Accent Hussy (It Had 2 B U) (22 page)

“Girls?”

“Sorry dear, but I have to get going. I look forward to meeting you, Everly. Please remember to be there by two.”

“Um, okay, sure.” The phone clicks and I’m met with dead air. What kind of work am I doing with girls? I thought I would be cleaning floors and picking up trash like the inmates I see on the highway. I didn’t think they would actually have me working with the kids directly. When the judge asked if I was good with kids, I thought he meant do I like them. I’m not a very patient person, so waiting until tomorrow seems like an eternity.

I’m a little bit nervous when I walk into The Youth Center the next morning. I’m not sure why, but knowing that I have all this responsibility suddenly falling into my lap, not to mention the new shiny record I received, doesn’t really make me want to go out in public.

My mom and dad have been driving me everywhere. To have my license revoked is so embarrassing. I feel like a pre-teen in that awkward stage where you’re bumming rides off your parents just to socialize with people your own age. Insurance won’t cover my car, either. They said they have a drunk driving clause written in their contract that I signed. I’m out a car, a license, my neck and back are killing me. Now I have six months of community service to serve or I go to jail.

Go Everly, you’re a rock star! Not!

A beautiful redhead is sitting behind the front desk when I enter. As I approach, I see that her nametag reads Kristene. She glares at me.
Territorial much?

“Can I help you?” she asks, smiling a little too sweetly. She eyes my jeans and purple t-shirt, lingering on my thighs before she smirks.

“Yeah, I’m Everly McGowan. I’m here to serve some community service,” I mumble, kicking my feet.

“Ah yes, the felon. Trisha told me you were coming in today.”

I cringe, realizing that I’m now considered a criminal.

“I’ll buzz Trisha and let her know you are here. Don’t worry, there are quite a few other hooligans running around here. You’ll fit right in.”

I want to slam my fist into that curt smile of hers, but I refrain and pretend not to smell the rank stench of bitch wafting from her skin. She picks up the phone, tells Trisha that I’m here, and when she hangs up, smiles at me.

“You’re pretty. That will get noticed around here. Do me a favor and before you get your little hopes up about any of the fine men around this place, Mr. C. is mine. I’ve worked here for six months. I’m well on my way to becoming the future Mrs. C., so don’t get any ideas.”

“Um, okay?” I roll my eyes and take a seat in the lobby. I notice that there aren’t many kids around here right now.
I thought this was a youth center? Where are all the kids?
I don’t even realize I say that last part out loud until a woman chuckles, startling me. A petite, round woman in a pink flowered dress is staring down at me. She sticks out her hand and I take it, giving it a firm handshake.

“The kids are in school. I’m Trisha, human resource manager. We spoke on the phone yesterday. Why don’t you follow me, Everly?”

“Okay,” I return Kristene’s glare as I pass her. I am half-tempted to stick my tongue out at her, but that, too, I keep to myself. Trisha chuckles and directs me to her office.

“Don’t mind Kristene; she’s a bitch. She’s under some delusion that she has a chance with Mr. C.,” Trisha says.

“Who’s Mr. C., and why do I care if Kristene likes him? I’m here to serve my community service and that’s it.”

“He’s your new boss. He’s actually out of town on business and won’t be back for a couple weeks, but he knows you’re here and has assigned you girls ages six to ten. There a lot of age groups here. Mr. C. makes sure that the right people are in charge of them. I’m not sure why he’s banking on a newbie for our most difficult group. Our younger girls, well, let’s just say they can be quite the handful. Mr. C. thinks they’re just misunderstood. He really relates to them. The kids here all love him. Hell, every woman in a five-mile radius loves him.”

“He’s a lady’s man?” I question, noting to stay as far away from him as possible.

“Honestly, we don’t know. There’s a pool going around with most of the women volunteers. The pot is up to a thousand dollars for the girl who can prove she’s slept with Mr. C. There’s even a few guys in it, too. They’re convinced he’s gay. He’s quite handsome, and that makes working here pretty difficult at times. He’s also probably the most selfless man I’ve ever met: he volunteers at homeless shelters, sponsors sports teams in not-so-good neighborhoods. He built this place from the ground up. According to Mr. C., he lived in the projects when he was younger. Every day he lived in fear until his parents got home from work. He ended up finding a place like this that he could hide in, and that’s where he found his passion for helping people. He’s a self-made businessman who’s built a small fortune for himself. It would be bigger, but he’s constantly giving his money away to those who need it. He’s a great man, and if I was twenty years younger and a hundred pounds lighter, hell, I’d be all over his fine young ass.”

