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“A problem.”
Everyone at the nurse’s station laughed. The nigga number was still folded up in that same purse I carried that night, and that was weeks ago. My mama had been on my ass about contacting him and getting my pussy stretched since it had been years. It sounded good but my focus was on work and my kids. A man was only an added headache. I placed the flowers in my office and closed the door since it was close to my lunchtime. I googled District 12’s phone number and dialed the number.
“District 12,” a woman answered the phone.
“Hey, is Q there?”
“Umm, hold on, let me see.”
“This Q,” he said into the phone.
“I thought I asked you to stop sending me gifts. It’s getting creepy. Now you’re sending things to my job.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because somebody needs to.”
I got quiet.
“I ain’t asking you on a date or nothing. Just treating you with beautiful flowers and bags.”
“You’re literally flirting your way into a date.”
“I don’t see anything wrong with it.”
“Okay, well stop sending things to my job. It’s bad enough you looked up my address.”
“I’ll stop when you smile. Have a good day, Averie,” he said, hanging up.
He got me because now I was smiling. Then it faded as soon as I got on social media and noticed someone posted a picture of Rah with the caption: Real King and Legend. I logged out before I got sucked into the comments. Social media had become the fastest way to ruin my mood. Everybody in the city had a picture and memory of Rah. I sat the phone face down on the desk and looked over at the flowers. They were beautiful. I hadn’t gotten flowers since I was with Rah over eight years ago.
Q had good taste. He could’ve sent some grocery store roses wrapped in plastic and made it easier for me to throw them away. Instead, the arrangement looked expensive and well thought out. I walked over and read the card again. There was a knock before my office door cracked open, and one of my nurses walked in.
“The flowers are beautiful, Averie.”
“They are, but the man who sent them is a little weird.”
“Averie, I’m trying to understand why a fine man sending you flowers is a problem. Is he married or something?”
I usually didn’t let my nurses in my business, but she was different than the other nurses. She did her work and minded her business. I never saw her gossip.
“No, he’s not married.”
“Got a girlfriend?”
“I don’t know.”
“Kids? Gay? Criminal record?”
“I don’t know.”
She stared at me. “Okay, what do you know?”
“He owns District 12.”
“Quincey?
