the envelope resting in my hand before setting it on the center console without counting it. “I know.”
She let out a quiet breath. “I just want all of this behind me.”
For the first time since she’d climbed into the truck, she looked tired in a different way. Not exhausted like the woman I’d seen at the club last night but mentally worn down. Like every decision she made now revolved around chasing a number she wished she’d never owed in the first place.
I could’ve told her don’t worry about the rest because I didn’t need it. However, she had to take this L and learn a very valuable lesson. On the outside, a little boy chased a basketball across the parking lot while his mother called after him from a second-floor balcony and that was the only sounds in the truck at this very moment. Before I could say another word, she received a face time call and Marv’s whole name flashed across the screen. She briefly looked at me and then back at the phone.
“Answer it,” I ordered her.
She pressed the green button to accept the call. “Hey Marv.”
