Page 83 of Grace

“Well, I am. So when September rolls around, be prepared to celebrate with Shi-Shi all month!”

“You plan to still have me around in five months?”

“If I don’t lose you to marriage with some hobo, maybe.” She rolled her eyes again.

A hard croak left my throat and I cracked the hell up. It was girlie and petty, two things most people didn’t get from her boss bitch persona. Perhaps I was a lucky man beyond being a blessed one.

“Witherspoo—”

“Anyway. I don’t want to think about that unrealistic list you have. I want to focus on celebrating you now.” Her voice had perked up and it seemed to be accompanied by her good mood. “I’m going to call Shizu when I get home tonight and see what magic she can serve up at the last minute.” She glanced down at the phone. “You mind if I bring some of my friends if we do this?”

I groaned into the pillow. “Ashira, please!”

“Did you just Saucy Santana me again?” she shouted, laughing.

“Huhn?” I was confused.

“Never mind. Anyway. We’re so doing this!” Her body tensed behind the wheel in excitement. Whole mood change. “You said you hate that I travel so much and you’re missing out. Well, here’s your chance to keep up. We’re gonna have somuch—”

“C’mon, Ashira.” My eyes squeezed close. “You’re killing me here. Fuckin’ up my list for real.”

“Don’t start your shit!” she warned, rolling her eyes again, this time directly to the phone.

I pulled up to the address Jas texted. It was Rizzo’s Oakland worksite. They’d been putting up a development for months. The bid to build was an option for my firm a couple of years ago but I decided not to pursue it, so busy with other projects. As I pulled up to the third home on the left, next to a compactor, I could feel my hands slipping on the steering wheel. That let me know my palms had been sweating.

Still, I braved on, cutting the engine and leaving the car. It was an active site, trades moving about working, some eating during the lunch hour. Many faces were familiar—the white ones, at least. Rizzo’s team had been in the game for years. I’d run into them some way or another. I was happy to see quite a few Brown and Black faces—men and women—too.

“Aye, Witherspoon!” someone shouted behind me. “You’re a long way from Daddy’s house!” Michael-Angelo tapped his friend’s shoulder as he burst in laughter.

“But your momma ain’t,” I retorted calmly.Shit. Did I not count up the cost of coming here? I didn’t have time for his little ass. “When I left Daddy’s estate, she was face down, ass up.” I stuck out my tongue.

His colleagues all in the vicinity of my voice howled. It was what Michael-Angelo and I did for years. He used to try to flirt with me when I was younger. One year, when tired of my declining, he developed a new approach to interacting with me: taunting. Since then, I’d been teaching him I’m a better roaster than a piece of ass. He flipped his middle finger then turned his back to me.

“Yoooooo! Look who’s here!” Juggy’s droopy eyes were slightly slanted as he gaited over to me, his arms stretched welcomingly with a word search booklet in one hand. “Everything good?”

I assumed Juggy sold crack at some point—maybe not, according to Jas. But if he did, I wondered if he could sniff out the crackhead-like feigning similarities in my countenance. I tried for a smile, I couldn’t manage to reach my eyes. “I told Jas I was stopping by.”

“Awwww. That’s cute. You taking the general to lunch?” He slapped the rolled booklet into his palm. “Let me find out you crushing, crushing on my nigga, Shi-Shi!”

Filled with juvenile shame, I rolled my eyes. “Fuck you, Juggy.”

“Ouch,” his tone unfazed. “A’ight. Lemme go grab ‘im for you.”

Waiting, I glanced around the site, counting six homes with three complete. The foundation of the seventh had begun. Then, in my builder’s mind, I did a mental calculation of the number of potential units for the total available building lot and how long until completion, given the successful sales of them.

A car pulling up not too far from mine caught my attention. A metallic grayAMG GT C Coupe. The model looked identical to mine but I knew, as a subscriber, theC Coupecame with more bells and whistles, upping the price.

The engine died and out came a young woman in a tailored suit. She was thin, fit with a simple ponytail that looked natural. It was fairly long and healthy, blowing in the wind as she peeled out of the cropped suit jacket, placing it inside the car. She reached back inside and pulled out a business portfolio then closed the door. Her earrings were small classic diamond studs as her big wavy ponytail swayed in the air as she approached the house closest to me.

Momentarily, her attention landed on me and she was, I could immediately determine, very pretty, resembling Christina Milian. Her waist was narrow and breasts modest on her petite frame. Judging from the stops and stares she received from the men in the vicinity, I could tell they found her attractive, too. Her eyes brushed against me, having me nervously switch the weight on my hips while leaning against my car. She didn’t react or linger as she kept walking toward the unit in tallSaint Laurentwedges. I knew because I owned two pairs of those myself.

On her approach, she intersected with Jas. Based on his expression, he recognized her immediately. The two stopped hardly feet from each other, exchanging words. My temperature spiked watching him remove his gloves slowly, so consumed by her words. He placed them in the back pocket of his sagging work jeans. Fixedly, he listened to whatever she expressed, pointing into her opened portfolio. Neither smiled, both with hard faces and nods. He said a few things to her, to which she nodded in agreement and followed up with affirming words. Then Jas dismissed her with a smile and single pat on the shoulders before walking off. She continued inside the unit and I waited on bated breath as he searched for me.

It didn’t take long at all for Jas to locate me. His face lit up in a way that was inarguable. I caught his tongue swiping the side of his mouth before he wiped roughly, making me jealous of his hand.

He lifted the hardhat from his head as he beamed my way, eyes squinting from the sun. “How can I help you, Ms. Witherspoon?”

The silly giggle bubbling from my throat was fucking embarrassing. “By letting me take you to lunch.”

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