Another Constant

by Kennedy B.

“Caya.” “What? Fuck that man for all the helpless bitches in the world. We get got err’ time we walk in a fucking tire or mechanic shop.”

“The bag, Harlem.” His eyes jumped from mine to the cream colored paper bag in my lap back to my eyes. He hadn’t started the car or pulled off. Apparently he wanted me to see something, so I reached into the bag and pulled out a red Cartier box. I looked from it to him then back down at the box. I opened it and the bangle I had been eyeing was in the box. My jaw dropped. “Should be another box in there, baby girl.” I reached in and pulled out the other box. From the size I could tell it was the ring. “You bought me this?” I asked in disbelief. Had he actually spent this kind of money on me? “The fuck wouldn’t I?” He screwed his face up, about to say something smart. True Kinga fashion.

“Long but short at the same time. I’m working on a seventy-one Chevy convertible. Shit was smooth but ol’ boy went the cheap way rather than coming to me when he first needed the work done.”

handle my blood. I didn’t need help with that much. I removed the deep red, round cake plates from the oven and set them atop two cool, wet towels. Then I moved to the edge of the counter and continued stirring the melted cream cheese and powdered sugar together for my homemade icing. I made my own icing and shit for things like this because it allowed me to control the sugar content. That was necessary when it came to Aja because I hated to have her ass hopped up on sugar if I gave her a piece of cake before bed.