The Streets Keep Calling (4 page)

“I'm here about the janitorial position you got,” I said as I walked in the front door.

There was a bald-headed black man sitting at a desk, reading the newspaper. He didn't even look up as he spoke to me. “You got any experience son?”

“Nah, man. I'm just looking for a gig. I know how to clean up, but I ain't never had no job,” I said, being honest.

I didn't know what it was about this man, but I just felt like he was from the streets. He reminded me of an O.G. He finally put down his newspaper and looked up at me. He was silent as he looked me up and down from head to toe. “You on parole, boy?”

“Yes, sir,” I answered. There wasn't any sense in lying. I figured my parole officer had already given him a heads-up that I'd be coming by, anyway.

“What you do time for? Drugs?” he asked like he knew me or something.

“Yes, sir.”

“You doing this to keep your P.O. off your back or you really trying to change?” The O.G. asked question after question.

“Man, I'm trying to live right. I lost a whole lot during that five-year bid. I'm just trying to build my life back and do it the right way,” I said sincerely.

“Okay, my man. I've been in your shoes. You remind me of myself when I first got out the pen. I'm gonna give you a try, but one fuck up and you're out the door. Can you start tonight?”

“Yes, sir! I can start right now if you need me to!” I quickly took the O.G. up on his offer.

“Okay. Meet me at Freedom Bank on Granby Street at seven o'clock. If you're late, you're fired,” he said as he laid down the rules. “Dress comfortablly.”

“I'll be there. Thanks, man,” I said, then walked back out of the office.

I rushed home full of excitement. I wasn't excited about being a janitor, considering I used to have a maid of my own. To tell you the truth, the shit was kind of depressing. But I knew this was one step in the right direction and one step closer to getting my kids back.

I had just enough time to get some lunch and take a nap. While I was coming in the door, Ma and Grandma were watching the news. Ma was standing by the couch looking as if she'd just come home from work, and Grandma was in her recliner, munching on some salted peanuts.

“Hey, Breeze, how did your day go?” Ma eagerly asked.

“It was a'ight. I saw my P.O. and I got a li'l gig,” I announced, nodding my head.

“That's wonderful. Where is the job?” Grandma inquired after taking her glasses off.

“It's at Freedom Bank on Granby Street. I'm going to be a janitor working the evening shifts,” I explained.

“When do you start?” Ma questioned.

“Tonight.”

“Breeze, I'm so proud of you. Come give this old lady a hug,” Grandma replied, reaching her arms toward me. “I know it's not the best job in the world, and it's not gonna be easy, but at least it will keep you off the streets.”

“Yeah, and now you can start helping out with the bills!” Ma chimed in.

“Don't worry about me. I'll do my part. Now are you gonna do your part and stop smoking?” I reminded Ma about the deal she'd previously made.

“Oh, shit, Breeze, I forgot all about our deal. Okay, I'll try my best…right after this pack is finished! This shit cost me almost ten dollars and I'm not about to throw them away!” She chuckled.

“Yeah, a'ight, Ma,” I said, knowing my mom was full of shit.

“Let me fix you something to snack on. We are about to fry some fish,” Grandma suggested as she got up from her La-Z-Boy chair.

 

After eating dinner, I took a nap, and awoke to the sounds of gunshots. I looked out the window to see a nigga lying in the street and a car speeding off. It looked like a drive-by. Just another reminder I was back in the fucking hood. I glanced at the clock and saw it was already six. I hopped up, threw on my clothes, and headed out the door. I'd never had a job before in my life and I'd never wanted one. Who ever thought Breezy Breeze would be working, and as a janitor? Boy, shit had really changed.

I showed up at the bank fifteen minutes early. The O.G. was just pulling up. I saw this fine-ass chick standing by the front enterance as I was walking up to the bank. She had a dark-skinned, amaretto complexion, and was about five feet six, with long, thick black hair. I could tell her shit wasn't no weave, either. Her ass was nice and thick, shaped like an upside-down heart. She didn't have much to her breasts but I could tell they were just big enough to grab and squeeze. She was definitely the “take home to momma” type. I watched as she was locking up the place.

“Hold that door, baby girl,” the O.G. hollered as he rushed up.

“Grab some of these things, son.” He handed me a bucket of cleaning supplies. I grabbed them and followed him in.

Knowing I wasn't in any position to holla at any respectable-type chick, a girl like her, I didn't even look in her direction as we walked in.

“Good evening,” I heard a soft voice say. I was surprised that she'd acknowledged me.

