Trippin' Til I Get Myself Together

By LadyCRyBABY

When love hurts so does life, this is why 31 year old middle school counselor, Shauzlis (Shauz) Johnson wont let love stand in the way of her second chance at coordinating her Ten Year High School Class Reunion.

In the meantime, intuition leads Shauz to call it quits with her long term cheating boyfriend Acerion Feldham (Ace). Shauzs subconscious thoughts are confi rmed with reality when Aces mistress Kensa tells her exactly where to fi nd evidence of his 13yrs of infi delity. However, even with all of this, Shauz questions whether she should leave her man for some other woman to enjoy, especially after hes been properly molded. But then, as the story unfolds, all thoughts of Ace are off . So she thought.

Ace, on the other hand, fi nally wants to be a one woman man these days. But, in order to do so, supernatural change is what he needs. Its too bad he doesnt know it. As Aces career as music producer of rap group StaticOne begins to blow up. His love for his mistress defl ates and his grip on his lady Shauz is loosened. As Ace changes, so does his life.

Racquel Caine (Racqui), a thirty-eight year old hairstylist and Shauzs best friend, not only believes happiness is found within she knows it. Racqui tries to prove this to her girl by showing Shauz that self liberation is a beautiful gesture and it is possible to be happy and single. Later, Racqui quickly changes her tune when she meets ex-professional football player, Kenny Tillman. Now that Racquel respects relationships, she cant stand to see her girl suff er at the hands of a man. So, she comes up with a plan.

Deborah Williams, Shauzs older girlfriend, aint worried about no love or no man problems. She needs security. As soon as her husband Jaspa gets out of jail everythingll be alright with her and the boys. Meanwhile, Deborahs job as Resource Center Specialist for Kemis High aint cuttin it. Shes fed up with Scandalous Scanton her boss and the high schools Principal. Deborah manages to reserve the auditorium and audio visuals for Shauzs Reunion. However, none of this would be possible without handling her own business first by venturing into the world of entrepreneurialism. Deborahs a hustler and once a hustler always a hustler. Regardless of what, shes gonna get hers.

The lives of these characters are intertwined and things unwind at the Kemis High School Class of 88 Ten Year Reunion.

Dive into this masterpiece created by Lady Crybaby! Sometimes our minds tell us one thing, but realty tells us another. Are we all creating our own destiny or do we ask ourselves Am I just Trippin Til I Get Myself Together?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 19, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456730123

LadyCRyBABY

LadyCrybaby is a native of Omaha, Nebraska. Born La Rhonda Marie Knight, she is the youngest of three girls. With a Bachelors of Science in Elementary Education, she also holds her (MPA) Masters of Public Administration degree. A proud member of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority Inc., Ms. LadyCrybaby currently resides in Atlanta, Ga.

Book preview

Trippin’ Til I Get

Myself Together

LadyCrybaby

SKU-000410595_TEXT.pdf

AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2011 LadyCrybaby. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse     5/13/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4567-3012-3 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-3013-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-3014-7 (sc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011900775

Printed in the United States of America

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Part I

Sunday August 26, 1998 - Anniversary & Five days ‘Til The Class Reunion

Monday August 27, 1998 - Four days ‘Til The Class Reunion

Part Two

Sunday August 24, 2001 – Five Days ‘Til The Class Reunion

Monday August 25, 2001- Four days ‘Til The Class Reunion

Tuesday August 26, 2001- Anniversary & Three days ‘Til The Class Reunion

Wednesday August 27, 2001- Two days ‘Til The Class Reunion

Thursday August 28, 2001- One day ‘Til The Class Reunion

Friday August 29, 2001- The Reunion

Epilogue

About the Author

Part I

Prologue

Sunday August 26, 1998 - Anniversary & Five days ‘Til The Class Reunion

North Omaha, Nebraska

Black People Live Here Too

Shauzlis

Blam! I slammed the door and ran down the long hallway of my apartment stopping at my bedroom where I fell to the floor. Landing sideways, I cover my face with both hands filling them with tears.

