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Missteps of Yesterday

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Chapter 2: Pleased to Make Your Acquaintance

ROBYN

Robyn groaned at the blare from a metro horn echoing down the tunnel. Shifting her sunglasses higher on her nose, she took a gulp from her orange water bottle and willed the pain pills she'd taken that morning to make their impact.

She jumped at the red 9:45 that scrolled across the station display. Running two hours behind for work, she'd missed the morning assembly, and the meeting Principal Stewart had thrown together hastily the night before to discuss testing. Robyn’s heart dropped from her chest, through her back, and onto the couch when she read the frantic text from Darius that morning asking where she was.

Robyn answered through a Zinfandel-induced headache that she forgot to schedule time off for a doctor’s appointment and promptly rushed to her bedroom to trip around until she looked decent in a blouse and shirt.

Her morning, fated to worsen, followed through on its promise when she put her car key into the ignition, and the Godforsaken vehicle wouldn't budge. Not a cough or putter of life. After getting it towed ten miles to the highest Yelp-reviewed car shop in town, she suffered through a Lyft ride that ended abruptly after an accident caused traffic halfway to the school.

She'd scampered to the nearest metro station, and, as luck would have it, she had to board the second train after missing the first one due to a faulty metrocard and piece-of-shit turnstile that could only open halfway and wouldn't accommodate her hips.

Robyn plopped into an empty seat. If there was any consolation for running late, she missed the early morning rush where complete strangers could stare you dead in your face because the car was so packed. Only a few riders occupied the seats, so she could check her email from Principal Stewart ordering her to come to her office once she arrived, and no text messages from Kent in the past three days, in peace.

She could bury the hangover with some of her dignity intact if it weren't for her ex-husband pretending she didn't exist. One of the last shreds of her self-respect went down the drain when he didn't respond to her text asking how he was doing. The lonely blue bubble stared back at her for two days. Finally, on the third day, the anniversary of their end, she'd been desperate and considered calling him but would die of embarrassment if that went unanswered, too. So instead, she’d eaten the slight from the man she used to love with her head held high and red wine to her lips.

Suddenly, the metro slowed to a stop.

"What the..." Robyn sat up a bit, and the crack of the P.A. system sounded overhead.

"Attention all riders–there is a problem with one of the tracks up ahead. This will put our trip back about fifteen minutes. Thank you for your patience."

"Of course," Robyn muttered to herself and had to stifle a spiteful chuckle. Because why wouldn't this happen, too? She deserved it, right?

She responded to Principal Stewart's email apologizing for her tardiness. She told her she'd be at the school by ten-thirty, giving herself some extra time just in case the metro had any other inconveniences. While waiting for the train to move on, she googled a link to The Top 10 Things You'll Experience a Year After Divorce and validated herself with each section. Accept the second-to-last one.

Divorce is not a failure.

Robyn snorted. Wasn't it, though? Deciding to stop instead of walking to the finish line during a relay race was not a runner 'doing their best.' It was a withdrawal from potential victory.

Against her will, Robyn's mind drifted to an argument she and Kent had. They'd been in the living room, crying and screaming at one another. The memory of every word said that day played on loop anytime her brain wasn’t on her work or her family. She wished she could curl herself into a ball, or maybe into nothing, just to rid herself of the experience. The look of rage and despair on Kent's face was cemented in her mind and what she most often saw when she pictured him.

The metro started moving again, and her memories didn't cease until the car arrived shakily at her stop. She needed to take a bus for the remaining stretch to the school, but her stomach growled. She'd skipped breakfast, wary of her upset stomach, but she was starving now. Lunch was hours away, and water would only do her so well. The line couldn't be that long, and she was right next to the bus stop–there was no way she could miss it. Even with her luck today, there was no way.

Robyn followed the sweet aroma to where food trucks were parked on the curb. Though she never remembered its name, she could always spot her favorite truck with its red awning and fresh doughnuts in the display window. Robyn stepped in line behind a tall man, eager to bite into a Tiger tail doughnut. An older gentleman with a broom-like mustache at the register smiled when she approached the counter.

