11/06/2007

Alexia snatched her purse off of the chair next to her bedroom door. She walked out of her bedroom and into the living room. She looked around for her keys. She was forever loosing her keys. She looked around frantically for a minute or two before she realized that she had left them hanging on the key hanger rack by her front door. She tapped herself on the head and then walked to the key hanger rack. She took hold of her keys and tried to snatch them off the hanger, but the key chain got stuck on the hook. Alexia had jerked on the keys so hard that it caused her to hurt her hands on the finger nail clipper she had attached to her keychain. She blew a deep breathe, mumbled, "Dang it," and then looked at the part of her hand under her thumb. It did not look bad and there was no blood. She was ok to go on out the door without getting a band-aid. Alexia made another stabbed at getting her keys off the hook, this time; she slowly took the keys from off the hook. With purse in hand, Alexia walked out of the door and headed for her car.

Alexia reached her car quickly. She had assigned parking in her apartment complex. She was very happy for that, in fast she was so happy about it, that she paid an extra 20 dollars a month to have the privilege of getting a covered spot right in front of her apartment. She got into her car, cranked it up, and then looked at the gas gauge. She could have screamed. She was almost on empty. She had meant to get some gas last night, but she told herself to get it in the morning. She backed out of the parking spot reprimanding herself for not getting some gas last night. Now, she would have to go to the gas station and deal with the clerk who was always asking her out.

Alexia drove slowly to the gas station that was a block from her apartment. She surmised that she had enough gas to make it to the gas station that was three blocks down from her apartment, but she did not want to take a chance that she did not make it to the gas station. Plus, the gas three blocks away was $2.89 while the gas that was a block away was $2.79. It was only a ten cent saving, but it was ten cents a gallon. Every little penny helped these days.

Alexia reluctantly pulled up into the gas station. She stopped at the pump that was as far away from the building as she could get. She hoped that the clerk in the building would not be able to see her. If he did see her, he would come outside, flirt with her, while he pumped her gas. As much as she hated pumping gas, she hated fooling with the gold toothed wearing attendant even more.

She turned the engine of her car off and exited her 2007 Newport Blue Pearl Subaru Tribeca. Before she had time to put her credit card in the credit card scanner, the dreaded gas station clerk was standing next to her door smiling at her, his gold tooth gleaming. It shined as if he had just cleaned it.

Ronnie (as his name tag implied) smiled at Alexia, "Hey, there miss lady. As good as you looking, I know you do not wanna pump no gas in that outfit. Let a brother hook you up."

Alexia tried not to smile, "You do not have to do that. I know that it is not part of your job."

Ronnie ran his tongue across his gold tooth slowly, "For you sweetness, I would drink this gas."

Alexia burst out laughing, "You need Jesus."

The gold tooth profligate licked his lips, "If you are driving to meet him, I'll ride shotgun."

Alexia did not want to encourage him anymore than she already had, so she responded, "Are you gonna pump the gas or not?"

Ronnie reached for the gas pump, placed it in the gas tank and began pumping the gas, "Where are you going all dressed up like that?"

"None of your business," Alexia said without even looking at the intrusive man.

Ronnie turned his face so that it was facing Alexia, "I am just asking to be friendly."

Alexia made a face and did not answer the obtrusive man.

Ronnie sucked his gold tooth loudly, "Why are you playing hard to get? I am just trying to talk to you."

Alexia blew a hard breath, "I do not want to talk to you!"

The pushy gas attendant made a face, "Oh, why you being so cold woman? A brother is just trying to get to know ya."

The irritated woman looked at the aggressive gas man, "I do not mean to be cold. I am just not interested in you. I have told you that every time that I have come into the gas station and you persist in your action. I am not trying to hurt your feelings or anything. I am just not interested in you."

Ronnie looked dejected. He pumped the rest of the gas in silence. Alexia could tell that she had hurt Ronnie's feelings. She felt bad, but she hoped that he had gotten the message. Maybe he would leave her alone now.

Ronnie finished pumping the gas and put the gas nozzle back in its place. He smiled at Alexia, "Alright Miss lady, there you go. I will see you on soon. I'll be waiting to pump your gas for you." He opened the door for Alexia.

Alexia laughed as she got into the car, "You need Jesus."

Ronnie closed the door, "I already told ya, if you are driving to meet Him, I'll ride shotgun."

