Desperado

The concession chocolate shop glowed ginger, and inside, Cricket counted down till their escape. They were trapped behind the dessert display counter in uniform with rows and rows of fancy, multi-colored, flavor-filled candies beneath them. A handful of consumers were scattered across the shop floor, and across from them was a wall of mirrors with plush red dinner booths. Friday mornings, Cricket pulled green apples from the deep freezer. They dipped them in boiling syrup, then sprinkled chocolate, cookie crumbles, or rainbow shards atop. Now, with bloodshot eyes, they watched them be taken away one by one. The decadent globs were devoured in their face. 

Cricket imagined they were in their old home. They were transported to T-Dotty's over-furnished, reddish brown, mice-infested apartment. She appeared to them in pre-illness times, with luscious silver dreads, long scarlet nails, and brown lip liner. She was standing over a steaming pot of greens with bobbing pig necks, with an incense in her mouth, humming something. Head deep in steam, she leaned over to stir at the rickety hot stove. The remembrance made Cricket's stomach grumble.

"Get moving, son." Tony, Cricket's balding gringo manager, said as he clapped a hand harshly on their shoulder.  

Damn near jumping out their body, they snapped back into the sugarscape. They avoided Tony's stare and agitatedly listened to the teenager ordering in front of them. The brief flashback and embarrassment at their inattentiveness burned tears in the backs of their eyes. Customers kept streaming through the door, and Cricket stared numbly into the distance. 

Their left eye twitched at the five-minute mark, and after two minutes, they walked across the store to close up. They leaned against the storefront window to feel the cold. They saw a muck of grape, navy, and gray mist outside. Bright, fuzzy headlights illuminated a lone jeep, bumping in the parking lot. The car was parked directly in front of the store, surrounded by white snow. They watched a tall, dark figure emerge from the blood-colored car.

A bell chimed as Timbs stomped against the tile floor. A hooded person with a metallic black puffer jacket strutted in as Cricket flicked off the open sign.

"Good evening. I'm picking up a pre-order. It's unda Divine." Divine leaned his long body against the counter. 

"We're closed," Tony said sourly. 

"It won't take you but 30 seconds to get my order. Here's the receipt." Divine placed his phone on the counter for Tony to see. 

"Boy, I don't know what you don't understand about we closed."

"Sir, I see the pickup orders sitting right there. Just give me what I paid for." 

Tony refused to look in Divine's direction. 

"Excuse me. Mister, I'm talking to you." 

Cricket remembered Divine's order from earlier in the day. It was a treasure chest of pecan, walnut, almond, and peanut milk bars. Inside was a note inscribed to Mom. Cricket crossed the store and grabbed Divine's order. 

"Yo, you not just finna ignore me ma—"

"Excuse me." 

Divine whipped his head around to follow their voice. Their eyes met, and Cricket placed the box in his broad palms.

 "Sorry, have a good night." Cricket said with a smile

"Preciate you." Divine's bottom row of teeth were covered in molten gold, accenting his bright smile.

"Did you know that person?" Tony asked Cricket after Divine left. 

"No," Cricket grabbed their book bag to leave. 

"Oh no. Things changed. You're closing tonight.”  

They took a long silence to swallow their anger while Tony quickly grabbed his belongings to leave. Agape, they saw the door shut, slamming them in. The injustice happened so swiftly that it made their head hurt. 

Alone for closing, Cricket, in exhaustion, sank into a chair facing the windows and, on the surface of a novel, grinded green buds between their fingertips. They licked the honey cigarillo leaf and finely folded sage dust until it was perfectly rolled. The snow shone periwinkle; hanging above the waxing crescent moon was ivory dripping wet in the sky. A blurry red car surrounded by swirling snowflakes spit out two people. 

A long masculine fighter in black and a petite feminine fighter in brown plunged and slashed against each other in porcelain light. The black fighter leaped, striking out in a relevé. The brown fighter curved through the other's long flowing legs, springing through the air. The brown flower landed in a split, bent her back, and flipped into a handstand. Her legs bloomed, then opened, with feet pointed. 

