Page 1 of Autumn & Woods
T h i ss o m eb u l l s h i t.
I sat in the corner of Gate C14, hood up, one leg stretched out over my duffle bag, scrolling through the same three apps on my phone like it would change something. Tavern City was supposed to be a quick stop. Land, get lit, link with fam, eat good, and slide. Instead, I was two hours deep into a “weather delay” with no updates and a half-dead phone.
I hated flying out this time of year anyway, more especially when I’d fucked up and didn’t get the jet fueled on time. So now, I was subjected to flying commercial. I had on Amiri joggers and thousand-dollar sneakers, sitting on the floor like I wasn’t a whole West Coast supplier with three weed farms and cleared six figures weekly. But I didn’t move like a loud nigga. I never had to. My name rang where it needed to. I kept my business clean, my circle tight, and my face low.
Outside the window, the snow fell like it had something to prove. Big, disrespectful flakes that didn’t look like they were letting up anytime soon. The airport was full of muthafuckas with too many bags and no sense of space. Kids crying, couples arguing, and people coughing without covering their mouths.
Just then, my phone started vibrating in my hand. I let it ring twice, then answered. “Yeah?”
“Boy, don’t answer the phone like I’m one of your lil’ friends.”
I exhaled slowly and rubbed the bridge of my nose. “My fault, Ma. I’m just annoyed. They’re holdin’ all the flights ‘cause of this snow.”
“So what’s that mean? You not gon’ make it in today?”
“Not sure yet,” I muttered. “They keep pushin’ it back every thirty minutes.”
“Mmm.” She got quiet. I could hear the stove clicking in the background. “Well, be safe. You know your uncle already askin’ about that blueberry blend you brought last time. Said it had him floatin’ through the Macy’s parade.”
I chuckled, tired but amused. “I packed three jars, Ma.”
“Mmm. Don’t let TSA catch wind.”
“I wrapped it right,” I said, lowering my voice. “Vac-sealed and tucked. C’mon. I been doin’ this too long to slip up now.”
She made a noise like she wasn’t convinced, then sighed. “Alright. Call me when you know somethin’.”
“I gotchu.” I hung up and immediately got a text from my cousin T.
I smirked and typed back:
I shoved my phone in my hoodie pocket and leaned back against the wall. Now I really needed a drink. That’s when I saw the finest woman in the airport. She walked past slowly in a pair of leggings, hair up in a loose, messy bun, brown skin glowing under airport lighting. She looked annoyed as fuck as she stepped into the bar across the terminal like she needed a drink more than I did.
I was curious, letting my eyes follow her for a second. She was of medium height, probably between 5’5 and 5’7. Thick in all the right places. That natural thickness that came from good genes. She had that “I ain't in the mood” vibe, shoulders relaxed but ready to check somebody if needed.
She sat at the far end of the bar and I watched her order a drink. What really caught my attention was her pulling out a book. Then, she crossed one leg over the other like she had no interest in the world around her.
I was never the type to press a woman, but something pulled at me. Standing up slowly, I stretched my leg out to ease the stiffness in my knee and made my way over to the bar. I didn’t sit next to her, though. I sat one seat over, which was close enough to speak and far enough not to be a problem. She looked up once, then back down at her page.
“Flight delayed too?” I asked, voice low, calm.
She blinked. Her eyes were sharp, but not rude. “Isn’t everybody’s?”
I smirked. “Fair enough.”
A moment or two passed before she went back to reading some book calledBaby, You Can Do Better by Thee Tasha Marie.I flagged the bartender and ordered top shelf tequila on the rocks, letting the silence settle for a minute. Then she closed her book halfway and glanced my way again.
“You don’t look like you belong in this airport.”
I chuckled, taking a sip. “What I look like then?”
She studied me like she was deciding if I was worth the time. “Like... you got your own jet. Something exclusive.” She wasn’t wrong.
“Got caught slippin’,” I said. “Didn’t get it fueled in time.”
“Guess you fumbled that.”
“I did.”