"Can I have one Tiger tail, please?" She went for her wallet, looking for a five-dollar bill and change.

"Sorry, ma'am. We're fresh out. That guy just took the last one." He tossed a finger toward the tall man walking down the sidewalk.

Aghast, Robyn squealed, "Fresh out? It's only ten in the morning!"

The cashier shrugged. "We're making a fresh batch right now if you have twenty minutes."

Robyn groaned. "I don't–”

The roar of a bus engine moments away had her tossing her money in his direction. "I'll take a regular glazed!"

Robyn caught the bus right when the driver was about to fold the doors closed. Ignoring his grumblings about being late, she found an empty seat with her uninspired doughnut, eyeing it glumly before her line of vision caught something else.

Her tiger tail.

It was across from her in the hand of the tall customer that'd been in front of her. She must've been staring at it pretty hard because she heard, "Hey, you cool?"

Robyn jumped at the voice and blinked. She glanced up and right into the eyes of the gentleman it belonged to. She hadn't expected him to be handsome, or even notice that he was, and was momentarily at a loss for words. Uninterested in testing the limits of her already shitty day, she decided not to make a fool of herself and rushed to find words to say.

"Uh, sorry. You..." Robyn pointed at the pastry and chuckled despite herself. "You took my tiger tail. That was the last one."

"Your tiger tail?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Was your name on it?"

"It was calling my name, so kinda."

The man snickered. "If we ever bump into each other again, your tiger tail's on me. Cool?"

Robyn shook her head and humored him. "Sure."

She waited for three stops until she saw Brooks School for the Arts a trudge up a hill away. She stood, and so did the gentleman. She'd occupied herself with her doughnut and phone's photo album so she wouldn't have to watch him scarf down the tiger tail, but when she darted her eyes in his direction, she saw he was still holding it, untouched.

Robyn started toward the school, the front grounds quiet as the day was already in full effect. Her father always taught her to be aware of her surroundings, so her eyebrows scrunched when she realized the man was also going in her direction. Was she being followed? The man was big, huge even. At her five-foot-six stature, Robyn didn't think she was short, but she could tell she'd have to break her neck to look him in the eye. She didn't know a lick of self-defense other than the Jet Li fight scenes she and Madison used to copy as children, but maybe she could outrun him.

Robyn drifted to the right to get a better look at him in her periphery. He didn't seem focused on her, his eyebrows scrunched a little as he glanced between the screen and the school. Then, with a confident nod, he strode ahead of her with ease toward the building.

Robyn knew almost everyone at school–all the staff and a good portion of the students by name. She didn't know this man; she couldn't miss those shoulders. She shook her head and quickened her pace. Who was this guy?

"Hey," she called after him. Slowing his gait, he turned to look at her. Catching and matching his stride as best she could, Robyn asked, "You headed into Brooks?"

"Yes. I have an interview with the school this morning," he responded, and his eyes ticked down to her work bag. "Do you work here?"

"I do. I'm on the admin staff," she said, careful not to say the full title or her name. What if he was a maniac and tried to look her up online and stalk her? No, her picture was already on the school's website, so if he wanted to he could.

Robyn tried to shake away the disturbing thoughts as they approached the school's entrance. The doors locked ten minutes after classes started and required a key pass. She thought maybe she could get his name first if he pressed the intercom and told the front office who he was and what he came for, but Robyn had already divulged her employment and thought it would look crazy as hell to wait for a visitor to let her inside. She dug around in her satchel for her school I.D. and buzzed them in. The man reached for the handle and swung it back.

"Ladies' first."

Trying not to feel self-conscious as he followed her inside, she gripped the strap of her work bag and led him past the bright WELCOME! Bulletin board and to the office on the left wing.

"Here you are." Robyn swept her hand towards the door. "The secretaries will get you situated."

"All right, cool. Thank you...?"

She realized he was waiting for her to tell him her name.

"Robyn."

"Robyn," he repeated and held out his hand to shake. Hers was dwarfed in his. "Nice to meet you."

"Can I help you?" Mrs. Patterson, one of the secretaries, called toward the open door.

The man gave Robyn a short wave and entered the office. "Good morning. I have an interview with Darius Walters...."