“So why do you call him Mr. C.?”

“He’s somewhat famous. He’s asked us all not to use his real name. Only I know it, but I’m not at liberty to discuss it with anyone. He likes his privacy, and I intend to let him keep it. I’m sure everyone here knows who he is by now, but I follow the rules anyway to appease him. He can sometimes have a temper.”

I nod. “Well, he definitely sounds like an amazing person. I look forward to meeting him.”

“You will soon. He’ll be back in two weeks. Now, this is what we expect of you here. There are only a few six to ten-year-old girls, but they are also the girls who run everyone off. They are hard, angry, and spend most of their time bad-mouthing and treating authority figures with disrespect. Mr. C. thinks you will be great as their leader.”

“Mr. C. doesn’t even know me.”

“He read your file. He says you’ll be perfect.” She gives me a sad look. “I’m sorry that you have to volunteer here. You seem like a very nice girl and not the normal felon that comes crawling through our doors. It makes me sad that you were drinking and driving. I lost my son to a drunk driver four years ago.”

I stare at her a little dumbfounded. A drunk driver killed her son, and now I’m here, standing in front of her with a DUI conviction. I’ll be a constant reminder of the type of person who took her son away. “I’m so sorry, Trisha. I don’t even know what to say. I made a stupid mistake and now I’m paying for it. I’ve never driven home drunk before. I don’t know why I did that night.”

She puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, honey. I can tell you aren’t that kind of person. The kids will be here in a couple hours. Go ahead and look around; get yourself acquainted with some of the staff members. Once the kids get here, this place will be a madhouse. Don’t let Kristene get to you. She’s got her claws sunk into Mr. C., and that makes her not only crazy but dangerous as well. My advice, stay away from her and Mr. C., but the likelihood of that happening is slim to none. Like I said, he’s kind of hard to stay away from.”

I laugh. “Don’t worry, men are the furthest thing from my mind right now,” I answer, cursing Keegan inside my head. I can’t wait for Max to fire his ass, that way I can be done with him for good.

“I will get you a t-shirt tomorrow. You look like a medium, am I right?”

“Yes, but I’ll take a large. I like my t-shirts big.”

“Don’t we all? Well, maybe not the hoochies. If their shirts got any smaller, the fabric would have permanent nipple prints. Anyway, have fun. I’ll come find you when the kids get here.”

I get up from her desk and make my way into the building. As I wander around, I find that the building is broken up into five sections not including the large lobby. The first section is the cafeteria that offers free healthy meals and snacks to the children. Trisha explained that most of these kids come from poverty stricken families, so they’re not properly nourished at home.

The next section is the swimming area.  An Olympic-sized swimming pool is manned by at least five lifeguards. Here the children receive free lessons on how to swim.

The third section is a large gym, complete with bleachers and a basketball court. Local college players volunteer and run a youth basketball league here. It also has an area where kids can jump rope, and another section for dodge ball.

The fourth section is where a boxing ring is located. I’m told that the boxing lessons encourages youth with anger problems to channel their anger and use it in a more constructive way.

The fifth and final area is the creative arts center. The creative arts center is my favorite building. Music, crafts, activity centers, they even have a stage where the kids can dress up and pretend to be in plays. I’m in awe of what Mr. C. has created and I sorta fall for him right then and there. Any man who can create something this amazing has to be pretty wonderful.

I’m making my way back towards the lobby when someone coming out of a utility closet bumps into me.

“Oh god, I am so sorry!” I shout in surprise.

The man who stares back at me has the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re hiding behind a pair of black spectacles and long eyelashes. He smiles at me, and when he does, my spine tingles. Something is off about him, but I can’t place what. He’s holding a handful of toilet paper which he drops to shake my hand. His hands are rough, and he actually cuts me with his untrimmed nails. I pull my hand back and rub the now bleeding mark.