The black bird duck walked. His arms were a blur of fluttering wrists. He bounced his knees lower and lower. His heels rippled like water, and his arms were raised above the head, thrashing in a helix. His broad shoulders rolled in tandem with his tiny waist. The brown doll walked on a handstand, propelling her body like a knife. Engulfed in smoke, she fell into a crumbling coupe while the black dancer collapsed into a death drop. Together, stars slammed into the ice, a hugging and combusting extravaganza of blowing silk chiffon. 

The smaller dancer was tucked snuggly between the long arms of a person Cricket kinda recognized. In smoke, they searched for reality. The two warriors, slick with snow, walked toward the closed chocolate shop holding each other by the waist. They shuffled forward into the light, and Divine met the recognition in Cricket's eyes. Smiling, he nervously tapped the glass and tipped his head toward the locked door. 

"I'm sorry to bother you. My sister"–pointing towards the woman–"Yaya has to use the bathroom. Can she run in real quick? I'll stand right here n' wait."

"Of course, come in. It's cold! Bathroom is just down the hall." Cricket said, opening the door widely for them. Yaya sprinted to the bathroom, and Divine stood awkwardly admiring Cricket's hot pink Sambas.

"You wanna hit this," Cricket said, extending their hand. 

"Mhmm," Divine said. His voice felt like coffee beans and crushed blue velvet. Shedding his black beanie revealed moisturized shoulder-length ringlets. He wore a black cropped asymmetrical wife beater and sagging tight-fit black jeans showing the rim of Calvin Klein briefs. A gold heart piercing dangling from his exposed tummy. Divine's chiseled mouth ate the smoke and blew it back in Cricket's face.

Yaya returned, holding a wool brown trench coat in her arms. In her form-fitting set, it was clear orange was her color. She held the blunt demurely in slim caramel hands with chocolate stiletto tips and breathed it out partially through the four piercings in her wide freckled nose. The twenty-somethings stood in a cloud.

"I'm stuck here for a minute, so you keep dance if you want."

"We'd love to! It's cold as fuck out there! The snow was sweating my hair out. Can I get on aux?" Yaya exclaimed her burgundy bob bouncing. Cricket tossed her their cracked android. They spied the DR flag hanging from a gold chain between her breasts. 

"I'm from Santo Domingo." Yaya swooped Cricket into a hug, her bucktooth smile radiant. 

"See I knew tonight was special"—she cupped Cricket’s face in her hands—"You and my mother are from the same city. Your damn near my cousin." Laughter boomed out of her petite body. "Dance with us!"

Cricket looked at the new people self-consciously. 

"Don't be scary," Divine said, the challenge glimmered in his eyes. 

Yaya's upbeat rave music flooded the building. She grabbed Cricket's hands and pulled them into her arms as she sashayed her hips. Yaya arched her back, lifted her chin, and gracefully raised her arms above her head. She rolled her hips, and beat her arms in space as she weaved distorted shapes with her body. Shyly, Cricket swayed their hips to the beat and moved their wrist in delicate circles. Using their shoulder for support, she pushed into a long ballerina spin that she cut off with a hooked kick. Divine's muscular tattooed arm reached down to tap Yaya's forehead as her arched body slammed to the ground in a death drop. Jumping back on her feet with the force of her heels, Yaya grabbed the blunt from Divine's downward-turned hand. She inhaled deeply, coming to stand straight. 

She asked Cricket, "Y'all got anything spare to munch on." 

"Behind there." 

She jumped behind the counter then moaned as she bit into a juicy strawberry drenched in different types of chocolate. 

Cricket and Divine circled each other to the beat of the music. Divine grabbed their hips and pulled them against him. The two threw their arms around each other. Opening his legs wide, Divine bobbed his shoulders and whipped his long afro. Responding, they leaned into the coconut fluff of his hair. Cricket hadn't felt this connected to their body since they were a child. 