What the fuck you staring at! Git cho ass inna house! Those words hang over my head like an ominous cloud.

My boyfriend Ace just yelled in my face and images of his angry depiction replay over and over in my mind.

We were standing in the parking lot of my apartment complex. This is where it all happened so fast. Ace accused me of staring at his best friend Kenny Tillman. He claims I gave Kenny way too much eye contact, thus disrespecting him. However, I feel it’s a brutal attempt at shoving his insecurities off onto me.

Who the hell you talkin to nigga? I started to snap back at him. But I didn’t; wasn’t a real fan of the N word, nor was I into defaming my race. Instead, I responded with a cool, Fuck you! That was the beginning of the end.

Before I could blink, Ace had already moved in inches closer landing a smooth and heavy pimp slap across my face. A slap that stung so bad even his homeboys Kenny, Mike, and Antnee could feel my pain. They observed from the backdrop witnessing the event taking place.

My left cheek pulsated. I glared at Ace in disbelief.

Humiliated, I jetted off towards my apartment, where I am now, on my bedroom floor, crying and feeling sorry for myself. I was so embarrassed. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.

Not only did I get slapped by the so-called love of my life, he did it right in front of his homeboys.

More tears rain from my ducts filling the cups of my hands. Weeps of sadness exit my lungs. I’m so hurt.

This situation proves to me that Ace isn’t maturing he’s immaturing. At the ripe old age of thirty, Ace is still into impressing his friends. If he only knew how he looked.

From the screen of my open bedroom window, sounds of laughter seep through. I hear Antnee’s voice first. Damn man you slapped the shit out of her! Then he busted out laughing, confirming every bit of his childish twenty-three years in life.

Shut the fuck up man. Mike adds in my favor, That shit ain’t funny.

Then, cackles of laughter grow faint as Kenny chides in, Ace man, you aughta be ashamed of yourself, doing that girl like that.

I hear Ace responding to Kenny mumbling back words in his own defense. I can’t make out much except, You niggas need to mind ya’lls own business.

Then both car doors to Kenny’s convertible-‘88 Chevy Impala slam and they drive off.

Although Ace and I have been together for ten years doesn’t mean he owns me. Sometimes, I think that’s how he feels. I’m not blind to the fact that Ace just treated me like I was his Bitch.

Bottom bitch. Top bitch. I don’t know which bitch he considered me to be at that moment. All I know is I fit the description for neither.

Ace is brand new. This experience is brand new. Our ten year relationship is brand new. This is the reason why I can’t stop crying.

I sit on this floor feeling as wilted as a malnourished leaf. My eyes raining so many tears I’ve become fatigued and tired of my own self.

Nothing meant nothing anymore. Ace was my world, a world in which I’m still lost.

I sit looking around my bedroom from left to right and then from front to back. This whole scene is way too gloomy.

My black lacquer and brass bedroom ensemble that I use to think was the bomb makes me feel even more dismal and melancholy. The dresser and huge mirror, the chest of drawers, the matching nightstand, and the shiny black and lacquer headboard all are meaningless. I hate all of this shit. I hate all of the memories Ace and I ever shared in this environment.

I especially hate myself for spending such a large portion of my life with an individual who switched the game up on me at the drop of a hat.

For years, Ace had me fooled. Had me thinking he was the smooth, in control, not so jealous type. But, what else would make him do this other than jealousy or insecurity?

I’m too scared to go look in the mirror, afraid of what I’d see. There’s no doubt in my mind my face is definitely bruised.

Twenty minutes prior, I was kicking back listening to music enjoying the beautiful tunes of Lauryn Hill and India Aire. I was sitting Indian Style in the middle of my living room floor atop a 5’3 x 7’11 black, pink, cream and sky blue, swirl throw rug. The room smells of Vanilla Cream carpet fresh and Rainshower Glade Plug Ins. I’d just vacuumed and CD’s were sprawled all around me.