Remembering she was supposed to meet with Principal Stewart, Robyn left down the hall. Darius? Her friend hadn't mentioned anything about a new position. As she traipsed down the hall, she wondered why her colleague hadn't mentioned it to her and how the tall man had managed to get her name but she didn't get his.

Robyn didn't bother dropping off her belongings but walked through Principal Stewart's open door. The middle-aged woman held up a burgundy-tipped finger, in the midst of a phone call. She pointed to a chair in front of her desk and Robyn took a seat, feigning interest in the calendar hanging behind her head until she ended the call.

"Yes, yes, thank you. I'll get that chart to you by one o’clock. Okay. Bye bye. Robyn, good morning."

Robyn sat up a little straighter, hoping she didn’t look like one of the students cowering inside her office after misbehaving. “Good morning,” she returned.

"You're running almost three hours late today with no notice." Principal Stewart's eyebrows rose above her silver-framed glasses. "You missed the meeting this morning."

Robyn rushed in, "I know, and I'm sorry. I forgot I had a doctor’s appointment and then was having car issues and–,”

"Robyn, this is the third time this has happened in the past month." The stoniness on Principal Stewart's face shifted into what Robyn could only guess was concerned.

"I know, there's been a lot going on lately, but I'm getting things together," she said.

"Are you all right?" Principal Stewart pressed on, and Robyn smiled to appease her.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine. Just...life stuff," she answered. She glanced down at her ring finger and could still distinguish the light brown tan line where her wedding ring used to reside. Kent hadn't asked for it back and basically told her she could do whatever the hell she wanted to do with it. Robyn didn't take it off until six months after their divorce was finalized.

"Okay. Well, of course, we appreciate your work here, but take some time off if you need to. We're all late occasionally, but not consistently. So if I walk past your office and don't see you for hours, that's a problem."

"Understood." Thoroughly embarrassed, Robyn stood up so she could make her exit. "My apologies again."

There went her last shred of dignity for the day.

MADISON

The office was bustling today; not that it never wasn't, but especially today. As a financial advisor, Madison was used to trials of high emotion. However, she utterly despised getting cussed out by irate clients that they couldn't move money how they wanted.

"I can't be connected with them anymore. Have you seen Gen Z? They'll tear me to shreds!"

A politician with an account with their Washington, D.C. bank had been charged with fraud after a journalist revealed he'd been using campaign donations as hush money to hide an alleged assault in London. Madison had been taking calls all day from clients contemplating removing their donations from his latest campaign: Help Feed the Children.

Informing her clients that the only avenues they'd get their money back were through civil lawsuits and, at the very least, mediation, which was unlikely, they'd told her in six different ways where she could stick those suggestions.

As a client rambled on about issues Madison had no direct power to fix, her eyes trailed across her desk and landed on the photograph of her family planted on the corner of her desk.

Embroidered in a silver frame, the moment had been captured by Javina at a cookout the summer before. As they sat on a picnic blanket, Zoey initiated a tickle fight that made for the perfect candid snapshot of them all gathered in David's arms in open-mouthed laughter. JC Penney's stock image photos had nothing on them.

Madison was pulled from her reverie when her client's shouting finally quieted into exasperated grumbles.

"I completely understand your frustration, Mr. Bradley. If I were in your shoes, I would be pissed off, too." Madison's voice was hoarse from the customer service tilt she'd been adding to it all day. She was rubbing her temples when Beatriz Santos, one of the foreign exchange traders, backed her way into Madison's office, a bag of food, cups of iced tea, and a pregnant belly in tow.

"Hey, Maddie." Beatriz was breathing heavily as she kicked the door closed with her foot. When she realized Madison was still on the phone, she mouthed, "Got lunch!"

Madison gestured for her to sit at the table in front of her desk as she continued her conversation with her client.

"Of course, take the time you need. Pearlman Bank wants to make this as easy as we can for you. Have a good one. Ughhh!" Madison groaned loudly and collapsed in her rolling chair after she ended the call.

Beatriz cackled as she unpacked their lunches of ravioli and Caesar salads. "It's always some shit, isn't it?"