“How you doing?” I tried to sound polite and gentlemen-like.

“Very good, thank you. Have a good night,” she said as she walked away.

“You too.” I nodded.

A nigga was feeling real low right about now. Before I'd gotten locked up, I could pull any girl I wanted, because my game was always tight. No woman could deny me: black, white, hood, rich, whatever they were, they loved them some Breezy Breeze. I had all the accessories to go along with my good looks and irresistible charm, too. The money, clothes, jewels, and cars. There was no way I could come at this bank lady, broke, fresh out of jail, and working a janitorial job. What real bitch would want a nigga like that? I really had to do something about my situation.

“Son, getting here on time is half the battle. Now let's get to work,” the O.G. said while taking the cleaning supplies I was holding and handing me a dust vacuum.

“You know how to use that?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” I lied. I'd never used one, but I knew I could figure it out.

“Well, get to work!”

This gig was a piece of cake. The rules were simple. Anything left on the desk, I couldn't dare touch. I had to make sure the trash was emptied every night, vacuum, and dust. I had to clean up the bathrooms and break rooms, sweep and mop if there was a spill. There was no way I could fuck that up!

Clients can really stress me out, but Mr. Biggs and his wife earned the grand prize. Mr. Biggs was one of the bank's biggest clients, as well as one of my biggest headaches. As soon as I saw him coming off the elevator, I took a fast detour into my office, quickly picked up the phone, and put it to my ear. I pulled up my computer screen and pretended to be deep in conversation with whomever was on the phone. Even though I put on an Oscar-winning performance, Mr. Biggs still rudely walked into my office and interrupted me.

“Ms. Johnson, may I speak with you for a moment?” He stood in front of my desk.

I held up one finger to signal that I'd be with him in a minute, as I wrapped up my bogus phone conversation.

“What can I do for you today, Mr. Biggs?” I tugged at my skirt as I stood up, in an attempt to lengthen it a bit.

“There are quite a few things that come to mind,” Mr. Biggs said while walking toward me. He grabbed my hand, then whispered in my ear, “When are you gonna stop playing hard to get? A little Southern beauty like you should be getting spoiled, not working hard every day as some little old bank branch manager.”

My stomach turned as I felt the heat from Mr. Biggs's breath on my forehead. That sensation along with the combined scent of Doublemint gum and Prada cologne really made me want to vomit.

“Daddy, Daddy.” Mr. Biggs's moment of sexual harassment was interrupted by his kids running into my office.

“Hey, Jaden. Hi, Kaylyn!” I happily greet them.

“Hi, Ms. Johnson!” They rushed into my arms, greeting me with big hugs.

“What's going on in here?” Maria walked in with the same rude demeanor she had on a daily basis. I couldn't figure out if she was just a miserable person or if she had a personal vendetta against me.

“Nothing, sweetheart, just discussing some last-minute business transactions with Ms. Johnson,” Mr. Biggs lied.

“Looks like a little more than talking was going on from where I was standing,” Maria said, eyeing Mr. Biggs. Then she directed her attention to me. “Are you hard of hearing, darling? Otherwise I don't understand why you must be so close to my man when he's speaking to you.”

More like your man is all up on me, bitch,
I said in my head, but wouldn't dare let that type of language come out of my mouth. I was much too classy to stoop to Maria's level. I chose to ignore her comment, and turned toward Mr. Biggs. “Is there anything else you need today, Mr. Biggs? Was everything taken care of for you” I asked.

“Everything is fine, Ms. Johnson,” he replied. “As ususal,” he leaned in and whispered to me when he noticed Maria was distracted with Kaylyn.

“Well, let's head to dinner. I've got reservations for us downtown. Come on, kids,” Maria snapped, getting back to Mr. Biggs and me.

“Bye, Ms. Johnson!” the kids said in unison.

“Wait a minute. Don't forget your candy. You know Ms. Johnson always gives you candy.” The kids rushed over to get their lollipops.

“After dinner.” Maria snatched the candy from the kids' hands and they all headed out the door.

I was happy to see Mr. Biggs and Maria leave, but each time I saw those little rug rats they grew on me more and more. They were the only pleasurable part of Mr. Biggs and Maria's weekly visits. It was sad they had such a horrible person as a mother. It's against everything I know as a Christian to talk about people, but, truth be told, I didn't have anything nice to say about that woman. It took everything in me not to curse her out each time Maria's snobbish behind walked in the bank, with her nose in the air looking down on everybody like she's better than us. It's only by God's grace that her kids hadn't turned out like her. They're so cute and well mannered. I always looked forward to seeing them every week.

