There's No Place...
Lavon Crawston looked around himself with interest. This had been his home town, off and on, since his dear departed old Mom had brought him into the world. The city had changed almost as much as himself over that intervening half a century or so. However, just like him it had always retained its identity, its sense of self. The world had branded it 'H-Town' and it had taken on that name, made it its own for all that. He'd been away many times and returned just as often but the old city had always been there, waiting for him and essentially unchanged.
This time it was different. Nothing too surprising about that, nothing to be honest that he hadn't known was coming. The city, or at least this part of the city, was changing and changing fast. Everywhere you saw that name, 'North Capital', selling this district for what it had never been, separating it with brutal efficiency from its past identity.
It was ironic that this was the historic part of the city. Its finest buildings and all the sites marking its heritage, both good and bad. This place had turned back the Redcoats but its port had also been a key hub of the slave trade. All those places, steeped in heroism and blood, misery and evil, they were all now part of 'North Capital'. He didn't grieve for the fact. Change happened. That fantastic old bakery on the corner had been converted into yet another coffee shop. The produce market where his mom had seemed to spend half her life had been swept away so the new inhabitants could park their luxury SUVs. He turned a corner expecting to see an old favorite bar and saw a brand new gym.
Change happened and there was no point grieving for it. So he kept that to a minimum. The grief and his little trace of guilt. Hadn't he made his money by predicting just this. Buying property dirt cheap that now was coining it in for him. It wasn't like he could have prevented it. You might as well go down to the docks and tell the tide not to come in. That was life. You went with the said tide or you drowned.
None the less the realisation did hit him. He didn't feel at home any more walking these streets. Even in the two years since he had lived here full-time they had changed that much. The realtors had worked their magic; 'North Capitol' had become a thing no-one except him even took notice of any more. Prices and rents had gone through the roof and the old community couldn't live here any more. They had been replaced by the conspicuously affluent. There were no signs that said 'No Blacks' but there weren't too many ordinary African-Americans that could afford those new rents.
The distances involved were not great but he had his bags with him and so he had taken a cab. Outside of Police and advertising bill-boards the cabbie and Lavon seemed about the only Black folks in North Capital.
"Been away long?" The cabbie spoke over his shoulder in a Jamaican accent. Which probably explained his short dread-locks.
"It shows that much? I ain't been away long but this place is changing fast."
"Preach it! Not that I'm complaining - plenty of money come into the city. Shame is the assholes that bring it!" The two men shared a cynical laugh at the certain truth of that.
"Not that they all assholes - a few get with the vibe you know, but only a real few. Thing is," the cabbie continued, "go a few streets that way and there ain't nothing changing. May as well have fucking check-points and passport control. Ain't too many of these fucking yuppies going up to the Heights to live anytime soon!"
Lavon laughed again. That figured. The Fillmore Heights and gentrification were two concepts that really couldn't hang together in any world Lavon knew.
"Thank you brother." Lavon tucked a hundred in his hand and passed it to the cabbie after his bags had been unloaded. The driver nodded his approval and then he was gone. No need for a showy tip or a grovelling acceptance - these two men understood each other perfectly.
It wasn't hard to see Lavon's destination. It had what he hadn't seen up to now in the city. Two African-American men out on the porch and shooting the shit in the pleasantly warm morning air.
They both greeted him with broad and genuine smiles. For the first time that made Lavon feel at home. One of the men was DeShawn, the young man he thought of as his informal 'nephew'. The latter's frame had filled out a little as he had matured. Now he was a fine young man. Lavon noted with approval that the old ugly jailhouse tats on his arms had been replaced, or rather subsumed into, full tattooed sleeves of swirling patterns that seemed to shimmer on his dark skin. The young man also seemed to be looking after himself well. He hadn't lost the gym gains that had been the other result of his eighteen months in juvenile.
The other man was another very familiar face. Josh was a plumber who helped out on any maintenance jobs that DeShawn (or previously Lavon) couldn't handle. Given it was the end of the student year he wasn't surprised to see him there.
"How's it going man? Here for the usual?"
