Free Red Hats by Damon Wayans

need anything, don’t be shy about giving me a call,” she said before leaving.
    Alma locked the door and slid the chain in the slot. All of a sudden, she missed Harold even more. Regardless of how they might have outwardly treated each other, Alma was never afraid with him around, because she knew he would fight to the death for her. A good night’s sleep was out of the question now. Alma was armed with a cast-iron frying pan that she placed on the night table by her medicine. By her side was a hammer, under her pillow her trusty butcher knife. It was not going to be easy to tie her up and rob her. She practiced grabbing the strategically placed weapons.
    *   *   *
    Morning couldn’t come
fast enough. Alma was dressed and ready to get out as soon as she saw sunlight. She walked to the grocery store to get a cup of coffee and a buttered roll. She enjoyed them on a bench outside the park. She fought the voice in her head that said,
Leave now, and forget those catty red-hatted women. It’s only going to end up hurting again.
Women were generally not to be trusted in Alma’s world.
    But the only alternative was to go back home, where she was a prisoner of her own fears. After reading the Red Hats’ weekly schedule, Alma decided she would conveniently be at the Marie Callender’s before the ladies arrived for lunch. If they asked her to join them, she would. When she arrived, Alma quickly realized that these were women with nothing to do but eat, and they were already there. For a moment, Alma thought to run away, but Sister Dee spotted her as she strolled past the restaurant a second time. They waved her inside and made space for her to sit next to Dee.
    “You look so beautiful, Alma. Don’t she look good?” Magdalena asked the group.
    “Yes, she does,” Dee said.
    All of the women except Joy complimented Alma on her outfit and her hair, which she soaked up. She needed reassurance, especially having been up all night.
    “Why, thank you, ladies.”
    Dee was eating a big slice of hot apple pie à la mode. “Would you like some of this pie, baby? We have apple, pumpkin, sweet potato, or pecan.”
    “No, thank you. I’ll just have some tea. I thought you were diabetic. Are you supposed to be eating pie?” Alma asked.
    “If you ask the doctor, I’m not supposed to do nothing fun anymore. I’ve got to have my pie. I’ll just drink a little green tea later to balance out my sugar,” Dee confided.
    “That works?”
    “Only in her mind,” Joy joked.
    “Oh, hush up and let me do me,” Dee snapped back.
    “They already threatened to cut your foot off. I’m just looking out for you. You’re the one that’s going to be hopping around, not me,” Joy said as she bit into a piping-hot piece of pecan pie.
    “Anyway, Alma, how are you doing today?” Dee queried.
    “I don’t know. Good, I guess.”
    “You guess? Either you is or you ain’t,” Magdalena said.
    Alma was too tired to put Magdalena in her place. She thought about telling her those little teeth in her mouth looked like Tic Tacs or that she was going to call her Two Scoops because of all the raisins on her face, but Alma held her tongue.
    “Someone got mugged in my building last night. I didn’t sleep a wink,” she confessed.
    “This neighborhood isn’t what it used to be. I rememberwhen Malcolm X used to walk the streets preaching black unity and how he even inspired the junkies to gather around,” Joy said. “They would be nodding out at his speeches and trying to pick people’s pockets at the same time.”
    “The only thing you can do nowadays is carry you some of this pepper spray. This stuff will send the demons running for cover,” Magdalena said.
    “Where do I get me some?” Alma asked.
    Magdalena reached into her tan leather handbag and handed Alma a fresh can.
    “You can keep that on your keychain, and don’t be afraid to use it. It won’t kill anyone, but it will make them wish they was dead.”
    “How much do I owe