Disclaimers: This story contains offense language, characters who are morally ambiguous and deals with dark themes and graphic violence. You've been duly warned so don't complain if this isn't your proverbial “cup of tea”. The characters in the following story are of my own creation. Any similarities to anyone living or dead are purely coincidental. No part of this story may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission from me, the author. This is an alternative fiction. Any comments can be sent to me at bironel@gmail.com
Synopsis: An urban tale of Karima Jenkins, a female ex-criminal who clashes with her tenant Sienna Joffe, a dedicated public school teacher who is instrumental in helping Karima to resist the “pull” of Sincere, a man who has returned from the dead to reclaim his most treasured acolyte, Karima.
Many thanks: To H. Yoakam who helped me with this story way back in 07 and Lee Fitzsimmons who was immensely helpful with sound advice and editing.
The Chapter Opening Quotes: At the start of each chapter are what I call “borrowed seeds” which sprang from essays, performances, novels, TV shows, films and songs I've bumped into along the journey of the characters of DITP. These “borrowed seeds” inspired the weaving of this story. However, I don't own them, only borrowed them and have tried to concisely give an accounting of their original source(s). If your curiosity has been provoked, I encourage you to explore them at your leisure.
Chapter One
Too many of the people whom this world labels as good are actually static, frightened people.
They lack the courage to do wrong.
-Raymond Charles Barker, The Power Of Decision
A loud screech.
The jerk of the train caused the man standing over Karima to lurch forward over her as she sat on the seat in front of him. His shoulder bag hit her in the face and he didn't register that it had. The number 4 train was pulling into the 86th street station on the downtown side. As the doors of the train opened a foul, clammy hot wind rushed into the car.
Even though it was October, the temperature still felt like late July, early August. The cool, industrial air from the air condition on full blast quickly disappeared.
Well dressed riders mingled freely with the brown, black, and blue inhabitants of the train. Karima glared at the man standing before her. Her gaze spoke volumes: If your bag hits me in my face again I'll throw it off the train.
The man briefly registered her facial expression. She was a tall, young black woman in her mid to late twenties with long dread locks gently pulled back into a ponytail. His eyes scanned down her muscular arms straight to her pendulous chest. He blinked then shifted his weight and his bag from one shoulder to the other.
Like an acrobat, he pulled out a magazine at the same time and prepared to read it. Karima was tired of this sort of shit. She wouldn't have gotten an attitude in the first place if the motorscooter had attempted to apologize. Shit, she knows the train was crowded.
But damn don't act like what you do is unintentional or otherwise didn't occur. Karima hated petty shit like that. It drained her more than anything. No, she thought, stupidity even more so.
The train pulled into the station and the doors opened. The vacuum of cool, stale air quickly evaporated out of the train car. The raging heat from the station sat down on Karima's body draining the last drop of energy she had. She wiped her brow and pulled her thick ponytail of natty locks off her neck.
The CD in her Walkman stopped playing taking her attention off the fool standing in front of her. She reached into her knapsack and pulled out a small blue CD pack and scanned though it after slipping the Fugees CD in one of it's empty holders. That Fugees shit was the bomb, she thought.
She thought back to earlier in the day when she housed her boy Corey's Fugees CD. Actually, it was his woman's cd. The boy didn't own shit and don't care how old a bitch was as long as she's fine and got money to take care of his ass. Last year he was with this thirty-year-old security guard. This year his female had to be no younger than 50. 50! Necrophiliac motorscooter.
As the train slowly lurched out of the 59th street station, Karima closed her eyes and moved her head from side to side to the music. Her baby Keith Sweat was tearing up his song:
I wanna to tease you. I wanna to please you.
I wanna to show ya baby that I need you.
I want your body to the very last drop.
I want you to holler, when you want me to stop.
And who can love you like me?
Nobody
Who can sex you like me?
Nobody
Who can treat you like me my baby?
Nobody baby
And who can do it like me?
Nobody
And who can give you what you need?
Nobody
Who can do you all night long?
Nobody baby
Karima smiled behind closed eyes. All those petty dudes she knew around the way talking all that ya ya about how they were the shit in bed and all that. She would love to get with Nobody who ever the hell nobody was. Seems like Hannah and her sisters were going to have to do for the time being.
Karima felt something and opened her eyes to greet a lustful stare from a small, Spanish man sitting directly in front of her. Karima rolled her eyes, her neck and finished it off with a loud chirp peppered with much attitude and dismissed his stupid ass.
She looked over his head at the subway map. It was hard to read. Someone had tagged over the glass casing in which the map was housed. It wasn't a real inconvenience for her; she took this ride a thousand times and knew when and where she had to get off the train.
The map reading was an OC ritual with Karima. She always reviewed her point of origin before she started anything.
"Don't Panic. You never know when you have to start over from scratch." She learned that lesson well from watching Sincere. It made her shiver. Not the statement but its creator - Sincere.
It was a long time since Sincere popped into her mind. She hadn't seen him for three years. This made her reluctantly remember back to when Sincere had a big influence on her life.
As she got off the train at the 138th street station and walked to her new building, she thought deeply about Sincere.
— — —
Sincere was one of many hustlers who used to run numbers with this little, annoying dude called Rico. Rico wasn't Spanish or even from the Caribbean. He was some lost Italian who found his place in the black ghettos of Harlem and the South Bronx. Everyone knew Rico felt he was better than everyone because he could leave the ghetto and go home. Whatever home meant to him. She always thought that if Rico's family was so tight with him he wouldn't be spending so much of his time in the Bronx.
Sincere is probably the most real nigga she knew. Sometimes too real. Sincere was her Mother's best friend's boyfriend from way back. When Karima was little, he was regarded like one of her "Uncles."
When Karima had her 10th birthday party, there was a bad water leak from the apartment above hers. The ceiling in her bathroom buckled with water, threatening to cave in, so the water was turned off while the Super fixed it.
There was no way her birthday party could go on as planned. Karima was upset but she didn't cry. Her disappointment sat on her face. After one phone call, the disaster was easily settled. The party was to be held at Sincere's apartment. Karima was so happy it didn't seem weird to her that a single, childless man was so willing to have a kid's party on short notice.
At Karima's party, along with her friends and her mother, some people arrived she never met before. They came by Sincere's apartment with children she didn't know with gifts for her. Soon the novelty of all these gifts and the new playmates waned as her interest in the stream of people making their way to the back bathroom where one of Sincere's boys, Gabriel stayed the entire time.
Ten-year-old Karima tried to go to that bathroom to see what was so interesting in there but Gabriel would shoo her away. Frustrated but determined, Karima would find out what was going on. She was amused that her mother seemed to miss the strange activities going on at her party.