I was within an arms reach of my CD stereo player positioned on the bottom shelf of the black entertainment unit Ace bought me years ago.

I’d just finished watching my favorite movie LIFE for the umpteenth time. So, my day was cool, up until this point.

If only I’d stayed in the house.

But nooo, I had to listen to Maxwell’s Embrya CD, which was out in my car.

None-the-less, today is Sunday August 26th 1998, mines and Ace’s ten year anniversary. It’s also just five days before my ten year class reunion. I’m the reunion coordinator and now this.

These thoughts keep pushing tears from my ducts. I’m heartbroken because I thought I’d finally accomplished something by spending ten years in a relationship with the love of my life. There was no interference of baby moma drama, a bunch of lies or total distrust.

But now, all of this has changed. Ace slapped me and changed the whole perspective on how I see things.

I wipe my eyes with my T-shirt. I tell myself Ace isn’t worth it.

The phone begins to ring. After the fourth ring, I pick myself up from the floor and take my time walking over to the lacquer nightstand were the phone sit.

H-e-ll-o! I answer, my voice shaky and my face flushed with pain.

Hello! Shauz?

Hey. I answer.

Shauz is that you?

Yes, it’s me!

Girl what’s wrong? It sounds like you just lost your best friend!

It’s Racquel Caine, my best friend. Obviously, if I’m talking to her, then something else must be bothering me.

I can hardly stop my voice from shaking long enough to tell her what’d just happened.

She asks, Shauz! What’s wrong, are you crying? Her concern strikes a nerve and my insides instantly well. I cry even harder this time.

Without clearing my throat, I cram all of my tearful words together. I hurriedly said, Ace is a trip! Today is our anniversary and all I got is a slap in the face! My ten year class reunion is this Friday! I’m reunion coordinator, and now this!

Sobbing majorly, I sing I can’t even go nowwwww!

My tears are like a river. My cries soar higher than Chaka Khan at best.

Racqui tries to understand. She asks, What do you mean a slap in the face?

He hit me hard too-oo! I gasp for air taking shorts breaths.

Racqui asks, Hard?

Very! I tell her and he did it right in front of his sorry ass homeboys."

Well?

Well what?

Well, did you kick his ass?

I picture a smirk on Racqui’s face. She really meant that. Racqui is supposed to be my best friend and I know Well can’t be her only response.

But, then again, knowing Racquel the way I do, I can believe it. My girl is a trip; however, she always finds a way to make me laugh. So, in the mist of my sorrow, I giggle a bit.

Racqui says, Why don’t you throw on something and I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes. We can sit at my place and sip on margaritas and drink beer. Let’s talk about it.

I was cool with that, so I fix my tongue to answer her, but before I could say Okay, the doorbell rings. Startled, I tell Racqui I’ll be ready when she gets here then I slam the phone in her ear.

I make my way up the hall to see who’s at my door. I lift up on my tip toes and check the scene through the peephole.

It’s Ace.

Slowly, I open the door. He’s alone, looking sexy as usual. He’s wearing a fitted double X white-T with a pair of baggy faded Rocawear jeans- leaving enough room in front to make a sister want to know- by way of experience.

Can we talk?

Silence.

I don’t answer him. Instead, I silently drop my head in sadness. It’s too hard to face Ace right now and I didn’t want to talk. I felt like telling his ass "we should’ve talked before you slapped me."

So, Ace and I are standing in the doorway in silence. Then he looks down at his rust colored Timberland boots. He looks up at me again, licks his huge pink lips, strokes his silk black goat tee, and then down at his boots again. I still don’t give Ace eye contact because the pain in my face is way too much for him to bear.

He says, I’m sorry, and then he uses his right forefinger to gently raise my chin.

I turn away.

He says, I wanna talk to you. Can I come inside?

But, again I don’t answer.

