Page 32 of Rhet

“Finally, you’re getting it. You call him yet?”

He doesn’t need to say who thehimis. I already know. “No, I will call as soon as I settle in.”

Dante taps his knees. “I know it’s hard, but you got this, Zee. Especially for me.”

“Yup. I do. Go bathe.” I turn and leave his room.

I rush to the kitchen, then back up to my bedroom. Not much has changed, the walls are still painted in the yellow I had at sixteen. Now, it’s chipped and faded. My bed, thankfully, is a new one.

As I reach for my phone, it vibrates on the table. I already know who’s calling.

“Hello?”

“Congratulations on your job.” The voice creeps me out.

I wonder how he knows. “Thanks.”

“I emailed you a new agenda. Study it. When the bids come, you will need it.”

“About Dante. He has two doctor’s appointments soon.”

“Money was already sent to the doctors. Bio-N is within your reach for Dante. Get the job done and watch your brother walk again.”

I nod even though the person on the other end can’t see me. “Thank you.”

Exhaling, I lean against the wall. Mr. C hangs up. All I can do is close my eyes. I hate the feeling of someone having power of over my family. It weighs heavy on my shoulders.

ZEETA

No one in their right mind should be up and dressed at 4:30 in the morning. I, however, don’t possess a right mind apparently. I take a last peek into my mother’s room. She’s out for the count. Ms. Helen will be here in half an hour.

Soon as I get down the stairs, I grab my keys and hurry out the house. I open the door of my beat up 2013 Chevy Impala.

“Good morning, baby. We’re going to work today, right?” I pass my hand softly over the dashboard, trying to soothe my car into working well.

I know in my heart that the car is old. Even Mr. C offered to get me a new one, but he’s doing enough. He doesn’t need to have more power over my family. Even though it’s old, it’s clean and I love my car. I paid for it with my own saved money.

After turning the key in the ignition, the car starts like an old person with a bad cold. I give it five minutes to warm up and then I’m off.

It’s 4:40 a.m. I have no idea what time theScreamin’ Beanopens, but I’m parked in front of their door.

I take my phone out. “Hey, Google. What time does theScreamin’ Beanopen?”

“TheScreamin’ Beanopens at 5:30 a.m.,” Google replies in her computerized voice.

What the hell? How the hell am I going to get coffee and be at his house by 5:30 a.m. This is impossible. Wait, I feel like he’s testing me, and he knows getting the coffee is impossible. I knock my head against the steering wheel.

With no other choice but to get him a different kind of coffee, I drive three blocks to another coffee shop called,The Spoon.

I jump out the car and within five minutes, I have a black coffee with three sugars. Feeling accomplished I place the cup on the dashboard. I turn the key in the ignition and hear a clicking noise.

“Jesus, hear me lord, please. I won’t listen to any Cardi B this week. I won’t even say the wordBodak Yellow. Please, let this car start.”

I twist the key again, but the car sounds like it has acute bronchitis and then the engine dies.

“Come on, baby, please don’t die on me today.”

I rub the dashboard like earlier before leaving the house, then turn the key. Nothing happens.

---