LITMIR.BIZ

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turn up the thermostat?

      He watched Ebony walk over to the fridge and pour herself a glass of juice. When she raised the glass to her lips, he wondered what it would be like to kiss her. Sucking her bottom lip. Licking the—Xavier gave his head a good shake. Clearing his throat, he dragged his eyes away from her face. You’re in church for God’s sake! Stop lusting after that woman! She’s bad news. But soon, his eyes were back on her. Ebony gave new credence to what made a woman sexy. She definitely had a penchant for fine clothes, but it wasn’t her outfit or makeup or diamond rings that made her desirable. It was the way she carried herself. Her lithe movements and sensual grace. She walked like the ground was her runway. Shoulders squared. Chin up. Arms hung loosely at her side. Elegance was integrated in every move. And every step she took was flawless. It was these formidable characteristics that left Xavier wondering why she was here. Volunteers didn’t look or act or sound like her.

      “Don’t take offense to what I’m about to say, but you’re the last person I would’ve expected to volunteer,” he said, voicing his thoughts.

      “Oh, really? Why’s that?”

      “Well, with your twelve-hour days and all, I didn’t think someone in such high demand would have the time.”

      Now I have to stay. Ebony stepped toward him, took off her cream-colored trench coat, and flung it over a chair. Xavier had pegged her all wrong, and there was nothing she enjoyed more than proving people wrong. How hard could it be serving the homeless? Ebony was a little bummed about missing the season finale of her favorite show but this was more important. Xavier-the-know-it-all Reed would see just how charitable and generous she could be. She would have to catch the season finale of CSI Miami some other time, because tonight there was nothing more important than teaching Xavier Reed a lesson.

      The doors of Jubilee Christian Center opened an hour later, to a crowd of over a hundred people. Far more than anticipated. Xavier and the male volunteers wasted no time scrounging up more tables and the women had them dressed in no time. After Xavier welcomed everyone and said a short prayer, he saw to it that guests were organized in two orderly lines. Sister Bertha and Maria dished the food, Ebony staffed the drink table and the rest of the volunteers ensured everyone was comfortable and had enough to eat. Aside from the food Ebony had brought, there was macaroni and cheese, fried shrimp, meat loaf, potato salad, baked beans, dinner rolls and an assortment of soups. There was enough food in the kitchen to feed a large army.

      When all the guests were taken care of, the volunteers fixed themselves a plate and sat down wherever there was a vacant seat.

      “Spend time getting to know the people at your table,” Xavier had encouraged, when he was giving last minute instructions. His eyes had circled the room and then lingered on Ebony’s face. “The only difference between the people eating here tonight and us is that they fell on hard times and didn’t have the necessary support system to survive. Inside, we are all the same. We all want to be loved, supported, cared for and cared about. Make the people who walk—” Xavier had swept a hand toward the hallway “—in here tonight feel special. Talk to them. Ask them questions. Listen earnestly to what they have to say. For a lot of them, it’s been months or even years since they had a quality meal and a meaningful conversation.”

      Xavier’s words of encouragement played in Ebony’s mind now. He was asking the impossible. She couldn’t even look at her tablemates without shuddering, let alone engaging them in conversation. Mariana, the pencil-thin woman to her left, smelled like she had bathed in vodka. And every time she opened her mouth to put food in, some spilled out. Chester, who sat on her far right, was no better. He had a set of utensils, but pretended they weren’t there. He scooped up vegetables with his callused hands. Cut meat loaf with his fingers. Slurped his cream of mushroom soup. His shaggy facial hair was soiled with dirt and now remnants of his meal. When he guzzled down his drink, and then belched loud enough to shake the entire church, Ebony pushed away her plate. I’ll eat when I get home.

      She caught Xavier watching her, and managed a weak smile.

      “Are you going to eat the rest of your food?”

      Ebony redirected her eyes to the beige-skinned man with the fatherly voice. “No, you go ahead.” When she handed him her plate, he grinned broadly, revealing badly stained teeth. “Old Man Griffin’s the name,” he told her. “Thanks.”

      He tossed a handful of shrimp into his mouth. “Suppa’ sure is good, miss. Lady.”

      Realizing he was referring to her, she said, “Glad you’re enjoying it.” Sister Bertha had seen to it that all the guests washed their hands and faces with soap, but to remove the grime out from Old Man Griffin’s fingertips called for something a little stronger than regular soap. It looked like the man needed some extra-strength bleach.

      “We gonna get dessert?”

      “I think I saw some chocolate swirl cheesecake around the back.”

      “Chocolate swirl cheesecake! My old lady used to make that…was good…real good. Haven’t had dat in a long while.”

      “Where is she?”

      He shoveled macaroni into his mouth. “Don’t know for sure.”

      “What happened?” Ebony asked in a quiet voice. She was about to withdraw her question, when the older man dropped his fork, propped his elbows up on the table and started to talk.

      Ebony, and the other people at the table, listened quietly as Old Man Griffin shared from his past. He recounted how his life had taken a turn for the worse with clear detail and emotion. It was the winter of 2001, three months after September 11th. People were still scared. The economy was crumbling. Jobs were hard to come by. But the construction industry was flourishing. He loathed the cold weather, but he needed a steady paycheck. It was his third day on the job, the coldest day of the year, and he was battling the flu. A gust of bitter wind had rocked his scaffold, and in the blink of an eye, he slid off and landed hard on his back. Neck and facial injuries and a broken back had ended his construction career. He scratched his head. “Da foreman said I wasn’t en…entittl…”

      “Entitled,” Ebony corrected.

      “Thank you, miss. Lady. Da foreman said I wasn’t entitled to any cump…cumpens—”

      “Compensation?”

      He smiled his thanks. “Yes, dat’s it. He said I wasn’t entitled to any compensation because temporary workers aren’t covered for disability insurance or health benefits.” He fell silent for a few seconds. “Those damn welfare checks weren’t enough to feed my pregnant wife and two small kids. It was hell. I couldn’t get another job until my back healed and I couldn’t send my old lady out to find work, either. When we couldn’t pay da rent da second month, our stupid landlord kicked us out.”

      Old Man Griffin twiddled with the napkin holder. Unshed tears pooled his black-brown eyes. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, pushed the pain back to its rightful place and said, “We didn’t have anywhere to go. My wife’s cousin took pity on us and let us stay with her and her family for a month, and then we had to go.”

      “And you don’t know where your family is now?” Ebony asked.

      “My old lady took da children to her people down south…I think they’re in one of da Carolinas, I’m not sure. I haven’t seen or heard from dem in a year. Her family never thought I was good enough for her anyways.” He hung his head, but the anguish in his voice was unmistakable when he said, “I miss dem kids, especially the baby. She was just a few weeks old when my wife left. She’s three now and don’t even know her own daddy.”

      “At least your ma didn’t toss you out on the street so her pimp could move in.”

      Ebony swung her head to the right. Her gaze landed on the slight adolescent-looking girl with the chalk-white lips sitting next to Amelia. The girl reminded her of Halle Barry in New Jack City. The stringy blond hair. Cheap makeup. Too-short skirt and stretchy blouse. Ebony didn’t know what drug she was abusing, but it was obvious she was a slave to something.

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