Craving in My Belly

I wondered why Walter seemed shifty with the details on this one. As I quickly walked down to the garage in my building, I paused, wondering, if he held out on me. Maybe something was wrong. Shaking my head, I shook my mini-braids and clasped them with a rubber band to keep them out of the way during my trip up north. I sure hate when my braids get all up in my face and then I can't see those asshole drivers trying to run me off the road. Back to the stress I'm expressing, maybe I'm just off-balance because of Miles. I miss him so much my head hurts. Wish I could taste his taste inside my warm mouth. Beg him to do it again, one more time. But you know what. That's just a lie I tell myself. Lord knows that we would not work. I mean, I'm way to complicated to mess up a simplified brother who has it going on. Me? I'm still figuring out who I be. Maybe too many years of me abandoning my own needs for others. I'm not sure, I just know. I have to leave him alone. I don't want to mess up that man's life. I keep thinking he is way too perfect for such a woman like me. I just too emotionally removed from the man. Ain't that funny. Normally, it's the other way around. Instead of me, begging him to call me, he's the one tripping when I don't return his call. Plus there's apart of me that just feels so shut down. By now, if you haven't guessed, Miles is my ex-boyfriend, he loves me so much, but I can't destroy his life. Or make him wait. He wants more than I can give him at this time.
Shaking my head, I drive thoughts of him out of my mind, slowly revved up my ten-year old Harley Davidson as I smoothly glided my black and red motorcycle out of the garage. The feel of the cold morning air against my brown skin warmed me as I entered Interstate 41 heading towards Foster Avenue. Glancing at the silver watch on my arm, I frowned, because if I don't do a Flo Jo the Chicago Police Department would get up to Uptown before I did and that was what Walter wanted to avoid. Shutting all other thoughts out, I pressed hard on my accelerator and revved up Ms. Spicy and told her to get a move on it. Yeah, my motorcycle has a name, so don't shake your head. You wish you had Ms. Spicy too. She gets me away from the crazy criminals on the west side and the south side when I'm doing my undercover work, trying to crack these damn homicide cases. Suddenly an ominous feeling overcame my being and my heart felt sick. I couldn't put my finger on the problem itself, I just knew something horrible had happened and maybe that's why Walter asked me to get my ass up there as soon as possible. Plus, it was five a.m in the morning and Walter was not a morning man. Normally my DNA specialist, Cris, would be on call, but she had to take care of her cute Three-Year-Old Daughter Samantha, since her baby daddy Martin was out of town. Poor poor Cris. Another reason why I'm not having no babies with no absentee men. Fuck that. I rather be by myself than waste time with men and having babies, raising them by myself. Hell no! I still don't see how my mom did it with me. But that's another story.
Guiding Ms. Spicy around the huge white semi-truck in front of me, I rolled my hazel eyes upward as I noticed a stupid fool of a car, just sitting there with a whole bunch of dead space in front of it. Craning my neck I surveyed inside the black Navigator and noticed the sister, with a full head, of dreadlocks, yapping on her damn phone unaware of the line of cars and other vehicles behind her. Pushing hard on my horn, the chatting woman finally hung up her cellphone and rolled her eyes at me, but realized she iwas holding up the traffic. She makes a gesture with her hands as if to say "I'm Sorry." I just look at her and finally notice, she moves forward so we can make a move on it. As if I were Hulk Hogan, waiting to kick some butt, I swerve around her and the rest of the cars as I exit on Foster Avenue hurriedly, feeling the flap of my brainds on my left cheek. Looking past the Dominick's story, I make a right and park on the corner of Berwyn and Sheridan. Damn, why couldn't this be like right in area, where it's not heavily populated? Seeing bright blue lights flashing, I see Walter and Jazmine surveying the area and talking with residents. The ominous feeling returns with a fierceness and I grip myself for whatever is to come.
Immediately pulling out my white pad and black pen from my black leather jacket's pocket, I ready myself for the task at hand. My eyes squinted while taking in the scene and I notice the look of concern on Walter's face as I walk in front of him. He stood slightly standoffish as if he had bad news to tell me but he didn't want to. His weathered lips were pressed hard together like glue and his eyes did not look directly into my eyes, like he wanted to avoid them. I know my Walter. He's been in my life so long that he's a second part of my nature.
With a fatherly smile, he clasped my thick arms tightly as if to suck all the air of my fully figured body or wanted to pour all of himself into my body. He quietly asked, "You think it took long enough to get over here?" Then he gently kissed me on the cheek where thick moisture left it's mark on my cold morning skin.
"You know…I was sleeping when you called and I had to hurry up and get a moving. I live way in Englewood. It's hard to get over here from there, no matter what time of the day. Hey Jazmine."
Jazmine was my other counterpart, more like the psychologist of our private investigation team, and she was always at the homicide, no matter what the time. Lord knows with out her, I would not be able to do much. She knows how to get into the mind of the criminal and she's invaluable.
She looked past my face where our eyes just didn't connect and I felt chills. Ignoring the feeling I heard her early morning greeting. "Good morning, Lisa. How's it going with you this morning?"
"I'm great. A little sleepy but okay none-the-less. So where's the vic?" Walking around trying to peer through the yellow police "Do Not Enter" tape, I didn't notice the body and wanted to know more about this homicide.
Walter spoke first hesitantly, "Lisa, there's something I meant to tell you this morning, not quite sure where to begin." He peered into my eyes as if searching for the words with my concerned glance.

(c) 2006 by Pam Osbey