Sincere raised his voice and quickly pushed two smaller, scruffy looking men out of his apartment into the hallway of the building. Karima peeked out to investigate.
"When you get your shit, leave the gift, take your snotty nosed kid and get the fuck out" was exactly how Sincere laid it down in the hallway near the stairwell for two shiftless looking brothers he pushed out of his apartment. The two shiftless men took off down the stairs. Sincere turned as saw Karima staring at him. He cocked his head to the side looking at her. Then he walked towards her with a slow and steady gait. He stopped in front of her and stooped down to her eye level.
"How you like your party Baby Girl?" He asked.
Karima simply replied, "It's interesting."
"Interesting? How you figure that?" He probed.
Karima looked him in the eye without blinking, cleared her throat and responded, "Things don't be what they look like sometimes. A lot of times mostly."
Sincere blinked first then laughed and gave her a hug. He drew her up in his arms as he stood to his full height saying, "Little girl you done figured out something that takes most people a lifetime to decipher."
What that mean "de-sci-fer"? She asked while hanging from his chest.
Sincere replied, "It means to uncover something hidden, to figure out the meaning of a code. You got you a bona-fine skill there girl, don't lose it! It's a good weapon to have."
Karima let the word roll around in her head as they reentered his apartment with her in his arms. At that point, her party became more entertaining as she quietly paid attention to what Sincere was doing and how he did it.
The people were buying pot in that back bathroom, in addition to other things. Little Karima was pleased with herself that she knew what was going on at her party while the other adults there, including her mother were clue less. She liked sharing something with Sincere like this. It made her feel special.
Sincere didn't seem upset at all that the little girl found him out. Therefore, he focused on the management of the operation. Sincere wasn't having any trifling shit.
Three stone cold junkies all tried to come in one at a time with the same child in tow. Karima remembered how they created so much drama that everyone at the party was wondering what was going on. Sincere let the little boy stay but kicked the junkies' asses out and took all the money they had on them $12.38 without letting them get anything just on general principles.
After the party was over, Sincere looked at Karima and she winked at him. Not that flirtatious kind of wink but one which held a secret between two people. He smiled at the little brown skin girl. Sincere was actually pleased that she hadn't missed a trick. From that day, Sincere took a special interest in Karima. At the time he liked being around a person who used their brain.
Too often Sincere found hustling attracted people with shit for brains. He never hid anything from Karima he didn't think she couldn't handle. That was gold to her, being treated as though she wasn't just some stupid kid.
Karima recalled just how dangerous Sincere could be when at 15 years old: she spotted him on the 161st street subway platform at 1 am on a Saturday morning.
Busted!
She rolled her eyes knowing that when he winked at her that he recognized her and that her mother would eventually find out she was out very late after she snuck back into their apartment.
She then remembered she and Sincere shared a lot of secret stuff between them and he conveyed with his second sly wink that her present secret would go into the vault like all the rest so she relaxed a bit.
Karima played it off like she didn't really see him or know him. She glanced around and noticed a bum sleeping on the bench on the uptown platform and Sincere with two white looking dudes on the downtown side. She made an effort not to look in their direction until she heard one of the men curse Sincere and pull out a gun.
Her heart nearly stopped...
On the downtown side of the elevated station were Sincere, Rico and Tommy, Rico's first cousin. Tommy was a mean son of a bitch that hated anything not Italian.
He heard a lot about Sincere's game from Rico. Even Rico's uncle was impressed with Sincere. Rico's uncle often stated if Sincere wasn't a black he could have gone far in the business. This admiration didn't sit well with Tommy. He wanted to let that nigga know that he wasn't shit.
"Hey nigga! Whatz up?" Cried Tommy as he held his palm out for some acknowledgment. Rico reluctantly approached them like a convict to the gallows.
Karima turned away and looked at the advertisement to a horror movie on the wall next to her. After she completely digested the movie poster, she looked down the track anticipating her train.
No trains only the sound of an ambulance siren whizzing by on the street below the elevated tracks.
She looked at her watch: 1:54 am.
Shit! She thought. She had to get home before 3:00 am when her mother gets home from work!
On the downtown side, Sincere looked at Tommy slowly from head to toe. He wasn't impressed.
"This fool just brushed me off. What kind of shit is this?" Tommy asked Rico.
"Sincere don't be like that, this is my cousin Tommy. Forget him we got to get the collections from Harlem." Replied Rico.
"Fuck Harlem you little bitch! This Fuck just brushed me off. I don't take that shit!" cried Tommy. Tommy placed his hand inside his jacket and he pulled out a gun instantly.
Sincere thought at the time this asshole was too loud. That loud shit could give you a damn headache. Then he smiled to himself thinking that maybe Tommy shouts people to death.
"What you laughing at nigga?" yelled Tommy.
Sincere asked, "When you fly the friendly skies do you eat their food or do you bring your own?"
"What?" asked Tommy? Sincere smiled and then kicked Tommy in his gut. Tommy fell back straight onto the train tracks and landed right on the fourth rail.
Sparks flew everywhere as Tommy danced his last dance on his back.
Sincere turned to Rico and said, "Prefer my own food."
Rico walked past him and watched his deceased cousin on the tracks. He glanced around and saw the tall, thin black girl standing in shock on the platform opposite him. He gestured to Sincere about this witness to which Sincere replied:
"She has my stamp." Rico nodded in agreement and looked at his dead cousin again.
"Fuck him. I got tired of him calling me bitch all the time. There were times when I filled out papers I started writing Bitch in the space where it asks for your first name." Rico stated to no one in particular.
Sincere clapped his hands loudly twice.
The sound pulled Karima out of her trance. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. He balled it up and wrapped it with a rubber band from around his wrist. He throw the cash ball to Karima, she caught it effortlessly.
"Take a cab." He yelled.
Karima nodded then quickly disappeared down the stairs to the street below.
— — —
Sincere and Karima never spoke about that night. She finally began to notice how people treated him and secretly she wanted people to regard her with the same sense of respect. She finally saw the origin of Sincere's power over people. He would and could do anything and that scared people.
Three months after that night, Sincere was sleeping with her Mother's best friend Joan and Karima realized that she had a major crush on him. That cafe au lait skin. That black velvet ‘fro that rose like a crown of soft small curly clouds over his head. That ... "Let me remember it. What was it we used to call him? Oh yeah... that Kool Aid smile.
