From the air Gam Island resembled a leg, slack at the knee, its toes tickled by the Atlantic Ocean and its thigh swaddled in froth from the eastern Caribbean Sea. Libby Jane Boxill was born and raised on Gam and didn’t like leaving her island home, but alas, here was an occasion when she had to, her Father died. She was headed to Miami.
Her Father left the island when her Mother died six years ago, too many memories. Libby’s Father was born in Overtown, Miami (O.T. to the locals) a historic, primarily African-American enclave that was eviscerated when the new highway was built back in the 1960’s. This “improvement” snatched the heart out of the community and displaced thousands. The neighborhood has since had to endure hard times and an escalated crime rate, there are however, still folks in the area striving to provide for their families, some working two and three jobs. Many of the households are headed by a single parent, often a left on her own woman doing her best to care for her loved ones.
Libby shook her head when she entered the front yard of the wood and cinder block house that her Father rented. The potted plants on the front steps were dying of thirst and bundles of junk mail and stray cats were strewn end to end on the sagging porch. Inside the home everything was neat and tidy; her Mother trained her Father well. Libby imagined the house once had quite a bit of charm before the iron security bars were installed imprisoning the structure as well as the inhabitant. She saw that the garden out back needed attention, raking, weeding, watering; like that. She’d tend to all that tomorrow. Libby spent the rest of the afternoon calling the phone company, the utility company and sorting through papers. All of her Father’s important documents were in order except for the life insurance policy. She couldn’t find the life insurance policy.
At six thirty the following morning Libby was in her Father’s old, but well maintained pick up truck and on her way to the Opa-Locka Flea Market, the best place to buy fresh produce, actually the best place to buy anything one might need. She purchased fruit and vegetables, coffee, flour and a new shower curtain for a third of what it would have cost in one of the big chain stores. Next, she headed down to the dock of the Miami River and bought cleaned and filleted “caught this mornin’” grouper. She visited Miami often enough to know all of the great shopping venues that the locals kept secret.
Once back at the house she started to prepare her fish stew. “Libby, you sure know what you’re doing when you set yourself in front of a stove,” was the high praise paid to her back home. She was a fantastic cook and it wasn’t long before the fragrance of her stew was wafting through the neighborhood. Miss Vel, who worked at the laundromat around the corner on the boulevard stepped outside and tilted her head back to sniff the air, trying to determine where the wonderful aroma was coming from. Could it be coming from “Alpharetta’s Cafe” one block up? Nah, Alpharetta hadn’t cooked anything that smelled that good in years.
A small inquisitive crowd gathered in front of the laundromat. They were all trying to figure out where the delicious smell was coming from and it was La Rand, Miss Vel’s eight year old daughter who solved the mystery for the group. “It’s comin’ from where Mr. Boxill stayed. His daughter is cookin’. She said I was welcome to have supper with her if it’s okay with you, Mama. Can I? Can I, Mama? Can I? Can I?
Libby worked hard to restore order to the garden. She staked the bean and tomato plants and rotated the compost barrel for at least ten minutes. She salvaged herbs; parsley, basil, mint and garlic. Weeds were pulled, mangoes were plucked and hot peppers a day from death were rescued. Libby hand tilled and furrowed and pruned before she gave the entire plot a spritzing with her homemade secret formula soapy water pesticide. A horn worm wouldn’t dare to slink up a tomato vine treated with this solution. The garden got a good soaking before she took its bounty into the kitchen.
She was pulling the bread from the oven when the doorbell rang. It was Miss Vel and La Rand and before Miss Vel could ask about the invitation extended to her daughter, Libby went ahead and invited her to supper as well. Miss Vel accepted and agreed to return in an hour. The intoxicating smell of the freshly baked bread followed Miss Vel and her daughter as they made their way home. Both inhaled deeply the entire way.
Libby showered and slipped into a cool, billowy caftan. She looked into the mirror and liked what she saw; a tall, perfectly proportioned, sagacious woman with a smile just as dazzling as any beauty queen traipsing down a runway. She was amber complected with light brown eyes and short stylish hair that she left naturally curly. Libby was grateful to those who came before her for having the courage to mingle their assorted bloods allowing her to be. She considered herself a living shrine to her ancestors and governed herself in a manner that would make them proud. There was just enough time to call the insurance company to find out about the missing policy. The answering service told her to call back on Monday morning, seemed everyone left the office early on Friday. La Rand declared that supper was,
“Superdillyicious.”