Meanwhile, in boredom following the smell of bread, Yaya wandered into the kitchen. 

"Something's beeping back here," she yelled. The dancers ignored her. "I got it. Oop, no, I don't. I NEED HELP!"  

"Coming!" Breaking from Divine's embrace, Cricket rushed to find Yaya, reaching to no avail towards the second story of an oven with lime green mittens.

"I got it." After taking the mittens from her, Cricket lifted a tray of steaming pastries from the top shelf. They set the tray on the stovetop and then looked for the most evenly toasted croissant to wrap up in a napkin. 

"For you, my lady." Yaya giggled, and after a messy bite flakes covered her mouth and chest. 

She said, “ Te veo mirando a mi hermano.” Cricket's heart cracked open and glowed at the sound of their native language.

“No tengo idea de lo que estás hablando.” 

“Puedo guardar un secreto.” Yaya said, sucking her teeth. 

Cricket winked at Yaya.“Ningún secreto que guardar.”

"Where you stay at?" Yaya linked her arm with Cricket’s.

"Englewood."

“Dime todos los lugares en los que has estado.” 

“Cuando estaba en la escuela primaria tomé un tren con mi familia a San Cristóbal y Baní. Salí de mi país por primera y última vez con mi T-Dotty cuando tenía dieciséis años. Pasamos un mes en Puerto Príncipe y luego vinimos a los Estados Unidos.”

"Woo, woo, can you slow down?" Cricket gently placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder to indicate she did not have to explain herself.

"I lived in New York before I came here."

"I wanna escape there real bad. What's it like?" 

"Ghetto yet expensive. I miss it."

"Why you here?"

Cricket took some time to consider the question. They wondered if T-Dotty would be proud of their silence. Are they eroding here? Rashly Cricket trusted Yaya enough to be more honest with her than they had been over the past several months with themselves.

"I've just been surviving and happen to be here."

"They pay good?" 

"No."

"I'm sorry, cousin." She took another croissant from the tray and held it out to Cricket.

"Reparations!" Smiling, they took the croissant, and their stomach swooned as they bit into its fluffy insides. 

Divine was leaning leisurely against the display counter when a bell chimed loudly. Cricket and Yaya ripped apart. Alert with panic, Cricket looked through the propped-open kitchen door and locked eyes with Divine. Divine broke Cricket's gaze and whipped his head around to follow the bell's sound. They saw a white man storm into the shop. Tony, Cricket's manager, locked eyes with Divine. 

Tony hollered, "I'm being robbed!" 

Divine cocked his head like a bird while Tony cowered in the doorframe. Cricket ran from the kitchen with Yaya in tow. Cricket stood in front of Divine, blocking him from the manager's accusations of criminality. Instinctively, they approached Tony with their hands raised in surrender. 

Voice trembling, "No, no, no. This is my friend coming to pick me up. I'm just closing up the store." 

Tony's eyes flipped between Cricket's and Divine's faces, and he completely ignored Yaya as she grabbed her and Divine's jackets. 

"I don't believe you."

"No, sir. His sister just needed to use the bathroom. I did all my work. We're leaving now." 

Cricket looked into Tony's familiar angry set face, and fear consumed their blood. In desperation, they reached out and grasped Divine's hand tightly, interlocking their fingers. Cricket looked out the store window with tears in their eyes. 

"Brother." Yaya handed Divine his jacket, wiggling her eyebrows. As Divine reached behind him to grab it, Tony's eyes caught the blunt in Divine's hand. Tony looked between the three of them then snarled at Cricket. 

"You're doing drugs! I have to call the police!" 

"Please don’t. We didn't do anything. They're just my friends. I'm so sorry." Tears rolled down Cricket's face as Tony looked at them with no mercy. "This is my mistake. I'll just neva come back." Tony spat on Cricket's sneakers. 

"I'M CALLING THE POLICE!" Tony said, holding his phone like a knife. 

He looked at Cricket like an animal and began to dial 9-1-1. Weary, they looked down at the saliva staining their favorite shoes. Poverty felt like a gang of crows hovering closely above, trying to eat their brains.