At the time, Karima didn't really care for Rap music. It was too corny, too silly. The brothers looked like cartoon characters to her with the Kangol hats, the matching track suits, gold chains and the unlaced sneakers. All that ya ya about whose bad, whose down, whose rap was dope.... whatever. And the gold chains and teeth. Brotha Please!
The break dancing was fly though to her. It reminded her of when Sincere used to take her and all the little knuckle-heads round the way to the movies on 161th street to The Earl to watch those old Karate flicks. The break dancing looked like martial arts. The dudes used to settle scores by break dancing. It was so alive!
Imagine: Summertime, early evening, all the hood assembled in the playground to hear brothers scratch and rap by city lights. These giant speaker towers come from like nowhere and somebody brought out their mama's Hi-Fi turntable.
Somebody's mama was always heard yelling out some window..."AND NOBODY BETTER FUCK UP MY SHIT!!! YOU HEAR ME??"
All the bodies swaying to a syncopated beat. Then some fool turns it all out, as he mixes and scratches beats you've never heard together before. The music was cool and all, but the dancing... that drew Karima's intense gaze all the time.
Some commotion behind her was distracting so Karima turned around to see that Sincere and Joan were going through their roller coaster "situation" as usual.
Sincere was sweet talking a girl a few years older than Karima which pushed Joan's buttons by making her jealous and his boys entertained. Karima thought deeply about the drama unfolding before her: Sometime men are trifling about the way they seek attention. Half the time they want to impress the fellas as much as they want to impress the girls.
Sincere was rubbing up on that girl named Tory, Troy or Tricky. Karima didn't really get the girl's name straight. However, Joan wasn't to be trifled with that night.
She left the scene quickly with some guy promising to treat her right. With Joan gone, Karima began to fantasize about being with Sincere... biblically. Yet part of her was as annoyed at Sincere as well as with Joan. At the time, she couldn't figure out what exactly what was ticking her off. She guessed that was when Sincere noticed her facial annoyance and came over to talk with her.
"Baby Girl! What's up?" asked Sincere.
Karima just stared at him.
"What you mad at me too?" he asked.
She relaxed her gaze and stared into his large light brown eyes. Damn, he's fine. His eyes seemed so peaceful. He has the sort of face you wouldn't mind waking up to for the rest of your life.
As though he read her mind, he smiled. The music wasn't helping either. Ronald Isle was singing his heart out for the love of some woman.
"No." She lied. She was angry with him.
"Sincere, are you trying to get with me now?" Karima inquired.
He looked slowly over her body. His gaze hung around her hips, her chest and her face.
"Do you want me to?" he asked sincerely.
"Tempting...but no.," she said without hesitation that surprised even her, giving how she supposed she felt about him just a minute ago.
Sincere feigned a broken heart like a fucking actor.
That's it! Karima cried silently. For the first time, she looked into his eyes and noticed a slight glimpse of a mischievous soul. Then it dawned on her. It really wasn't how he and Joan were acted earlier. It was that they were acting!
She remembered that on many occasions how Sincere and Joan would go through little sick skit of theirs. He treats her bad, publicly. She acts as though he's has wounded her deeply, publicly. Then some sucker, either comes to her rescue or some Ho thinks she can tame his wild disregard.
Karima told Sincere point blank that he had it going on physically for her but this bullshit he and Joan ran down seemed to coincide too frequently with the time of the month when people got their checks.
He looked at her with this real surprised look on his face.
Then all of a sudden, his face lit up with that generous trademark smile. She could tell that he was really attracted to her. Yet, she knew that if she were willing nothing would have gone down between them. Karima didn't know exactly why but she knew that there would never be anything physically sexual with him.
She rationalized that he was too tight with Moms. That she was easy on the eyes pleased him. However, it seemed to please him more that she was observant enough to see through him. He laughed so loud everyone turned and looked at him.
"Baby Girl." That was all he said as he turned and walked away.
If Karima had been a male, she knew Sincere would have been grooming her to be a straight up man and to take over his business some day.
When Karima began blossoming into her womanhood, her mother was annoyed that her girlfriend's man seemed to want to spend so much time with her daughter.
Moms wasn't having it. She wasn't about to let her baby be used by some street thug. She had better things in mind for me. The problem was that neither of us really had a clue as to what those plans may be.
Karima recalled when she overheard her mother confronting Sincere about his intentions towards her daughter.
"Sincere, get your narrow ass in here we got business we have to discuss." Karima's mother commanded.
"Hey baby. What's up?" he asked.
"Look I ain't having this thing going on with you and Kee Kee. I refuse to be a grandmother at the age of 30 plus. "If you so much as touch her, I'll kill you. That ain't no threat." she responded.
"Look here you don't have to be jumping up in my face like that. However, I see where you coming from though. Look here, you, me, Joan and T was all tight. As far as I'm concerned we still is. This girl here needs to know how to handle herself. Especially with men. T ain't around and I am. So the simple thing is this, you and me want good things for Baby girl. She'll want a man when she's older who will excite her mind as well as her body. Look, I know I ain't the one. But I see she is gonna need what I can give her." Sincere replied.
"What you can give her? Look, stay away from her. I am not playing with you! As far as T is concerned, he can drop dead. He never did any thing for her!" Karima's mother cried. "Let her have male attention that holds her up with respect. She can easily find disrespectful attention and learn to accept it. You know what I'm saying?" - Sincere's response.
And that was how Sincere was. Simple. Concise. Accurate. His argument persuaded my mother to stand back and observe the relationship develop between us like a fierce lioness ready to strike at the first sign of trouble.
— — —
Karima would meet Sincere at 125th Street and Lenox on Saturday, spending early afternoon with him and some old cat named the Professor. They all would talk for hours about politics and applied street economics. Sincere really smoked her with his vast knowledge. He was going to make sure the "together little sister" would get a good education. He had her reading the New York Times and some out of town papers from as far away as West Virginia, and from Bangkok, Thailand. One day she knew that she would go there just to put pictures in her minds eye about the places she read about.
Sincere was always interested in the sort of books they had her read in school. He dropped out of high school when he was 15 and took a GED exam. He believed that schools brainwashed you into thinking other people ways so he left. He impressed upon Karima to think her way.
When Karima graduated from high school, Sincere gave her books to read from his private collection: Ellison' s Invisible Man, Pimp, The Autobiography of Malcolm X, Soul on Ice by that militant Black Panther and The Fire Next Time by Baldwin.
Unlike that mickey mouse school Karima graduated from, Sincere also gave her books to read like: A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine Engel, and Lewis Carroll' Jabberwocky, and other boring shit like Shakespeare's plays, Silas Mariner, and The East of Eden.