"Why can't people act right? I told that bastard that investing his money with that guy was bad news. But do they listen to the Black woman? Nope! They do what they want, get pissy when it goes bad, and expect me to clean up the mess. I don't get paid enough for this."

"Look at the job boooaaard," Beatriz sing-songed. "I keep telling you. There might be something on there you'll enjoy doing more."

"I know, I know." Madison exhaled, moving her fingers to pinch the bridge of her nose. "But when will I find the time?" Right at that second, her office phone rang. She gestured toward it–see? She had a strict no work calls during lunch policy, so she let it ring until it went to voicemail. She would have to call them back with the energy of a full stomach.

Madison eyeballed the food and nearly drooled as she said, "This smells so good. I only ate a banana for breakfast."

Beatriz clicked her tongue. "I can hear your stomach from here. Why do you do this to yourself?" she asked, and Madison graciously thanked her for the tin foil platter of saucy-carby goodness.

She swallowed one bite and waved her fork at Beatriz's midsection. "Why do you do this to yourself? I told you you don't have to grab lunch for me, girl. Walking around this big ass building will put you on a stretcher."

Beatriz laughed and cut into her salad. "I'm only seven months–don't put me out the pasture just yet! Besides, it feels good to get up and walk around." She rolled her neck for emphasis, and her curly hair swayed. "My back starts killing me around eleven."

"Did you get your doctor to look into that? You know that could mean pre-term labor–“

"Don't spiral on me, lady. I'm okay," Beatriz smiled and rubbed Madison's hands to relieve the worry in her eyes. "And I got checked out last Saturday. Everything is going fine. Me and Mateo are both ready for this part to be over, though."

"I heard that," Madison muttered and poked around her ravioli. "I loved being pregnant during the first and second trimesters, but when that third one hits? I'm like, get this baby out."

"I know. We can't wait to meet our little guy, but I don't want to rush anything. It's like you prepare so much, and the big moment finally happens. It's so exciting but a little sad that your life will never be what it was before. Like death and birth all in one."

Madison's eyes widened, and she looked down at her salad. "Well, that's a way to put it."

"I didn't mean to sound morbid! It's just a crazy and amazing thing. Isn't that how you felt with yours?"

"Of course," Madison replied quickly. "I mean, the novelty starts to wear off the more you have, but yeah."

Beatriz's brow furrowed, and said, "Hey, now, that's not the right energy for a third baby!"

Madison stopped chewing and glanced down at her stomach. Did she look pregnant? "I'm not with child," she reminded her clearly confused friend.

"But you want more, right? You gotta keep the spirits up while you're manifesting!"

"Did we have this conversation before?" Madison couldn't recall telling her that going for another baby was underway.

Beatriz shrugged and told her, "Mateo told me David said you guys were gonna start trying for a third soon. Unless you're not." She raised her hands in surrender when the disconcerted look on Madison's face didn't change.

"Well–we're...enough about me." Madison flapped her hand dismissively. "If there needs to be any manifesting, it's that you have a cozy nesting period. You're gonna have to kick your feet up soon, Miss Mamas."

Beatriz held her stomach and wiggled in her seat. "I know, I know. I'm still so bound with energy; I don't know how to sit down! But Mateo and I already have our hospital bag packed and...."

Madison let her go on about her birth plans as her mind silently stewed over what Beatriz just told her. So David was going around and telling people they were trying to get pregnant again? The only person she'd mentioned their situation to was Robyn and their mother; why would David think it was appropriate talking to anyone else about it? They hadn't even decided on anything.

Their ravioli and salad containers were nearly empty when Madison's cell phone started ringing with a FaceTime call. It was Javina.

"I gotta take this, girl. It's my sister."

Beatriz stood and gathered their trash. "Let me get out of here. I had a call I was supposed to make–" she glanced at her watch, "twenty minutes ago, so let me go before boss man notices I'm not back at my desk."

Madison chuckled as Beatriz made her way out the door. "Thanks for lunch, mamacita!" she called after her.

"De nada, niña. Tómalo con calma!"