“Superdillyicious.”
She was one of those youngsters for whom ice cream was still an occasional treat and when she was given permission for another wedge of mango strudel with a second scoop of vanilla ice cream, well, she was just in kid heaven. Miss Vel helped with the clean up and then they all went out to the back porch where Libby served her “stove top” coffee. She loved keeping an eye on the range flame and the little glass knob on the top of the coffee pot, waiting for the start of percolation. She couldn’t understand how folks could drink the lukewarm, odorless, tasteless coffee that electric coffee makers put forth.
It was a thin, almost pleading voice that called out,
“Can we all buy some of whatever leftover? We’s got cash money here.”
Miss Vel told Libby it was Cousin Mitch and Purnie who lived directly behind. Libby made her way through the garden to the back fence and chatted for few minutes with the old gentlemen before she invited them to come around and have something to eat and drink, but they refused.
“We’s afraid to walk ‘round the block at night. Too many hoodlums runnin’ in the streets.”
With that said, Libby ripped three of the wooden slats from the old fence separating the yards and smiled,
“Bend yourselves in half and come on over.”
“You’s sure strong,” was all Cousin Mitch said as he and Purnie followed Libby to the back porch where La Rand stood to greet the men and Miss Vel told them they were in for a real treat.
“Can we all buy some of whatever leftover? We’s got cash money here.”
Miss Vel told Libby it was Cousin Mitch and Purnie who lived directly behind. Libby made her way through the garden to the back fence and chatted for few minutes with the old gentlemen before she invited them to come around and have something to eat and drink, but they refused.
“We’s afraid to walk ‘round the block at night. Too many hoodlums runnin’ in the streets.”
With that said, Libby ripped three of the wooden slats from the old fence separating the yards and smiled,
“Bend yourselves in half and come on over.”
“You’s sure strong,” was all Cousin Mitch said as he and Purnie followed Libby to the back porch where La Rand stood to greet the men and Miss Vel told them they were in for a real treat.
The gentlemen enjoyed their supper and told Libby it was the best they’d eaten in a long while. Cousin Mitch’s outstretched hand held almost three dollars in assorted coins,
“Will this be enough?”
Libby smiled, “Put your money away, I invited you.”
She and her guests stayed on the porch sharing stories about themselves as a cool breeze blew through the live oak tree in the vacant lot next door and headed their way.
“Will this be enough?”
Libby smiled, “Put your money away, I invited you.”
She and her guests stayed on the porch sharing stories about themselves as a cool breeze blew through the live oak tree in the vacant lot next door and headed their way.
Libby couldn’t believe her ears. She couldn’t believe that not a one of them had ever been for a swim on Miami Beach. In 1956 Cousin Mitch worked as a dishwasher in the Fontainebleau Hotel on Miami Beach and had a horrid experience after an unusually long shift. As he told it he finished up late and missed his bus back to Overtown. The sun set while he was at the depot waiting for the next bus when a police car pulled up. The policeman accused him of “pussyfootin’ ‘round in the dark” and asked him if he was “up to no good.” He handcuffed Cousin Mitch then drove him to the Venetian Causeway where he uncuffed him and snarled,
“Start runnin’ and don’t look back!”
Cousin Mitch ran. He never looked back and he never went back. Almost fifty years have passed and not once has he been back to Miami Beach.
“Start runnin’ and don’t look back!”
Cousin Mitch ran. He never looked back and he never went back. Almost fifty years have passed and not once has he been back to Miami Beach.
Miss Vel had once “been on the beach” when she was a teenager. Seems she was sentenced to pick up trash for a shoplifting offense; she stole a pair of ninety-nine cent white socks to wear for the first day of high school. La Rand was supposed to go on a class trip to Miami Beach, but not enough parents signed up to chaperone. They were all working or looking for work. The outing was cancelled.