Alexia rolled her eyes at Ronnie and drove off. She could not wait to see Precious and tell her what had happened at the gas station.

***

Boyd Lee Allen was waiting for his homeboy Brock Van Duren to come by and pick him up. They were going to the mall for something. Boyd was not exactly sure for what, but a trip to the mall was always cool. He had the next two days off for Easter. He was glad, too. He had been working hard since he moved to Jouette. A frat brother of his had helped him get the job that he had at the moment, much to the dismay of his current manager. Boyd's current manager wanted a friend of his to get the job. Boyd was more qualified that the manager's friend. Boyd's manager had been giving him a hard time. He and Brock had been praying for the past two months that God would move the manager or Boyd to a new department. It seemed as if things had gotten worse for Boyd. His manager acted crazier everyday, nitpicked at Boyd for the smallest things, and was always watching Boyd's every move waiting for him to make a mistake. Boyd just did his work, flawlessly. The vice-president of the department had taken notice of Boyd's work. If the manager did not watch out, Boyd would have his job.

Boyd looked at his fingernails. They were dirty. He hated having dirty fingernails. He grabbed the fingernail file that he had sitting on the bed next to him and cleaned each one of his nails with precision. After he had done all eight fingers and both thumbs, he extended his arms and looked at his fingernails. They were clean, but he needed a manicure.

Boyd had to laugh at himself. He was such a pretty boy. Brock always teased him about it, too. "Boy, how are you gonna be prettier than any woman I know. You are so high maintenance. You need to quit." Boyd would just laugh. He had no problem with being a pretty boy. He did hate to be called a metrosexual, though. When the word first came out, everyone that Boyd knew started calling him that. Boyd was not a metrosexual in any way, other than liking to dress nicely. Boyd always said, "Caring about how I look and smell doesn't make me a metrosexual, it makes me a person who cares about myself." Boyd knew that he probably made a bigger deal out of than he should, but it was his choice to be called what he wanted to be called. He had no homosexual tendencies, so he did not fully fit the definition of a metro sexual.

Boyd shook himself. He needed to get on the ball. He knew that Brock would be on time and mad if he was not ready. Brock went over to his closet to get the outfit that he had picked out to wear, a pair of dark brown pants with a light brown collarless shirt and a light brown blazer that closely matched the color of the shirt he was wearing. Brock had his dark brown suede loafers ready with a pair of light brown socks. He was going to be clean as he always was.

He put on his shirt and pants on after he lotioned himself down and put on enough cologne to make the whole room smell like he was going to smell. He had to make that the cologne penetrated every bit of his clothing so that the smell would last all day. He went over to the mirror and looked at his college cut hair. He had to make sure he got a hair cut so that on Sunday, his hair would look just right. He was going to look good, no matter what he wore. He ran his hand over his head. That was not going to do. He picked up the boar bristle brush that was lying on his dresser and brushed his hair 50 times in each direction, meticulously following the grain of his hair. He counted each stroke of the brush out loud, making sure that he had done 50 in each direction. It was an odd habit, but it made his hair looked wavy, and that was just what he wanted.

After Boyd finished his daily hair routine, he walked over and put on his shoes and socks. He looked down at his feet. He had some pretty feet. It helped that he got pedicures every other week. He had found a great nail salon right on his block. He almost had a fit when he found the place. They did his hands and his feet like he liked. It was perfect for him. He could walk to the shop and back. He had one problem though. He had yet to find a barber that he liked. He had gone to a couple of people suggested by people at his job and his church, but they hadn't worked out for him. They seemed to get upset because he was so fastidious when it came to his hair. One barber had even said, "Dawg, you crazy. You ain't gonna find nobody to do your hair like you want it. You crazy." Boyd had laughed as he gave the guy his fee and a 15 dollar tip. Boyd knew he was particular, but he was willing to pay people for having to put up with him.

Boyd was finally ready. He walked into his living room. His furniture was neatly laid out so that from every seat in the room, you could see the television clearly. There were trash cans within arms length of each of the seating items. Boyd could not stand for people to have trash all over his house. He had trash cans everywhere in his house. He went over to his sectional couch and sat down on it. He reached for the television remote, which he kept in a box on the coffee table with all of his other remotes. He clicked the power button on the remote and then picked up the cable box remote and turned the cable box on. It was set to his favorite station, ESPN News. He made a mental note to call the cable company and have them send him a new remote. He had did something to the current remote that he had so that the remote would not turn on the television as well as the cable box.

