Page 33 of Wifey
“It doesn’t matter who told him, but trust it’s an open secret. A lot of people know and very few are willing to publically speak about it.” Alicia lets out another sigh. “I know the streets have been hot lately and I don’t know who or what is the cause behind it. I want you to stay safe.” She reaches out and touches my arm. “You meant everything to your father and it’s imperative you keep his memory alive.”
“Thank you.” I touch her hand. “I also wanted to talk to you about the benefit the other night. I don’t know if you’re aware but Fresh Espresso made a large donation, except I knew nothing about it and it didn’t come from us. Do you?”
Alicia shakes her head. “I know nothing about it. I thought that came from you. I noticed the new car you drove and I assumed you had money leftover from the angel investor.” She glances at me. “Was that Cameron?”
It was and Alicia doesn’t need to know that. “I don’t know who it was. They never revealed themselves. I don’t know if it’s the same person or if it’s something different. Daddy had a lot of friends and contacts everywhere. He often did those private, ritzy parties.”
“He did and he always said how well they tipped him.” Alicia considered. “I’ll make some phone calls and keep an ear out.”
“Thank you.” I smile. “Is there anything else?”
“That’s it.” Alicia stands up and picks up her messenger bag. “Call me if you need anything, baby girl.” She leaves the office.
I stayed back in the office and thought about the conversation for a while after Alicia left. She may not have realized it but she told me everything without saying a word. My father trusted many people and often took them on their word.
If they reneged on it, he never dealt with them again. If they were good on it, they were friends for life. My father also played by an old adage: keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.
~~~~~
Closing time rolled around and it was just me in the shop. Tyler, the Creator raps overhead as I cleaned up everything. I’ve always closed alone, with the exception being after Daddy died and I had others help me. From that moment on, I just closed alone for the privacy and to decompress.
I’m sure it’s super unsafe and if anyone were watching me, they would know my habits. What time I arrive, what pit stops I make, and what I do when’m closing. Instead now, I’m heading to Cameron’s home – our home – and that’s a bit different.
No, it’s a lot different.
I feel weird having security parked outside my shop and there’s no need to. I’ve yet to go any coffee shop where they had round the clock security. The last thing I need is to detract anyone from coming inside.
I know East Atlanta can be sketchy and the impending war between Cameron and whoever he’s fighting isn’t helping matters. But I want the community to feel Fresh Espresso is a neutral ground. Anyone and everyone can come.
Even if this place isn’t so neutral due to my alliance.
Just when I’m about to lock the front door, I hear it open. I see a demure woman flanked by several men. She looks familiar but I can’t remember where I knew her from. Her stature indicated she was in charge and everyone surrounding her were her lackeys.
“I’m sorry we’re closed,” I politely said to her.
“Oh, I’m not here for coffee, Taylor.” She smiles at me. “I’m here for conversation.”
I steel myself straight despite my eyebrows furrowing. I know people know me but it’s unsettling she called me by my first name. “I’m sorry, have we met?”
“We have but you don’t remember.” The woman walks more inside and well, I guess we are having a conversation. “You have a nice setup here,” the woman glances around, “it’s…kitschy.”
She may have wanted me to think it was a compliment but we both know it wasn’t one. “Thank you, Ms…?”
“Coleman. Jacqueline Coleman.” She enunciates her name not out of habit, but to make sure I understood her loud and clear. I get the distinct feeling she does this with everyone. She sits downs at a table while her security flanks her. It’s an intimidation pose and I recognize it anywhere.
I also recognize her. She’s the woman that met with Daddy a while back about buying his coffee shop and the land it was on. Daddy never wavered. I have a weird feeling why she’s back again.
She’s a petite, light-skinned Black woman who’s probably around the same age as Cameron’s mother. Unlike Heather who showcases her wealth through select attire, Jacqueline flaunts it. I spot the Bottega Veneta shoes, the Alexander McQueen suit, and the Chanel jewelry.
She’s also wearing a lace headpiece for not other reason than for dramatic effect. I know she wants me to be intimidated by her but it’s not working. I’m super confused by what the hell she’s doing.
She studies the coffee shop and I see where her eyes are going. She’s not looking at the history on the walls nor the Afrocentric artwork. She’s studying to see where the cameras are. She does it so quickly that if I hadn’t been watching her eyes, I wouldn’t have noticed.
I know she counts the six cameras she sees. She’s also smart enough to know there are more she doesn’t see because they’re hidden. Maybe being with Cameron taught me a thing or two on how to read people.
“I’m sorry to hear about your father.” Her voice isn’t warm. There’s an underlying frostbite to it. “He was a good man and served his community well.” I remain silent. “I was in negotiations with your father until his…” She takes a deep sigh. “…untimely death.” She tsks. “East Atlanta can be just so unsafe. So much crime. So much unnecessary human loss. It’s a miracle your father thrived.”
She looks into my eyes and I don’t flinch. The hair on the back of my neck stands up and I get a weird, eerie feeling run down my spine.
