Page 13 of Taming a Menace
An old school R&B track came on the radio and immediately unlocked a core memory of my dad turning the TV down and the music up loud so he and my mom could slow dance in the living room. Even though we bitched about missing part of one of our favorite shows, my brothers and I always ended up laughing our asses off as my dad openly showed my mom how much he still loved her. Life was so much simpler then. I was happy and carefree.
My biggest dream was to be a detective like the ones I watched on Saturday morning cartoons. You couldn’t tell me that I wasn’t going to be the best police officer and private eye in the city. Now the thought of seeing a police officer made me physically sick. Even if I hadn’t abandoned that dream a lifetime ago, my record would prevent me from ever being a cop. Not that I was all that fucked up about it. Like I said, I hated the police.
I sang along to the familiar tune as I cleaned up my area. There was about thirty minutes left until I was scheduled to get off for the night. I liked to start getting my mess cleaned up early, so that when it was time to go, I could just bounce.
I didn’t like lingering around after-hours chit chatting like some of the guys did. I didn’t like people all that much in the first place. There was no need for me to stand around pretending to be cordial when I wasn’t. Pretending was something I didn’t even know how to do.
“We got a rush coming in from the club scene any minute now, and you’re back here cleaning up like you about to leave,” one of the other chefs noted.
“That’s because I am,” I told him, although it was none of his damn business what I was about to do.
“That’s bullshit and you know it. You have to learn how to be a team player, man.”
“I don’t have to learn how to do shit. I am a chef. I already know how to cook, so I would say I’ve learned everything I need to know.”
“You walk around with your ass on your shoulders like somebody owes you something. No wonder you’re stuck in this shit hole working till two in the morning every night.”
See had he asked me to stay late, I would have probably done it without question. Since he wanted to come at me sideways, I had something else in mind. Brad, Chad, or whatever his name was didn’t have the authority to make me stay. He didn’t evenhave the authority to give me a bathroom break, so I was almost confused as to why he was in my face in the first place.
That was the thing about people who didn’t know how I got down. They always took my youthful appearance and quiet demeanor as weaknesses. He probably thought I was a kid instead of a fully grown man ready and willing to kick his ass. It was starting to feel like the very night he found out just how grown I was.
“Nigga, ain’t you here too?” I asked, looking up just to make sure he was standing in front of me.
“First of all, I’m white. The only N word I see is standing over there thinking he’s too good to pitch in because he used to run his own catering company.”
The only reason he got to finish his statement was because it took me a few seconds to round the table. He was so oblivious to what was about to happen that his lips were still fucking moving when I smashed my fist into his mouth.
“Can you please shut the fuck up?” I asked, scowling as my knuckles connected with his face.
I had a headache and zero patience. Before he had the chance to figure out why blood was pouring from his lips, I was out of the prep room. I couldn’t stand a muthafucka that didn’t know when to shut the hell up.
“Hey, Sonny!” I called as I entered the front of the restaurant.
“Yeah,” the middle-aged owner of Cravings said turning to me.
“I see it’s getting a little busy up here. You need me to hang around?” I asked.
“Nah, young buck, you can head out. You got the potatoes cut?” he quizzed.
“Yeah, they’re in the ice bath.”
“You good to go then. This club crowd just came in, but as long as all the prep is done, we can handle it.”
“You sure?” I asked, recalling how the guy in the back nursing a busted lip had demanded that I work late.
“Boy, you act like I can’t hop on the grill or cut up some onions if I need to.”
“My bad, Sonny. I guess I’m sleeping on your skills.”
He chuckled. “You better know it.”
“Well I’m out then.”
“See you tomorrow,” he said with a single nod of his head.
“Oh, I had to hit one of your employees for talking to me crazy.”
“Aw hell, Key. You should have led with that. Who the hell did you jump on back there?” he grumbled.
