A fourth.
My father’s mechanic shop sat empty with a for sale sign in the small patch of grass just on the perimeter of the building. I cut it bi-weekly, refusing to let nature grow taller than the candles, stuffed animals, images, and posters pinned to the memorial pole that Dooley had created for my parents.
The brown block of wood brought me so much peace and pain simultaneously. I’d never get my mother back. I’d never get my father back. But, somehow, the memorial my hood had created made it feel like I was passing them every fucking day.
I released the breath that had lodged itself in my chest and made two more lefts before making a right into my driveway.Emerging from my whip took very little effort. I didn’t shut off the engine. Instead, I grabbed my stick and walked up to my front door.
762498.
I punched in the code on the newly installed lock system that saved me many nights when I wasn’t sure where the hell my keys were. They were on a separate ring from my car keys and often found themselves in dark places.
The AC was blasting. I pushed through my home with urgency, stopping just short of my bedroom.
820942.
I pressed each button carefully and was granted access to my room. I dug through the clothes that were strategically placed in my closet. Sliding them out of the way revealed a floor safe that my grandfather had installed.
The home I inherited from my family wasn’t one I would’ve chosen for myself. However, it held far too many memories to let go of. It was a family treasure. Through renovations I’d managed myself, it had become my treasure. Slowly, I was beginning to appreciate every nook and cranny.
The open safe revealed my life’s savings. There was one stash for emergencies. There was another stash, a much larger one, for gaining possession of the shop my father had worked so hard to maintain. He was five years into his lease-to-own journey after renting the same shop from a previous owner for ten years.
At the time of his death, there was still a balance on the agreement between him and the owner of the property. I fought my way through the court to take ownership of the lease and finish the payments he was making. I didn’t succeed. The money my father had put into his shop had all gone to waste. The day the judge ruled in favor of the owner, I vowed to snatch the shop from under him. Cash.
No lease.
No loan.
No lenders.
That shop was my way out of the streets. And, every soul near knew it would be mine one day. So, collectively, they made a conscious effort to drive the property value down with every intention of helping me rebuild what they were destroying. Aside from the grass, the place was in horrible shape.
The price continued to drop month after month. It wouldn’t be long before it was mine. I could smell the motor oil on my fresh white tee. Getting my hands dirty came naturally. Doing it legally hadn’t. It was time to turn a new leaf. It was time to pivot. I could feel the change happening inside of me, a little more each day.
I kissed the skin of my teeth as I removed five racks from my savings. It would put me behind at least a month, but with any luck, there would be a six-thousand-dollar price decrease on the garage over the next sixty days, giving me a chance to recover what I was about to lose.
CHAPTER
THREE
Fifteen-piece. Lemon pepper.All flats. Fried hard. A side of ranch dressing and buffalo sauce. Carrots tossed.
I told your hard-headed ass not to make my bond. I have nowhere to be and no one to see. I could’ve waited on the judge. I would’ve been released.
Bitch, why would you spend a red cent getting me out? I would’ve been released after seeing a judge.
I replayed the start of my conversation with Saga as I traveled down the lengthy hallway that would lead to my freedom. It had been six days since Chubs and his partner cornered me in the Design District. Hadn’t it been for the unpleasant surprise, I would’ve gotten away.
However, I had no idea another officer was headed in my direction. The moment I turned the third corner, prepared to hop into my whip with Saga waiting at the wheel, I was shoved to the ground. My knee stung at the thought of the nasty scrape that was a result of my arrest. It was healing beautifully, but the pain still resonated.
“See you again soon,” the clerk laughed, showing every gapped tooth in her mouth.
I’d never seen her a day in my life. And, I never planned to again. But I was aware that first-time offenders were almost always repeat offenders. Most just didn’t get caught. I wouldn’t. Never again.
“Girl fuck you and that greasy ass bang. Shampoo that quickweave before your scalp molds, bitch.”
The sight of her was repulsive. I sped up, pushing through the double doors. Fresh air nearly swept me from my feet. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quick enough. The man in the drop-top Chevy Chevelle swept me up first.
I paused at the top of the stairs, still waiting for Saga to come running. She didn’t. And instead of her loud mouth and contagious cackling, there was silence.
