What He's Been Missing (7 page)

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Authors: Grace Octavia

BOOK: What He's Been Missing
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“He's just my mechanic,” I said dryly. “We're just kicking it.”
Bird turned off the ignition. I was hoping he'd stay in the car, not make some grand scene, giving Krista something to grin about (I could already see that he was wearing the gold chains), but he got out of the car and walked slowly around the butt so Krista could see his matching brown silk slacks and shirt. A thicker gold chain was around his wrist. Two rings were on one hand. He stepped onto the curb and I introduced him to Krista and her nosy half grin.
“You look beautiful,” Bird said to me after shaking Krista's hand.
“I'm just wearing what I had on earlier at the shop,” I said passively.
“Well, you look more beautiful in it now.” He smiled and took my work bag before leaving me alone with Krista on the curb.
“Yeah, he's your date,” Krista affirmed with full backing. She was always trying to link me up with someone, trying to help me escape “the marriage planner's curse.”
“Please, it's not even like that. It's not that serious.”
“Tell him.” Krista nodded at Big Bird, in the car and ready to go. He'd leaned over and opened my door. “See you tomorrow. I'll expect a full report. Good luck.”
 
As always, the conversation with Bird was simple, light banter. Nothing too deep. We rode up Peachtree talking about his car, my car, his love of cars, of Fords. Listening to him talk reminded me of my uncles and my father, the old men at my church who stood around talking about Jesus, sports, and cars all day. He wasn't that much older than me, but his style, how he spoke, and what he spoke about was decidedly dated. He was from a farm town smaller than Social Circle and laughed like it. His cologne was sweet and heavy and all over the car. I rolled my window down.
I hated to jump the gun—I mean, the man had jumped out of the car to grab my bag and had opened my door (two things fewer than half of my dates in the last three years ever thought to do)—but listening to him and looking at him and smelling him sitting across from me in that purple Ford only confirmed how different Bird and I were. Besides our country backgrounds and Chauncey's truck parked in Bird's garage, I was sure we didn't have anything in common. Shit, I know how bad that sounds—
really, really bad
. But, that was the thing about the blue-collar brothers like Bird—the ones Oprah and Tyler Perry seemed to endlessly suggest successful single sisters flock toward like an available dick in the veritable glass case—although he was single enough, nice enough, and found me attractive enough, we lived in two different worlds.
I hadn't eaten lunch and I was starving, so when Bird asked if I liked seafood, I perked up in my seat and smiled yes, but I should've asked a few more questions. On my side of town, seafood meant lobster and oysters, a filet of sole on the back patio at Fontaine's or the Oceanaire, but that purple Ford bypassed any place I knew of that served any kind of seafood I normally ate and stopped in front of a huge barn with a parking lot out front. Pickup trucks and old Cutlasses, even a few old Cadillacs, were in the spaces. Men with cornrows in their hair and chains around their necks just like Bird's sat on the hoods as they sipped on bottles in brown paper bags. A few women were sprinkled around, but their hair was just like the boys. One was wearing a red spandex body suit with a stomach that stuck out so far it swung right over her vagina. And I was thinking she should've gone with the cornrows like the rest of the women out there because from across the parking lot and inside the car with Bird, I could see her weave tracks.
“This is where we're going?” I asked, trying not to sound as irritated as I felt. “I thought you said we were going for seafood.”
“Yeah, baby girl,” Bird said, turning off the car. “This is Bigelow's. They have the best fried whiting sandwiches in the A.” He looked at me. “Something wrong? You want to go someplace else?”
“No,” I said, not wanting to offend Bird. “I've just never been here before.”
“Oh, don't worry. You with Bird. These just some folks from around here. Ain't nobody gonna touch you.”
“I'm not worried about someone touching me. You say that like I'm afraid.”
“You sure look afraid.”
Bird got out and walked around to open my door. I heard a few people call out his name and when I got out of the car I saw every eye of every woman in the lot glued on me.
“Bird got himself a lady friend!” someone shouted loud enough so it was clear that she wanted me to hear her.
I looked at Bird as he helped me out of the car.
“Don't you mind her none. She's just toying with me. Ain't nothing,” he said.
The inside of the bar looked as could be expected from outside. It was nothing but a big space with a bar and tables and chairs around it that looked like they came from some abandoned chicken shack. Toward the back of the room, one of those cheap snap-together parquet floors was supposed to be the dance floor. While it wasn't late enough for the floor to be packed there were enough people to call it a party. The DJ was playing the same old blues standards Bird had been singing along to in the car.
“They serve food here?” I asked, following close behind Bird. He'd taken my hand and was heading to the bar. The lights were dim and a few of the seats were already occupied with folks sipping on beers and bouncing their heads really slow to the music.
“Good food. The best food.” Bird sat down on a barstool and the waitress came right over like she knew him.
She was a skinny woman. No older than me. Had gold teeth and a big smile that made you look at them. Her navel was pierced. Someone's name was tattooed beneath it. I could see this because her jeans were hanging just above her pelvis.
“Birdie Boo!” She gave Bird a high five over the bar. “See you got some company.” She smiled at me and flashed the golden teeth.
“I'm Rachel!” I said before Bird could introduce us. I've learned that it's always best to be very friendly to other women when I'm with a man they know. It cuts out a lot of bullshit. They know you're not the enemy.