I wish I could look Ace in the eyes just to check his sincerity, but everytime I try, I can’t. I did, however, manage to catch a few glimpses of his gold skin tone. I also notice his brush cut waves fitting tightly to his head, so tight that from a distance one would think he was bald. Ace’s side burns flow like soft water into his goat tee. His eyes are light brown, not quite hazel, kind of like my Uncle Joe’s eyes.

I’ve always been marveled by Ace’s masculinity. But today, I’m ashamed of his feminine actions. Ace has really done it this time.

He asks, Are you okay? Baby! Please. I’m-I’m sorry.

Finally, I gain the strength to look up just as a single teardrop rolls down my right cheek.

Ace quickly reaches out to wipe the wetness from my skin.

I tell him, You’re not sorry, or you wouldn’t have done it. This time, Ace gets a good look at the swelling underneath my left eye.

More tears follow the one he’d already wiped away. Then my right leg develops a nervous bounce to help combat my shame.

Ace was lost for words and all he could do is apologize yet again, and again.

I turn away.

He says, Happy anniversary!

Slowly, I turn back and Ace is holding a long stemmed bright red rose. The rose is beautifully tinted with maroonish pedals. He’d been holding it behind his back.

This is for you! He hands it to me.

I look at Ace and take my time extending my arm out because I personally see the rose as a gift. But, to Ace, I know it means I accept his apology.

Although, soon after the rose is in my hand, some how I suddenly feel better.

Anyway, I still don’t forgive Ace for what he’s done. I tell myself I’m accepting this rose because after all, it is our ten year anniversary and I do love flowers. Plus, I feel Ace owes me.

Ace uses his thumb to wipe away final tears.

Afterwards, I go into the kitchen to find a vase.

I leave Ace standing in the doorway.

Eventually, without my permission, he finally steps completely inside. He pushes the door closed behind him just as I’m taking a glass vase from the cabinet above the kitchen sink. I turn on the faucet and let the water run til the jar is a little more than half full. Then, I place the rose inside.

I go back into the living room where Ace is standing. I gently scootch left over CD’s out of the way with my bare feet, and I center the rose atop the black entertainment unit. No doubt it adds life to my one-bedroom apartment. Plus, it makes my unit look like it’s worth more than one-hundred and twenty-seven dollars.

I walk over to the sofa and sit down. I fold my arms and admire the view of the rose when Ace carefully walks over and sits next to me. He sits so close our knees almost touch. Silence surrounds us for a while.

Then he finally asks, Shauz, why did you have to embarrass me in front of my boys like that?

I had no intentions on embarrassing you Ace. I went out to my car to get some CD’s and the next thing I know a car full of guys roll up behind me with the music bumping. Naturally, I’m gonna look to see what’s going on. How was I supposed to know Kenny was driving let alone see you sitting on the passenger side?

My point exactly! Ace gets loud. You shoulda kept your head down or looked straight or somethin!

Do you hear yourself!? I asked. I told you I’ve never seen that car before in my life.

Yeah but, by looking, you made me think you were trying to check out some dudes or something. Besides, Shauz, you weren’t just looking you were staring.

I wasn’t staring at nobody. I looked, it’s only natural.

Well, that’s not what me or my boy’s thought.

Forget your boys! I demand. This ain’t about them; this is about me and you!

Shauz, you disrespected me, straight up!

If you call being human being disrespectful, then so be it! I roll my eyes.

At this point, I’m reminded that Ace has some very childish ways sometimes. I hate to admit it, but I accept his ways simply because I love him so much.

I tell Ace, I can’t believe we’re arguing because you think I was staring at your friend.

Ace stands up, growls and points, Girl, that’s the type of shit that’ll get a bitch killed! You need to watch yourself!

I look at that fool. Ace isn’t sorry at all. In fact, he’s still raging inside.

I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel right now. I see every argument with this man as a threat to our relationship and a slap to the face is way too much for me to fathom.

