Page 12

Skulls and Strictly Business

P oet was standing by her big light gray door, wearing a pair of different colored socks.

Kage normally wouldn’t have noticed such a thing—he’d seen all sorts of customers, some of whom were rather peculiar, but seeing as he’d been biting at the chance to see her again, he scanned her from head to toe.

His eyes froze on the yellow sock with pink polka dots, then went to the other sock: red with green stripes.

“It was funny sock day at work,” she explained as she crossed her arms, following his line of sight.

“More importantly though, what in the world are you doing here?” She seemed to be on the edge of laughter, and at the corner of annoyance.

Perhaps there was also a little kiddie pool of surprise smack dab in the middle. Splish, splash.

“To take measurements and give you an estimate.” He shook his toolbox to make his point, then swept his hair away from his eye as he approached her. She looked down at the porch floorboards when he cast a shadow all around her, swallowing her up.

“But I said I would call you.”

“And I told you not to come back on my land after I chased you off my property, but you did anyway. With a dead rabbit. If you can’t follow orders, well, I figure I can’t either.

” He shrugged. “I’m here now. It’s hot as hell out here, too.

It’s hotter’n a goat’s booty in a pepper patch.

” He looked up at the sun and swiped his brow. “Can I have somethin’ cool to drink?”

“How ’bout I get a cup of water from the outhouse for you?” She smirked, then rocked back on her heels. Real smug like.

“Yeah! Throw a cat at her!” came some strange voice from within the house. A woman’s voice, deep-rooted, tinged with age, and an accent that curled around the vowels. It was a bit Southern, and a bit foreign. He couldn’t quite place it.

“Aunt Huni, it’s not Melba!” Poet hollered back, briefly glancing over her shoulder.

“Who is it then?”

“…A troll that lives under a bridge.” She cackled.

“Can I get that drink? I figure you can talk shit about me just as easily under that roof as out here.”

“It’s not hot out here. You just wanna be nosy and see the inside of my house.”

“It is hot. I’ve been out all damn day. You know, some of us have to work for a livin’, versus playin’ with animal dolls all day,” he teased.

“…but I am a little curious about your habitat, I admit. I figured an animal stuffer like you might live in a doll house with little balls of cotton, swatches of cloth, and spools of thread stickin’ out of your pockets.

” He chuckled. “But I see it’s just a big ol’ spacious farmhouse.

I like it.” He looked at the big structure behind her.

It was old, but well built. It had a special something about it.

“This is a nice piece of property. Would make a profitable Airbnb. You did good.”

“I’m glad it receives your endorsement. Come on in from your trashcan, Oscar.

” She opened the screen door wide, and when they entered the house, let it slam shut behind them.

He followed a few feet inside the front room.

As soon as he was standing in front of the television, the strong scent of cleaning products, onions and cheese hit his nose.

He found himself facing an old Asian woman sitting on the couch to his right.

Her lips were drawn tight, and her brows bunched. Their gazes locked.

“That’s not Melba,” the woman mumbled as she nibbled on a greasy sandwich.

“I know. I told you that.”

“Matangkad.”

“Yes, he’s tall. Aunt Huni, this here is Mr. Wilde. Prefers to be called by his first name of Kage.”

“Aunt? But you’re Black, right?”

Both women looked at him as if he were the stupidest piece of shit to be shot out of a hound dog’s ass.

“Well, hell, I ain’t no genealogist, but I know an Asian woman when I see one. Are you Chinese?”

The old woman gasped and clutched her necklace. Then, she fell out laughing, kicking her feet and all. Poet wasn’t too far behind.

“Are you an Eskimo?” The old lady giggled.

“No, I’m not Chinese, dummy! I don’t look Chinese, either.

” She rolled her eyes. “You must have cataracts. I don’t sound Chinese, do I?

” Yeah, actually you do a little. But he kept his opinion about such things to himself.

“Silly man.” She tsked, then took another bite of her sandwich. It looked disgusting. Choke.

“That’s like me askin’, ‘Are you German or Italian?’” Poet chimed in.

“Like the French, English, Scottish, and so on and so forth don’t exist. Why is it when some White people see an Asian person, they only think of Chinese or Japanese?

Like there’s nobody else on God’s green Earth except those two Asian nationalities? ”

Kage shrugged. “I don’t know. Ignorance, I guess.”