Madison wished she knew more Spanish as she picked up the call. A depressed-looking Javina appeared on the screen. She was sitting somewhere outside and munching on a tortilla chip, looking absolutely sorry for herself.

Madison teased, "Sweetie, I thought guac and chips were supposed to make people happy?" She hoped to coax a smile from her, but the frown carved into Javina's deep brown face remained. Madison sighed through her nose and inquired, "How's everything? It's been a week–I told you to keep me updated."

"I know. A lot's been going on. And ass. Things have been ass." Javina stood her phone up against something so she could cross her arms on the table. "I wasn't able to make nice with my landlord, so I've been staying at a hotel for the past few days."

Madison groaned, "Oh, Veen, come on now–"

"I know, I know. Optics aren't looking that great, but I'm figuring this out, all right?"

Madison nodded though she knew from experience that that usually meant she didn't know what the hell she was doing.

"He's at least letting me keep my furniture there until I can move it to storage."

She stopped nodding. "If he's letting you do that, why did he kick you out?" He could've let her stay there if that's how lenient he was being. Anyone else would've had their belongings, sacred or not, tossed on the curb.

"Who knows why people do things?" Javina answered in that "too casual" way, a tone Madison picked up on when they were teens that meant she was lying or omitting information.

Madison didn't want to upset her further by sweating her too much about Florida, so she switched gears a bit. "You know...you can always move back in with Mom and Dad–,”

"Maddie, nooo," Javina wailed.

"You know they'll take you back. They didn't want you to leave in the first place."

"I can't be grown under their roof. And I'm grown." Javina gave her a pointed look, and Madison wanted to avoid a five-minute lecture on how being twenty-seven years old meant that she was entering her Saturn Return, and mistakes were to be expected even as an adult, so she just agreed.

"Yeah, you are, which means sometimes you have to do things you don't want to do." She braced herself. "Have you talked to Robyn?"

"Madison. I'm not moving in with her."

"It wouldn’t be permanent. She still has an extra room and–,”

"I'm not moving in with her."

Madison’s brows drew together in frustration. Sometimes it was easier reining in the kids. Madison reminded through an exasperated exhale, “Well, you have to do something. You can't afford to live on your own anymore. All your friends are up this way...you have no support in Florida."

The evening Javina had decided her life no longer served her best in Maryland and would be heading South, Retta had called Madison, frantic, and begged her to get her younger cousin to reconsider. Overhearing the phone call, a raging Javina shouted, "If I could afford to move further, I would!"

Madison knew there was no changing her mind once it was made up. No amount of conversations about finances could persuade Javina that moving that far away by herself wasn't the right decision.

"I can get some support," Javina reasoned, bringing Madison back to the present and the all-too familiar feeling of disbelief in Javina’s plan. She wasn’t even sure Javina believed it herself. She listened on, though, as she continued, "But I can't move in with Robyn. I'd rather move in with you and David and have the kids draw on my face with markers to wake me up in the morning than do that."

"Come on, Robyn is not that bad,” Madison said, even though most of her defending their eldest sibling was because Madison did not want Javina in her home. Not only was it full with David and the children, her sister wasn't her favorite houseguest. She could be lazy, but that came with being the baby in the family. Javina only had one chore growing up—getting and sorting the mail. Their mom would still find a couple of envelopes in the wrong pile.

Javina continued griping, "She has a type-A personality with no room in her big head for anyone else."

Madison nearly chuckled at how much of the preteen version still resided in her sister. She used to hate it when Robyn was in charge, and clearly, that hadn't changed.

"I mean, it is her house, Veen."

"Which is exactly why I don't want to move there."

Madison sighed and said, "Listen, I know you're being stubborn right now, but you need to hunker down and make some decisions—fast. I know things aren't going how you wanted, but that's life."

"I'll figure it out. Thanks, sis." Javina gave her a half-hearted smile before hanging up.

Madison breathed out through pursed lips. Along with the bone she had to pick with her husband, she was worried Javina would be out on the street if she didn't figure something out soon, and even more concerned that the answer to her problem would be her and David's townhouse.

