Airport tomorrow? My flight gets in at 7:00 p.m.,” I said, shifting the subject.
“Yeah. It shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll be finished working by the time you arrive. I’m going to be out on Long Island, so lemme give you another number to reach me in case my signal is out. My boy has Nextel, and his service works better out there.”
Troy gave me the number to his friend as backup. I knew he was leaving out details about his encounter with Dallas at that party. She probably tried to fuck him and he wasn’t saying. Time would reveal all.
That night when I got home, I had another message on my phone from Kristie.
“Hello. I’m still watching you,” she said, breathing heavily into the phone.
• • •
When I arrived at LaGuardia Airport, Troy wasn’t there. I tried calling him, but I kept getting his voice mail. It was odd he hadn’t called and said something came up. Then I remembered what he said about his signal. I retrieved the number he’d given me from my handbag and dialed. Some bitch answered and said I had the wrong number. I got a fifty-dollar cab ride to my hotel. The whole evening I wondered what happened to Troy, if he was alright, and who the girl was who answered the number he had given me. I thought Troy was playing me for a fool.
I didn’t sleep that night, worrying about Troy. When I linked up with the broker, the apartments he showed me were not up to my standards. The first one was somewhere off Flatbush Avenue. The block was layered in garbage, urine saturated the air, and drug dealers ruled the streets. When we entered the building, leading to the available unit, homeless people were spread across the steps. I stopped the broker, told him there wasn’t a need to go any further. He indicated they were going to be adding a deadbolt to the main entrance, and the apartment was really nice once you got inside. He was wrong. The apartment was horrendous and extremely overpriced. I saw roaches running around on the bright white paint, smelled dog shit leaking from the neighbor’s apartment and heard gunshots right under the living room window.
“Get me the hell outta here,” I demanded.
The next three apartments were also in the dungeon. I was discouraged and felt like the whole trip was a waste of time. I wasn’t from the ghetto and wasn’t going to live in it for sake of being in New York. I never had roaches, ever. After redefining to the broker what I was looking for, he promised to do a better job next time.
Meanwhile, I left Troy several messages cursing him for leaving me stranded when my flight landed. As I drove home, a million thoughts raced through my head about how Troy had played me. He had done the same shit to Dallas. I should have known better than to trust him. I really thought things were different with us. Troy and I had a unique vibe.
My block was jumping when I turned the corner. Sirens and lights flashed in the distance. An officer stood in the street, motioning for me to turn in another direction. I rolled down my window, and asked, “What’s going on, officer?”
“We can’t let anyone down this street,” he replied.
“I live down there.”
“It doesn’t matter. We can’t have any traffic on this road until it’s been cleared,” he replied.
“What’s happening?” I asked again impatiently.
“There’s been an incident.”
“What type of incident?”
“Step out of the car and give me your identification.”
The officer wasn’t giving me any details. From the redness of his face, he appeared to be nearing a boiling point. My questions had annoyed him, and my failure to quickly supply my license further pushed his buttons. I parked my car and walked briskly in the direction of my house. The closer I got, it appeared my neighbor’s house was surrounded by cops. Gladys, one of my neighbors, saw me approaching and ran to greet me.
“We heard shots. I’m so glad you’re okay,” she said.
“Yes, I’m okay. What happened? Where
“Yeah. It shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll be finished working by the time you arrive. I’m going to be out on Long Island, so lemme give you another number to reach me in case my signal is out. My boy has Nextel, and his service works better out there.”
Troy gave me the number to his friend as backup. I knew he was leaving out details about his encounter with Dallas at that party. She probably tried to fuck him and he wasn’t saying. Time would reveal all.
That night when I got home, I had another message on my phone from Kristie.
“Hello. I’m still watching you,” she said, breathing heavily into the phone.
• • •
When I arrived at LaGuardia Airport, Troy wasn’t there. I tried calling him, but I kept getting his voice mail. It was odd he hadn’t called and said something came up. Then I remembered what he said about his signal. I retrieved the number he’d given me from my handbag and dialed. Some bitch answered and said I had the wrong number. I got a fifty-dollar cab ride to my hotel. The whole evening I wondered what happened to Troy, if he was alright, and who the girl was who answered the number he had given me. I thought Troy was playing me for a fool.
I didn’t sleep that night, worrying about Troy. When I linked up with the broker, the apartments he showed me were not up to my standards. The first one was somewhere off Flatbush Avenue. The block was layered in garbage, urine saturated the air, and drug dealers ruled the streets. When we entered the building, leading to the available unit, homeless people were spread across the steps. I stopped the broker, told him there wasn’t a need to go any further. He indicated they were going to be adding a deadbolt to the main entrance, and the apartment was really nice once you got inside. He was wrong. The apartment was horrendous and extremely overpriced. I saw roaches running around on the bright white paint, smelled dog shit leaking from the neighbor’s apartment and heard gunshots right under the living room window.
“Get me the hell outta here,” I demanded.
The next three apartments were also in the dungeon. I was discouraged and felt like the whole trip was a waste of time. I wasn’t from the ghetto and wasn’t going to live in it for sake of being in New York. I never had roaches, ever. After redefining to the broker what I was looking for, he promised to do a better job next time.
Meanwhile, I left Troy several messages cursing him for leaving me stranded when my flight landed. As I drove home, a million thoughts raced through my head about how Troy had played me. He had done the same shit to Dallas. I should have known better than to trust him. I really thought things were different with us. Troy and I had a unique vibe.
My block was jumping when I turned the corner. Sirens and lights flashed in the distance. An officer stood in the street, motioning for me to turn in another direction. I rolled down my window, and asked, “What’s going on, officer?”
“We can’t let anyone down this street,” he replied.
“I live down there.”
“It doesn’t matter. We can’t have any traffic on this road until it’s been cleared,” he replied.
“What’s happening?” I asked again impatiently.
“There’s been an incident.”
“What type of incident?”
“Step out of the car and give me your identification.”
The officer wasn’t giving me any details. From the redness of his face, he appeared to be nearing a boiling point. My questions had annoyed him, and my failure to quickly supply my license further pushed his buttons. I parked my car and walked briskly in the direction of my house. The closer I got, it appeared my neighbor’s house was surrounded by cops. Gladys, one of my neighbors, saw me approaching and ran to greet me.
“We heard shots. I’m so glad you’re okay,” she said.
“Yes, I’m okay. What happened? Where
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