Keysha's Drama by Earl Sewell

gloves. So every time he hit Ali near his eyes, the irritation prevented Ali from seeing clearly. Once Ali’s trainers realized what was going on, they washed the irritant away and Ali went back out to whip Sonny’s behind.”
    â€œOh,” I said as I walked up closer to the mural. “Who painted it?”
    â€œYour uncle did,” Jordan answered. I looked back at him and noticed that he was just watching my every movement. His sharp eyes made me nervous. He made me feel as if he was mall security or someone watching and waiting for me to steal something.
    â€œDon’t stand behind me like that,” I said, snapping at him.
    â€œStand behind you like what?” he asked.
    â€œLike you’re waiting for me to break or steal something.”
    â€œI’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you feel that way,” he said.
    Next to the Muhammad Ali painting was a cabinet filled with track and field trophies.
    â€œDid you win these?” I asked.
    â€œNo, actually most of them belong to my wife, Barbara. She was an exceptional high school and college track and field athlete. The three on the bottom shelf belong to your brother, Mike.”
    â€œWhere is he?” I asked.
    â€œHe’s out with his mother. They’ll be home in a little while. You’ll see him then.”
    I got tired of looking at the workout room and decided to walk back down the stairs.
    â€œCome around this way,” Jordan said, and I followed him around the side of the garage down a short brick path, which was lined with thick, neatly trimmed bushes. Once we got around the bushes I saw the in-ground swimming pool.
    â€œDo you know how to swim?” he asked.
    â€œNo,” I answered.
    â€œWell, I can teach you how. It’s real easy once you get the hang of it.” I didn’t answer him, I just looked at how pretty the water was. “We’ll have to wait until next summer for swimming lessons though. I’m going to have to drain the pool for the winter next week.”
    We walked back down the short brick path past the garage and to the door at the rear of the house. I stepped inside and held the door open for Jordan. Upon entering he began talking.
    â€œWe’ll start in the basement,” he said and I followed him down a few steps. To the right there was a door, which he opened. It was his office. His computer, desk and photos of various entertainers were hung on the wall. I walked in and looked at one photo of him and TuPac.
    â€œYou knew TuPac?” I asked.
    â€œI wouldn’t say that I knew him but we’ve met before,” answered Jordan.
    â€œSo what is that you do?” I asked.
    â€œI’m the executive vice president for Hot Jamz 104,” he answered.
    â€œThat’s, like, the hottest radio station in the city,” I said, sort of excited about the possibility of getting to meet a famous entertainer.
    â€œYeah, but our last rating has us as the number-three station in the city and I have to change that.”
    â€œOh,” I answered, not fully understanding what he meant. We came out of the office and went toward the rear of the basement. It was a typical basement. Gray concrete floor and walls. There was nothing exciting about looking at the laundry shoot or the washer and dryer.
    â€œOver here, this is what I wanted to show you,” he said as he opened another door, which led to the greenhouse. I stepped inside and saw an array of potted flowers blooming along with another door which led inside.
    â€œIt’s pretty,” I admitted and then turned and exited the room. I could tell that Jordan wanted to explain all of the flowers but I didn’t care about that.
    â€œI planted all of the flowers around the house,” he commented as we walked out of the basement. “Gardening is something I’ve always loved. Have you ever planted a seed and then nurtured it into a flower?”
    â€œNo, and I really