One question she always asked him was why books by our people always got to be about overcoming or lamenting about the plight of the black man or our response to racism? When would we be defined by something other than the limitation of another's distain for us? When would we have stories written about our fantasies? Our adventures? This question always exasperated Sincere.
"Girl, fantasy is all about distraction." He stated.
"I know all that but why can't we have variety? Sometimes I want to read something that don't be so depressing or makes me so angry I could kill a man."
"Anger is a tool. Depression is an excuse. Look here, you want to read fantasy, write the damn book yourself then. You ain't got to be some fat ass in tights and a cape saving folks to be undergoing a bona fide adventure. If you ask me about this shit again, I will clock you," he went on annoyed at me.
But I knew that he would never hit me. That just wasn't his way.
"You ain't dead, drugged up or pregnant so as I see it you don't need no mental revolution. You ain't rich but your mind serves you well. Don't listen to those information junkies that ain't no better than them garden variety junkies on the street. They are followers just like every body else. It is just that their drug of choice is information. You ain't gonna be no follower." he replied as though it were my destiny to lead.
But who was I to lead? And when was this supposed to happen? Sincere seemed to know something that was a hair width in distance in Karima's immediate future.
— — —
With the impatience of youth, Karima occupied her mind with the mundanities of adolescent life: herself, her small circle of friends and sex.
Most of the brothers, who avoided Karima, thought Sincere and her was knocking it together. That bothered Karima a lot since she was still a virgin and eager to leave that state behind. But Sincere didn't care about all that. He said dudes will always worry about petty shit.
"Don't concern yourself with these neck bone people. They worry about stupid shit cause they ain't doing shit and even though they move their lips about wanting something or being somebody, all they want is shit. A true player can figure out how to make them beg you so that they can pay for shit." Sincere advised.
— — —
Sincere always set situations straight so that you could see them clearly. But I wanted to get laid and so I embraced the experience with natural girlish exuberance. Three times. Karima smiled as she recalled her adolescent growing pains.
I learned quickly that I had to control the sex to get the satisfaction I desired. It seemed the boys were reluctant to give me the power I needed to get off properly. They were only concerned with their own satisfaction. So, my first taste of violence was in forcing my will on boys twice my size. Actually, the first time, the violence was committed against me, but I arose nicely to the challenges after that.
Observation #1: Dudes get offended if they think you don't enjoy them sexually. One brother just kept slapping me in my face when I honestly let him know that I didn't feel anything. The slapping made me angry and at the time, I could have killed him if I had a weapon. We struggled a bit until he maneuvered me on my stomach. As he banged away at my onion, all he kept asking repeatedly was: "Can you feel me now?"
"Can you feel me now?"
"Can you feel me now?"
"Can you feel me now?"
He made the mistake of falling asleep next to me. He woke up a eunuch. In his horror, I tied his ass to the bed and proceeded to burn his penis off. He was a smoker and I used his lighter. The smell of burning flesh was admittedly nauseating and it took a long time to burn it off, especially when he woke up while I was doing it.
He moved more on the bed then when we were having sex. In hindsight, I should have used ice to numb his pain. I regretted having to do it but his penis offended me and I felt it should offend no more. I wasn't too upset at the rape because one can't rape the willing.
What annoyed me most was even at his most violent I still didn't get off. His penis wasn't small so, what was the problem? The damn thing didn't work or he didn't know how to use it properly. If I was able to answer his litany at my ass being banged, sadly the answer still would have been: "No."
I sat watching him for hours as he cursed me then moaned. Then his groans settled to low moaning and whimpering.
What to do now?
I separated him from his manhood and he cried like he lost his soul. I didn't think beyond my act of retribution and I needed help, so I called Sincere.
Sincere arrived rather quickly. I was dressed in my clothes and the boy was naked moaning softly on the bed. Sincere went into the bathroom and yanked the shower curtain down. He threw it at me and told me to wrap it around my body.
I was confused.
As I wrapped the shower curtain around me, I thought I should wrap it around the boy's body.
Sincere explained that the boy would have to be put down because he would never have a life as a man and would probably hurt another female in revenge of what happened to him.
In my horror, I totally understood.
I couldn't "go out" like that asshole "Frankenstein" I read about not owning up to the shit I created. I'm responsible for what this fool does from here on. And I didn't want to spend the rest of my life doing that so I tightly gripped the long serrated knife Sincere placed in my hand and rammed in through that boy's chest. I must have hit his heart because the blood pumped out of him like I struck oil.
Okay, so maybe I was a little pissed off at being rape...just a little.
Observation #2: Poor time management can kill a sexual buzz. Some dudes get pissed about how long it takes me to get off and some dudes take so long I begin to lose interest.
Observation #3: The scent of fear is a definite turn on. When I had discovered that some men like to be forced to submit to my will, I began to experiment with ways of eliciting fear. Not the fakeness of pretend sex play but the realness of fear: its look in the eyes and involuntary muscle tremble drove my libido.
After satisfying my lustful will a few more times, my sexual appetite mysteriously dissolved to nothing when I was 19 years old.
— — —
Karima exited the subway station. She crossed the street against traffic defying any driver to hit her tall frame to reach the bodega across the street from the subway station. After a purchase of her favorite potato chips, Karima walked home, content in her munching.
Her new apartment building loomed ahead as she walked towards it. It jumped into her consciousness pulling her away from the memories of her adolescent sexual discoveries. The abandoned factories surrounding Karima's building gave the landscape of her block that barren 1970's urban look that called to her when she brought the building two years ago.
It was a "fixer upper" aka "crack den" that the city acquired from a deadbeat landlord who amassed millions in violation and they wanted to unload at an auction. The initial bid was low and at the last minute, Karima waged all her funds from the various Sincere masterminded, nefarious activities, and she was a landlord.
As I reached for my keys to open the front black metal front door, I looked back again to my youth. It's so funny that I, Karima Sophia Jenkins would ever take someone's most prized possession, their life, not once but many times.
I was raped on my 16th birthday and my present from Sincere was discovering a part of myself I affectionately call "the reaper." I secretly swore that I wouldn't do that again because I had bad dreams about that boy. Sadly, it was easer to kill after that without remorseful dreams.
Easier still when Sincere groomed that part of me. He laughingly referred to me as his domestic reaper. A sick joke in that I was paid to clean away the unfortunate souls who attempted to trick or bring down Sincere.
Looming in the shadows, this part of me was waiting until the time was right to reincorporate freely with my mind. As much as I admired Sincere, I realize now that he also was as dangerous to my soul as any danger I faced on the streets. He was more dangerous because I trusted him with the very best aspects of my curiosity, my intelligence and myself.
