As he slept Juicy reluctantly took care of some business, though it was hard to pull her attention from him. Using her home phone, she retrieved the messages from her stolen cell phone. She'd long since learned not to give out her home phone number to clients; learning the hard way that ignorant Negroes will call you morning, noon and night if they wanted their hair done bad enough.Sure enough, the only messages she had were from her clients and they had blown up her phone so bad that her voicemail was filled. Some had been so mad they had cursed her up one side and down the other for leaving them hanging with nappy heads. A few had sworn never to deal with her sorry ass again.She was going to have to give some free appointments off of this. She needed her regulars as they were her bread and butter. Checking her appointment book she decided to cancel the next few days of appointments and to contact the ones that had already been missed and get them rescheduled.When she explained

The older man gave her the once over. "Someone really did a number on you, sista." She was about to say something smart when he continued. "There's been some strange white man watching the building from across the street. People have been seeing him for the last few days. I hope he ain't trying to scope-"Juicy's heart jumped. "Across the street?" "Yeah." He took her excitement as fear. Juicy hurried to the front window and tried to see out. It was dark and she couldn't see much further then the slight green space that marked the end of the yard. She rushed out of the door before she remembered the maintenance man. She rushed back and ushered him out of her apartment. She kept telling him goodbye and he kept trying to stop her from confronting the perspective burglar. Finally she slammed her door shut and hurried past him still clutching her keys. When she got to the bottom of the stairs she smoothed down the front of her shirt and opened the buildings entry door.

"I went to my church for our weekly potluck dinner.""Oh cool. What did you eat?""Well I cooked." Juicy tried not to look surprised. He went to church AND he cooked? She was impressed. She hadn't been to church since being a little kid wearing an Easter dress. "I made chicken pot pie. I used biscuit dough for the top, instead of a pie crust. People seem to really like when I do that.""What church do you belong to?""Now I'm with Allen Temple AME. Once I told them I cooked at my last church, they recruited me to be in charge of the potluck dinners we have weekly for the homeless."She contemplated him quietly. "You belong to an African Methodist Episcopal Church? And let me get this straight; you cook for the homeless?"He shrugged. "Or whoever; the church, the homeless, guests, friends…" he sat down at the table with her. "I don't do all of the cooking myself. We have seventy or eighty people that come through. During winter or holidays it's twice that. One of the

Troy sat on the Greyhound bus several hours later. He hadn't called his parents to explain that he was coming by; he hadn't wanted anything to sidetrack him…well truthfully, he just hadn't wanted to chicken out. If he was there, he couldn't just walk away if things got rough.Sighing, he reviewed the last words that he'd said to his Dad; 'I'll call you tomorrow…' And that had been over seven years ago. When the bus landed in the station he considered calling his Dad to come pick him up, but that would have been too weird. Instead he sprung for a cab, though under normal circumstances, he'd never splurge on such a thing. He stared out of the window as the driver passed familiar spots, as well as spots that should have been familiar but had changed over the years. He did not want to do this. He did not enjoy being back in this place that marked a time of his life when he had been unsure and in pain. Sure, there had been pain over the years while he lived on the streets. But i

Troy picked up his napkin and wiped his mouth, more as an excuse to stall than anything else. How did he tell his family that he'd been pretty much homeless since running away? "Well, for a while I didn't do very well." He cleared his throat and glanced at the kids, not wanting to go into details, especially in front of Lorie's eldest as the young girl seemed to hang onto his every word. Also, his disappearance had hurt his family. He didn't need to add to that pain with too much detail."What do you do for a living?" Lorie asked and then blushed as if she had no right to the information.He smiled in response. "It's h-hard for me to hold a n-normal job." Everyone put together the meaning of that and nodded in understand or looked elsewhere. He was unemployed. Troy cleared his throat. It was a true fact and he had come to terms with it. There were just certain jobs that were impossible for him to do. Once he'd gotten a call from a temporary service wanting him to drive a