Page 10 of Definitely Not a Thing
“I’ll table that nickname unless you make it a habit.”
“Screaming isnota habit of mine,” I countered, and he raised an eyebrow at me.
“I can tell. Maybe that’s the problem,” he suggested with a wink, then started for the elevator while I stood there trying to figure out what the hell that me?—
“Okay fuck you!” I called after him as the elevator closed.
3/
amelia
A tripto Urban Grindalwayshit the right note for me.
Every.
Freaking.
Time.
I got myself there early enough to get my preferred, perfect little spot in a cozy chair next to the window, got a latte and a pastry, and locked in on things with Proxy.
The technical side of things was largely over my head – at least where the coding and databases and cyber security of it all were concerned. Ideas and implantation, all the operations?
All me.
And I adored it.
The Heights wasveryimportant to me, so being able to create something that impacted the community in such a positive way really made all the bullshit fade to background noise. I couldn’t bring myself to give a fuck about what was happening in my personal life when my daily customer experience check told the story of an elder getting consistent transportation to her sewing club thanks to a teen who needed funds for their college applications and graduation expenses. Or the new mom who was thriving thanks to a weekly meal deliveryfrom a private chef who was trying to get her business off the ground. Andsomany other stories.
Yes, a nominal fee was exchanged, but it was still neighbor helping neighbor and I was glad to facilitate.
The few hours I had to run through my administrative tasks flew by in a blur of refills and short –welcomed – interruptions from people I knew. I hated to break when I did, but I had to be available for my appointment time for the movers.
Notsomething I could miss.
Which made my decision to leave thirty minutes before, even though it was only a ten minute walk feel even wiser when I ran into Winnie, who was coming in as I was leaving.
“Ames – you haven’t been to KANAOS class in like two weeks – what’s going on?” she asked, greeting me with a hug, and stepping outside with me so we weren’t blocking the door.
I returned her hug, but frowned at her words. “What is… what class did you say? Is that an acronym?”
She grinned. “It is – I’m workshopping the name,” she explained. “It’s the usual cardio kickboxing, but I want to promote it askick a nigga ass or something,” she said, with a flourish of her hands like she was visualizing it on a billboard.
“Kick a—Winnie, please,” I giggled, and she shrugged.
“What?!” she asked, that grin getting even bigger. “Tell me I’m not on to something. Imagine it, you’ve been victimized physically or emotionally or hell – knowing some of these motherfuckers,spiritually, and you decide to get stronger, get some movement in, you know? You go looking for classes, you run across the acronym, and you wonder,what’s that. Then you read the description, which includes the explanation of the acronym…,” she said, still painting the picture. “Tell me what your reaction would be!”
I laughed. “This is insane…but…I think that’s the class.”
“Boom,” Winnie nodded. “See? Jonathan thinks I’m bugging, butIthink it’s going to be a hit.”
“You know Jonathan likes to keep it cute, so I understand him, but… I kinda like it. Keep talking to people about it, get some more feedback.”
“Bet – but uh… my question still stands, friend. Where you been?”
“Well last week I just had a meeting, so I couldn’t make it.”
She squinted at me. “And… this week?”