“Nice to meet you, Rachel Boo! I'm Ronnie.” She winked at me and then looked back at Bird. “Guess you done got too good for us over here. Ain't been here to see about me since the weekend.” She pouted at him the way I pouted at Ian.
“Been trying to make money, so I can tip you real good,” Bird said and Ronnie rolled her eyes playfully. “What now? What you got to say now?”
“I'll take that,” she said. “I was just looking for you to say thank you for Western Unioning that money down to Jake for his school books. He needed it for real. And I ain't had no way to get it to him.”
“No problem,” Bird said. “Don't mention it. I got Jake long as he got those grades up.”
Ronnie turned to me and said, “My boy Jake in his second year of college down at Tennessee State University.” She nodded to Bird. “This man here sends him money every semester for books and what not. Don't know what we'd do without him.”
“I don't know how you have a son in college,” I said. “You can't be over thirty-five.”
“I had him real young. I was just a baby myself. Ain't had no business giving birth to nothing at all. But I got lucky. Jake smarter than a roomful of doctors. Got a full scholarship. I just got to send money for his dorm and books. If it wasn't for people like Bird, I'd have to find me a pole to swing on at the Clermont Lounge—'cause my boy staying at the school.”
“You always talking about swinging on a pole,” Bird joked. “You know damn well you ain't about to take your clothes off at the old timey strip club. Need to take these drink orders. Get my food ready. All this talking you doing.”
Ronnie hissed at Bird and turned to me.
“Now I know what this fool eating and sipping on. What you want, Ms. Lady?”
“Well, Bird tells me you have seafood,” I said.
“We got fish.”
“What kinds?”
“We got whiting and porgies.”
“Oh . . . How is it prepared?”
I could feel Bird staring at me.
“Both fried,” Ronnie answered.
“No blackened?”
“Fried. On white bread.”
“Wheat bread?”
“Fried. On white bread. I can bring you extra hot sauce.”
“Sounds great.”
“Now, what you want to drink?” Ronnie asked.
“Do you have any wine?”
“Not none I would be drinking,” she said, leaning into me. “I'd stick to the liquor. Manager don't spend a lot of money on the wine. Don't nobody here drink it.”
“OK.”
“What you got a taste for? Blue Mother Fucker? Sex on the Beach? Pretty Asshole?”
I didn't understand anything she was saying, so I went with the best option: “Surprise me.”
Ronnie disappeared into a room behind the bar that looked like a kitchen.
“You ain't know what she was talking about,” Bird pointed out.
“Nope,” I said and we both laughed.
“Well, don't be surprised if the drink she makes you has you out on that dance floor grooving like MC Hammer in like ten minutes. She's been working in this little bar for a long time and they don't serve light drinks.”
“Well, I can hold my—”
“No, you did not bring some heifer up in here!” said a woman I'd noticed staring at Bird's back from the other side of the bar, coming up behind Bird. She was petite but thick. She had an attitude in her face. Her lips were scrunched up like she'd just bitten into a piece of sour candy. She had on an out-of-season rainbow print dress with matching, too-long acrylic nails.
Bird closed his eyes for a second when he heard her voice. He didn't even turn around to see her. “Don't start this shit,” he said tiredly, looking down at the floor beneath his barstool.
I didn't know if I should look at the woman or get up and walk out. She was eyeballing me hard and didn't look like she meant to say anything good. She was obviously one of Bird's lady friends.
“Start shit? No, you started shit when you brought this”—she waved her nails at me—“thing up in here. Up in our spot.” She was in her early twenties. I could tell by the way her tits sat up in the dress with no bra, and sweat underneath them.
Now, I may not have been raised ghetto, but I was certainly raised country. I noticed that she'd called me “this” and the country girl in me was ready to “go cow tipping” on her ass, but I hadn't had a fight in fifteen years and I wasn't about to go to jail for fighting over my mechanic, who, by the way, clearly wasn't trying to correct Ms. Thing and tell her my name—well, maybe that was a good thing.
“This ain't our spot,” Bird said.
“The mother fuck it ain't. You ain't been around me or your kids. And they miss they daddy.”
I guess Rainbow dress saw my eyes narrow, because she announced, “Both of your kids.” (I honestly expected a higher number.)
“Jazz, give it a break.”
“First of all, you get my mother-fucking name right—it's Jaza-maraya. And second of all, I'll give it a break when you give me my mother-fucking child support! Don't make me take your ass to court again.”
Bird actually looked like he was about to start laughing. He turned to Jaza finally and said, “Please stop. You're embarrassing me.”
“I'm embarrassing you? No! You're embarrassing me! Up in here with this . . . this . . . this . . . white girl.”
“Hold up!” The country girl in me would not be exorcised another minute. Now, I admit that I'd gone bourgeoisie, and I wasn't trying to get locked up, but there was no way I was going to just sit there and let her call me a white girl to my face. She'd gone in on me and it was no longer about Bird and his kids and not paying child support.
“Hold up?” Jaza started laughing. “I think we got us a fighter!” She threw her purse down on the floor and went right into a fighting position. I was about to get off my stool, but Bird got up and stood in front of me.
Jaza fell laughing into his seat. “I got her ass! I got her ass good!” she said, laughing.
“What?” I was up and ready to climb over Bird to get at her.
“Whoa!” Bird said, holding me in my seat. “See, Jazz, she's taking you seriously. I told you to stop playing.”
“Playing?” I said.
Ronnie came over, shaking her head at Jazmine, and set our drinks on the counter.
“I'm Jazmine. Bird's baby cousin.” Jazmine reached over Bird's shoulder to shake my hand.
It took me a second and a long look into Bird's eyes before I could believe it and shake her hand. “Your cousin?”

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