“You leaving early again this morning?” Angel said as she threw on her housecoat while following Demetrius down the hall.
“Early bird catches the worm. Got to get out there and make my paper before somebody takes it from me.”
“Ain’t nobody taking nothing from you. Not as long as you Don Shepherd’s boy.” She grabbed hold of his arm and tried to pull him towards the kitchen. “Sit down and let me scramble some eggs.”
But Demetrius snatched away. “I got a long day ahead of me.”
“Want you just tell your daddy that you need some time off?”
Demetrius put a hand on the doorknob, but before he opened it, he turned back to her and said, “I’m nobody’s boy, Angel. Everything I’ve gotten, I’ve scuffled and scrapped for.”
“Scratch the attitude so early in the morning.” Angel scowled at him. “It’s not like I said you were Mo’s boy. Don Shepherd is your father, remember?”
“Whatever.” Demetrius snatched open the door. As he walked to his car he loudly mumbled. “I’m my own man. I ain’t never been nobody’s boy.”
“Okay, Grumpy,” Angel shouted at him as she closed the door.
Demetrius wanted to go back in the house and have it out with Angel. She got under his skin and he was tired of it. But he decided to get in his car and put distance between them. He needed distance from DeMarcus too. Because as much as he hated to admit it, he liked it when DeMarcus called him daddy. Liked it that the boy’s name began with a ‘D’. Because he wanted all of his sons’ names to start with a D. “I am losing it,” he told himself as he sped off.
Mo met up with him at the International House of Pancakes. Angel had been right about Demetrius needing to eat, because he was starving. But he wasn’t about to sit in that kitchen while Angel pranced around in her robe acting like the little woman of the house. “You want to start on Williams street today?” Demetrius asked while stuffing a fork full of hot and syrupy pancakes into his mouth.
“Sounds good,” Mo said. “Mr. Johnson told me to come by and pick up his money, so I can do that while we’re over there.”
Sam Johnson was a sixty-seven year old retired teacher. He had been Demetrius’ Little League coach back when he was in school. “Why you collecting on Coach Johnson’s numbers? He normally works with me.”
Mo took a piece of Demetrius’ toast, slathered butter on it and then took a bite. “Not getting money for numbers. Coach Johnson wants to bet on the fight... said he was going to take a bundle out of the bank so he could cash in.”
Pushing the plate away, Demetrius wiped his mouth and then threw the napkin on it. “Don’t matter whether its numbers or the fight, don’t nobody deal with Coach Johnson but me.”
Mo just shrugged. “Cool man; make sure you get over there. Don’t want to miss out on that money because of slacking.”
“I’ll get to him.” Standing up, he put some money on the table and said, “Let’s get at it.”
“Dinner at your place tonight?” Mo asked as they stepped out of the restaurant.
“Angel made some lasagna last night. We still have a big pan of it left, so come on through. I should be home at about seven.” They fist bumped and then parted ways.
Most of Demetrius day was filled with numbers. One customer after the next had dreamed of these three numbers, or those three numbers, and just knew that they were getting ready to get paid. He had coffee with Thelma Green as he collected her numbers. “I got a good feeling about those numbers I picked today,” Thelma told him as he stood to leave.
“What’s so special about these numbers?” Demetrius played along.
“My dead grandmother came to me last night and whispered those numbers in my ear. She used to win big money playing the numbers, so I know she wouldn’t have given them to me if those numbers weren’t right. My hand was even itching this morning.”
“I hope you win big, Thelma,” Demetrius told her.
“Me too. That’s why I cast my bets with you instead of with them white folks. Ain’t no reason to give them one red cent.”
Demetrius was thankful that Thelma was loyal like that. But in truth, times were changing. The lottery was taking over. Half of their customers had already stopped doing business with them. Maybe his father was right about it being time for them to get out of the business.
Just as Demetrius was thinking about their way out of the numbers business, Thelma called out to him. “Hey Demetrius, I almost forgot something.” She ran over to his car and handed him twenty dollars. “Put that on Frazier. I’ve been hearing that he’s got some come back in him.”
“Will do, Thelma. Will do.”
And on and on it went. Demetrius didn’t even feel guilty about taking ten, twenty and hundred dollar bets on Frazier or Ali, even though he doubted that either of them could win against a good fighter at this point.
But when he got to Coach Johnson’s home, things got real for him. Mr. Johnson had gone to the bank and pulled out ten thousand dollars. “I managed to save twenty thousand dollars before me and the misses retired. But that money don’t mean nothing now that her arthritis done kicked in.”
Demetrius shook his head. “I still don’t think you should spend half your retirement money on a gamble that might not pan out. Remember what you used to tell us before each game?”
“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch,” Sam answered him. “But that was different. I didn’t want you kids getting the big head and then going on that field and losing like suckas... My wife can’t deal with this cold weather anymore. It makes her bones ache something terrible. So, we’ve been planning to move down South. And I need more than twenty thousand to do that.”
“But don’t you have family that you could rent a room from down South or something?”
Grinning from ear to ear, Coach Johnson said, “You remember Calvin, don’t you?”
“Your son.” Demetrius nodded. “He graduated high school my freshman year, but I remember him.”
“He lives in South Carolina now. Got himself a wife and a good job down there. And they just made us grandparents. We want to buy a small house somewhere close to them. Katherine’s been dreaming about babysitting and going on outings with our grand-daughter.”
“Why don’t you just stay with them?”
Coach shook his head. “We don’t want to intrude on their lives. Anyway, you know how it goes. If you stay too long, you make the people glad twice... glad to see you come and glad to see you go.”