It was obvious Maria didn't like me, but I guess when your man is always with another woman, you would have to be on the defensive. On the other hand, if the cheating was that bad for Maria, she could have left him a long time ago. Rumor had it, Jaden and Kaylyn weren't Mr. Biggs's kids anyway, so she could easily have left without any ties. I guess to some women, money was all worth it. It was customary for Mr. Biggs to flirt and make passes at women in the bank while Maria wasn't looking, or especially if she wasn't around, but sometimes he was bold enough to do it practically right in front of her. He's the kind of man who just won't take no for an answer.

My secretary buzzed not even five minutes after Mr. Biggs and Maria had walked out of my office. “Ms. Johnson, the tellers need you up front.”

“Mrs. Biggs, unfortunately, our shipment is running late. I won't have those brand new hundreds for you for the next hour. As an alternative, I can get you brand new fifty dollar bills,” I heard my lead teller say as I walked up.

“I've been coming in the branch every week at 4:00
P.M
. with the same request. This isn't anything new. I want my hundreds. And I want them now,” Maria demanded as she looked me up and down while clenching her Chanel purse.

For the next ten minutes, she gave me a lecture about how much she and Mr. Biggs had invested with the bank, as though they were our only big clients. Believe me, we had other clients with much more than Mr. Biggs. As my temples tightened, I decided to call another branch. Fortunately, they had those precious brand new hundreds Maria so desperately needed.

“I'm going to have to go to another branch to get the money for you, Maria. It will take me about thirty minutes. Is that okay?” I asked, hoping she would decline my offer since she had dinner plans.

“You're ruining my dinner plans, but I will wait. I'm sending you to teach you a lesson. I'm sure the next time you will be prepared,” Maria barked.

I didn't respond as I walked out of the bank. My assistant manager and I drove to the other branch. When we returned, Maria made me personally count each bill into her hand. I developed a terrible migraine from the fiasco, and decided to go home. I quickly straightened my desk and packed up my things, then headed out the door.

“Smile, baby girl. It can't be that bad.” I looked up to see a familiar face. I instantly recognized the little cutie I'd met the night before. He was passing by as I was heading out the door.

“Yes, it is.” I nodded smiling.

“Aw. You need a hug, sweetheart?” The cleaning guy smiled, showing his perfect pearly whites.

“I need a hug, foot rub, and an Excedrin,” I vented.

“Don't you have a man to do all that for you?” he asked right away.

“I don't see how that's any of your business. But if you must know, yes, I do have a man,” I replied, even though I was lying through my teeth. I was not about to admit how alone and desperately single I really was. Shoot, I wished I did have a man to go home to on tiring days like today.

“I know you're lying, but it's cool.” He smirked, “I can afford to give you that hug now, but I'm gonna have to owe you that foot rub.”

“Nothing is this world is free. What are you going to expect in return?” I quickly responded, knowing the business of give and take.

“You won't owe me anything. You've already paid me with your smile. I really needed to have a beautiful woman smile at me today, so you can say we'll be even. Your smile will carry until tomorrow. Problem is, what am I gonna do when I need my next fix?” He gave me a mischievous smile, then continued, “I'm gonna need to see you every morning for that.”

“And how do you plan on making that happen?” I asked, curious to hear how this guy would respond. His words were so corny, but his swagger was adorable.

“Well, I was thinking. You could give me your number. Then give me your address. Then I'll stop by every morning, give you a call, and tell you I'm outside. Then you could just stick your head out the window and smile.” We both burst out in laughter. This guy was hilarious!

“I can't give you my address, but I will take your number.” Although I knew deep inside that I had no intention of calling this guy, there was no way I could tell him no. He was so sweet and charming. After all, he did put a smile on my face.

“Okay. What's the number?” I pulled out my BlackBerry Curve, and entered his number as he called out each digit.

“What's your name, baby girl?” he asked.

“Tanisha. And yours?”

“Breeze.”

“Breeze?” I giggled. I could only imagine where such a name came from.

“Yep,” he said proudly, like he wasn't ashamed to have such a foolish nickname.

“Okay, Breeze. You have a good evening.” I wrapped up our conversation.

“You do the same,” he replied.

After a few steps, I heard a call. “Yo, Tanisha!”

I turned around to see Breeze standing with his arms wide open. “You forgot your hug!”

Although it was tempting, I didn't go around hugging perfect strangers, so I politely declined. “Thanks for the offer, but I'll be fine. Maybe next time.”