Editor's Note: this submission contains raceplay, slurs, and racial kink content.
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As Sherry sat on her porch swirling the wine in her glass, she was wondering what to do about her old barn that was leaning. It was a small two-story 20X32' barn, but it held all of her lawn equipment and Christmas decorations. But it was in a bad way, and she had no idea what to do about it.
And then she remembered old Mrs. Powel who lived across the street until she went into the nursing home last year. She had a young man who cut her grass and trimmed her hedges the last three or four years. And she thought she recalled seeing him fix shingles on her roof and repair the bannister on her porch. Damn, if she could just remember that kid's name. Maybe it was time to visit Mrs. Powel and see if she remembers his name.
She finished her wine and went inside, and as she passed the mirror, she stopped. As she looked in the mirror, she thought, "I guess I don't look too bad for a 34-year-old real estate broker. I'm not built too badly and never seem to be lacking for men asking me out." As she continued to look at her thin 5'5" body, she thought, maybe it's because there aren't a lot of unattached childless black women in our community, but whatever the reason, I'm happy about it.
A few days later, Sherry stopped to see Mrs. Powel and took her some home-made cookies. During the visit, Mrs. Powel told her that the young boy's name was Scott Thornton, and he started working for her when he was 16, and had just graduated from high school right before she came to live in the nursing home. She said he was a hard worker, but he hung out with some bad players and, she thought, he also might use drugs. Sherry thought, "As long as he doesn't use them while he's working, I can live with that."
She called his number on the way home and a woman answered. "Yeah?"
"Is this Scott Thornton's house?"
"Nope, he don't live here nomore."
"Do you know how to reach him?"
"Yep."
"Well, can you give me his phone number?" The woman told Sherry that she was his mother and gave her Scott's phone number. When Sherry called, Scott answered right away. "Is this the Scott who used to do work for Mrs. Powel over on Edgeworth Lane?"
"Yep. Who's this?"
"My name is Sherry Johnson and I live across the street from Mrs. Powel's house. I have an old barn that needs repaired and I was wondering if you still did that kind of work."
"You're that n . . . I mean you're that black chick that lives across the street?"
Sherry was fuming and ready to hang up, when he continued, "Yep. I remember that barn. Surprised it's still standing. I ain't seen it for a while, but if I remember, it was built good. I can probably fix it."
Sherry calmed down and they made arrangements for him to stop and look at the barn the next day at 3:00. When 3:00 had come and gone, Sherry tried to call Scott, but didn't get an answer. As she sat in her house getting madder by the minute, she thought, "First, I find out this ass hole is racist and now I find out he isn't punctual." Finally, at 3:45, he rode up on his motorcycle. When he walked up the sidewalk, she met him at the porch. "You're late," she said.
"I don't need this shit," he said and turned to leave.
Sherry stood there dumbfounded for a few seconds before shouting, "Wait!" Scott stopped and tuned as she walked to him. "I'm sorry. I know things come up sometimes. Can you look at my barn?" He nodded once and walked past her towards the back of the house. She quickly turned and followed him.
She thought, "He doesn't look anything like that kid that used to cut Mrs. Powel's grass. She thought he must be about 6'1" or 6'2" tall. His left arm was covered with tats and he had a damn chain hanging out of his back pocket connected to something. His pupils looked a little off so she assumed he was on something. She wasn't really sure she wanted this character around her house."
Before she could say anything, he said, "Looks in pretty bad shape. I think if I can anchor it to that tree so it don't collapse while I'm working on it, I can pull it back in line and fix it." He explained that if he could do that, then it would only cost about one fourth as much as it would to build a new one and probably last just as long.
She was thrilled with the price. She said, "It's a deal. When can you start?" He told her he could start the next week. She said, "No drinking and drugs while you're working."
He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. He turned and said, "Who the fuck you think you are talking to me like that?" She was taken aback and was speechless. "Listen lady, I didn't call you. You called me. I don't need this job. Maybe you should just find someone else to do it."