I shift and say, "Please Ace! I ain’t about to argue with you anymore. And the next time you feel intimidated by your friend Kenny, I suggest you don’t bring him around your next girlfriend."

Ace ignores me acting like he doesn’t hear the hint I’d just thrown his way.

He says, Yeah-well, there’s a difference between looking and staring. Shauz you stared, therefore you disrespected me.

And that gives you reason to put your hands on me?

No! But when I asked you to get in the house, you didn’t have to say, Fuck you!"

Ace wrinkled up his lips and made his voice sound mouse like to mock me. Then he sits back down and says, That’s why I slapped you.

Damn! I think to myself, This fool is cold blooded. He has the nerve to sound like he’s bragging about what he’s done to me. Then, he leans back on the sofa, locks his hands behind his head, relaxes, and finds comfort in crossing his legs.

While Ace focuses on the picture of a white Bengal tiger hanging on the wall just above the red rose, I look at him in disbelief.

I get up from the sofa and walk down the hallway into my bedroom. Quickly, I slide into a pair of jeans and a clean white T-shirt. I’m ready for Racquel to be here now.

I lace up a pair of crisp white Air Force One’s and pull the scrunchy off of my micro braids.

Finally, I go into the bathroom. Ace follows.

OH My God! A black eye? I scream as I cover my mouth in disbelief. I gaze into the mirror. The reflection I see is ghostly. Not only is my left cheek bruised a berry red color, my eye has a hint of dark maroon beginning to form underneath it. Now, that was a surprise.

I shuffle around Ace and back into my bedroom. I yank open the top drawer of the nightstand. I sift through old Zig-Zag papers, a deck of blue Bicycle playing cards and a bunch of old receipts. I come across an old pair of Malcolm X glasses. Then I find the aged unused bottle of Fashion Fair foundation I’m looking for.

I rush back into the bathroom and pull my face rag from the rack. After wetting my rag, I plant myself in front of the mirror and begin washing away dried tears. Then I smooth foundation over the bruises.

I open the vanity cabinet and pull down a compact of sheer facial powder. I dab layer after layer of powder over the foundation to lessen the shine. Then, I slide those Malcolm X’s into place.

Baby, don’t you understand how much I love you? Ace pleads as he looks on. He restlessly stands in the bathroom entryway watching me cover up his mistake. Then he idly strokes his beard and goat tee. This is what he does when he doesn’t know what else to do.

I’m silent again.

Ace says, Shauz I came back to apologize.

But, I give Ace the silent treatment big time now. I think about packing up all of his stuff and telling him to Get the hell out! But, it dawned on me; I’d already done that two weeks ago. For some reason, Ace suddenly had formed a habit of coming home between the hours of three and four a.m. or not at all.

He claims to be in the studio making beats. He says time gets away from him. But, I’m tired of believing his bullshit. So, I packed his things and drove them to his mother’s house.

Less than a week passed and Ace started coming back over to my place, every night, faithfully, acting like he’s running stuff over here on 36th and Davenport Street just like he’s doing now.

He said he would give me back my house key. But, I haven’t seen it yet. So, to me, as long as we share open access to the same home, this means we still live together in my opinion.

Anyway, Ace goes on apologizing for a while. I listen and finish dressing in the bedroom.

I slide three shiny silver bracelets onto my left wrist, each bracelet symbolizing the unity of myself, and my two little sisters, Shayla and Shavaughna Johnson.

I move around the bedroom and find my white gold knock off Movado watch. I snap it into place onto my left wrist as well.

I check myself out in the huge dresser mirror. I’m ready for Racquel to be here.

I decide to pull my mane back into a pony tail again, when Ace’s face appears in the mirror to the left of me. He moves around to my right side and turns me towards him. Gently, he kisses my forehead and says, You look nice.

Ace smells good and he always looks good, so I fall for the marshmallowy attention for a quick second as his voice sounds sincere.

But my guards are up and my heart is caged. So, his words don’t mean much.

Ace tells me he loves me again.

