Page 24 of Happy Is On Hiatus
“Hey, am I late?” Jemel came over to where Rita and Dinah were standing.
“No. I just got here,” Rita replied.
Dinah turned her wrist to look at her watch. “Sharae’s not here yet. But it’s only a few minutes after four.”
Which in Dinah’s sarcastic terms meant she considered her late.
“She probably got held up at work. I know she said she had another meeting with her captain today. I hope that goes well.” Rita was still worried about how her impulsive actions last week might affect Sharae and the job she cared about more than almost anything in the world.
Jemel, most likely knowing what Rita was thinking, rubbed a hand over Rita’s arm. “It’s fine, I’m sure. We’ve got enough on our plates to worry about right now. Don’t add to it.”
“Well, there’s no need to worry about the arrangements,” Dinah chimed in, reminding them that she was there, ear-hustling as best she could. “As y’all know from previous dealings with us here at Medwin Harris, we know how to take care of our families. And the Johnsons are definitely family. Even though we haven’t seen you here since your great-uncle Paul died last year.”
“This ain’t Target,” Jemel said dryly. “We prefer not to make a stop here every week.”
Dinah’s spooky-looking brows raised again, and this time she added a weary gaze at Jemel. There’d never been any love lost between these two. Jemel thought Dinah was disrespectful and low-key jealous of the Aunts while Dinah had made it her business to tell anyone who’d listen about Jemel and her—as Dinah called her—“fast behind” during Jemel’s partying days.
“Still got a fresh mouth, I see, Jemel. I pray for Ceil every week.”
Jemel waved a hand in Dinah’s direction. “Don’t waste your prayers on me. The Lord knew what he was doing when he made me; I am what I am.”
“Okay, well, we’ll just go have a seat over here and wait for Sharae,” Rita said, looping her arm through Jemel’s and guiding her away from Dinah.
“Maybe you should give her a call. The purpose in making an appointment is to have time allotted for everyone who requires our services.”
“And I could see when I pulled up that you’ve got a line of people waiting to get in here and buy these overpriced caskets and gaudy flower arrangements you keep paying that tacky Yolanda Camp to design.”
That was the other point of contention with Dinah and Jemel and probably the biggest issue for Jemel, since she’d never cared what anybody thought about her or her life’s choices. Unlike Rita, who’d always tried to do the right thing to please everybody. But Jemel was proud of the florist shop she’d built over the years, so whenever she saw arrangements that she considered subpar, it grated on her nerves.
“We go with the most economical price and the person who does more for the community. We like to give back around here, not take all the time,” Dinah replied with a huff.
Rita was glad the woman turned and walked away because Jemel, as always, was down for a fight or a spirited argument when she knew she was right.
“Stop egging her on,” Rita chastised when they were across the room. She sat in one of the guest chairs, crossing one leg over the other.
Jemel sat in the chair to Rita’s left, leaned back, and crossed her feet at the ankle. “She’s so annoying with her nosy-ass self. And they are cheap in here; it ain’t got nothing to do with giving back to the community. All Yolanda does is host a car wash in the summer and saysshe’s donating the proceeds to the rec center. Nobody knows if she’s really doing that. Plus, how much is she really making on a car wash?”
Rita worried the clasp on her purse, her thoughts more on where Sharae was rather than how much money could be made at a car wash.
“You could do some type of fundraiser for the community if you wanted to. It wouldn’t hurt to get that exposure for your shop,” she said absently.
Jemel didn’t generally take advice about her shop. Her stance was that she’d worked her butt off to get that place off the ground without anybody lifting a finger to help her, so she didn’t need anyone’s input now that it was doing well. Anybody other than Rita and Sharae, who both knew it was still smart to be very selective in what they said to Jemel about her business anyway.
“And you’d be the one to help with that since you’ve chaired just about every fundraising committee at the church.” Jemel sighed. “Look, I’d just like to take people’s money by selling them pretty flowers. I’m not into tricking them to give me money that I’ll send off to someone who’s probably lying about what they intend to use it for. You know half the money that’s earmarked for rec centers never makes it there. Hence the reason so many of them are closing.”
Rita could agree with that and could go on and on with this discussion with Jemel about the demise of their communities and people’s reluctance to help. But she was more concerned with the fact that Sharae was now fifteen minutes late. Sharae was never late.
Chapter 11
MEN AIN’T SHIT.
It didn’t matter how many times she said it, committed it to memory, or had it engraved on her mirror so she’d see it and be reminded every morning—men just weren’t shit.
She doubted they even tried to be anything better.
At least Captain Floyd Hall with his too-loud voice and irritating laugh had never tried to be anything more than the obnoxious chauvinist he was.
“Now look, this is your second fuckup this year. I’m not gonna write you up for not letting the first responders take the official statements at your cousin’s house last week, but one more slipup like that and you’ll be back writing reports in narcotics. You investigate murders; you don’t show up at crime scenes just because you want to and pull rank over the people there to actually do their jobs.”
