Chapter 1
Ajori Kensington
The scanner beeped like it was mocking me; each sound dragging me closer to snapping and tossing the whole register in the breakroom microwave.
I’d been on my feet for damn near eight hours straight, and my ankles? Yeah, they were past complaining… they was protesting. My knees had been giving me warning shots since hour five, and my soul clocked out around noon and didn’t even bother to say goodbye.
Barely lifting my eyes from the screen, I heard that dreaded little beep signaling a declined transaction. Instantly, I sensed a heavy shift in energy radiating from across the counter.
The woman in front of me frowned. Her body language shifted subtly, as if repositioning herself might magically alter her financial fate.
“Oh, hell no! That can’t be right! I got money on there! I just got paid!”
Lady, please! Do you know how many times a day I hear those lines?
“Do you have another form of payment?” I asked, keeping my voice neutral. However, inside, I was screaming, Get yo’ broke, lying, or confused ass out of my line!
The checkout belt was already loaded with three family-size packs of chicken, two gallons of milk, four bags of chips, and enough soda to stock an entire vending machine.
Behind her, a man with a basket full of healthy food kept tapping his foot, his irritation palpable and contagious.
My own patience was nowhere to be found; it was probably lost somewhere back on aisle four along with my sense of normalcy.
The woman bit her lip, glancing at the growing line behind her and then back up at me, her brows knitting together in a mix of worry and frustration.
“Nah. Shit! Just take the cakes off… and the ribs… and…”
This shit is about to take forever, I thought, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.
My arms moved on autopilot as I scanned, removed,and then scanned again,desperately trying to keep up with her shifting requests. When the system froze after the fifth change, I had to call the manager over so he could manually void the items one by one. Five minutes and a steadily worsening headache later, we finally managed to bring her total down low enough for her card to miraculously approve.
“See? I told you it would go through!” she exclaimed, all proudly.
I never understood why people would go into a grocery store and shop like they’re catering the Last Supper without checking their cards first… whether that’s their EBT or debit card. Then be looking shocked when the card declines. If you didn’t check before you swiped, the problem isn’t the system or the cashier, it’s you.
Every time that happened, I lost a few minutes of my life and a little bit of my faith in humanity. Sis really had me playing coupon fairy and food magician just so she could keep the soda and family-size chips.
I plastered on the “friendly cashier” smile I’d perfected over the years, as I handed her the receipt. “Have a good day.”
When she walked away, I glanced at the clock.
Three more minutes.I can survive three minutes.
At three o’clock, I didn’t waste a second getting my drawer counted. Once the numbers matched, I clocked out, trudged to the breakroom, grabbed my purse, and headed for the door, ignoring the overly cheery “See you tomorrow!” from my coworker. The door eased shut behind me, muffling the last bit of store chatter as I stepped outside.
January weather in Charlotte, North Carolina, didn’t always come that harshly, but that day, the cold didn’t ask permission. My breath came out in bursts as I tugged my coat tighter and hustled across the parking lot.
I slid into the driver’s seat of my 2016 Honda, its seats stiff from the chill, and jammed the key in the ignition. The engine turned over and grumbled like it hated the cold as much as I did. Nonetheless, I was grateful it responded on the first try. My car carried its own share of battle scars from years of use and the occasional fender bender but it was dependable.
I immediately cranked up the heat, the vents pushing out air that was still lukewarm.
Leaning back, I closed my eyes for a brief moment, allowing the silence of the parking lot to envelop me, a moment of calm before I mentally prepared for job numbertw
***
The city was halfway asleep by the time I clocked out of my second job. As I walked on the concrete, streetlights flickered in uneven patterns. Somewhere down the block a drug deal was going down behind the corner store, and across the street, a baby mama was yelling at her baby daddy, braids swinging while she balanced a toddler on her hip. He shouted back, pacing with his shirt halfway off and hands flying. The child looked bored. She was probably used to the chaos.
Same scene, different night.