Page 31 of Crash: Love in Scrubs
“Yo, what the hell?” I laughed, finally catching up to her on the straightaway.
“I told you!” she yelled back, blocking me as I tried to pass. “Daddy didn’t raise no punk!”
For three laps, we went back and forth. She used every dirty trick in the book against me. She was fearless, taking corners I wouldn’t even attempt, and having the time of her life doing it.
When she crossed the finish line first, arms raised in victory, I knew I was done for.
“What was that about belt to ass?” she taunted, climbing out of her kart with the biggest grin I’d ever seen on her face.
“Beginner’s luck,” I said, walking over to her. “Run it back.”
“Oh, now you want a rematch?”
“Now I’m gonna show you what happens when I stop playing nice.”
The second race was war. No mercy, no gentleman shit. I took the lead early and held it, but Sametra stayed right on my bumper, looking for any opening. On the final lap, she made a move to the inside that would’ve made NASCAR drivers proud.
We crossed the finish line side by side, both of us looking to the kid for the official call.
“Blue kart by half a length!” he announced.
I threw my hands up while Sametra shook her head, laughing.
“Told you,” I said, walking over to help her out of the kart.
“That was barely a win, and you know it,” she said, but she was still smiling, still riding that adrenaline high.
“A win is a win, baby.”
“Fine. But I’m getting you back in putt-putt.”
I pulled her close, both of us still breathing hard from the race. “You having fun?”
“The best time I’ve had in...” she paused, thinking. “I can’t even remember.”
“Good. That’s what I wanted to hear.”
We spent the rest of the time playing putt-putt, and she was even more competitive there than on the track. Every hole became a production; she’d line up her shots like she was playing for the Masters, talking trash the whole time. When she sank a hole-in-one on the windmill hole, she started twerking, and that had me cracking up and wanting to kiss her at the same time. Her being happy made me happy.
By the time we picked up the Thai food and made it to Riverside Park, the sun was starting to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. I’d chosen this spot specifically because it was tucked away from the main walkways, with a view of the water and enough privacy for us to talk.
I spread out the blanket I’d brought in my backpack while she unpacked the food, both of us still riding the high from ourraces and just being together. The Pad Thai smelled good, but I was more focused on watching her get comfortable, kicking off her sandals, and tucking her legs under her.
“This is perfect,” she said, looking out at the water. “I haven’t done anything like this. I’m 37 and have never been on a picnic.”
“We’ll do more shit like this. Life ain’t over,” I said, handing her a pair of chopsticks.
We ate with only the sounds around us. She looked over at me, and I looked over at her. She grabbed her phone and started to play some music, old-school R&B that immediately set the mood. Anita Baker’s voice floating through the speaker made the whole moment feel more intimate, more connected.
“Good choice,” I said, recognizing the song.
“You know ‘Good Love’?” she asked with a smile.
“Yeah, I got an old school mama.”
“I’m sure she’s sweet.”
“The sweetest,” I nodded. “You seem like you got good taste in music.”