JAVINA

The drive up I-95 was dark and quiet at this time of night. Melancholic almost, which was fine by Javina-that was exactly how she felt. She noticed a pothole too late and jostled around in the front seat of the U-haul she was driving. She caught her monstera plant before it could slam into the dashboard and almost swerved into the right lane. She groaned and slapped both hands back on the wheel. Whoever said no one should be driving trucks without a CDL was right.

But she had no choice. The words on the eviction notice were embedded in her brain like a traumatic memory:

You are advised that your lease is terminated effective immediately. You shall have 7 days from the delivery of this letter to vacate the premises. This action is taken because you failed to pay rent.

She clenched her fingers around the steering wheel and asked herself for the umpteenth time in the past five days how she could be so stupid? She should've never made a deal with Sean. Landlords were greedy by nature, and she should've never trusted he would have her best interest at heart.

Moving to Orlando had never been the original plan. She thought she could find a nice spot in Virginia to continue building her brand as an influencer. But one of her friends and fellow influencer, Genevieve, put her onto the Florida scene. She messaged her on Instagram after Javina posted a story asking why people consciously choose to move to Florida.

Girl imagine the content u could create down here? Being so close to the beach, u wouldn't even have to leave the state to look like ur traveling. Miami is HOT. I could get u into some CLUB clubs girl. The ones A-listers go to

But isn't it pro-red neck down there? I'm not fighting any sunburnt bitches who tell me to go back to my country

Lol girl its not that bad and besides u don't have to live here forever. Just think about it

And then the fight with her parents happened. At twenty-seven, she didn't think coming into the house at four a.m. was a problem, but Retta was still up in her robe and bonnet, asking where she was.

Javina scoffed. "I was out with my friends. Why aren't you in bed?"

The ensuing argument awakened her father, Marcus, who ultimately sided with Retta. Javina remembered how abandoned she felt at that moment, a feeling she'd vowed at six-years-old she would never give anyone the power to do, and took that as a sign to move to the sunshine state.

She narrowed her list to five spots after research that consisted of one hundred website tabs and twice as many phone calls. Finally, Javina flew down and previewed three Miami locations with Genevieve's assistance and then drove to Orlando.

By the fourth spot, Javina was ready to cry. She couldn't go back to D.C. empty-handed; she'd been too determined to get the hell out of dodge that she'd look ridiculous with her lip poked out and staying another unplanned month under her parent's roof.

Genevieve's patience had worn thin by five o'clock, and Javina couldn't blame her. She was a saint for even helping.

"Come on, girl. I told you I have somewhere to be at seven. Let's check out this last spot. You never know."

Javina almost made her bet twenty bucks that the last spot, a red-bricked building near the city, would be the fifth place to have chipped paint, foul-smelling hallways, or shitty lawns, but she'd be eating her words. Instead, Genevieve pulled into a parking lot with freshly-trimmed shrubbery, and Javina was enthused by the lemon-scented entrance. A man with the name 'SEAN' printed on his name tag introduced himself as the leasing agent.

A thirty-something-year-old with honey-dipped locs, Sean showed her around a decently-sized one-bedroom apartment with bay windows in the kitchen and a new carpet. Javina was immediately convinced this was her new spot. She squeezed Genevieve's hand excitedly, and her friend told her she'd meet her in the car.

"I need to go make a call. Told you you'd find it!" Before leaving the leasing office, she winked at Sean, and Javina didn't blame her. He was attractive and looked like he worked out, but that wasn't exactly an anomaly in Florida or anywhere, really. She noticed he'd been checking her out while they canvassed the room, so it wasn't shocking that he asked her out on a date while she read over her contract.

But Javina wasn't interested. Her sixth-month relationship with Asaad had just ended thirty-six days before, and she didn't think she could sit through a dinner telling Sean her favorite color was green, and the last concert she went to was to see Kelela with her ex. In place of regular payment, one of his clients offered him two tickets to her show, and they had the time of their lives high as hell amid a tequila-filled crowd and strobe lights.

Javina declined Sean's offer, but he was persistent. "I can get you a deal on the rent.”

“What kind of deal?”

“I can knock down the monthly rate by three hundred.”

“What’s the catch?”

