Dodson was in the showroom carrying a shopping basket and looking at a display of copper cookware. He wondered what a roasting pan could do to make it worth three hundred and thirty-nine dollars. For that money it should come with HoneyBaked Ham and somebody to baste it.
Isaiah ran up to him with his palms up. He had to shout over the giant sparrow. “WHERE WERE YOU? LET’S GO!” Dodson walked past him and stopped at a table of ceramic jars, kitchen utensils sticking out of them. “DODSON, WE’RE AT NINE MINUTES. WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?” Dodson selected a stainless steel whisk and shook it like a maraca. He didn’t seem to know Isaiah was there. “CAN’T YOU HEAR ME? WE HAVE TO GO!” Dodson put the whisk in his basket and continued shopping, Isaiah backing up in front of him. “DODSON, ARE YOU CRAZY? WHAT ARE YOU DOING? LET’S GO!” Dodson stopped at a revolving stand of gizmos and gadgets. He took a tomato stemmer off its peg and began reading the blurb. “TEN MINUTES, DODSON, TEN MINUTES! WHAT’S THE MATTER WITH YOU?” Dodson looked up as if he’d heard something far away and wondered what it was. Isaiah grabbed his arm. “DODSON, WE HAVE TO GO! CAN’T YOU HEAR ME? WE HAVE TO GO! DODSON, PLEASE! WE HAVE TO GO NOW!” The ski mask hid Dodson’s face but his eyes were lazy and merciless. Isaiah couldn’t yell anymore. “I don’t know what you want,” he said. “I don’t know what you want.” Dodson sighed like he was letting Deronda hold the remote. Then he dropped the tomato stemmer into his basket and strolled away, a hitch in his stride.
Dodson had a key card to the front gate at the storage place and a key to the padlock on the locker door. He borrowed Deronda’s brother’s Tacoma, backed it up to the locker, and took out three loads of merchandise he thought would move fast while Deronda sat on a box of books poking at her phone.
“This shit is for you too,” Dodson said. “Get your ass up and help me.”
“I just got my nails done,” Deronda said. “Can I do something with my elbows?”
Dodson had rechecked the prices on the paint sprayers. Isaiah had raised them and on everything else too. “Fuck your nails,” Dodson said. “Help me with these tools.”
They held a garage sale. Nona volunteered her backyard in exchange for two pairs of shoes. Word spread there were bargains to be had and the yard got busier than Walmart on Black Friday. Didn’t matter what the deal was as long as it was cash. The tools went fast, people knowing they were valuable even if they couldn’t use them. They were sold out of everything by suppertime.
Dodson lay on the foldout smoking a joint, cash scattered around him like leaves off a dead tree. Deronda was dancing to Tupac, holding a bottle of Dom by the neck that fizzled when she twerked. When we ride on our enemies I bet you motherfuckers die. When we ride on our enemies bet all you motherfuckers die. She eased up some, afraid her skintight jeans might bust a seam even though they were new.
Isaiah came in, his jaw so tight he looked like his teeth might explode. “What did you do?” he said.
“I moved the merchandise,” Dodson said. “What do you think I did?”
“Those tools are mine. I want them back.”
“You don’t use none of ’em. What are you gonna do, build a house?” Dodson nodded at a loose wad of cash on the coffee table. “That’s your cut less my ten percent sales commission.”
“The tools weren’t yours to sell. Go get them.”
“Fuck you, Isaiah. Go get ’em yourself.”
Deronda had never seen anybody this pissed off. If Isaiah’s eyes were butcher knives they’d be chopped to shit by now.
“Go get my tools.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t give me orders.”
“Go get them now.”
Dodson got up slowly, dusted off the weed ashes, and handed the joint to Deronda. She could smell his anger, feel him like a fever. He went over to Isaiah and stood in front of him.
“Gimme one more order,” Dodson said. “One more.”
Deronda wanted to see some shit happen. Dodson was all grumpy and irritated at the garage sale, not even enjoying the action. Maybe a fight would snap him out of it. He was chest to chest with Isaiah now, sparks from an arc welder where their eyes met. She thought Tupac was getting louder. When we ride on our enemies I bet you motherfuckers die. When we ride on our enemies bet all you motherfuckers die. Deronda saw something change in Isaiah’s expression. Not like he was scared, like he was thinking. For some reason that made her afraid. Isaiah turned around, scooped up his money, and went into the bedroom.
“You was a pussy when I met you and you’ll be a pussy all your life,” Dodson said.
“Punk-ass Einstein muthafucka,” Deronda said.