The Reason Why (4 page)

T
he following Tuesday evening, when Pam strolled out of the Friendship Village nursing home where she worked, her mouth fell open in surprise. Chino was outside waiting for her on a black and purple Kawasaki Ninja motorcycle. She could hear her mother screaming in her ear at that very moment about how unsafe motorcycles were.

“When you said that you were going to pick me up from work, I thought that you meant in a car,” Pam told him.

“What difference does it make?”

“It makes a big difference!” Pam said, pacing. “I was expecting to be driven inside of a nice comfortable, safe vehicle. I wanted to hear the radio.”

“I'll sing to you,” Chino said.

“You sing?”

“No.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

Chino shrugged. “Wait till you hear this engine sing.”

“I'm not going with you anywhere on this thing!” Pam crossed her arms defiantly.

“Why not?”

“Because these things are dangerous!”

“This,” he pointed, “is a bike. Bikes are not dangerous, the rider is,” Chino explained. “If the rider does dumb and dangerous shit, then the bike is dangerous. I'm not going to do dumb shit with you on here.”

Pam exhaled and rolled her eyes upward.

“I promise you, no crazy shit.”

Pam looked at Chino and lifted an eyebrow. “Nothing crazy?”

Chino pressed his hand against his chest. “Would I lie to you?”

“Yes!” Pam said, and then smiled. “Maybe.”

“Never.”

“I don't even know you,” Pam said. “You could be the biggest liar in the universe.”

“Hey, Chino does not lie. Not never.”

“You're referring to yourself in the third person?” Pam smiled again. “I see that you have your ego in check.”

Chino laughed, and nodded toward the bike's rear seat. “C'mon, big head. You're burning daylight.”

“Big head?”

“Yeah. You know you got a melon on top of that poor neck of yours.”

Pam's mouth fell open and she hit Chino playfully. “Forget you! Is this how you treat your dates? You talk about them?”

“Only the ones that I really like.”

“Oh, really? So you really like me?”

Chino nodded. “Yeah, you got a lot of appeal with you, youngster.”

With that, Pam climbed on the back of the Ninja and wrapped her arms around Chino's waist. Chino revved the engine and pulled out of the parking lot of Pam's job.

“So what's with the old folks' home?” Chino asked.

“It's a retirement home,” Pam corrected, emphasizing the word
retirement
.

“It's got old people in there, right?”

Pam nodded. “It's home to seniors who want a more relaxed lifestyle in their golden years.”

“Damn, girl. Why you got to be politically correct all the time?”

“Why you got to be so rude and boorish?”

“Boring?”

“No, not boring. Boorish.”

“You calling me an ogre?”

“No, you're more the caveman type.”

Chino had to laugh. She wasn't impressed with his street status, or his dope money. She was real. And in his life, he didn't meet that many real people, people who weren't out for his money. “So what do you do there?” Chino asked. “You like wash they shitty asses, and change they beds and shit?”

“No!” Pam said, hitting Chino on his shoulder. “That's nasty.”

“So what do you do?”

“I work at the cash register.”

“The cash register? They got bread up in there?”

“Yes, they have a store for the community,” Pam explained. “It's not just one retirement home, it's an entire residential community.”

“Damn, so you a cashier and shit?”

“Yeah. You sound like you got a problem with that.”

“That's a gig for niggas who just got out of the joint.”

“What?”

“You heard me!” Chino switched lanes and accelerated.

Pam clutched his waist tighter and buried her head in his back. “Chino!”

“It's cool! Girl, I ain't going but forty!”

“Still, you gotta let me know when you're going to speed up!”

“You need to ride with me more often. As a matter of fact, I need to teach you how to ride.”

“No, thank you!”

“We going to start your lesson this weekend.”

“I work on the weekends,” Pam told him. “And I definitely ain't riding with you on this thing at night!”

“That's cool. I can teach you during the day.”

“Didn't you hear me? I have to work. Some of us have legitimate jobs.”

“And some of us got bullshit house-nigga jobs, like we fresh out the joint.”

“There's nothing wrong with an honest day's work!” Pam shot back. “Maybe you should try it sometimes.”

“Maybe you should quit.”

“Quit? Yeah, right! And who's going to pay my bills, you? Are you going to take care of all my expenses?”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“Yeah, right!”

Chino pulled the clutch and downshifted. He broke the bike down to first gear and pulled over into a shopping center parking lot.

“Why are we stopping here?” Pam asked.

“Because I can show you better than I can tell you,” Chino said. He pulled out a wad of money and placed it in her hand.

“What's this?” Pam asked. “I told you, you don't owe me anything.”

“That's not because I owe you, that's what I'm giving you so you can quit that bullshit job.”

“Chino, I don't want to quit my job!”

“Yeah you do, ma. Nobody wants to be on their feet all day, working for minimum wage. Why work for them, when you can work for Chino?”

“Doing what? I'm not selling anybody's drugs.”

“Not hustling, girl. You can do other things for me.”

“I'm not a hooker either.”

“Not that either, big head!”

“What?”

“You gonna be Chino's soldier.”

“What?”

“You're going to be General Chino's national security advisor.”

Pam burst into laughter. “Boy, you're crazy!”

“Quit that bullshit job, Pam. Your new man is gonna take care of you.”

“My new man?”

“Yeah.” Chino leaned forward and kissed her softly on her lips. “Hang out with the Chino, baby girl. I promise you, it'll never be boring.”

“Yeah, not boring, but something tells me that it'll be plenty dangerous.”