Josh laughed. "Yeah - same as always. They jammed the fucking pipes with paper and got the toilet overflowing so I made sure to check all the others too. No problem here but your other two houses got the usual. Regular as fucking clock-work!"
That figured too. DeShawn's house was 100% female. The other two houses were made up of male students. Prosperous trust-fund types who paid their rent on time but seemed totally unable to avoid blocking toilets and breaking fittings. If something broke the girls would tell you and you could fix it. White boys not so much.
"How you been getting on?" He kept his tone neutral but he knew that DeShawn would read him right.
DeShawn gave a slight nod and a slow smile. "It's all good Lavon. Nothing here I couldn't handle. Been a real good year."
Lavon didn't doubt that for one moment. DeShawn had matured into a likeable, handsome and powerfully built young Black man. Lavon had no doubts that his house's tenants had been kept well satisfied. Any repairs or other services required would have been handled almost as well as if Lavon were still here himself.
DeShawn picked up his bags. "Hey - I nearly forgot. We had a girl round here a couple of days ago looking for you. Said she used to live here."
"Name?"
"Didn't leave no name or no number but I told her when you'd be here. Just said she'd be back. Not the first to come looking for you but I gotta tell you that this one was a real fine piece. I mean built to the perfect specs and real sweet with it."
Why did Lavon suspect his 'nephew' had tried hitting on her. "Oh yeah?" He asked with a questioning look.
DeShawn gave that generous young smile of his. "Sadly she was only interested in talking to you. Seems she prefers the classic stylings."
They could both laugh at that. It wasn't like they'd ever be falling out over a white girl. First, experience showed that if you gave white girls what they wanted and needed then there would never be any shortage. Second, friends didn't fight - friends shared.
The BMW Club
It had been a mistake ringing Preston to let him know that she had got the job. Rachel had arrived home to a note reporting that he had gone out to celebrate. One thing was for sure he hadn't bothered to clean up before he had gone out. She had long been asleep by the time he rolled back.
Rachel had just about got the place in order the following morning before Louise called for her. Her husband, as usual, had not exactly been much help. Pretty much as soon as she had begun cleaning Preston had retreated into the other room saying that he had a great idea for his game and he needed to work on it while the idea was fresh. The idea might have been fresh but the excuse wasn't.
Louise had showed up looking her usual self, long raven-dark hair flowing over the shoulders of a black leather jacket left open to display a plunging neckline and a seriously impressive cleavage. She was squeezed into a tight pair of jeans.
She'd smiled when she noted Rachel's look. "Your learning curve starts here honey." She shook her shoulders and set her big breasts jiggling. "No point in having assets if you don't show them off. Besides I like the guys to know that I might not be a teenager any more but I've still got more than most of them can handle." She laughed and turned her Lexus out and onto the freeway.
Rachel was grateful that Louise had arranged to collect her on her first day. She wasn't sure she'd have found the club on her own. The Fillmore Heights were a maze of streets and buildings that Rachel didn't know at all. When they arrived the Club turned out to be a large building, old and with no visible sign that it was a place of entertainment.
Rachel had turned to Louise and given her a quizzical glance.
"Members only and by word of mouth," said Louise and then she had grinned and wiggled her big breasts again. "When you got these you don't need to advertise - the guys will surely be coming..."
Around the Club was a parking lot and some other buildings that all looked to be commercial save one. That had a pair of heavy iron gates in a surrounding wall that backed onto the club. A flag was flying from a staff but Rachel didn't recognise it.
Their first task was to change. She understood that all staff kept their uniforms at the Club. She and Louise both went into the back room to put on their server's outfits. The first thing she noticed was that their tops were different, if only in colour. Hers was white while Louise's top was black.
She asked about it.
"You'll find out about that soon enough but for now it just shows time served. You newbies get white." She smiled, "Our members enjoy the contrast," and ran a finger-nail along the border between her own black top and the pale skin of her arm. "You'll get the idea soon enough."
"Hey - no-one told me my Hot Mama was around!"
Louise's face broke into a wide smile as she embraced and kissed a sturdily-built dark-skinned man. "How's my Black Bull doing - how's that hand of yours?"