“Well, I’m glad you said it so I don’t have to.” Poet snickered, shaking her head. “Aunt Huni is Filipino. She and her husband adopted me. She and my mama were best friends.”

“Oh, I see.” He could have sworn the old woman winked at him just then. “I apologize, ma’am, if I offended you.” He wasn’t the least bit sorry, but he supposed it was the right thing to do.

“Only a little bit. You’ve got pretty eyes and a nice smile, so,” she shrugged, “I’ll forgive you. Do you give foot massages?” The woman pulled her foot out of her brown sneaker and wiggled her stubby toes.

“Come on into the kitchen.” Poet yanked his arm before he could answer the bizarre question.

“I’ll give you something to drink.” He followed her past the old woman, who kept her beady, dark eyes on him.

He looked back. That was a mistake. The lady’s eyes suddenly stretched wide amongst the thin dark cream creases and folds of her face, and she jetted out her long pink tongue, thrusting it in and out like a snake.

Then she began moving her hips, swiveling them about in a disturbing fashion.

Oh no, this bird is flirtin’ with me… He winced, dancing between disgust and amusement.

Once in the kitchen, he leaned against the wall as Poet maneuvered about.

Old yellow and green wallpaper covered the walls.

Illustrations of flowers and tea kettles.

The window in the kitchen allowed good light, and he dug these retro digs.

The appliances were new, but old fashioned in design.

He watched how her body swayed as she reached up high for a glass in the cabinet.

She had on black leggings, but they weren’t thick or opaque enough to hide her sweet imperfections and unmentionables.

He could see that her underwear was red, and lacy.

She’s got a real nice shape. A real nice ass, too.

She poured what appeared to be tea into the glass, then handed it to him.

“Thank you very much.” He accepted the offering and gulped it down, their eyes glued onto one another’s.

“How’d you know I was home?” She put her hand on her hip. “I’m not usually here this early.”

“I called your job. They said you’d already left.”

“Why’d you call my job if you were planning on comin’ by anyway?”

“Because it’s the only number I could find for you. I was gonna ask you if it was okay if I swung by when you got home, but chanced coming here since they said you’d left.”

She looked at him suspiciously, then nodded, as if satisfied.

“Now listen here, I’ve got something to tell you,” she whispered as she leaned in close to him.

He looked down at her, loving the small mole shaped like a tiny star right below her left eye.

Poet looked like a damn doll. Skin smooth and pure perfection.

Her thick black curls bounced each time she made the slightest move.

She had long lashes to match, and the whites of her eyes reminded him of fresh bright snow.

Her full pink lips were shaped like tulips, and her nose was tiny and upturned.

He found himself licking his lips as he stared at her. His face grew hot when he imagined pushing her against the sink, then sinking deep inside of her…

“My Aunt Huni says wacky things sometimes. She ain’t always right in the head.

I’m whispering because she has acute hearing.

Like a bat! She could hear a worm fucking itself from one hundred feet away, so watch out.

She has these spells, you see. Says inappropriate things.

Sometimes she’s overly flirtatious with menfolk, too. Especially if the guy is attractive.”

“Well, I should be safe then,” he teased.

She grimaced.

“Kage, you know what the hell you look like, and how people perceive you. Cut the shit. You draw. Artists are always aware of appearances.”

“But I’m no artist. I’m a hunter and a builder.”

“And I’m Beyoncé and a unicorn. Don’t toy with me.

Fishin’ for compliments… You’re easy on the eye, and you know it.

Nothin’ wrong with knowing that you catch ladies’ attention.

Anyhow, I want us to walk out here into the yard, but don’t make direct eye contact with her as you pass by or she’s gonna say something to blow your hair back.

She could give Pornhub a run for their money.

She wasn’t always this way. It’s the medicine.

Made her lose her inhibitions. Dirty minded woman. ” She sucked her teeth.

“Let’s go.” He emptied the last drop of tea into his mouth, then walked around her to place the glass in the sink. “Thank you.” He smacked his lips, savoring the last sip.

“I got somethin’ you can drink, tall boy!”

“See? Stay close!” she whispered as though they were on some secret expedition. “Time to show you where I want the greenhouse.”

They walked out of the kitchen, one behind the other. Once he reached the door, he walked out behind Poet, who then closed the front door behind him. He couldn’t help but notice the look of relief on her face.

“We almost made it without an issue,” he sighed, bending to pick up his toolbox he’d left on the top step.