The Driver

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First Impressions


Like I had told Ivy earlier, after lunch with my son I had went downtown to a suit store. Since I was overthinking every detail, I was having a hard time picking on. I mean it was soo many. So many suits, so many designs, and I thought women had it bad.

“Who knew picking out a freaking suit could be so hard?” I muttered to myself in annoyance, trying to find a double-breasted suit for the job tomorrow.

“It’s actually not hard at all when you’ve had custom made suits all your life.” An arrogant voice said. I glanced up and back down immediately.

Ah, here we go. From “experience” I knew he was exactly what I always tried to avoid. I admit he was attractive, standing quite lofty with his 6′4 frame. I almost graced him with another glance, but he was not worth my time. Ignoring him, I continued my searching.

Not today Satan. Not today. I said in my head. As if he knew exactly what I was thinking, I could feel his heated stare on me. He was about to start some shit.

If his looks could kill, I’m pretty sure I’d be dead by now. He kept staring, like what the hell was his problem?

I continued to ignore him. I refused to give him the satisfaction of intimidating me and making me move from my spot.

“Wrong store for people like you.” He said. There we have it, folks, he was a racist son of a bitch.

I sighed, I knew he was about start some damn mess. I stared up at him finally, noticing that he had beautiful piercing gray eyes that narrowed on me.

“Yeah? You mean people who have to budget? Or people with my skin tone?” I asked, to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah I do, but you know we all can’t be pale ass men born with silver spoons in our mouths.” I said with the sweetest tone I was capable of. I grabbed the suit I wanted, then began to proceed to check out.

“Do you know who I am?”

“Curious George?” I said, not pausing to pay him another moment of my time.

A pale hand grabbed my arm. Of course, another reason why I hate white men, touchy bastards.

“You’re not from around these parts, and it shows. I own this store & everything in this vicinity. I’ll throw you out like the trash you are if you speak to me like that again.”

I looked at his hand on my arm. “Look, if you don’t remove your hand off of me, I will defend myself.” I said. His grip tightened.

This asshole needed a lesson in respect real quick.

“Bruh I said-” I grabbed his hand breaking his wrist. “-remove your damn hand off of me.” He gasped in pain and I smiled at him.

“What were you saying?” I asked, sweeping his feet out from under him.

Now I looked down at him, frozen in disbelief. “Of course, now I remember, I know who you are.” I laughed at him. “You’re the shit on the bottom of my shoe. Here are some very valuable words of advice for you. Nothing gives you the right to put your hands on another person.” I said. “Especially a female. Now remember what I said, you bastard.”

He got up too fast for my liking so I kneed him in the balls. The sound of him groaning in pain and crumpling to the floor brought a huge smirk to my face. “And fucking stay down until I leave.”

“Who are you?” He wheezed in pain.

“I’m flesh and blood, like you, regardless of my skin tone. That was exactly what you deserved, you bastard. Be happy that I have something else to attend to or I’d be putting you in the hospital for more than a fucking broken wrist and sore balls, rich man. If you want, we can blame it on my period.”

“Jesus Fucking Christ!” He swore.

“I doubt he can help you, he may have sent me to you to teach you this lesson.” Obscured between racks of suits far away from the front of the store, the music played drowning out our voices. The whole altercation passed without notice.

“Have fun down there, little pale man.” I left him where he kneeled, cupping his balls.

Those long frustrating years of blood, sweat, and tears for my black belt in karate? Definitely worth it.

Only on this side of town... I dressed pretty decent and I was still getting singled out for my skin color. Profiling because of a little pigmentation in skin wasn’t right. Melanin was beautiful and shouldn’t be a basis for stereotypes, ever.

I sighed, I sure hoped that this drive to Texas is worth it.

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