He was my teacher, my confidant, my doctor, my father and my friend. He taught me so much about how I see the world.
Even more importantly, how the world sees me. Like most inequalities, I hold the world in a higher regard. I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn't notice the small shadow quickly exiting the building freight elevator and bumping right into me.
Chapter Two
This (here) goes out to all my peoples keeping it real...
As heard on radio station HOT 97
The radio came on and caressed the morning with soulful musings from Michael Bolton. Sienna Joffe sat up in her bed and scanned across her spacious one room loft. The cold air shook her down to the bone. Better than a cold shower and a cup of java. She wanders towards her dresser from her disgustingly pleasurable bed and picks up her purse.
It's empty. Time for an ATM run.
Sienna looks in the mirror. Her green eyes peek out of almond shaped slits and she examines her pixie short, red bed-head hairdo in its view.
Thin fingers try to subdue the unruly strands into submission.
She puts her glasses on to appreciate the rose color of her green eyes. Ah yeah! Diana Ross is Coming Out from the morning radio.
Sienna's day begins!
When she finished showering, the phone rings.
"Hello?"
"Today is Father's birthday." A male voice barked.
"I haven't forgotten. After work, I'll pick you and...."
"Change of plans." My brother, Richard, has an annoying habit of cutting me off at mid sentence.
"Suzanne would prefer we pick you up. I hope you already brought your gift. You won't have time to stop and pick it up before you go to your little job."
Click.
All I heard after the master barked out his commands was the hum of the phone.
Stupid bastard. He thinks he did better than me because he is a highly paid administrator at a rich hospital in Livingston. Why didn't he just become a doctor and make dad really proud? If I brought that up in his face, he'd shut up.
I hate having to feel so damned defensive about my work. I don't just have a job; I've got a career. But lately it is becoming more of a chore.
In the early 90's I began teaching in the Newark, New Jersey school system. I could see the decline coming way back then. So, I left for better pay and benefits. I started teaching in the school system of New York City.
I wolfed down a banana, whey protein, soy milk shake since I was out of coffee. Damn I have to go shopping this weekend. I took out the garbage and rushed to the freight elevator. The damn thing was moving slow this morning so I pushed the button again.
For a teacher I think I do pretty well. I've got this one spacious loft in a newly renovated building, the only tenant as far as I know. I have my fam: Bertha, Troy, Helen and Pam. I have a 2005 Volkswagen Bug™ all mine, not a bolt of it is owned by a bank. I have a Peggy who is available when I want her and scarce when she I need my space.
So why do I feel so...
The elevator door opens and this black man bumps right into me! I instantly became annoyed that this man is going to make me late for work since he doesn't step aside to let me exit. A mixture of frustration and fear overwhelm me as I detect that this man towering over me.
I look more carefully and realize this black man is a woman. She looms over my five foot four inch frame and I realize she is going to rob me.
I thought this stuff only happen in alleys at night. This was early in the morning! Didn't she know the rules! Night! You rob people under the cover of night.
I started getting angry so I stood my ground clearly realizing that this woman could mash me into a pulp.
At least my students would love it; they would get away with no surprise exams for a month if a substitute took my place while I recuperate in the hospital from multiple stab wounds or goodness a bullet wound! I don't wanna get shot.
"You could have said excuse me!" The dark woman spat out at me.
Offended I replied, "You bumped into me." "I don't have any money on me." I quickly added.
Her dark eyes grew darker if that were possible.
"Get outta my way." She finally replied.
Well if she wasn't going to steal from me, what was she doing in my building making me late for work? She must have read the questions on my face.
"I would have to have a key to enter the front door, wouldn't I? She asked. Then she proceeds to propel me out of the elevator by grabbing my arm and slams the elevator door shut in my face as she pushed the button.
I couldn't believe it that she physically hauled me out of the elevator! I was tempted to look for a police officer to place a complaint of assault. How dare she place her hands on me? What is she doing in the building? Then it dawned on me that she must work in the building if she has the key to the front door.
I cringed as I realized that I probably accused a building worker of being a thief before I had all the right info on the situation. It depressed me how status quo my psyche can descend in unknown situations especially when deprived of coffee.
She still didn't have the right to put her hands on me.
I looked at my watch and ran out of the building. I still had time to make it to the school.
During my short train ride to work, I wondered how the students would enjoy the class trip today. Out of the 80 children in my science, classes only 23 were eligible to attend the trip to Liberty Science Center at Jersey City, New Jersey. The only kids eligible to go were attentive in class scored above 69 on their class exams and missed only 2 out of the 10 lab sessions.
As for the other bunch, I could care less. Six teachers were attending the trip so no serious trouble should ensue. I would e-mail Peggy to pick me up at the Liberty Science Center. If my stupid brother had let me get a word in, he would have known I was going to New Jersey today.
I really hoped that there would not be a repeat of that disgraceful disaster, which occurred when we took all the science classes to Orchard Beach, to view the tectonic formations of rock where the Continent of Africa separated from North America.
At the time while I was explaining the reason for the highly distorted red rocks (due to garnet deposits) and white veins of marble running along the northern aspect of the beach, some students were harassing women jogging along the beach and pushing each other into the water. The final nonsense culminated when one of the students started a fight with this group of Italian kids playing in the basketball courts. I needed the help of the park police to calm the situation down.
Actually, I really wasn't surprised at the behavior of the kids. They didn't act any differently from the way they behave in school. I had resolved that I'd have no more trips. However, I could quickly see that I was losing the motivated students. Against the Principal's edicts, I restricted the eligibility to go on trips. His philosophy was that even the most mischievous student would benefit from field trips. To not allow them access would not be justifiable to the school board. I explained to him that it was his job to deal with the politics of the system. It was mine to teach.
With the backing of the AP and the Dean of Students, I put my plan into action. It was a moderate success. The marginal students who were easily swayed to the disruptive energy of the bastards that sat sit the back making noise, liked and enjoyed time out of the classroom. Some of them began to complete assignments and attend required sessions so, my motivated population rose by 15%.
Even though I had planned well, disruption and chaos has a life all its own and will escape all boundaries to be expressed. I knew on some level that this trip to New Jersey was a disaster waiting to happen.
On the way to the museum, Kalid, one of my worst students, was at the back of the bus groping one of the girls in the back seats. I would not have noticed if it wasn't for one of the girls cursing him out and punching him in his back. After I pulled him to the front of the bus, I swung Kalid around to face me and sat him down in the seat behind the bus driver.
"Kalid, what the is wrong with you?"
