Street Soldier 2 Read Free

the other side of the door.
    â€œI need change,” a woman said. “The change machine is out of coins.”
    I opened the door and gave the woman change for three dollars. When I checked the coin machine, it was indeed out of coins, so I had to fill it. Just as I was doing so, I felt a tap on my shoulder. “Somebody lost this,” a youngster said, handing me a purple wallet.
    I thanked him, then finished filling the coin machine, stocked the detergent machine as well, and swept the floor again. Afterward, I went back to my office, and almost forgetting about the wallet, I pulled it out of my pocket. When I opened it, there was a driver’s license inside that belonged to the mean chick from earlier today. Her name was Poetry Wright and she lived nearby on Page Boulevard. I snickered as I saw her name, and went through her wallet to see what else I could find. She had a few pictures inside, about forty-two dollars, a food stamp card, and a pair of tiny diamond earrings that were wrapped in plastic. I didn’t know if the earrings were real, but I opened my drawer and dropped the wallet inside. I thought about trying to find her number, or possibly going to her house to take her the wallet, but as shitty as she was to me, I squashed the thought. I got up to go clean the nasty-ass bathroom that was next to my office, and had to find a plunger for the overflowing toilet piled high with shit. I gagged, trying to clean up the mess, and once I was finished, I sprayed the bathroom down with Lysol. I took the trash to the dumpster behind the laundromat, and as soon as I got back inside, I saw Poetry coming through the front door. She walked to where she had been, moving newspaper out of the way and looking underneath the tables. I was leaned against one of the tables in the far back, pretending to be interested with the cartoons on the TV.
    â€œExcuse me,” she said, heading my way. “Have you seen a wallet in here?”
    I ignored her, until she got close to me. “Wha ... what did you say? I didn’t hear you.”
    â€œHave you seen a purple wallet?”
    â€œMaybe,” I said, keeping my eyes on the TV.
    She waved her hand in front of my face. “It’s either yes or no. Have you?”
    Her attitude was working the shit out of me. “No, I haven’t seen nothin’.”
    â€œWell, why did you say maybe then?”
    â€œBecause I felt like sayin’ it, that’s why.”
    She rolled her eyes at me and continued with her search. After nearly fifteen minutes of looking around, she headed for the door. I wanted to fuck with her, so I yelled out her name.
    â€œPoetry!”
    Her head snapped to the side and she turned around. “How do you know my name?”
    I shrugged and walked toward her. “I just guessed it. Besides, you look like you could be a poet, and I bet that when you put all of that madness aside, there’s a real sweet side to you.”
    She held out her hand, displaying no smile on her face. “Give me my wallet.”
    I slapped my hand against hers and shook it. “Poetry, Prince Perkins. If you want your wallet, you gon’ have to get at me better than that.”
    She pulled her hand back and folded her arms. “Prince? What kind of name is that? You damn sure ain’t charming. Can I please have my wallet?”
    â€œWe won’t even go there with the names, but at least you know ain’t shit charmin’ about me. You’re so right,” I said, winking at her. “But, I can be nice when I want to be. Follow me.”
    Poetry followed as I made my way to my office. She stood in the doorway, watching me remove her wallet from my drawer. I handed it to her.
    â€œHere you go. Some young man found it and gave it to me. I don’t know if he took anything out of it, but at least he didn’t take your driver’s license.”
    She opened her wallet and looked through it. “Yeah, my license