Sweet Sampling!

Excerpt:
Pecan Candy & Huck-a-bucks 
By Rhodesia Jackson

(Taken from Chapter 1)

            "Go on to the stoe," Gloria urged.  "You know it's the first.  It's gonna be packed and jammed, so why don't ya stop draggin' and git it over wid."

            Peggy thought about the trip as she drank the last of her sweetened coffee.  She really didn't want to go to the store alone, if at all.

            But she had to live up to her responsibility.  So she picked up the grocery list, coupons and money Gloria had set on the table.

            In the doorway, Peggy looked up Orleans Avenue to Broad Street. The sun was veiled by clouds.

            Then she closed the door and began her walk that way to the grocery store.

            Cars raced past Peggy.  Their raspy motor hums turned her evil.  Because she had no car herself.

            With a car, she wouldn't have had to get up early or hassle with the manic first-of-the-month, making groceries crowd.

            Absorbed in deep thought, Peggy forgot to cross Broad Street before the pumping station to avoid the flirty, dirty old men plus one good-for-nothing young man who sat out in front of Luke's Mechanic Shop drinking cheap wine any hour of the day.

            "Hey! hey! hey!  Looka Red.  Dose shorts mighty high," said the young man Rudy.  "Showin' all dem fine white thighs; kin I have a bite?"

            The group of men fell into a throaty laughter.  Peggy looked ahead as she passed in front of them.  Still, she could not ignore the obscene thoughts in the runny wino eyes.

            For that moment she hated them.

            "Yeah, she sure is a fine young thang," remarked Eddie.

            Rudy limped along side Peggy like the gangster he believed himself to be.  Next, he slipped an arm around her shoulders and whispered:

            "When you gon let me take ya out?"

            Peggy stopped, the reflection of the sun in her brown eyes and stared.

            "Leave her be, leave her be man," pleaded Joe, a friend of Peggy's common-law stepfather.

            "If you don't move your goddamn arm from off me I'ma kick you tail all over Broad," she said through clinched teeth.

            Rudy's arm immediately dropped to his side and he apologized to Peggy.  "I didn't mean nothin'.  I was just playing wid ya.  I respect ya.  You a good girl.  I know you not like that Ms. Peggy."

            "Like her momma for the world," laughed C.C. to reveal two missing front teeth.  "Don't take no shit."

            Peggy crossed Broad just before Bienville tot he city's only green and orange giant:  Schwegmann, a New Orleans institution.

            The supermarket attracted locals because of its everyday low prices and brand products.

            There, people often ran into classmates, coworkers, neighbors and yesteryear associates, which made it commonplace to hear:

            "Hey!  I thought that was you."  "Child you ain't changed a bit.  Still look the same."  "What ya doin' with yourself na?"  "Long time no see."

            And by the same token, a new acquaintance could be met.

            The jam-packed parking lot looked similar to a maze:  It presented challenge and required determination to get through.

            Peggy made it out of the obstacle and to the automatic doors which slapped her face with cold air.

            Momentarily she felt spirited, renewed by the good feeling that shopping gave her.

            Then she stepped forth into the Makin' Groceries Zone.

            Carefully Peggy selected the items, but only after she checked package, content information and expiration dates.

            Aisle by aisle she filled her basket with the biggest, largest size available.

            In her house, it was a must to meet the hungry, unlimited demands of 13 people.

            After the first basket was filled, she parked it near the first checkout line and got another.  Then, she tackled the second half of the store.  After she was done, she parked it in a checkout line and returned with the first.

            At checkout time, all of the lines spilled into the food aisles. Randomly Peggy chose line seven, linear to the bread aisle.  Simultaneously, Clint Johnston had chosen the same.

            Just as Clint pushed his basket toward the spot behind an unmanned basked, a female came from what seemed like nowhere and beat him to the space by a fraction of a second.

            "Damn!" was Clint's twofold response:

            One, because he had lost patience when he realized that his great aunt's "only-a-few items" turned out to be too much for any of the express lines. Two, because the female who had beaten him was fine as hell.

            Clint watched her keenly form head to heel:  Leather throngs/smooth feet; blue walking shorts/strong, muscle-defined legs; white tank top/firm, full breast; long, straight brown hair and light skin injected with a dose of brown.

            Turn around.

            A few seconds later, she moved her baskets and his eyes followed her every step to the magazine rack.

            Come back momma.

            She picked up a gossip tabloid and flipped through it, then decided on the pocket-sized Black gossip publication.

            Oh my God!

            She turned around and started to walk back.

            His heart hit triple beats.  He glanced away not to seem so obvious in his lust.  She was strikingly beautiful.

            Then something funny happened to him.  He suddenly felt shaky about his confidence and his ability to attract the ideal woman.

            She hadn't even noticed him buried in the magazine as he steadily snuck glances at her until she reached her basket.  he could have kicked himself for not attempting to make eye contact.

            "Dummy, idiot, fool, jackass," he criticized himself and then plotted on a way to introduce himself.

            Two baskets closer, still no opportunity.

            Fall fall fall.

            Moments later the magazine cascaded to the floor.  "Look at that ass that ass that ass," he thought watching her as she bent.

            I don't know which view is better.

            The line seemed to move only an inch or so every hour.

            By what seemed like the third hour, Peggy's baskets occupied the third and fourth spots.  Anxiously Clint moved his basket forward, shoved by his foot.

            Perhaps it was a subconscious move triggered by his intense concentration on the woman's well-shaped body.  Instead of stopping short of her, the basket rammed smack into her.

            The was sharp and the metal cold on the back of her legs.  And the word fuck almost slipped from her lips.  But the bump took her more by surprise than by harm.

            Immediately a rich, round masculine voice apologized, "Excuse me."

            At any rate, Peggy whirled around, brow wrinkled, ready to explode in fury until her eyes met with a handsome, dark-skinned man who stole her heart in this first glance.

            Time eternalized.  The piercing looks they exchanged penetrated each of their souls.  Butterflies fluttered to the depths of Peggy's stomach and hot blood rushed into Clint's genitalia.

            Although it seemed like forever, their state and stare were temporary.

            Peggy no longer felt robbed.  Because in his eyes, she saw him offering his.

            "Sorry about the basket," he apologized again, but in a higher-than-normal pitch.  "It slipped."

            "That's OK," Peggy said and quickly turned around. 

            Lost for words and gestures, Clint picked up an oatmeal box and began reading the label.

            A thick bridge of silence laid between them.

            In the meanwhile, Clint mustered the confidence to approach her.  He had already parted his lips to offer her help to unload the baskets when he decided against it.

            Her grocery items stood out gigantically to him: pampers, baby food, formula, boxes and boxes of cereal, family-size everything.

            And then he saw she had in her hands:

            FOOD STAMPS!

           Clint was paralyzed by his disappointment and anger for having wasted nearly an hour ogling over this woman.  He knew better than to lose control of his emotions.

            A woman with all those groceries had to have had a family -- a large one.

          Meanwhile, Peggy's insides erupted into a massive fire.  Her pride had burst into flames.  Never before had she given any thought to using food stamps -- until this incident.

            Out of embarrassment, Peggy snatched her receipt and change, and pushed her mountain of brown paper bags in a hurry out of the store.  She vowed never to make groceries again.

            Outside she saw her regular cabby, Mr. Smithy, drive away like the blue sky had been by the dull, gray, rain-threatening clouds....

Pecan Candy and Huck-a-bucks ebook 

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