"Fuck you!" he said as he turned from me, sat down and put the headphones on from his Walkman™. He defiantly stared at me with the music so loud I could hear the lyrics to whatever song he was listening to.
I ripped the blasted thing from his hands and threw it against the window. It broke as it hit the window. Batteries fell everywhere.
"Ohhh Miss Joffe's gone gangsta!" Some students muttered in unison.
"Do I have your attention now!" He looked up at me wide eyed. No other teacher ever spoke to him in this manner. I was sick and tired of this. These kids seem to defy you to teach them anything because they don't what to be taught. They want the lives they have and resent anyone willing to assist them. The parents are no better. They expect the school to baby-sit junior while they get on with the realities of living. The fact that school should be a supplement to learning is lost.
Then I took a few deep breaths and silently recited my mantra: THIS JOB PAYED FOR MY CAR, THIS JOB PAYED FOR MY LOFT, THIS JOB PAID FOR MY VACATIONS TO ARUBA, BARBADOS, HAWAII. TWO MORE YEARS AND THEN, I WILL BEGIN MY CONSULTATION AGENCY.
Kalid looked up at me with a curious look on his face.
"Why were you disrespecting Yvette?" I asked calmly.
No reply.
"I thought you liked her."
"Yeah something like that."
"If you like her so much, what would you do or say if one of the other boys pressed up against her like that?
He defiantly stared me down.
"By you doing that in front of "your boys" you really showed them that you don't care for her. Someone is going to think he can get farther than you did with her." I reasoned logically.
Kalid looked at me incredulously. I could read the thoughts shooting from his eyes. No one would dare!
"Kalid, just last week all your little acolytes were doing everything that you did. You threw some stink bombs in the gym. Some 9th graders threw stink bombs in the cafeteria. You sounded off the fire alarms on the third floor. A super duper senior was caught turning on the sprinkler system in the Dean's office."
"What is a acolite, accolight? -Whatever you just said."
"An acolyte is a follower"
"Why you gotta use those big words all the time?"
"I thought that you wanted to be a rapper. Don't you need to be a master of lexicon to be a competent rapper" I asked.
Just a blank stare.
"Listen Kalid, today you have my full attention. However, one day, one way or the other you will leave high school behind. In the real world you can squeak as loud as you want, no one will care." I remarked.
Silence.
"There is this other issue we haven't addressed before. Aren't you supposed to be a devout Muslim? This behavior doesn't seem devoutly religious to me. I have valuable advise for you. Stop pissing me off or I'll leave you out here to find your own way back to the school." I threatened.
As I turned from Kalid, I looked at the face of one of my colleagues. He slept through the whole thing. I sat down next to him and experienced headache number two. This sort of pain is easily managed with four Advils™ and a beer.
Since I was on duty, I took five pills.
When we arrived at the Science Center, all the pent up restlessness from the hour ride exploded as our students ran in every direction. An hour later after we reassembled everyone together, we paid for admission, distributed the tickets to the students and noted the film schedules when everyone was to meet as one group.
As all our students again ran off in various directions, I had resigned myself to enjoying the exhibits alone. Over a sea of yarmulkes I saw this beautiful woman talking to a little miniature of herself. The little girl smiled at me and said "Hello."
As her mother smiled at me, I noticed the absence of a special ring. I began to feel hopeful.
"Hi"
"Hello"
"I noticed you when I first saw near that growing metal sphere. Are you with a school group?"
"Yes. I'm here with my daughter, Ashley. The Trinity school is having a field trip today and we accompanied them."
"I'm from the Concourse Preparatory School in the Bronx. It is an alternative school. We have only 200 students."
"Really? To be honest I've never heard of that school before. How is that sort of school different from most others in the City?"
"Oh it is nothing special. Just some grand social experiment." I replied.
"Some students do excel. They are why I work in this system." I added.
"That seems like a noble cause but isn't it depressing?"
"At times I want to pack it all in and quit but I find that one kid curious about learning that keeps me going."
I was surprised how easily I opened up to this woman. I wondered if she was "family."
Her young daughter grasped my hand and began swinging it. As we passed the windows of the gift shop, I discreetly caught a reflection of myself. I'm an attractive looking woman. I needed a haircut though but I could see that my neat but harried looked was in step with my "devoted educator" persona.
Her name is Samantha. Her daughter's name is Ashley. Ashley seemed more interested in me than her mother was so I showered the girl with my attentions and gave her a little lesson about the exhibits we visited. She had a natural uninhibited curiosity that I missed in my interactions with my students.
Before I could enjoy myself with Ashley and her mother, I was summoned to the security office. I walked along the corridor towards the security station in the science center. I opened the two doors and saw Kalid sitting handcuffed to the table.
What happened now? I panicked.
I looked at Kalid's face and realized that before me sat one completely clueless boy. It took him exactly thirty minutes to command the attention of security guards and be detained. A new record for him I was most certain.
Kalid had an argument with two Jewish men and their sons. Their discourse escalated to a point in which Kalid decided to throw food and exhibit objects at them. That was rather creative since I knew Kalid carried a weapon of some sort and could have easily maimed them.
Trying to seem fair, I went over to the boy and calmly asked what had happened. I consciously tried to convey that I was not going to take sides until I had heard Kalid's version of the events. I told the boy if anyone, even students, could backup his version that I would intercede on his behalf.
Silence.
So, be it . I really didn't care anymore so when the guard said that one of the fathers wanted to press charges and that the police had been called, I told him the situation was in his hands and left the boy to deal with the consequences.
Subsequently I knew I would be reprimanded at the school but I didn't care. Besides, I rationalized I am not a glorified babysitter. I can't be held responsible for misfits who haven't been trained how to act in public.
With the rest of the students, we went on with our field trip, saw the featured movies, ate lunch and left Kalid to the attractions of the Liberty State Park Police. Besides, it might not be ethical but I warned the boy if he messed up I'd leave him out here. I thought that was just as good a lesson to learn as any I tried to teach.
Suzanne, my brother's second wife, picked me up at the Journal Square station in Jersey City to take me to my father's birthday bash at a Portuguese restaurant in the Iron Bound Section of Newark. Suzanne is a very attractive woman who has charmed both my father and brother. She is a vast improvement over my brother's previous wife - Sharon. What an odious woman! Sharon was a vile homophobic, racist conservative woman who thought the Holocaust was a hoax homosexuals carried diseases; education is a resource wasted on the poor; and the homelessness should be deported regardless of national origins.
The woman was seriously whacked in the head. Richard wouldn't see how she rubbed everyone the wrong way because she was rich. Only during their bloody divorce did he get a view of the depth of evilness Sharon could go.
