The doorbell could be heard from the other side of the door louder than he would've expected. Jaquan inched back from the door unsure of what to expect as he heard some sort of commotion behind it followed by some heavy footfalls. Jaquan took a step backward off the stoop leaving one on top of it as he favored his keychain. His sports car was parked two doors over angled for a quick takeoff if needed.
"Who are you?!" The thick door on the other side of the locked screen was snatched open revealing this angry looking woman with an extreme mean mug.
"Oh sorry, I know this is gonna sound crazy but uh, did this guy named Andre turn up at your house?"
"Who's asking?"
"Yeah, uh sorry my name is Jaquan; uhm, and you are?"
"Martha."
She didn't say anything for a few minutes checking him out through the thick screen door.
"Jaquan, huh?" There was a dripping sarcasm in her voice that didn't go unnoticed as he averted his eyes for an instant waiting for the next shoe to drop.
"...and you say that you're here on my stoop looking for some nigga, named Andre? I mean, what makes you think this Andre nigga over here; I mean how do you know to find him, here bruh?"
"Uh, oh yeah; he's got a uh, Nintendo Switch with that find my phone shit on it."
"Find my phone shit, huh; is that right?"
"Yeah, how else would I know where he is, ma'am?" Jaquan worked to keep his tone even and respectful but felt like flipping her the bird due to the antagonistic look on her face. His mind told him she looked like a female version of the Grinch, facially.
"I don't know; just wanted to make sure you were looking for the right person, bruh?"
"Who else would I be looking for?" There was a tinge of irritation in his voice while she sized him up.
"Ahm just saying that you sure the only person you're looking for is Andre, right?" His brow furrowed at the question.
"Yeah." Jaquan shrugged, arms slightly outstretched in a reactionary gesture. Martha opened the inside door a little wider stepping out directly in front of the locked screen door. He could see that she was wearing a Green Bay Packers nightshirt from the abdomen upward due to a solid metal panel which was level with her waist in the opposite direction.
Martha clicked the lock on the screen door cautiously pushing it open still aggressive looking.
"Uhm..." Jaquan managed to catch himself as her full body came into view. Martha's pear shaped zaftig frame skewed towards the bottom heavy with immediate similarities to his current tenant, Rashida Sikes known online plain and simple, as Thunda. The two women could have been relatives, figure wise.
"Hey bruh, you good?"
"Huh?"
"I see you tripping; so, I'm asking if you're good because I don't needs the shits if I let you up in my house. Are you good; or are you dumb?"
"I'm fine Martha; is Andre here?"
"Why don't you come inside and have a seat in the living room if you don't mind waiting a minute or two."
"Uh, did he go somewhere?"
"In or out, bruh?" The look on her face made it seem as if she wanted to flip him the bird, despite the open screen door invitation.
"Guess I'm coming in." Jaquan shrugged off his initial reservations walking inside as she drifted to the side holding the screen door. He couldn't help stealing another glance at her body finding the ridiculous curve of the closest hip before noticing Martha shooting him a death glare.
"Bruh, you dumb?"
"No, sorry." Martha didn't react, simply gesturing towards the narrow corridor next to the living room. She seemed slightly impatient, sliding alongside him pointing into the entrance leading to the cozy interior bordered on one side by an extra-large flat screen television in front of a stuffed mantle place.
"Alright, why don't you set down on that love seat." Jaquan followed her direction sitting down on the closest piece of furniture facing the far wall and another living room where he found himself looking at a rectangular oil painting of two dark skinned black schoolgirls on an old school El train. A narrow table was just beneath it topped with a thin cloth lined with blue and a bowl of fake plastic fruit in a bowl.
"Oh, you gonna sit right there?!" Martha sniped making him do a doubletake.
"You told me to sit down."
"Yeah, over there facing the tv, bruh; don't you wanna watch some fucking tv for a minute while you wait?" Martha gestured towards a secondary couch facing the giant flat screen. A Tyler Perry movie was playing muted with Madea onscreen brawling with a middle-aged white woman in prison.
"Nah, I don't like tv that much."
"You don't fuck with Tyler Perry, bruh?" She looked indignant with a brow raised.
"No."
"Then what do you fuck with?"
"Excuse me?"
"You're excused my nigga; so, what're you drinking?" Her roughness was off-putting, but nothing he wasn't used to with his current housemate. Martha hovered at the entrance to the living room staring at him with a hand on her hip. His eyes drifted again noticing how small her waist appeared.
"Uh, bottled water?"
"You don't like beer?" He barely stifled another doubletake looking towards the minstrel show on the flat screen for a moment.
"I'm a social drinker; I don't even keep alcohol in my house."
"I thought this was social, but I'll get you some bottled up water out of the fridge, bruh." This time she ignored his eyes with her own lingering before she disappeared. Jaquan got a quick glimpse of her shelf-like rump before she faded away into the kitchen. There were definite comparisons between her and Rashida making him feel like he was looking at his friend somewhere up the road, chronologically.
He noticed a stifling humidity in the home that was worsened by its cluttered nature and cramped furniture positioning. To Jaquan, it felty like an old lady's house, similar to one of many he'd visited in his youth with his mother before they settled into a more affluent lifestyle. His mother would sometimes visit the neighbors and give them rudimentary checkups or answer medical questions. The community became a burden ringing her phone incessantly until the house phone number was changed out of necessity. By this time, his mother had a work phone, but a move further distanced them from the past.
"Here you go bruh; now you don't mind if I smoke a little weed in my house, do you?" Martha reappeared with two sealed plastic bottles of half frozen water setting them on the edge of the table facing him. Her other handheld a Ziploc bag of pungent smelling weed and papers along with a bottle of Patron tequila.
"Uh, course not; it's your house ma'am."
"Damn right, nigga."
