On the Way Home

Pam had just gotten off work, there were many stores between work and home, but The Liquor Palace was perfect for avoiding any run-ins with family or friends. Just a quick pit stop in and out, or so she thought, oddly, the store brimmed with customers. I can't stand crowds, she murmured. Do I really need a drink? That was a fleeting thought, the knot in her stomach and ever-present crick in her neck reminded her she would need some help unwinding.

No parking! Parking in the city was a pain in the butt. I can't believe it took me five minutes to find a spot and park, she complained as she walked briskly towards the shop.

Pam hated walking late at night for many reasons, one being her broad hips and slim waist. Her figure always seemed to attract the wrong kind of attention. She has been called everything in the book, sexy body, hot girl, fluffy, dime piece, chicken head, THOT you name it.

Great, what do they want? She lamented. As fate would have it, three guys were posted against the wall in front of the store. She slowed her stride down enough to see if she knew any of them. As much as she hated lame pick-up lines, she was not about to let three random dudes stop her from the warm embrace of her beloved nightcap. She took a deep breath, picked her stride back up, and walked urgently towards the door.

One guy tapped the other, motioning him to look in Pam's direction, "um, um um," he groaned.

"Hey, shorty, you looking fly tonight," the slim one said while rubbing his hands against his crotch.

"What's your name ma'?" asked the other as he licked his lips.

Pam politely smiled while motioning for them to give her passage to enter the store. Her unsuitable suitors refused to move, so she pushed past them a bit more aggressively.

"So you just gonna front like you don't hear me?" Said the guy who was licking his lips earlier. He sounded a bit agitated and insulted now.

The slim one grabbed her hand, but before he could pull her back, the third guy emerged out of the shadows. He had been quietly observing everything and thought the whole scene was about to get out of hand.

"Yo chill!" he commanded them.

Pam turned around to see who was speaking up on her behalf. It was a tall, chocolate handsome guy with an unforgettable vibe.

"Sorry about my friends," he said as he rushed in front of her to hold the door open.

Pam was relieved that she could get past the other two. She quickly entered the store, but not before turning back to give the stranger a smile.

Inside the familiar sound of loud banter filled the air. An old man, who was visibly intoxicated, spoke to the attendant behind the bulletproof glass.

"I had a dream last night. There I was sleeping in my bed," he said while reenacting the event.

"All of a sudden, a small black notebook appeared on a table."

He continued, " …and there was a voice. She sounded like my first-grade teacher Ms. Blackwell."

"I sure did love her, she was one of my fav-o-rite teachers." He smiled fondly.

"So anyway, the voice said, Charlie..."

"Charlie, open the small black book sitting on the table and write these numbers down."

The attendant was rolling his eyes and impatiently waiting for the man to get to the point.

"All I remember was I opened the black book and started writing, 40, 9, 15, 1, 27, 18, and then I jumped up."

"Come on, man, are you going to place your order or not?"

"We have a lot of customers in here tonight," the attendant said, pointing to the line behind Charlie.

"Didn't you hear me, Ahmed? I just told you the numbers. I said 40, 9, 15, 27,18."

"These are my lucky winning numbers," he stammered.

Charlie slammed his hand on the glass and declared.

"Give me twenty dollars worth of scratch-offs too!"

The clerk bent down to tear off a fist full of tickets. He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

The Liquor Palace was a chain of stores in New York run by a Pakistani family named the Rodin's. The night attendant was the owners' firstborn son. He was alone and suspicious of the crowd this time of night. The only thing that made him feel secure was his weapon under the counter and the three-inch bulletproof glass that encased both him and their goods.

The business was great for the Rodin family, but their father always told them not to let it show, "in the hood, you could never be too careful," he would say.

Ahmed murmuring a slur under his breath as he leaned forward to slide the tickets to the old man.

The inebriated man snatched his prized papers and started waving them in the air, dancing and yelling as he walked away, "I gonna be rich, so rich I'm gonna wipe my behind with dollars, dollar bills ya'll!"

