Free Outcast by Lewis Ericson Page B

the kitchen table, Tasha’s eyes filled with the unspoken sentiments that kept her connected to this man who found it hard to commit, and at that moment she convinced herself, as she had so many times before, that it didn’t matter. Maybe it wasn’t love that held her, but guilt; after all, she was no saint either. She had her secrets too.

7
    Endless oil changes, engine tune-ups, and tire rotations filled the lazy summer days. Tirrell explained that he wanted to keep busy while on leave, and what better way than picking up a few hours at Mr. Crawl’s garage. He’d made good on his promise to fix Betty’s car and get her mobile so that she wouldn’t have to rely on public transportation to get her back and forth to work. That made him happy.
    There was an easy camaraderie between Tirrell and his coworkers. Sometimes after lunch he, Marquis, and another of the men would sneak off for a few tokes of a joint before returning to work. This did not go without the notice of the rest of the staff, but was only done when Mr. Crawl was not on the premises. Marquis didn’t like to indulge as much as Tirrell, but he was always more of a follower than a leader.
    Marquis was one of the first to befriend the introverted ten-year-old when he came to live with his grandmother after his mother’s death. That early friendship blossomed and translated to Southside High School, where Tirrell’s good looks quickly elevated his status. Neither boy participated in organized sports; still, Tirrell had the adulation of his peers (mostly girls). Marquis enjoyed the perks that came along with hanging with someone who was considered one of the coolest kids in school.
    â€œSo, you tell Miss Betty yet?”
    Tirrell looked up from the engine block he was working on. “No, not yet.”
    Marquis chuckled. “You still scared?”
    Tirrell rolled his eyes.
    â€œI’m kiddin’. You know my mama had to ask.”
    Tirrell glared at him.
    â€œDon’t worry. I didn’t say nothin’ to her. You know she can’t hold water.”
    â€œYeah, well you just make sure you keep that shit to yourself.” Tirrell returned to his work.
    â€œWe hangin’ tonight?”
    â€œNaw, I told you I’m takin’ Tasha out.”
    â€œY’all been pretty tight since you got back. Things gettin’ serious?”
    â€œWhat? Like marriage or somethin’?”
    â€œYou know that’s what she wants.”
    â€œShe knows I ain’t ready for all that. We’re just goin’ to Bone’s for her birthday.”
    â€œSooner or later you’re gonna have to step up.”
    â€œTasha ain’t goin’ nowhere. Not as long as I got a hold to that little man in the boat.”
    Tirrell held his fingers up in a V formation and snaked his tongue between them. He and Marquis bumped fists and laughed like mischievous school boys.
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    â€œIs that what you’re wearing?” Darnell asked, leaning into the doorway of Tasha’s bedroom.
    â€œYeah, what’s wrong with it?”
    â€œIt’s all right if you’re goin’ to somebody’s funeral. I thought you bought the red dress.”
    â€œI liked the black one better.”
    â€œSo, you buy your own outfit, then you got to go across town and chauffeur him around, too. Couldn’t he have gotten his grandmother’s car?”
    â€œHe said Miss Betty had to work tonight and he didn’t want her to have to take the bus.”
    Darnell smirked, folded his arms, and sauntered into the room, examining Tasha as she admired herself in the full-length mirror mounted on the wall. She delicately ran her hand over the beadwork that adorned the plunging bodice accentuating her creamy brown skin. She pulled gently at the hem of the sleeveless micro-mini and ran her hand down her nylon-covered thighs.
    â€œThis dress is sexy.”
    â€œI guess it’ll do,” Darnell