Demetrius hated that Coach Johnson could possibly throw away half of his savings on a gamble that might back fire on him, but he wasn’t the conscience police. It was his job to take the bets and keep his mouth shut. As he put the money in his pocket, Demetrius asked, “Which fight you betting on?”
I can make the most money on Ali’s fight, right?”
“Yeah, there’s an extra five percent take on that one,” Demetrius answered.
“Then put it all on that one.”
“You putting your money on Ali?” Demetrius knew he was supposed to take the money and run. However, he couldn’t help but question an action like that. Coach Johnson had been a school teacher and a coach. Demetrius had always thought that the man was smarter than most, but this was just dumb.
“You crazy, boy?” Sam laughed at the thought. “A decade ago I would have bet my entire life savings on ol’ Float-Like-A-Butterfly-Sting-Like-A-Bee. But he’s all punched out. Ali don’t have no business getting in that ring, but since he is, I might as well make enough money to get me and the misses on our way... Put me down for that Trevor Berbick.”
Demetrius grinned the whole way home. Coach Johnson wasn’t falling for the okie-doke. He wasn’t listening to the word that had been put on the street about Ali’s conditioning, and about how ‘The Greatest’ boxer of all times would rise up against this nobody challenger. If everything goes right, then Coach Johnson and his wife would be able to retire in style and in a warmer climate.
As he was rounding the corner to his place, his beeper went off twice, like somebody was trying to get hold of him in a hurry. He glanced at the number. Both calls were from Angel. When he pulled into his driveway and saw Vivian’s Ford Explorer, he then figured that Angel was blowing up his beeper because of his dinner guest.
Getting out of the car, Demetrius headed for the door, but Vivian rolled her window down and called him over to her car. “What are you doing out here? Didn’t I tell you to wait for me inside?”
Vivian pointed toward the house. “Tell that to the little woman of the house. She told me that I wasn’t stepping foot inside that house until she talked to you first.”
“Well I’m here now, so let’s go eat.”
Vivian sucked her teeth, but she climbed out of her SUV and shimmied over to Demetrius. As she locked her arm with his, she asked, “Why we eating at your house anyway? Why can’t you take me to a restaurant?”
Vivian had on this floral print dress that hugged her hips and had beads decorating the waistline and the low cut neckline. The three-inch heels she sported only added to the brilliance of the outfit. Another time and another place, Demetrius would have been all over Vivian. He would have proudly made reservations and escorted her to any five-star restaurant her heart desired. But things had changed. And as beautiful as Vivian was, she couldn’t take away the heartache he was dealing with over not being able to touch Angel.
He wasn’t planning on letting Angel know that her distance was troubling him. She didn’t want him... wanted to keep everything about business, then fine. But he wasn’t going to act like a monk in his own home not one more day.
“Girl, them restaurants don’t have nothing on my cook. Angel’s food’ll make you slap your mama’s mama.”
“You telling me that She-Devil’s name is Angel?”
“Come on, Angel’s not so bad. I forgot to tell her that you were coming for dinner. She takes really good care of my house, and probably didn’t want to do anything that might upset me.” Demetrius opened the door and shouted for Angel.
But it was DeMarcus who came waddling out of the room. He fell to the ground before he reached Demetrius and crawled the rest of the way. He then climbed into Demetrius’ arm while yelling, “Daddy!”
“Daddy?” Vivian said as she stepped inside the house and stared at the little boy in Demetrius’ arms. “I thought you didn’t have any kids?”
“I don’t,” He put DeMarcus down just as Angel came into the living room. “DeMarcus is Angel’s son. I’m the only man he’s been around lately so he’s just confused, that’s all.”
Angel scooped DeMarcus up. “Come back to our room, little boy. You have no business out here with these people.”
“He’s not bothering us, Angel. Let him stay.” Demetrius grabbed for DeMarcus, but she moved the boy out of his reach.
“I wouldn’t dream of letting my son interfere with your date.” As Angel said the word ‘date’, she cut her eyes at Vivian, and then headed back towards her room.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Demetrius asked as he followed behind Angel, completely ignoring the fact that his date was waiting for him in the living room.
Angel put DeMarcus down in front of the army men that Demetrius brought home the other night. “Don’t bother us, Demetrius. Go, go entertain your little girlfriend.”
“I didn’t say she was my girlfriend, but if that’s what you thought, why didn’t you let her in the house?”
“How was I supposed to know who she was? Who comes to somebody’s house dressed like that?”
“What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?” Vivian yelled as she headed to the back of the house where Demetrius and Angel were.
“Nothing... if you’re selling it,” Angel said while glaring at Vivian as if the woman had stolen from her.
Vivian lunged for Angel, but Demetrius grabbed her arms and moved her back to the front of the house. “Hold up on that, Vivian. Y’all not about to break up my stuff.”
“You just gon’ let her call me a hooker like that?” Vivian snatched away from him.
“Don’t let her get under your skin. Angel was stripping when I met her, so she has no room to talk.”
“What!” Vivian was gearing up for a fight now. She slid out of her heels and started taking off her earrings. “She sitting up here a stripper and got the nerve to call somebody else out their name.” Vivian tried to get back to Angel’s bedroom, but she couldn’t get around the immovable force in front of her.
“You not getting ready to fight in my house. Let’s just go into the kitchen and get something to eat, and then I’ll take you to a movie or something.”
“Are you crazy?” Vivian shouted. “I wouldn’t eat nothing in this house; and you might want to hire a food taster if you’re going to keep eating her food.”