Black Buck(16)

If you should ever want to discuss selling your property, especially in today’s climate, where folks want to live in up-and-coming neighborhoods such as your own, please give me a call at 212.781.9258 or email me at r.lawson@?nextchancemanagement?.com.

To be frank, the market won’t stay like this forever. As time goes on, your property taxes will rise, making remaining in the neighborhood more financially difficult than it has been to date. We’re currently in conversations with a few of your neighbors, Mr. Jones, Mrs. Williams, and others, and would be happy to run you through some numbers.

Again, feel free to reach out at your earliest convenience, but we’ll also be in touch should we not hear from you.



Sincerely,

Richard Lawson

Next Chance Management



“Frederick and Maisal are sellin’ their houses?” Mr. Rawlings shouted. “Have they lost their goddamn minds?”

“Ma, you’re not gonna reply to this, are you?”

“Of course not, Dar. But it’s good to know we have options in case it ever comes to it.”

My heart beat faster than when I was with Clyde. I couldn’t imagine Ma selling the house; the house I grew up in; the house Pa repaired from top to bottom with his two hands. “If it ever comes to what?”

“I’m jus’ sayin’, if we ever needed the money, it’s good to know we’d be able to get it.”

I grabbed her hand harder than I wanted to. “Ma, we will never need to sell the house. With my new job, I promise that. Promise me you won’ contact that man. Promise me.”

She patted my hand. “I promise, Dar. There’s nothin’ to worry about. It was jus’ a letter.”



* * *





After dinner, Soraya and I made love, and I never felt like I needed it more. Her curly hair, the curves of her body, the way she touched me, all of it. The day was more eventful than any other I’d had in years, and she seemed to sense this, doing all she could to help me release my tension and stress through loving her.

“I’m goin’ back to school,” she announced. She curled her fingers around mine like ivy.

“School?” I sat up. “You already did four years at Hunter. What do you want more school for?”

“To be a nurse, D. You know I’ve always wanted to be one.”

“Then why’d you get a business degree? Sounds like a waste of money.”

“Because I thought it’d be more practical, so I could help my dad with his shops. And now that that’s goin’ well, it’s time to follow my own dreams.”

I raised her chin and looked into her eyes to see what was going on beneath the surface. “Have you thought about her lately?”

She rested her head on my chest, hugging me tighter. “She would’ve been eighteen last week, D.”

“You were nine, Soraya. You can’t keep beatin’ yourself up over that,” I said.

When they were kids, Soraya’s younger sister died from a horrible disease that ate her organs from the inside out. I remember Soraya being out of school for long stretches at a time back then, and when she was in school, she’d randomly burst into loud sobs that seemed to never end. Her ESL teacher would send her to the nurse, then the nurse would send her home. It was a pattern that went on for what felt like forever. Her mom, unable to process, moved to Harlem and started a new life, leaving Soraya and Mr. Aziz to fend for themselves.

Years later, Soraya told me that the only happy memories she had from that time were hanging out with Jason and me at the playground, playing pranks on Mr. Rawlings, or Ma giving her a hug and a snack.

“I know,” she whispered. “I’m tryin’. But becomin’ a nurse will help, I know it.”

“So what’s the plan? Am I gonna have to make you ramen, force you to take study breaks, and bring you jugs of black crack again for another four years? Because . . .” I paused and she looked up at me, upset. “Because you know I will,” I said, smiling at her.

She laughed and ran her hand over my chest hair, which she claimed felt like grass. “Well, you’d only have to do it for eighteen months this time. I’d go to the accelerated program at NYU. Then I could get a job at Woodhull and still live at home with my dad, so he wouldn’ get lonely.”

I kissed the back of her hand. “Whatever makes you happy makes me happy, habibti. Same team, same dream, you know that.”

She grabbed my raw dick, slowly rubbing it up and down, making me hard again. “You know I can’t resist you when you speak your broken Arabic to me.”

I winked. “Why you think I’m speakin’ it?”

“Jus’ promise me one thing,” she said, flipping herself on top of me, inserting me inside her.

“What?”

I already knew my answer would be yes. It was hard to negotiate with a girl when you were inside her. I mean, Soraya was my one and only, but I imagined it was the same whenever anyone had sex.

“Don’ change when you become a big shot, okay?”

I laughed, scrunching my face up. What’s she talking about? Me? Big shot?

She leaned in closer, no longer smiling, as if one of us were about to disappear.

“Promise me.”

I gripped her ass and filled my lungs with her sweet smell. “I’m not gonna become a big shot, Soraya. You have nothin’ to worry about.”