One night she got pissed off (she had a hair-trigger—I loved her for that)
“Why don’t you just get a fucking job?!”
(Screamed at some pan-handler at Hotel Indigo late one night.)
I just walked away, but said to her, “Baby, calm down.”
She replied, “These idiots just piss me off.”
Had to concur.
LaSheeka and I worked Night Shift at Hotel Indigo for probably at least a year.
We became instant ‘Fast Friends.”
We ‘understood’ one another and neither one of us ever put up with bullshit.
Because neither one of us gave a fuck.
We just did our respective jobs.
And LaSheeka was never hesitant to tell a drunken refugee “Guest” from Beale Street that he/she was full of shit and needed to just go the fuck to bed. And STFU!
We spent many long nights swapping tales.
I told my stories.
She told hers.
I MISS HER.