A Fool and Her Honey by Kimberly T. Matthews

Author:Kimberly T. Matthews [Matthews, Kimberly T.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: United States, Urban, Contemporary Fiction, Romance, Urban Life, African American, Genre Fiction, Literature & Fiction
Amazon: B00BUSNEU4
Publisher: Urban Renaissance
Published: 2013-04-02T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

Celeste

After clocking out, I headed to my car to get my purse out of the trunk so I could pick up a few items to make dinner with. I hated that there were no lockers in the store for employees to keep their personal items. If it didn’t fit in the pockets of the smocks cashiers wore, it was at risk of being taken or riffled through. I’d learned the hard way that I couldn’t leave my purse around Equanto, especially if there was money in it. That would be like throwing money straight out the window on a windy day.

My heart dropped down in my shoes when I looked across the lot and saw that the trunk of my car was open. Fully. My breathing increased as I began to panic, already knowing what I would find—that my purse was gone. My tears were instant as I searched the contents of the trunk, wanting my purse to magically appear. I hadn’t buried it under anything, although there was a basket of laundry that had not yet made it to the Laundromat, a box of clothes and shoes that the boys had outgrown, which I’d been meaning to drop off at Goodwill, a spare tire, and other random items. Everything in the trunk looked to be untouched and in its normal disarray, except my purse was gone. Quickly I shuffled stuff around, but to no avail.

It was bad enough that there was about two hundred dollars in my purse, but it also contained my driver’s license, my and the kids’ Social Security cards, our birth certificates, their shot records, and every other document that was important to me and proved my existence here on earth. They were now gone from my possession.

“Lord Jesus!” I screamed into the air, smearing tears into my face, walking in a small circle, shooting my eyes back into the trunk every few seconds to make sure I hadn’t just overlooked my purse. Finally accepting the reality that I’d been jacked, I pulled my cell from my pocket and called the police, and while I waited for them to arrive, I called Equanto. Thankfully, I’d broken the rules by having my cell phone on my person during work hours, which was grounds for being written up.

“Somebody stole my purse,” I sobbed into the phone.

“Whatchu mean?”

“I came out the store, and somebody had picked the lock on the trunk and took my purse.”

“See? When stuff like that happens to me, you be thinking I’m making it up. Now you see what I’m talking about.” There was no compassion or sympathy in his voice, which angered me.

“I don’t want to hear that right now, E,” I yelled into the phone. “They took my whole purse. Not just my money, but all my IDs and stuff.”

“Where was you at? You probably went somewhere you ain’t had no business.”

“I’ve been at work all day,” I shrieked. “I’ll call you back. The police are here.”

I talked to the officers for

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