"It's a stick-up now muthafucka." Divine declared, brandishing a smooth silver Glock from his coat pocket. He pointed the barrel of the gun at Tony's third eye. 

"Yaya baby, open the register, n' grab everything." Holding the gun firmly against the manager's forehead, Divine reached his other arm out and gently tilted Cricket's chin upwards. 

"Handsome, are there security cameras?"

"They're broke." 

Divine smacked the base of the gun to the side of Tony's skull, making him collapse. Before Tony fell to the ground, Divine scooped him up and laid his body gently on the ground. Bills and coins jingled as Yaya stuffed her brown trench to the brim. Divine tucked the gun in the waist of his jeans. Yaya finished the asshole off by attaching a caramel apple to the center of his forehead. The trio ran off into the wintertime. 

Divine, the driver, Yaya, the passenger princess, and Cricket in the backseat sped down Lake Shore Drive. Snug in the back, panic crashed down against Cricket's chest. Their body got prickly, imagining the swift physical doom of prison. Injustice spun them into a depression of self. They had gone non-verbal, could not breathe, and were dry-heaving. 

"I think Cricket's having a panic attack," Yaya said, alarmed. Divine quickly pulled over to the side of the road. Once parked, Yaya climbed into the back and clutched Cricket's clammy hands. 

She directed them, "Breathe with me. One. Two. Three. Four. Five." Divine watched, his face twisted with concern. Once Cricket's brown neck was no longer blushing, Yaya asked. "Does your manager know your deadname?"

"No.”

"We good then." She watched the realization roll across Cricket's face. The black well of hopelessness they were swimming in slowly disintegrated. When Yaya said, "Everything will work in our favor." Cricket believed her. She climbed back into her seat, and Divine drove off. 

In the car alone, after dropping off Yaya, Divine and Cricket's breath looked white. They awkwardly sat outside Cricket's place. 

"I'm really sorry we fucked up your night. Here's most of what Yaya grabbed." 

Divine dumped a wad of bills in their lap. Cricket stared in awe at five-ish months' worth of pay lying in their lap.

"I think tonight is actually what I needed."

"I'm still sorry. That was scary."

" I accept your apology."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, and thank you."

"For what?" 

"That place has stolen so much of my time, and now I can never go back. For better or worse.” Cricket put their money away. “How did you figure out what you wanted to be?"

"What am I?" Divine swallowed, which made his Adam's apple bob. He pulled his gun out of his waistband and reached over Cricket's lap to place it in the glove box. 

Cricket answered, "An artist." 

"How’s that?"

"The way you move your body is inspiring."

"You foreal?"

"Yes." 

They drank in each other's eyes. 

"I dance because it makes me feel free."

Cricket rubbed the back of his long masculine neck, then grasped a soft curl in their fingers. 

"Are your performances open to the public?"

"Sometimes. There’s one this weekend. You wanna be my date?"

In reply, Cricket brushed their lips against his soft, open mouth but then pulled back. Forehead to forehead, they considered his offer.

"I'd love to." 

Beaming, Divine closed the distance between them in a tender kiss. They caressed each other's hair while intertwining tongues. The embrace deepened quickly. Cricket leaned over the seat, and Divine aggressively pulled them onto his lap. They passionately held each other for more than an hour as snow accumulated on the windshield. Giddy, Cricket left the car with swollen lips. 

They paid two months' worth of rent the following day and blocked Tony's phone number. Their most prized possession was a polaroid, depicting a younger version of themselves, with a bald fade, tucked under the arm of T-Dotty. They now had freeform dreads, long enough to be chewed on absentmindedly. Their only family in this foreign land was dead, and they no longer are the child they recognize. 

Toiling amongst adulthood, they prayed, channeling a pool of ancestral gratitude. Holding a journal, they gazed into the bright blue sky and saw the mischievous moon from last night like a bright dollar coin. They began writing a list of things that made them feel free.