Page 45 of Definitely Not a Thing
My face went blank. “Why would I needhandlesamong the general public?”
“Oh, that’s how it is? I’mgeneral public?”
“Yes, the fuck?” I laughed, finally returning his dap, and adding a quick side hug. “When did you get back in town?”
“Just a couple days ago – we’ve got it looking a lot better down there now.”
Thedown therehe was referring to was the Gulf, where recent storms had wielded a devastating level of damage that impacted several majority Black communities, including some family I had down there. It was a helpless feeling, watching people that looked like you hurting, and not knowing what to do beyond sending funds. Like, that helped, sure, but it felt… distant.
When Key – Marquis – sent out the signal, saying he was gathering a group to go down and help with cleaning up and rebuilding, I was quick to answer that call.
For some selfish reasons alongside the noble ones – the timing happened to coordinate well with the end of the professional basketball season I’d been excluded from, so the tough, sometimes dangerous physical work was a great distraction.
And I got to help some people along the way, too.
There did come a point though, where my presence was noticed – in the celebrity kind of way. As “regular” as it was for me to walk around in the Heights and Blackwood, that wasn’t the case down there. Media picked it up, and I had a conversation with the director of the organization we were working with and Marquis, who both agreed – it was time for me to get out of there before the headline becameTroubled Tech-foul Magnet Takes on Rebuilding Townor some similarly dumb shit.
So I went home, earlier than planned.
Two weeks after that, Amelia moved in next door.
So… shit, maybe that was just in the grand plan.
“Good,” I nodded, responding to the progress update. “I still hate that I couldn’t stay longer.”
Key shook his head. “You did what you could, and that’s what matters man. What are you in here for though? We inspired you to take on a project with the building?”
“Nah,” I scoffed. “Arthur sent me over here,” I explained, pulling the broken bolt and washer from my pocket. “Need a replacement for this.”
“Let me guess – this bolt is supposed to be holding the building together, and Arthur is holding it until you get back?”
“Something like that,” I laughed, turning with him to gaze at the wall of fasteners. Luckily they came in a set – bolt plus washer – so there was only one drawer to find. Key found it first, which came as no surprise.
His grandfather was the original “Cooper” the store was originally named after.
Heights Hardwarewas some shit Key had decided, and got talked about for.
Bad.
“Ay… somebody call you about training camp yet, or…?”
I groaned a little over that question, closing my eyes for a moment as I considered my answer – an answer I was saved from when Key spoke again.
A soft, appreciative, “Goddamn.”
My eyes popped open, and my gaze was drawn like a beacon to the reason.
Amelia.
In her signature workout shorts and oversize tee combo, natural hair braided back into a puff, fresh face, skin glistening.
Goddamn indeed.
Her eyes went wide when she realized I was standing there, and she immediately pivoted in one direction, then another, clearly mapping her escape before she took off.
“Yo – is she…runningfrom us?”
I chuckled. “Us? No. Me? Probably.”