I smile but can’t find it in me to say those three words back to him. So, I say nothing, again.

Ace takes me by the hands, he tells me, I’m sorry baby. I don’t know why I’m tripping. I just love you so much Shauz. Then he says, Besides, Kenny has a woman anyway.

Ace kisses my forehead again. Never did I mean to hurt you this way. I get jealous from time to time you know. I hope you can understand. He says, Shauz you mean the world to me.

I hear Ace, but I ain’t feeling him. His apologies are old. My face is disfigured, and until these bruises are gone, I can’t see us being cool anytime soon.

Intuition tells me I’m not Ace’s problem anyway, his best friend Kenny is.

I ask, Ace you do realize I’m the Reunion Coordinator for the Kemis High Class of ’88 Ten Year Reunion coming up this Friday?

He looks at me. I forgot all about that! I apologize. I mean, I’m just saying baby, can you please forgive me?

I ignore him.

Then I say, Why do I recall you telling me Kenny likes Racquel?

He does. Ace pauses. He just has a woman right now.

Ok then, if that’s the case, why all the accusations? Especially, if your friend-likes my friend-and you know I don’t cross lines like that.

We look at each other.

Ace finally responds. Humph, I dunno! I’ll let that nigga handle his own business.

I loosen myself from Ace’s grip. I tell him, Hey look, I hate to cut this short but, Racqui’s on her way.

Where’re ya’ll going?

Over to her place for a while.

You have your own car! Why aren’t you driving?

Because when she called earlier she could tell I was upset so she offered to come and pick me up.

Maaannn! Ace throws a hand, Racquel’s just being nosey and stop telling your friends all of our business too.

See, Ace is ignorant and what I’ve learned in life is, you can only please some of the people some of the time, you can’t please everybody all the time. Take into consideration, Ace doesn’t care for Racqui and nor does she care for him. He say’s Racqui’s always in our business. She says Ace is too sneaky for her.

Ace barks, As much as that girl talks, before you know it, the whole city will think I tried to kill you. You know Omaha is way too small for Racqui’s big mouth.

Whaaat-ever! I say to myself, It’s definitely girlfriend time cause I ain’t hearing Ace no more. I stretch my neck towards him, Can’t I go kick it with my homegirl? I roll my eyes.

Actually, NO! Ace exclaims.

I widen my eyes and give Ace a You ain’t my daddy look.

He demands, Today is still our anniversary!

I know that! I tell him.

Actually, I wanted to say, I remembered our anniversity over a month ago back when I made reservations for tonight at the Marriott Residence Inn on 72nd and Dodge Street. He also doesn’t know I picked a Jacuzzi suite and ordered wine and candles too.

But now, I plan to cancel all that shit as soon as I get to Racqui’s place. I wish I would spend a dime of my hard earned money on Ace’s ass, especially after the humiliation he’s caused me.

I walk up the hallway and into the living room.

Ace waddles as he follows me. His left leg is slightly bowed while the other seems straight.

He says, "Just be back by nine tonight, I have something planned for us. Today is still our anniversary."

Still not trying to hear him, I ask, Do you have all of your stuff, Racqui will be here in a minute?

Ace looks at me, What? You asking me to leave? What? I cain’t stay here now?

Exactly, I say to myself just as his mouth is being interrupted by the sound of Racqui’s horn.

I wait while Ace grabs a bottled water from the refrigerator before we exit my apartment.

I lock the door and Ace and I rush outside.

Racqui’s Max is nice. But, her seatbelts are somewhat worn. I pull my flimsy seatbelt forward as Ace gets comfortable in back. I get in front.

Hey guys! Racqui greets us in her valley girl voice.

Hey. I say.

What’s happenin? Ace replies.

Then we pull away from the curb.

I’m snapping my sealtbelt into place when we notice my neighbor White Tammy and her black boyfriend Mark Mattzie waving at us from across the street. Racqui and I wave back. Ace keeps his head forward.

