Take Care of Yourself First

He simply wanted to help.
He had only been dating Shelly for a couple of months.
They weren't quite a couple yet, they were still in the amazing sex, oh her body is perfect, laughing at all the other person's jokes phase.
When Shelly first told Devin that she needed help moving his instant reaction was "I'll help you."
Devin didn't consider all of the problems and inconveniences that might arise as a result of his assistance. While his $12 an hour job couldn't afford the services of professional movers, Devin figured that he could grab a friend or two and make it happen. All he wants is to make this magnificent woman smile. In an effort to keep Shelly's dimples on display, Devin asks all of his friends for their help. His main man Terrell and his cousin Teddy are the only ones who come through for him.

Terrell is willing to help because Devin has been unhappy too long and if this woman makes his friend happy that he is willing to do whatever it takes to help. 

Cousin Teddy owes him one, Devin has jumped every time Teddy hinted at a need.
Shelly and her kids had packed up as much stuff as they could but a lot has been left undone. The oversized truck that Devin has paid to upgrade her too should have been able to transport every single item in the house on a single trip. Of course, because the things aren't packed up more trips are needed. Devin planned on following Shelly in his F150. He figured that whatever didn't fit on the huge truck could be loaded onto the back of his small one.  He didn't volunteer the fact that his driving privileges had been suspended for child support and that if he got behind the wheel of the oversized truck he might be in trouble.
They started early for a Sunday.
11:40 a.m. Devin drove Shelly to the rental agency and trailed her in his personal vehicle. He finds it sexy that she handles the box truck like an expert, that and the yoga pants she's wearing to move in are distracting as hell.
When they arrive at the house that she rents Devin is distressed by the lack of work that has been done. Of course, he realizes that he is the only man that could have assisted with the move but she had told him that things would be further along than they are. It takes Devin and his helpers 22 minutes to load all of the boxes and furniture that is prepped and ready to be loaded. Terrell and Teddy wait another hour and twenty minutes as Shelly and her two sons load their lives into boxes.  In the course of that time, the three men have broken down all the beds, tables, shelves, etc and loaded them onto the U-Haul.
Devin asked if there is anything he can do to make the process quicker.
"Can you take this stuff over to the new place? By the time you get back, we'll have everything else packed. "
Devin knows that his answer should be no, that he has absolutely no business driving that truck.
His pride won't let him admit that he can't.
He suggests that they just wait.
His movers agree with Shelly they don't want to sit there and wait for the woman and children to finish packing.
The drive was uneventful.
Furniture comes off the truck and into the new spot without a hitch.
Teddy had trailed the moving truck in his Challenger and once the furniture is off-loaded he gives Terrel a ride home.
Devin calls Shelly. "Hey, are you on your way?"
Shelly's voice is filled with Tension. "I really need your help these boys aren't finished packing their rooms. Please come back?"
He knows better. Knows that he has taken more than enough chances driving through the city.
No is on his tongue but he has gone too far to turn back at this point. Because of his license situation, Devin sticks to the back-roads, roads that he has learned well in the six months since he lost his license.
Devin made the turn perfectly.
It wasn't his fault.
The other driver should have kept his car behind the turn line, the white line at traffic lights and stop signs that most people ignore.
If the other driver had obeyed that simple rule, The U-Haul wouldn't have torn off their front bumper.
If they had obeyed that rule. Devin wouldn't be waiting for the police. Wouldn't know that he is headed to jail and that he should have taken care of himself first.

Small World, Big Stories

“Hey man listen. The world is a small place, bruh. 

 I’ll tell you how I know that the world is a very small place. 

Okay, I had bought this house from the City of New Orleans. It was a Mardi Gras house, meaning that it was a house that was on the parade route, that had been condemned for some reason.
The city of New Orleans did not want any condemned houses on the parade routes it would be an eyesore, not good for tourism. So what the city did was paint those houses in Mardi Gras colors, I don’t know how that made the condemned houses look any better but I wasn't the mayor. 

So the city would sell you those houses really cheaply with the contractual agreement that you would bring the house up to code. Simple right?
Being a bright and industrious young man, I decided to buy a Mardi Gras house. Truth be told I was scared shitless. I didn’t know what I was walking into, I like gators man, you can’t just walk into anything in Gators.”

The Mississippi Red clay-colored man held up 1 finger.
The barber leaned back.
Bending his back at an angle that hurt mine it seemed as if he were exaggerating, making certain his tools weren’t anywhere near the silver-haired, tongued, and bearded gentleman in his chair.
It was clearly a long-standing relationship, and the barber’s reverent demeanor let me know the man was important.
“Anyway.” The stylish older man continued, having stood and leaned backward until a loud series of cracks and pops echoed through the stylish but typically appointed) barbershop memorabilia. Followed by a satisfied sounding grunt/purr/growl. 

He returned to the barber’s chair and rocked to make himself comfortable.
“I basically stole this house from The City! Farley, eight grand. That’s all I paid. Say bruh, eight thousand dollars. I know it's some money but in the grand scheme of things that really anit no money. Besides, I was young and I had plenty money but didn’t have a lick of sense.
I picked out my house. When I tell you I got lucky I got lucky. The house that I bought for $8,000 was condemned because it had faulty electrical wiring. That was the only upgrade the house required. I got this girl I used to kick-it with's, husband to rewire the house.”
His barber stopped trimming the salt and pepper waves, laughed aloud and pointed to him with a comb.

“You hell unk! You Hell.” 

The Gent used the opportunity to move in the chair again his back and/or lower extremities in apparent distress. It was undetectable in his Rich baritone when he continued.
“Yeah me and buddy were cool. He  was a solid dude. All I had to do was supply the Romex, outlets, switches, beer, and the crawfish.
Now back then you could go get shrimp, crabs, and crawfish straight off the boat. I got like 50 or 100 lbs, and a case of beer. I purge the crawfish, ice the beer you know, the important stuff.
Then I went to the hardware store, it wasn’t like it is now Home Depot runs everything, there were Corner hardware stores. 

