Page 16 of Another Constant

“You don’t think they can?”

“Nah, because if he needed a break from me then he didn’t need me.”

He nodded. “How’d you fare?”

“Ugly crying, Ben and Jerry’s, and a few weeks of overthinking. I’m good now though because I know how to be alone. What about you? Why isn’t there someone at home tracking your motion?” I had to get myself out of the habit of only answering his questions, instead asking some questions of my own.

“Because one, I’on like people and two, I told you I ain’t got no girl.”

“Hmph. You don’t seem that mean to me.”

“I didn’t say I was mean.”

I shook my head. “You didn’t have to. Why don’t you like people?”

“Because motherfuckers are irritating. Having people all in your space and talking too much. People want your attention too much for me. I’on really like being bothered too much.”

I nodded, with absolutely nothing in mind to say. So for the rest of the ride, music filled both of our eardrums. He was fine,so fucking fine, but it was obvious this man was irritable. It was like everything annoyed him. I could see it in his features.

When we pulled up to the restaurant, I felt his eyes before finally looking up from my phone. “You on the other hand… I’on mind your company at all. You seem like something to do.”

My expression went dark at what he meant. He picked up on it though, then threw his hands up in surrender. Of course his fine ass was smirking.

“Something to do? I don’t know what type of wom?—”

“Not like that, shit yeah like that, but that ain’t what I meant initially.”

“Mhmm.”

He exited the driver side of the car and came around to my door before I could get out. “Hood dude or not, my auntie would have my ass if she knew I didn’t open your door. Whenever you with me don’t touch no fucking door, Harlem.”

Whenever you with me don’t touch no fucking door, Harlem.Those words echoed a few times before completely dispersing.

The whole thirty-second walk through the crowded parking lot, people kept attempting to speak to him or spark up a conversation, but he either waved them off or threw his head in their direction. Some didn’t even get a response.

When we entered, he didn’t wait for us to be seated. The moment we crossed the threshold into one of the city’s oldest watering holes, he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the back of the restaurant. There he seated us at a table in the corner of the restaurant. It was a round booth, overlooking the entire restaurant. Mama’s was a medium-size, dimly lit, hood function type of place. It was aged, seats with rips and old school stitching, colors different from the original material. The floor was tiled but chipped from years of poor upkeep and overuse. Some hood joints were hit or miss, but Mama’s was nowhere near. Mama’s hit every time and had you wanting to come back for more. The only problem was the plethora of niggas who loitered in the lot and out front. The spot was too hot.

Suddenly, I felt nervous under his gaze. He was looking at me like he wanted to get to know me for real. Honestly, that alone scared me.

“Why are you acting shy around me?” he asked, sitting back and stretching out those long ass legs.

“I don’t. I’m laid back most of the time. I mean, until I lean forward. Nobody wants that, because then I’ll end up showing my ass at people’s establishments.”

He grinned. “You mean like you did at my shit? Remind me to get you back for that. When I come to pick up my dog, I’m coming in that motherfucker yelling.”

“Pick up your dog? You haven’t even told me what type of dog you want. Do you even want a dog, Kinga?”

“You’re a fucked up salesman. You're supposed to be selling me, but instead you're asking me if I really want to buy it.”

I giggled.

“Now you laughing. Yo, you sure you in the right business?”

“I am. You’re just funny. If you’re really serious about buying a dog, come by the shop. There we can talk about what you’re looking for. I promise not to charge you for insulting my skills.”

“Damn that’s cold.”

“Very.”

---