“Sorry about that. You’re new here, aren’t you? I’m Stephen, the janitor.”

“I’m Everly,” I tell him.

“Very nice to meet you. His eyes linger on my breasts; I feel almost violated by his stare. I cover my chest with my arms and give him a nice smile before politely excusing myself and hightailing it out of there. When I get to the lobby, I’m breathless. I’m not sure why he’s causing all these weird feelings to flow inside me, but my alarms are ringing, again. This time, I plan to listen to them.

Kristene is in the lobby talking to one of the lifeguards. He looks like he’s fresh out of high school. Kristene looks old enough to be his mother, but that doesn’t stop her from flirting with him or resting her hand on his bicep. I’m just about to take a seat in the cafeteria when I hear what sounds like a stampede burst through the front door. The Youth Center fills with children, each of them screaming, yelling and chattering away. Trisha finds me amongst the sea of tiny bodies and directs me to the gym.

“We try to rotate the kids so they don’t get bored. Your girls are usually hanging out in here. They like to jump rope. Come on, I’ll introduce you.” A group of seven young girls is playing with a jump rope in the corner of the gym. Each of them eyes me curiously, as Trisha brings me up to be introduced.

“Girls, this is Everly. She’s going to be helping us the next few months and has been assigned to your group. I want you girls to treat her with the respect and dignity that I know you’re capable of.

A tall black girl pops her gum and glares at me, “I bet she’s a felon. Only felons ever want to help out us hood rats.”

This girl must be the ringleader. The way the other girls cower to her dominance, makes me believe she has complete control of the group.

“Norma Jean, please don’t speak that way.”

“Fuck off, Trisha,” the little girl spits. I’m not even astonished by her foul mouth. I smirk when she turns her eyes on me. “What are you smiling at white girl?”

“Nothing, I was just thinking to myself that you must be in charge of the group.”

“Yup, that’s my roll. These are my bitches.” Ten years old, and she already has a sailor’s mouth. This is going to be fun. “This is Rolo, DD, Cornell, Hopscotch, BC, and Marks. I’m NJ; don’t you dare call me Norma Jean. We’re the girls who run these ropes.”

“You like to jump rope?”

“No bitch, we live to jump rope.” She glares at me and I cross my arms. Trisha looks downright petrified, but I’m not about to let some pipsqueak push me around. She’s not intimidating; she can’t even look me in the eyes.

“Tell you what, NJ. How about we double-dutch for the group. Whoever can last longer in the ropes wins the role as leader. If I win, you have to do what I say, got it?”

The girls chatter amongst themselves and push one of the girls out in front of me. “This is DD. Her real name is Delanie, but we call her DD because she’s the queen of double-dutch. You’ll face her. She’s won six jump roping championships in the last two years.”

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll take you all on. Whoever can last the longest, wins. What do you say?” The girls do another group discussion and turn back to me, nodding their heads. I call over two older girls and have them twirl the ropes. The seven girls line up and get ready to take me on, leaving DD as their last jumper. I wait for my opportunity and jump into the ropes. The littlest of their group jumps in with me. She’s tiny compared to the other girls and looks like she must be around six. She has blonde hair pulled up into two haphazard pigtails. I notice that her clothes are full of holes and are dirty, like they haven’t been washed in weeks. She has a huge scar over her left eye and a few bruises up and down her arms. I have a feeling this little girl is a victim of domestic violence and that thought breaks my heart.

The minute she jumps in, her tiny legs can’t keep up with how fast the older girls are twirling. I hear the other girls yelling, “Go Hopscotch.” I realize that must be her game of choice. When the twirlers pick up speed, her legs hit the ropes causing her to go tumbling to the ground. When her knees hit the floor, she cries out and I bend down to help her up. She sniffs at me, with tears forming in her deep brown eyes.

“It’s okay, you did good, Hopscotch. I bet if we were playing hopscotch, you would’ve taken me down.”

She giggles. “If this was hopscotch you would be eliminated already, Lady.” NJ clears her throat and the little girl whimpers before she retreats behind the rest of the girls.