Page 41 of Smoke

She turned to look at me with a tear-stained face. I grabbed the tissue and offered it to her.

“Thank you,” she said, dabbing her eyes. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess. It’s just pregnancy, then all of this going on… I’m feeling very overwhelmed.”

“I get it. How about we skip today’s lesson and try something different?”

“No. You’re already giving me these lessons for free. I don’t wanna waste any more of your time.”

“I appreciate that, but sometimes we all need a break. Work. Life. Kids. Shit can drive you crazy. I think you need some fun.”

“Fun?”

“Fun and relaxation. Give lil’ mamas in there a break ’cause I know she’s stressed too. Why don’t you come with me somewhere.”

“Should I trust you?”

I chuckled. “Baby, if you don’t know, you better ask somebody about Smoke Dillinger.”

She crossed her arms. “Why do they call you Smoke?”

“Because I’m pressure behind a trigger. Always have been. It was a nickname given to me by my grandfather. He taught me everything I know about guns.”

“You two close?”

“We are. Well, we were. He’s getting up there in age, and his mind ain’t what it used to be.”

Her face softened. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. He’s lived a long, adventurous life. He’s done a lot of things, and it’s time for his mind to rest.”

Not many people knew it, but my grandfather was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s about a year ago. We’d been keeping it under wraps and caring for him the best we could at home. Some days, he was lucid and talking. Others, he was quiet and closed off. At times, he thought he was back in his glory days.

My grandmother recalled several times where he got up at four in the morning talking about he had to hit the block. That was both funny and sad. Funny because I could hear him talkingthat shit. Sad because those days were long over for him, and it seemed to be all he could remember.

Romi sighed. “If you promise I’m safe… I’ll go with you.”

“On my mama, you’re safe. I mean that ’cause she would kick my ass if she knew I put anything on her name. She doesn’t play that.”

She smiled. “You must have lied a lot as a kid.”

“Nah. I was bad as hell though. Always fighting and shit.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

“Let me guess, you were the straight A student. Maybe a band geek. You were probably on the principal’s list, and you tutored.”

Her mouth dropped. “You don’t know my life.”

“See, I was right. I’m a pretty good people reader, Ms. Mitchell.”

“Yeah, well, I was too once upon a time.”

“Aht, aht. We not doing that. Chin up. Playas fuck up too. Come on. We’re gonna get outta here.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see when we get there.”

She groaned as she followed me. The place I was taking her to was a little hideaway I had. Being in the family business could get stressful as a muthafucka sometimes. When I could disappear for a few days, I went to my favorite spot. Seeing how distressed she was gave me the perfect excuse to play hooky from work.

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