The Devil Wears Timbs by Tranay Adams

Author:Tranay Adams [Adams, Tranay]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: United States, Urban, Urban Life, African American, Genre Fiction, Literature & Fiction
Amazon: B00M3IIWLQ
Publisher: LockDown Publications
Published: 2014-07-23T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Seventeen minutes later they arrived.

“We’re here,” Mr. Rifkins looked to Eureka who sat up looking around.

“What’s the name of this place?” she inquired.

“The Snooty Fox,” he replied.

“The Snooty Fox?” Anton took a gander at the motel and was surprised by its exceptional appearance. Given the neighborhood it was in, he was expecting it to be the grandfather of all shitholes. “This place doesn’t look half bad,” he smirked.

“It’s kind of nice,” Eureka agreed. She turned to Mr. Rifkins. “You sure this place is cheap?”

“Yep, I’ve been here a number of times.” He removed his glasses and cleaned its lenses with a rag. “The place is dirt cheap and modestly decorated. If you want to down grade even further, I could take you to this joint out in Compton. Its thirty bucks a night there, but if you want my advice, crash here. It’s a cool lil’ spot to lay ya head.”

“I can imagine how that dump must look.” Eureka envisioned the motel out in Compton. “Let me see how much this place is going to run me.”

A few minutes later she returned to the pickup truck. He let down his window.

“I got us a week,” Eureka announced. “Come on, Ant,” she motioned for her baby brother to get out of the truck. Anton grabbed the rest of their things and hopped out of the truck. He went to stand beside his sister outside of Mr. Rifkins’ window.

“Thanks for everything. I really appreciate you looking out for us.” Eureka leaned inside of the window and kissed him sweetly on the cheek. The old man blushed.

“Alright now, you guys take it easy.” Mr. Rifkins threw the Toyota pickup into reverse. “Reka, you call me if you need anything, okay? I’m just one phone call away.”

She nodded and clapped the roof of his truck. They waved goodbye until he was out of sight.

They climbed the staircase and made way for their motel room. As they drew near, they could hear music within a nearby room. At first he couldn’t distinguish what the song was, but then it sunk in and he began to mumble the lyrics to himself.

Chief Keef’s ‘Love Sofa’ seeped from the cracked door of the motel room. Approaching, Anton made out an ashy hand with long finger nails holding the door. He overheard the man saying something to his homeboy as he held the door open.

“Fuck you going, Ralo?” The homeboy asked.

“Shiieet, I’m finna take it to the ATM,” Ralo replied. “A nigga tryna get streezy toneezy, ya feel me?”

“Yo, bring back a pack of Cigarillos,” homeboy told him.

“Gimmie the money.”

“Hold on.”

As theycrossed the path of the cracked open door, they saw thick, shapely women dancing provocatively with one another. One was bronze and the other was cinnamon brown. They kissed one another thirstily as they held onto clear plastic cups of brown liquor. It was obvious to them that there was a party going on inside of the room of some sort. The man got the money from his homeboy and closed the door shut.

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