“There is no catch. People negotiate their rents all the time. You look like a smart woman–do what all these other folks out here are doing. You deserve a peace of mind, too, right?”

Javina hadn’t been persuaded, no matter how much he was getting his arms to flex as he folded them across his chest. She mirrored his stance with a raised eyebrow. “So you just lessen rent out of the kindness of your heart?”

He held his hands out in surrender. “I’m just helping a sista get on her feet, that’s all. You look like you work hard; this’ll make things easier for you. First three months and that’s it.”

Javina told him she’d think about it and returned to the car to ask an exhausted and bored Genevieve what she thought about the arrangement.

“Girl, take. The. Deal. A couple of dates here and there won’t hurt.”

“He didn’t ask me out,” Javina said and Genevieve’s hazel eyes popped open.

“Even better! Look, you’re not gonna find anything within your price range for the taste you got. The closest we’ve seen all day had dirty water in the tub. If this’ll help you save, why not see? It’s only three months.”

Javina chewed her bottom lip in consideration for the next two days, only stopping when her shea butter chapstick ran out and Genevieve was practically begging her to sign the papers so she could return to her bachelorette lifestyle.

Moving to Florida would dig deep into her savings, and she knew she would only have enough for a year's lease if she was immediately hired doing a couple part-time jobs. But with three months free of rent, she could spend more time developing a new marketing plan for BitesNFlights. She wanted to reach one hundred thousand followers by the top of the new year, and she was only halfway there. The extra money could be spent on weekend trips across the state...

Javina signed a lease with a move-in date one month forward and began crafting her new life. Despite the culture shock of being on Cocoa beach instead of a few miles from the Washington Monument, things went along swimmingly. She loved being in a new environment. Her stress acne was even fading.

She spent the first three months doing exactly what she'd promised herself (and her family, who hounded her about preparation). After that, she reached out to some marketing friends for advice and, in between, frequented some incredible Cuban spots, and planned a trip to South Beach on a three-day excursion for the best breakfast restaurants.

Despite Sean insisting the rent decrease was all business, it didn’t stop him from approaching her one evening at the mail room and inviting her out to coffee the following day. Javina didn’t really want to, but if living with her birth mother like Tracee for the first eight years of her life taught her anything, it was that favors came with a cost and it was never in your best interest to skate on thin ice. She agreed to the coffee date, but muted her usual attire and didn’t fuss with too much make-up. She wanted anyone passing by to think they were friends or co-workers, not two people in a blossoming relationship.

Sean liked ordinary things like sports and beer, but nothing Javina considered fascinating. So on their third outing, she politely declined his proposal of another, going the we should just be friends route.

"It's cool; I don't mind taking things slow,” he’d responded, and Javina restrained herself from looking disgusted by the audaciousness.

"I kinda feel like you're not hearing me?"

"I am. Things are going kinda fast. You're new here. You want to explore. I get it."

Javina wasn't the type of person who had to date someone for half a year to know if she liked them. She knew after the first date that it was obligatory and she shouldn't have agreed to anymore. She kinda felt bad for the guy, all pressed about her. But she wasn't an asshole.

"I don't want to be anything but friends with you."

Well, not that much of one. As soon as she said it, Javina realized it could come off a little better. She tried to soften the blow, "I mean, that’s cool right?”

Leaving only when she was sure he understood, accepting his flushed, “Yeah, yeah. That’s cool,” their passing each other by in the hallway or out in the parking lot were inconsequential from then on. A hi, bye, and how are you doing? sufficed until the sixth month, and then he began acting strange.

Javina would get random texts from him asking to hang out, then apologize and say the text was meant for someone else. That would've been fine if he hadn't done it twice over the course of the fall and winter. She'd contemplated blocking his number but didn't want to sever their cordial relationship. Fucking things up with a landlord was never wise, especially ones that did favors.

Javina gritted her teeth and bore it, but when she got an email from the leasing office that there would be a new parking fee, she was forced to talk to him.

"Where are these charges coming from? It wasn't on the contract I signed."

"If you read the contract, it stated that the parking policy was subject to change."

"But it was free when I signed it."

"And subject to change."