White Tammy is my friend. She bought one of those newly remodeled duplexes just across the street from my complex. Her ex-con slash felon fiancé Mark moved in with her about six months ago after his release from a two-year prison stint in Lincoln, our state penitentiary.

We approach the stop sign at the end of the block. Racqui breaks the silence by cranking up the radio volume. Hot 107.9 is playing Will Smith’s SummerTime jam. We proceed and I sit quietly on the passenger side while Ace is behind me mean mugging for no reason. As Racqui cruises from stop sign to stop sign, I see Ace’s crumpled face in the side view mirror. I also see fading figures of White Tammy and Mark holding hands as they walk up their pavement.

At the next block, Racqui hangs a left assuming we’re headed north.

She asks, Where’re we going?

To 25th and Ellison, Ace’s mom’s.

Racqui knows exactly where Mrs. Feldham lives. So, we head northbound making our way across town with me wishing Ace and I were on a level like White Tammy and Mark. Peace and Love is exactly what I need.

Instead, neither Ace nor I say a word to each other the whole ride.

Within fifteen minutes, Ace plants his Timberland boots on the cement of his mother’s driveway. He dang near pushes me through the dashboard on his climb out of Racqui’s backseat.

Aaight. Is how he said goodbye to us and then he walks into his mother’s house and slams the door.

Neither Racqui nor I bother with saying Goodbye. We just drive off.

Then, Racqui makes a beeline navigating south towards Daily’s Liquor on 30th. On our route we approach the busiest intersection of North Omaha better known as the L. The L is the point where the infamous Ames and 30th Streets meet. Ames Street heads east and west bound in the city and 30th Street heads north and south bound.

We take our sweet time passing through.

Bend any corner of the L and you’ve done your duty for the day. Usually, anybody who’s somebody, either passes by, stop or pause, at, near, or around this intersection maybe once, twice, even ten times a day, either to check out the scene or be seen.

Racqui gets caught by a red light. On her side of the street is a Commercial Federal Bank. On my side is a Burger King. Directly ahead of us and to our right is The Amoco.

The Amoco on Ames and 30th is the spot. To his advantage, a black man known as, Big Dhonny, is the proud owner of this intersection’s main attraction, a gas station.

Big Dhonny also owns Hottys, the north side’s most popping hood bar.

But, the Amoco has the most history. It’s well known, hard to miss, been in place for years and years, and doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.

Right now, it’s about 6:30pm on this beautiful Sunday evening and north Omaha traffic is beginning to thicken on the L. Like I said, anybody who’s somebody makes it a point to pass by, pause, or stop, at, near, or around The Amoco on a daily basis.

Ain’t that Kenny right there in that tan Chevy? Racqui points.

Yeah that’s them. I look through the lenses of my glasses.

We see Kenny rolling down 30th with a couple of dudes still in his convertible. They pull into a stall at the Amoco.

Girl look at Lori! Racqui points again as she spots our police officer girlfriend hanging inside the driver’s window of a black Jeep Cherokee sitting in the Burger King parking lot.

I see her.

Yep and Antnee’s gone beat her ass if he catches her.

I know huh? I tell Racqui And he’s with Kenny ‘nem in that convertible. She doesn’t even see ‘im either.

Lori thinks that police car she’s driving is a reason for her husband not to put his hands on her. We chuckle. Antnee’s gonna put that ass in a choke hold one day; police uniform and all.

Girl, Lori don’t care! She takes that man completely for granted.

Racqui honks at our overly flirtatious police officer girlfriend and we wave. Lori smiles at us and throws up a peace sign. Then, she dips her head back into the jeep.

We talk about Lori some more as we wait for our light to change.

As we sit, we see a pearl white Denali rolling down Ames on some 26’s. A red SS on hydraulics slow rolls beside us, and a clean ole school Chevy Nova passes in front of us. All of them eventually pull into the Amoco lot for one reason or another.

Our light turns green and we proceed south towards our destination.

A couple of yellow Ducati