“Not dangerous. Adventurous.” Chino gave a big Kool-Aid smile.

Pam didn't know why she didn't push away his first kiss, let alone why she had allowed him to kiss her again. Ignoring her gut, Pam wrapped her arms around Chino's neck and kissed him slowly . . . passionately. Maybe it was because she was feeling Chino. Not because of his looks, his fast talk, or his fast money. It was something more than that. Something she couldn't put her finger on. She was definitely down for a little adventure, although her sixth sense warned her that messing with Chino was going to be dangerous. Perhaps even deadly.

C
hino pulled up to Pam's dorm in his black IROC-Z with the T-Tops off and the car's custom stereo system booming. Whodini was singing about friends, and how many of us have them. Pam was waiting on a bench, absorbing the bursts of cool air, sunlight, and breathtaking autumn scents. She heard Chino before she saw him, and stood up to watch his ride roll in.

“Now this is more like it!” Pam shouted.

Chino turned down the volume on the stereo. “What?”

“I said, this is more like it.”

“Girl, you know you like my bike,” Chino said with a smile.

Pam shrugged. “It wasn't as bad as I thought.”

“C'mon,” Chino said, nodding toward the passenger seat.

Pam climbed inside the IROC. “So, what's in store for today?”

“You'll see.” Chino smiled.

Chino ejected the Whodini cassette and popped in Soul-sonic
Force. He always played “Planet Rock” when he wanted to show off his stereo system and impress people.

Pam and Chino pulled up to City Center Mall in downtown Columbus, parked, and headed inside. Chino led her into Dillard's, into the junior misses section. He began pulling Troop warm-up sets from the rack and holding them against Pam's frame.

“What are you doing?”

“Springing for you some fresh gear.”

“I can buy my own clothes.”

Chino walked his eyes up and down Pam's blue jeans, pink polo shirt, and pink Adidas. She quickly became uncomfortable, as she checked out his snow white Le Coq Sportif warm-up set. He was dressed to impress. He wore a matching white Kangol, clear Gazelle glasses, and a pair of all-white Pumas with fat white laces. On his fingers he wore a massive gold four-finger ring, and on his neck hung a fat gold dookie rope.

“I'm gonna make you look like you work for Chino.”

“Oh, really?” Pam asked, lifting an eyebrow. “And what's wrong with what I'm wearing?”

“Nothing, if you want to look like you work in an old folks' home.”

“I do.”

“You did.”

Chino picked out a couple of outfits and then headed to the even more expensive Gucci rack. He pulled off a black and gold and a brown and gold Gucci warm-up set.

“Chino, these things are like three hundred dollars!” Pam said, looking at the price tags.

Chino ignored her. “We need to get you matching Gucci hats and shoes.”

“Chino, I can't accept these!”

“It's a done deal, lil mama. You're my girl now. Ain't no more protesting. It's my right as your man to spoil you and to buy you things.”

“Chino!”

“C'mon.” Chino nodded, leading her to the checkout counter where the handbags were kept.

“May I help you?” an older white woman asked. She looked to be in her mid-fifties. The woman looked at Chino and Pam suspiciously. She knew that all the clothes they were carrying came to well over one thousand dollars.

“Yes, I'd like to see that brown Gucci purse with the gold Gs”—Chino pointed—“and the black Gucci purse with the gold Gs.”

“I'm sorry, I can only let you see them one at a time,” the saleslady told him. “They're three hundred and up.”

“I know the cost. I want to buy them both,” Chino told her.

“Both?” The woman gave a fake smile. She looked at Chino, then back at Pam and continued, “Somebody must be having a birthday.”

Pam shook her head. “No, it's not my birthday.”

“Why it got to be somebody's birthday?” Chino asked.

“I . . . I was just commenting on what a special gift,” the woman stuttered. She turned to Pam. “Are you graduating?”

“Why it got to be a special occasion?” Chino asked.

“Chino, stop.”

“I'm just saying. Black people buy something nice, it's got to be a birthday, a graduation, a Christmas present, a wedding, a funeral, something. Why can't I buy it because I can. Damn!”

“Chino, let's go,” Pam said, pushing him away from the counter.

“No, we ain't going nowhere. I want service. I want her to shut her damn mouth, stop with the racist comments, and just ring up my shit!”

“Chino, no,” Pam said, trying to push him away from the counter.

“She's a worker and can't afford a damn thing in here,” Chino said. “So she just needs to be courteous to the people who can afford this shit.”

Chino pulled out a massive wad of cash and peeled off six one-hundred-dollar bills. He tossed them onto the counter. “I'll take both the purses, like I said before.” He peeled off ten more hundred-dollar bills and threw them on top of the clothes he laid on the counter. “And then you can ring this shit up, too. After you're done with that, you can point me toward a jewelry store in the mall. My girl needs some fat gold earrings, and a fat gold dookie rope to go around her neck.”

Chino leaned over and pulled Pam close. He kissed her on her lips. “And when you get through, you can put all this shit in gift boxes and wrap it up. This is a special occasion. We gonna celebrate being black and rich.”

The cashier's face turned red with anger, mixed with frustration, mixed with envy.

Pam burst into laughter.

Chino peeled off ten more one-hundred-dollar bills and gave them to Pam.

“Chino, what's this for?”

“Because I made you a promise, that if you quit your job, you wouldn't miss it.”

Pam grabbed one of her new Gucci bags from the saleswoman's hands and stuffed her money inside it.

Miss her old job at the nursing home? She didn't think so! Fuck that job!