The curtness in his behavior didn't end there. He no longer said hello when they crossed paths, which was fine, but shit hit the fan when she was short on rent.

"I promise I can get it back to you. Just give me one more month, please," Javina begged, and he offered an extension. Unfortunately, she also needed one for the next month, but that wasn't her fault. The payment she expected from an advertisement didn't come through in time, and she was already going through her credit cards like she had the money to replace it. She hoped her father hadn't seen them and told Retta.

"Sean, please," Javina begged, "just let me slide one more month. I can cook dinner for you if you like?" Despite her only being able to cook half-worth a damn, she could whip up spaghetti or grilled cheese sandwiches. Bartering had to count for something, right? Wasn’t that what having community was about?

"Sorry,” he grumbled, “My lady does that for me.”

"Well, will you at least think about it?” Javina had insisted, leaning onto his desk in desperation. She didn’t have the time, energy, or desire for jealousy. “The new policies cut into the money I was gonna use for rent, and so–,”

"I'll see what I can do," was the last thing he told her before her trip to Greece. She ignored any incoming texts from people that weren't her family and closest friends during the time, so when she scrolled through all the old membership and toadyish Fashion Nova texts to land on his near the bottom, she was frozen in place as she scanned the message stating she was being evicted from the premises.

Her calls went to voicemail, he wasn't at the leasing office, and her fist was rubbed raw after she banged on his door for ten minutes.

"So now you can't talk?!" she'd yelled into her phone and through the wood in tandem, on the verge of tears and a heart attack. She slid down Sean's door and willed herself to breathe. She'd never gotten an eviction notice before. What was she supposed to do?

Javina wouldn’t call her parents, that much was obvious. She briefly considered Madison, but she’d already given her some money the month before. Talking to Robyn would be like talking to their mother, so that was out, too. She asked Genevieve if she could spot her three hundred dollars, but her friend, who begged her to come out to Florida, didn't respond to any of her texts, D.M.s, or calls until just after Javina conceded to her situation.

Genevieve

Hey girl I don't have that right now. Maybe next month

Javina

You coulda told me that days ago but cool

Genevieve

My bad a lots been going on

Javina didn't have anything else to say to her. And now, she was driving with her mattress, bookshelf, and bright orange couch in the trailer of a U-haul on a Thursday night. Even though Sean offered the "courtesy" of keeping her furniture in the apartment until she could put it in storage, she could throw up at the thought of facing him again. It made more sense, she thought, to get it all over with sooner rather than later.

Her stomach growled. The burger she tearily scarfed down hours before did little to replace the rumbling that came back full force. She rummaged through the bag, opaque with oil, and pulled out a few cold and greasy fries. Stuffing them into her mouth, she glanced at the time on the truck’s head unit–it was almost ten forty-five. She was only two hours away from her destination.

Javina breathed in through her nose until her lungs couldn't expand further and sharply exhaled. She couldn't believe she was doing this, but he'd also told her he had her if she ever needed anything.

Checking that the cruise control was still going a comfortable sixty-five miles per hour, she swiped through the navigation on her phone and FaceTimed Asaad.

He answered after a couple rings and looked surprised to see her.

"Hey."

Javina glimpsed at the screen and immediately knew he was at his tattoo parlor booth. A Jimi Hendrix poster and green neon light from a snake-shaped LED fixture framed his face and bare arms. She could hear the whir of a needle going.

"You're still at work? It's late."

"I just finished up my last client. Cleaning up my station, and then I'm headed out." He paused and squinted at her. "Are you in a truck? Where are you?"

"I'm..." Javina sighed. "I'm on my way back to D.C. I'm leaving Orlando."

"Damn...why? What happened?"

Javina stifled a chuckle. Asaad had always had a habit of asking two questions in a row. Plus, she didn't think there was anything to laugh at, much less anything she deserved to find joy in the moment. He waited for her to speak.

"Asaad...I have a huge favor to ask you."

#missteps of yesterday #Daneia Russell #teyonah parris #marque richardson #aaron pierre #bria henderson #brandon p bell #winston duke #geffri maya #trevor jackson #damson idris