There were about five other men ahead of Pam, and with each minute that passed, she felt increasingly uncomfortable with the delay. Pam didn't want to appear bothered, so she began busying herself with her phone. After about seven minutes, the crowd thinned out. It was finally her turn to order up. She approached the counter calmly, leaned in slightly, and spoke in a hushed tone.

"The usual Ahmed," the attendant hesitated before turning to the spirit section.

Ahmed had a slight crush on Pam, and whenever he saw her, his face would light up. He reluctantly retrieved Pam's favorite brand and cautioned her to take it easy. She grabbed her bag and began making her way to the door. Suddenly a commotion erupted toward the back. It was the boozed-up lotto player. He was pissed off. The old man started tearing up and throwing his losing lottery tickets in the air like confetti. The floor around him was carpeted with paper. Pam tucked her purchase under her arm securely. She quickly made her way to the door hoping for a clean escape.

"Lady in the black pants," the voice called.

Pam turned in the voice's direction. She turned and soon recognized the old man from the ticket window. He started talking to her from a distance. She did not want to laugh, but she could not help but notice the floppy red, gold, and green hat atop his head that moved every time he spoke. His salt and pepper afro spilled out on all sides. His one shiny gold tooth in his mouth sparkled every time he smiled..

Pam stood watching him, uncertain of what to do. A smile always worked, so she flashed the stranger a closed-mouth grin.

"Come here," he said, motioning her over with his wrinkled fingers.

"Me?" Pam mouthed, silently looking around for someone else he could possibly be talking to.

"You look just like my baby girl."

"I'm turning seventy-five tonight, and I need to hit this number," he blurted out while raising his hands and patting his chest.

Pam nodded her head, hoping he would return to his scratch off's so she could make her getaway. She stood for a minute, then she tried to discreetly wave goodbye, but he motioned for her to wait while he tried his luck again.

"Where are you going, sweetie? The old man said. Step out the doorway I need. You're going to be my good luck charm, looking just like my baby girl Trina," he repeated several times.

"My name is Charlie, baby girl, what's yours?" he asked, pointing right at her.

"Pam," she said dryly.

"You look like Trina. Can I call you Trina?" He was serious about changing her name.

Pam was not Trina, but he making a scene again, so she inched herself close enough to satisfy his request.

Charlie quickly turned his attention toward his lotto tickets again. He used the wall to brace himself at started scratching like crazy.

Pam watched intently as he cocked his head to the side, "come on, baby, give me what you got!"

Charlie feverishly scratched the gold circles. The golden dust from cards fell like rain.

"Aw man, come on, daddy needs a new car," Charlie continued scratching intermitted, stopping to talk to Pam.

"I have nine children and thirty-five grandbabies."

"Wow," she exclaimed.

"Um, huh. That's right, and all my babies from the same mama, too!"

"Great," she fiend excitement.

The old man scratched his fifth ticket, and this time he didn't grumble or tear it up. He just fell down on his knees, mumbled a few words then jumped up shouting.

Charlie abruptly abandoned his conversation without another word. He ran straight over to the attendant demanding the pay-out he had won.

"Pay me, Ahmed!" he sung jubilantly.

"I just won 20,000 big ones!"

"Forty Acres and a mule, here comes my forty acres and a mule."

Pam ran out the door as fast as she could. She bumped a man on her way out.

"Oh, my bad," I didn't see you, she said clumsily.

The collision almost caused her bottle to slip out of her hands. She gripped it by the neck even tighter and took off speedily towards down the block towards her car. She jumped into her car, slammed the door, and let out a loud sigh.

What a night, she thought as she buckled her seatbelt and turned on the car.

"I can't believe that old man won $20,000!"

Pam shook her head in disbelief. Just as she was about to pull off, there was a shadowy knocking at her window.

"Tap, tap, tap,"

Her heart skipped a few beats. She looked over at the passenger side window and could believe her eyes.