March 2000

“No.”

“No? What do you mean, no?”

“I mean hell to the nah is what I mean. You can’t just up and leave me here.” Craig crossed his arms and leaned against the dumpster behind Pier 1 Imports, glaring at me as if I’d just left him for another man.

And in a way, I guess I had.

“Craig, you’ve been working here longer than me. You’ll be fine.” I lit a cigarette and took a few steps away from the back door that we’d propped open to keep the smoke from wafting in.

“No, I won’t. Who am I gonna throw pillows at now? Who’s gonna dance to the ‘Thong Song’ with me after we lock up every night? Did you know that you were the only person here who knew that my hair was Sisqo platinum? Everybody else thought I was tryin’ a be a black Eminem or some shit.”

I smiled and shrugged. “Who’s Sisqo?”

Craig pointed directly at my nose. “Woman, I’ma smack that grin right off yo face.”

“You’ll be okay, babe. I still have two weeks left. And after that, I can give you my employee discount at Macy’s. They’re putting me in the street-wear section. All the Phat Farm and FUBU you want, twenty percent off.”

That made Craig’s lips curl up, just a smidge. “They got Sean John?”

“Pssh. Sean John, Ecco, Rocawear—”

Craig held up one hand and adjusted his waistband with another. “Stop it, girl! You’re gettin’ me hard over here.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

We both burst out laughing, but Craig’s smile faded fast. “Macy’s is so far away though,” he whined.

“I know, but it’s right by Hans’s house. Now I’ll be able to see him after work instead of just at school and on the weekends.”

“Damn, girl. You really got it that bad?”

“Yeah, I do,” I said with a wistful smile.

Craig pushed off the dumpster and took a step toward me, motioning toward the cigarette in my hand. I handed it over.

“You sure this don’t have nothin’ to do with a certain skinhead-lookin’ motherfucker who keeps callin’ your phone?” Craig took a long drag from my Camel Light before handing it back.

“Knight? Why would I get a new job because of him? He’s in Iraq.”

“For now. But he’s gon’ be back, and when he get here, where do you think he’s gon’ show up first?”

Craig and I both turned our heads toward the employee parking lot.

There was a time when finding Knight’s rusty white monster truck parked out there when I got off work had been an exciting thing. Then, it’d become a scary thing. Then, it’d become a reason to lock the door and call the cops.

“He doesn’t even call me that much.” I shrugged. “And it’s not like I answer or anything.”

Craig gave me the side-eye and plucked my cigarette out of my hand. “You might think you runnin’ toward somethin’, but I know you, girl. You runnin’ away.”

“Whatever,” I huffed, trying to act unaffected by his statement. “The only thing I’m running away from is this guy I work with who refuses to buy his own damn cigarettes.” I snatched what was left of my Camel Light back with a smirk, took one last drag, and flicked it toward the dumpster.

“Ah, man. Why you gotta be like that, B? I thought you was my suga’ mama.”

Now that was laughable. Thank God Macy’s was going to pay me an extra two fifty an hour. Cigarettes were about all I could afford on minimum wage.

“I’m not your sugar mama, but I will hold the door for you, Your Majesty.”

I opened the heavy back door and smiled as Craig breezed past me, straightening his invisible crown.

I really was going to miss him.

Before letting the door close, I turned my head and glanced at the back corner of the parking lot one more time. I knew it was a mistake as soon as I did it. My heart slammed against my ribs as image after image began flashing behind my eyes. Knight’s truck lurched up on the curb. That one streetlight illuminating his pallid, murderous face. My manager driving off and leaving me there with him. Him screaming at me, dragging me into his truck, hog-tying me with the seat belts. Him telling me he was leaving for the Marines.

Him actually doing it.

“Stop. Stop. Stop!” I snapped my fingers three times, and like Dorothy clicking the heels of her ruby slippers together, I was back, and it was all just a bad dream.

“What?” Craig asked over his shoulder, already halfway across the warehouse. He must have seen the frightened look on my face when he turned around because he immediately began patting himself down. “Shit. Is it a spider? It’s a spider, ain’t it? Don’t just stare at it! Help me out, B!”

Craig spun in circles, trying to look at his own backside, as my cackle echoed through the warehouse.

“Relax. It wasn’t a spider,” I said, sauntering past him toward the break room. “It was a cockroach.”