“He’s just my mechanic,” I said dryly. “We’re just kicking it.”
Bird turned off the ignition. I was hoping he’d stay in the car, not make some grand scene, giving Krista something to grin about (I could already see that he was wearing the gold chains), but he got out of the car and walked slowly around the butt so Krista could see his matching brown silk slacks and shirt. A thicker gold chain was around his wrist. Two rings were on one hand. He stepped onto the curb and I introduced him to Krista and her nosy half grin.
“You look beautiful,” Bird said to me after shaking Krista’s hand.
“I’m just wearing what I had on earlier at the shop,” I said passively.
“Well, you look more beautiful in it now.” He smiled and took my work bag before leaving me alone with Krista on the curb.
“Yeah, he’s your date,” Krista affirmed with full backing. She was always trying to link me up with someone, trying to help me escape “the marriage planner’s curse.”
“Please, it’s not even like that. It’s not that serious.”
“Tell him.” Krista nodded at Big Bird, in the car and ready to go. He’d leaned over and opened my door. “See you tomorrow. I’ll expect a full report. Good luck.”
As always, the conversation with Bird was simple, light banter. Nothing too deep. We rode up Peachtree talking about his car, my car, his love of cars, of Fords. Listening to him talk reminded me of my uncles and my father, the old men at my church who stood around talking about Jesus, sports, and cars all day. He wasn’t that much older than me, but his style, how he spoke, and what he spoke about was decidedly dated. He was from a farm town smaller than Social Circle and laughed like it. His cologne was sweet and heavy and all over the car. I rolled my window down.
I hated to jump the gun—I mean, the man had jumped out of the car to grab my bag and had opened my door (two things fewer than half of my dates in the last three years ever thought to do)—but listening to him and looking at him and smelling him sitting across from me in that purple Ford only confirmed how different Bird and I were. Besides our country backgrounds and Chauncey’s truck parked in Bird’s garage, I was sure we didn’t have anything in common. Shit, I know how bad that sounds—really, really bad. But, that was the thing about the blue-collar brothers like Bird—the ones Oprah and Tyler Perry seemed to endlessly suggest successful single sisters flock toward like an available dick in the veritable glass case—although he was single enough, nice enough, and found me attractive enough, we lived in two different worlds.
I hadn’t eaten lunch and I was starving, so when Bird asked if I liked seafood, I perked up in my seat and smiled yes, but I should’ve asked a few more questions. On my side of town, seafood meant lobster and oysters, a filet of sole on the back patio at Fontaine’s or the Oceanaire, but that purple Ford bypassed any place I knew of that served any kind of seafood I normally ate and stopped in front of a huge barn with a parking lot out front. Pickup trucks and old Cutlasses, even a few old Cadillacs, were in the spaces. Men with cornrows in their hair and chains around their necks just like Bird’s sat on the hoods as they sipped on bottles in brown paper bags. A few women were sprinkled around, but their hair was just like the boys. One was wearing a red spandex body suit with a stomach that stuck out so far it swung right over her vagina. And I was thinking she should’ve gone with the cornrows like the rest of the women out there because from across the parking lot and inside the car with Bird, I could see her weave tracks.
“This is where we’re going?” I asked, trying not to sound as irritated as I felt. “I thought you said we were going for seafood.”
“Yeah, baby girl,” Bird said, turning off the car. “This is Bigelow’s. They have the best fried whiting sandwiches in the A.” He looked at me. “Something wrong? You want to go someplace else?”
“No,” I said, not wanting to offend Bird. “I’ve just never been here before.”
“Oh, don’t worry. You with Bird. These just some folks from around here. Ain’t nobody gonna touch you.”
“I’m not worried about someone touching me. You say that like I’m afraid.”
“You sure look afraid.”
Bird got out and walked around to open my door. I heard a few people call out his name and when I got out of the car I saw every eye of every woman in the lot glued on me.
“Bird got himself a lady friend!” someone shouted loud enough so it was clear that she wanted me to hear her.
I looked at Bird as he helped me out of the car.
“Don’t you mind her none. She’s just toying with me. Ain’t nothing,” he said.
The inside of the bar looked as could be expected from outside. It was nothing but a big space with a bar and tables and chairs around it that looked like they came from some abandoned chicken shack. Toward the back of the room, one of those cheap snap-together parquet floors was supposed to be the dance floor. While it wasn’t late enough for the floor to be packed there were enough people to call it a party. The DJ was playing the same old blues standards Bird had been singing along to in the car.
“They serve food here?” I asked, following close behind Bird. He’d taken my hand and was heading to the bar. The lights were dim and a few of the seats were already occupied with folks sipping on beers and bouncing their heads really slow to the music.
“Good food. The best food.” Bird sat down on a barstool and the waitress came right over like she knew him.
She was a skinny woman. No older than me. Had gold teeth and a big smile that made you look at them. Her navel was pierced. Someone’s name was tattooed beneath it. I could see this because her jeans were hanging just above her pelvis.
“Birdie Boo!” She gave Bird a high five over the bar. “See you got some company.” She smiled at me and flashed the golden teeth.
“I’m Rachel!” I said before Bird could introduce us. I’ve learned that it’s always best to be very friendly to other women when I’m with a man they know. It cuts out a lot of bullshit. They know you’re not the enemy.
“Nice to meet you, Rachel Boo! I’m Ronnie.” She winked at me and then looked back at Bird. “Guess you done got too good for us over here. Ain’t been here to see about me since the weekend.” She pouted at him the way I pouted at Ian.
“Been trying to make money, so I can tip you real good,” Bird said a
nd Ronnie rolled her eyes playfully. “What now? What you got to say now?”