His second wife Suzanne is a social climber as well but she has a sense of naive grace, so we get along pretty well.
"Why didn't Peggy pick you up?" Suzanne asked while merging onto the on ramp of the turnpike. "She lives in Harrison."
"Hey Rich told me you wanted to pick me up." I remark.
"Richard said he wasn't sure if you had a ride so he asked me to free up my afternoon to pick you up just in case." She replied.
Richard. That weasel didn't want Peggy to come with me to this little family shindig because he doesn't approve of my lifestyle. Well the manipulative toad can bite me. Lately he had been doing crap like this to me and I'm the oldest!
It wasn't my fault that the girl he had a crush on in college made a pass at me.
That was the first time I had ever experimented with the idea of women in that way. From high school to undergrad, I had gone on a few date with guys and had a few laughs with them. Gradually I stopped dating and my libido retired. It was cool to me since I was so into my studies in the Master's program.
The woman who created the rift between my brother and me: Her name is Denise. She was a junior in Rich's psychology class. Since I was doing research in the Psych Dept., I was the Graduate Student assigned to facilitate the lab module of the course. Rich was always trying to get Denise's attention.
I would chuckle to myself and tease him when we went home for Sunday dinners with Dad. Denise asked me if I could tutor her. Rich encouraged me to tutor her on Sunday at Dad's as a ruse to get her to see him in a relaxed settling.
I innocently agreed and we both hadn't realized Denise had ulterior motives. When Rich came home and caught us in a deliciously intimate embrace, I discovered a hidden part of myself and the rift between my baby brother and me became a grand canyon.
I can hear the faint tick of the signal indicator of Suzanne's car. The flash of the yellow traffic lights propels me from my memories.
"Peggy's friend is in town so she's busy." I replied.
"Busy? Aren't you two dating?? Suzanne asks.
I'm cool with Suzanne because she's comfortable with my lifestyle unlike her stick-in-the-mud husband but I'd rather not go into the details of the openness of my situation with Peggy. Suzanne wouldn't understand it. She's very naive.
"Dating yes, married no." I replied.
Peggy darts a look in my direction that I don't miss then thankfully keeps her eyes on the road for the rest of the trip to the restaurant.
I jokingly wondered if she thought my laissez faire approach to relationships was a genetic trait she needs to be concerned about.
After placing a cd in the car player, our conversation, also known as the inquisition, continues.
"Sienna don't you want to settle down? I know you can't get married but you can have a committed relationship. Maybe". She intones.
"I'm a teacher in a conservative district of the Bronx and I haven't really put much time into finding anyone." I interrupt, hoping to curtail this conversation.
I know that it was a lame excuse but I'm not a poster child for committed relationships. That sort of co-mingling intimacy isn't for me. I love my independence especially since I came out so late in life. Suzanne would never understand.
"So how is the new place? All settled in? She asks changing the subject.
"Yeah I love it. The neighborhood is a bit rough but the realtor said the landlord lives on the premises and is very interested in the upkeep of the building. I haven't met him yet. There are four units and one large ground floor area divided into a parking area for the tenants and a separated area for commercial space. I am the only tenant so far. But the building's renovation is quite extensive. I couldn't beat the price: mid 100's." I gushed.
I admit I really love my new loft. I always wanted one and when I read about this one on Craigslist, I had to jump on it fast. Even though the area in the Bronx was a bit run down, it was so close to public transportation, and I had an indoor garage for my Bug. I was in heaven when I closed the deal with my realtor.
"Well I'm glad you are happy there it certainly beats that basement apartment you had in Queens." Suzanne quips.
"Oh God that place was the control center for all mold in existence. It's a wonder I didn't get deathly ill living there as long as I did." I laughed.
"Well Ms. Casanova you were rarely there." Suzanne added jokingly.
Hmmm it's funny how we've gone back to my love life in this conversation. So, I shoot her a glaring look. Suzanne smiles to herself and the conversations ends for a moment. Then I realize: Suzanne isn't as naive as I thought.
Chapter Three
How to date a brown girl...
Take her to El Cibao for dinner.
Order everything in your busted-up Spanish.
Let her correct you if she's Latina…
Amaze her if she's (straight up) black.
As you walk to the restaurant (unless she's a local girl),
Talk about…the neighborhood.
Supply the story about the (crazy man)
Who'd been storing canister of tear gas in his basement
For years and how one day
The canisters cracked and the whole neighborhood
Got a dose of the military-strength stuff.
DON'T tell her that your Mom knew right away what is was
Because she recognized the smell
from the year the US invaded your island.
Junot Diaz , Drown
A slender light brown hand dipped a raw carrot into a pasty white dipping sauce. As the deliciously dressed carrot was raised to meet eager lips and pearl white teeth, Sienna mused for the 1197th time how attractive her best friend Troy Ocasio Lui who is half Chinese, half Dominican and how much it devastated her that their fun filled relationship never advanced beyond a platonic one.
As Troy munched on the veggie snack, her caramel hazel eyes were glued to the boxing match on the television. Mesmerized by the fight, Troy lifted an open bottle of Corona and took a long swig. When Troy finished, the attractive blond woman sitting on her right, gently took the beer bottle out of her hands.
Helen, Troy's partner and lover of three years finished off the rest of the beer and rested her arm possessively around Troy's neck.
Sienna sighed at the domestic display and sank into the couch pouting. She silently lamented that she hadn't tried out Troy before she became a poster child for commitment and domesticity.
Sienna didn't want the commitment part at all, she just desired the horizontal, the vertical and every other position her 32 year old body could possibly contort into with Troy.
Troy and Sienna had a mutual respect for each others ability to "run through" as many women as possible. It wasn't until Sienna really noticed how fine Troy was, that Helen came back, after a long estrangement, to claim what was hers. It was exasperating that Helen knew how Sienna felt about Troy and tended to laugh it off. What was surprising and even more alluring was that Troy was so into Helen that she hung up her roving eye and didn't stray.
The doorbell rang.
Sienna jumped up to answer it.
"Who is it?"
"Pizza!" came the reply.
After Sienna open the locks to the front door, Lizz "Pam" Pollman breezed into Sienna's loft with a large pizza box and a bottle of wine.
"It's round 2. Junior's ahead on points but he doesn't have the legs for the distance." Troy remarked without turning her eyes away from the 33-inch flat screen.
Lizz mumbles attempting to swallow hot pizza, "The Prince is going down in the fourth. TKO."
Lizz plops down on the couch next to Troy taking the seat Sienna previously occupied. She throws some of the raw veggies and dip on the coffee table in front of her onto her pizza slice and wolfs it down.