I went to the hardware store and I grabbed the stuff I needed.

 While I was doing that I had a garbage can full of crawfish in salt water, and another full of beer on ice.
Was kind of in a hurry but I saw how fine the cashier was at the other register so I went and stood in her line.
It was Crystal clear, I was there for her. I wanted it to be.
She was my kind brother.” The finger went up again and the well dressed older man bought a coke from the hustler in the corner. He took a gulp poured an airplane shot into the can.
The barber waited patiently with his wrists crossed.
The can turned towards the ceiling and the story weaver let out an ahh!
“Like I say the world is small.”
I see the reminiscence in his face.
“I started Macking to this girl.
She’s telling me she has this boyfriend, I told her to look here ma I buying this stuff for my house. She asks what I do. I told her and bragged about playing ball overseas. She tells me her boyfriend plays here in the U.S.  real professional, he plays in New York. He’s away for the season.” 

I’m engrossed in the story. Hinging on every word. 

“So she and I spent the entire season together!”

 His smile is quick and lights the room. I wonder if his teeth are fake, if so he spent a grip on them. I break my gaze from his face and I notice everyone in the room is smiling with him.
“Life happens. You get hit with a bat, you knock some people out, date some women, you know just life Shit.”

 It’s the first time I noticed a cuss word.
“One thing leads to another I find myself in New York. Bludfiya! It’s cold. My bad. Whenever I think about New York, I think about Jamaicans,  and Puerto Ricans, actually all the Islands women are found in abundance in New York! The dudes are there too.” He laughs. Begs his barber’s pardon.  Barber puts down the clippers. “Good ahead Mr. G. finish your story.” 

 I’m positive the pair have danced this dance before. He leans forward.
We all do.
“So I had just been at this really thick Jamaican girls house. Soon as she got done screaming ‘Bumbaklot’ she kicked me out. No big deal. I was young and I hit the bar like ‘round two' I know I was nasty. I’m sitting at the corner of the bar cause I don’t care. The corner of every bar is where I don’t care people sit.  Then they tell the bartender how much they don’t care all night long.
The bartender is bad! I wasn’t telling her any of my business but my address. We started chopping it up. She’s extra smart, we like a lot of the same stuff we laugh, a lot. She hears me using one too many yeah's or ‘hum bruh’s' and asks if I’m from New Orleans. I told her I wasn’t but I had lived there for a while.”

 Mr. Gee leans back into his seat.

 We mirror him.

 “Finally she gets around to telling me how her boyfriend is from New Orleans. Her boyfriend plays professional ball. There in New York, but he's home in New Orleans for the season. So she and I spent the season together. “ He pauses. “Yeah man, the world is small.”
He fell silent. Leaned back and let his barber give him a hot towel shave. 

I have been looking for him at the barbershop ever since.

Killer Cafe'

When I was 13 I saw someone brutally murdered.
Across the street from my school was a cafe at least in name. This place not only served some of the best fish sandwiches in a state renowned for its food it also was where you could buy any drug you wanted. 
The day I saw my first man die was like any other day.
I was skipping school. 
I had discovered that if I read the text books I could miss class and still retain the information needed to pass tests. I could forgo all of the stuff I found boring class discussions, lectures, taking notes, and having to sit still.
That way I could watch the adults shoot dice, snort coke, solicit prostitutes and all of the things that I found exciting.
Was sitting at the bar when the ill-fated drug addict came in.  I'd never seen this particular addict before which was in itself quite an accomplishment. His hair was reddish brown and he had freckles, I can't for the life of me recall what he was wearing but I had on a Tommy Bahama shirt. I remember because it was my prize possession at the time the only thing that I owned that was in style. 
Sitting on my stool I watched the entire drama unfold. Saw him approach the Heroin dealer, hand him a roll of quarters and tell him what he wanted.
Watched the drug dealer give him a good once over and heard him say. "Yeah I got zackly wat ya need." 
I focused on my Fish sandwich two huge catfish fillets on regular loaf bread with hot sauce and mayo, I was greedy, I guess I still am, so I also had an order of "Potato logs" 
I recall the red head grabbed one of my potatoes as he waited and waggled his eyebrows at me. 
At just that moment the drug dealer reappeared. One moment I was watching this young white kid who was probably 10 years my senior bounce his eyebrows at me the next his brains and ocular fluid were staining my Tommy Bahama shirt. The sawed off shotgun that the Heroin dealer had used looked huge and was still pointed almost directly at me. The pusher said something to me but I couldn't hear him. I don't know if the shotgun had deafened me temporarily or if I was just in shock. I ran back across the street to my school, ran straight to the class I was supposed to be in to my actual desk and sat down. The next thing I remember is the sheriff asking me if I had seen what happened. 
It was the first time I had cursed in the presence of an adult in a very long time. “I didn’t see shit.” I repeated that to the sheriff more often than a 1980s rap hook.
The brain matter on my shirt belied what I was saying but I was a child and not suspected at all. In fact I wasn’t even told off for not being in class. My Parents never asked me to talk about it, it was the 1980’s and people didn’t worry about mental health as much then as they do now.
I wish that I could honestly say that I learned a valuable lesson that day and that I never skipped school again but I would be lying. In fact I saw someone else murdered in the same place not 6 months later this time a stabbing. I literally saw the older man pull the knife and heard him whistle the entire time he was cutting his victim.  
The experience didn’t keep me from experimenting with selling drugs or keep me from trying them although I never tried Heroin and have no plans on it.
I still hung out at that café until they went out of business long after I was grown.