ESPN News was running a basketball story. That was one of Boyd's favorite sports. He did not play organized ball anymore, but he and Brock played pick up games from time to time. Brock hadn't had much time to play since they had moved to Jouette. He was busy being the pastor and all. Boyd seemed to have been pushed to the back seat a bit, but he knew that Brock had a job to do.

Boyd and Brock had been best friends for ever, so it seems. They had grown up together in the city of Weidmer. They lived a couple of houses down from each other. They used to spend the night over each others houses. After awhile, everyone thought that they were brothers. Boyd spent more time with Brock and his family. Boyd liked hanging out with Brock's uncle Sirus, especially since Boyd did not have a father in his house. His mother did her best, but sometime Boyd just needed to talk to a man. Sirus Van Duren was that man. He always gave Boyd sound advice, wise counsel, and a swift kick to the butt when needed. Boyd loved Sirus as if he were his father.

The only reason Boyd moved to Jouette with Brock was because Sirus had asked him to make the move. Boyd had no intention of leaving his job, his friends, his church, or Weidmer. He was happy there. Sirus came to him a month before Brock was supposed to leave and said, "Son, I want you to go down there with Brock. He is going to need some help and I cannot be the one who gives him that help. I need to stay here and Brock needs to stand on his own feet. He will not be able to do that if I am down there with him. I do not want him to be by himself, though. That's why I need you to go." Boyd agreed to go only after Sirus agreed to pray that Boyd would get a better job in Jouette than he had in Weidmer. A week before they were supposed to leave, God came through with a great job. Boyd hadn't expected all the friction that was happening to happen on the job, but he was happy with the job. Sirus had asked Boyd not to say anything about the conversation they had. Boyd had not said anything. He respected Sirus enough to honor his request.

Boyd stood up and walked into his kitchen. He needed to go get a glass of water. He looked around in his kitchen. It was spotless. He had to laugh at himself because he was so meticulous. He opened the kitchen cabinet that housed the glasses. He reached in it and grabbed a cup. It was one of the cups that his mother had given him before he had left Weidmer. He missed his mother. She had been sick lately and he wanted to be with her, but she had told him to go ahead and leave for Jouette. His mother said that he did not have to keep taking care of her forever. She promised that with God's help, she would be okay. Boyd called her everyday even though she did not want him to call her that often. She had told him that he was getting on her nerves on more than one occasion. He wouldn't listen, he kept on calling her. His mother had always been sickly, all of his life, his mother was sick all the time. No one could ever find out what was wrong with his mother. His grandmother had said that she was just weak and could not take much. Boyd hated seeing his mother like that. She was a strong willed woman, though. She never let anything stop her. She always went to all of his basketball games and other events. She always went to work, even if she had a migraine or a back ache. She was like that; seeing his mother do all that, made him a stronger man. He was determined to make something of himself. That's why he always did his best, even when people came against him. He had made himself and his mother a promise that he would always do his best.

Boyd heard a knock on his door. He knew that it had to be Brock. Boyd put the television remote back in its box on the coffee table before he stood up and went to the door. He looked through the peephole and then opened the door. Brock walked into Boyd's apartment without being invited in. Boyd made a face, "Man, where are your manners? I did not invite you in." Brock smiled and sat down on the couch. He reached for the television remote, "Is this thing on ESPN News?" Boyd made a face, "Dawg, you need to come correct. You cannot be walking up in folk's apartment, acting like you own the place. That will get you hurt." Brock laughed, "Sorry, man. I thought we were family. I guess we ain't as close as I thought we were." Boyd snatched the remote from Brock's hand, "You know I hate it when you mess with my stuff. You get on my nerves." Brock stood up from the couch, "I said sorry. Let's go before you have a fit and we get to squabbling up in here. That would be crazy."

Boyd walked over to the love seat and picked up his jacket. He smoothed out the wrinkles that were in it before he put it on. After it was own, he looked at himself in the mirror that was on the back of the front door to make sure that he looked good. Brock, who was standing behind him laughed, "Man, you shole is pretty." Boyd walked out of his front door without even acknowledging Brock's statement.