Sienna's face contorts from disgust into another pout.
Helen regards her, gets up and walks towards the pizza box on the breakfast nook. "Come on you can lust after my beloved while we eat." quipped Helen.
Sienna pouting followed Helen. She poured the wine Lizz brought into glasses while Helen places their slices with roasted garlic and grilled broccoli onto paper plates.
"I wasn't lusting. I was lamenting." Sienna handed Helen a glass of wine.
"I'll admit… I'm not sensible when I have reason to be jealous." Helen takes a sip.
"Yeah you're downright violent." Sienna undertones while picking the broccoli off her pizza slice. Just because I was gingerly approaching a vegetarian diet, Lizz always equates broccoli on pizza as a vegan delight. Not!
"I did not key that women's car! I didn't puncture her tires! Those dings and scratches were there long before I got there!” Helen remarked to the sounds of Sienna plucking a few more pieces of broccoli off her pizza.
"The side-view mirrors were busted when she brought that clunker. It was going to catch on fire any day, that car was a fire hazard!" Helen exclaimed.
Sienna raises a delicately shaped eyebrow and placed a slender manicured hand on her hip.
"Besides, the charges were dismissed! How many times do I have to explain that?" Helen asked.
"1,568 more times." Remarked Troy from the couch. She hadn't missed one moment of the fight nor the conversation between Helen and Sienna.
"Hey no comments from the peanut gallery!" Helen remarked.
Troy smirked as Lizz playfully tries to get the TV remote away from Troy's death grip.
"This place is really nice Sienna. Are there anymore vacancies in this building?" Lizz asked.
"Yeah but there is a list of potential buyers or so I've been told. I haven't met the landlord yet but I'll find out for you," remarked Sienna.
The rhythmic thud of the loud bass pounded the walls of Sienna's loft.
"Damn that's loud! Is it like this all the time?" exclaimed Lizz.
"Troy listens to this stuff all the time at the construction site" quips Helen. Troy's head bops to the beat of the music.
"There is a black woman who works for the Landlord. She plays this crap all day while working. I don't care too much about it because I'm not here during the day but this is the freaking weekend!" remarks Sienna.
Sienna stormed out of her loft to confront the noise maker.
"She's cute when she's annoyed." remarks Lizz.
"So ask her out!" Then she can stop lusting after what's mine." commands Helen.
"She's cute but she too femme for me. My feminine ego can't take the competition.' Lizz answers.
Troy interjects, "You need professional assistance, Lizz."
Twenty minutes later, the music is louder and Sienna storms back into her loft, slamming the front door shut. Her friends jump at the added noise and stare at her.
"That witch never opened the door! I could hear her in there doing...whatever it was she was doing. I banged on that door. I pounded on it and she…turned up music louder!" exclaims Sienna.
"Maybe she's using the sound to cover up her serial killer activities." Lizz remarks.
"You really need to stop watching that show Dexter. It's warping your brain. SHUT THAT NOISE OFF! I didn't pay thousands of dollars to live in… THE PROJECTS!" Sienna groans.
"It's a well written show." Lizz pouts.
"I can't watch the opening credits. I wouldn't be able to sleep if I watched it. But this one here is hooked on it." Helen interjects as she points her thumb towards Troy.
"Don't worry baby, I'll spoon you through the night." Troy croons.
Helen snuggles close to Troy sporting a contented grin while Troy turns back to the TV to watch the undisputed champion, the Prince being knocked out in slow motion by Junior Reid, the contender.
Lizz smirked as Troy slammed a couple of twenties in her open palm. Helen sits down laughing while Sienna, sinks to her knees, fingers tightly jammed into her ears groaning on her parquet floor.
— — —
Sienna curses aloud as the hot water of her shower immediately turns ice cold hitting her body with rude sharp jabs. She grabs a bath towel from the rack she recently purchased from Hold EveryThing™ and covers her body with it.
The rhythmic thud of the loud bass pounded the walls along the corridor as Sienna rushed to the superintendent's apartment. She banged on the door until her anger reverberated along with the syncopated beats of the deep bass and drum music crawling from inside the loft apartment of the Super.
Sienna continued to bang on the door until she heard locks unlocking. The door cracked open allowing louder music to escape.
"How can you hear with all that racquet?" exclaimed Sienna.
A head of long, soft brown locks jutted out from behind the door with a matching raised eyebrow. The brown eyes scanned the diminutive sight before it from head to toe and back again. A shocking pink fluffy towel wrapped around the head and its mate was wrapped around the body of a very irate Caucasian woman.
"What?" inquired Karima, her mood peppered with a dash of annoyance? She was re-tiling her bathroom area and wanted to complete the task before the evening.
"I wish to speak with the building management. The hot water is cold." exclaimed Sienna. She was not thrilled to meet this rude woman again.
Shit! Karima moaned inwardly, I forgot to put that sign up in the elevator . "Oh yeah the hot water will be off for a few more hours. I should get it back on by 4 p.m. today." Karima stated matter-of-factly while shutting the door in Sienna's face.
Karima removed the tape measure from her clip on the hip of her well-worn jeans. She thought to install a new vanity over the sink when the loud knocking resumed on her apartment door. Annoyed, she stormed over to the door and opened it again.
Before her stood, the angriest looking white woman she'd ever seen. Usually she was able to scare those people off with a menacing stare.
As she thought about the futility to having tenants in her building, the little B had the ovaries to poke her on her chest as she spewed out a tirade of frustration.
"I want to speak with your supervisor you incompetent----!" Sienna groaned in frustration. She, an English major, couldn't access a word of insult to adequately describe this infuriating black person.
"You don't just turn off the hot water without letting the tenants in the building know ahead of time! How did you get this job! And now that it's fresh in my mind, you play this MUSIC too damn loud! I've been meaning to complain to the management about this. You may like this rap garbage but I don't want to hear it all day and all night!" Sienna continued.
Sienna ended her tirade with her left hand resting on her hip and her right poking finger resting solidly on the tall black woman's sternum. She followed the tall woman's eyes from her chest to Sienna's finger. Sienna imperceptibly gulped as she removed her finger.
"I said: The hot water will be back on at 4 p.m."
A lengthy silence filled the space between Karima and Sienna as they silently reassessed one another. With courage, she really didn't feel Sienna remarked, "I will be lodging a complaint with building management about your demeanor. This is not acceptable."
"I'll take your complaint into consideration." condescendingly remarked Karima.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" screamed Sienna.
"Building management." Karima answered with a smirk.
Then she closed the door and rubbed the spot the little woman poked at just under her sternum.