Purnie said he’d never been to Miami Beach, but claimed he was a champion swimmer, self taught. When he was about twelve years old he was sent to stay with his grandmother in New York City and it was there he wandered into a neighborhood where his kind wasn’t welcome. A gang of toughs started name calling and throwing stones at him. He started running and the gang gave chase. He ran up Palladino Avenue, made a left at the Washburn factory and ran across the FDR Drive where he hopped the wrought iron fence right into the East River.The tidal flow current helped to propel him south to 96th Street where he was able to hoist himself out of the river and slosh walk back to Sugar Hill in Harlem.
Purnie laughed, “Guess swimmin’ is like ridin’ a bike, once you learn how, y’all never forget.”
“Do you know how to ride a bicycle?” La Rand wanted to know.
“Can’t say that I do,”
he admitted.
Purnie laughed, “Guess swimmin’ is like ridin’ a bike, once you learn how, y’all never forget.”
“Do you know how to ride a bicycle?” La Rand wanted to know.
“Can’t say that I do,”
he admitted.
Libby yawned as she readied herself for bed and thought,
“Not fair, needs fixing.”
She propped a pitchfork against the wall on the right side of the bed. Any uninvited guest that entered her bedroom while she slept would find themselves skewered, kabob style. She said her prayers, thanked God for a good day and her new friends and slept soundly.
Libby had just finished washing the fruits and vegetables she would use to make chutney when the doorbell rang. It was Cousin Mitch and Purnie who leaned sideways on his cane, tipped his hat and smiled,
“Mornin’.”
Cousin Mitch scooped a handful of coins from his pocket,
“We was hopin’ you had some coffee we could buy.”
Libby laughed,
“Please come in I was just going to make a fresh pot.”
Libby heard Purnie whisper,
“I wonder if we’s got enough to buy us some toast?”
“Not fair, needs fixing.”
She propped a pitchfork against the wall on the right side of the bed. Any uninvited guest that entered her bedroom while she slept would find themselves skewered, kabob style. She said her prayers, thanked God for a good day and her new friends and slept soundly.
Libby had just finished washing the fruits and vegetables she would use to make chutney when the doorbell rang. It was Cousin Mitch and Purnie who leaned sideways on his cane, tipped his hat and smiled,
“Mornin’.”
Cousin Mitch scooped a handful of coins from his pocket,
“We was hopin’ you had some coffee we could buy.”
Libby laughed,
“Please come in I was just going to make a fresh pot.”
Libby heard Purnie whisper,
“I wonder if we’s got enough to buy us some toast?”
It was a most enjoyable morning for Libby. The gentlemen regaled her with stories of Overtown before the highway was built and Cousin Mitch promised to show her his autograph collection which included Nat “King” Cole, Lena Horne and Count Basie to name just a few.
“They was allowed to “play the Beach”, but they wasn’t allowed to “play on the Beach” if y’all knows what I mean,” added Purnie.
The gentlemen reminisced how back then it was so nice to sit on their front porch sipping something cool on hot summer evenings without having to worry about catching a bullet between their eyes.
Cousin Mitch sighed and shook his head,
“Nobody had much money back then, but neighbors watched out for each other. Young’uns wouldn’t dare sass their elders ‘cause “wait ’til your Daddy gets home,” meant somethin’ back then. Most folks din’t have no ‘lectricity or runnin’ water inside, but we had plenty of rain barrels and they had pumps down by the railroad tracks, so we was all able to keep clean. Y’all could run a tab for groceries ’til payday rolled ‘round and there was a line out the door when it was time to settle up. Things sure was different, yes sir.”
“They was allowed to “play the Beach”, but they wasn’t allowed to “play on the Beach” if y’all knows what I mean,” added Purnie.
The gentlemen reminisced how back then it was so nice to sit on their front porch sipping something cool on hot summer evenings without having to worry about catching a bullet between their eyes.
Cousin Mitch sighed and shook his head,
“Nobody had much money back then, but neighbors watched out for each other. Young’uns wouldn’t dare sass their elders ‘cause “wait ’til your Daddy gets home,” meant somethin’ back then. Most folks din’t have no ‘lectricity or runnin’ water inside, but we had plenty of rain barrels and they had pumps down by the railroad tracks, so we was all able to keep clean. Y’all could run a tab for groceries ’til payday rolled ‘round and there was a line out the door when it was time to settle up. Things sure was different, yes sir.”
Libby asked the gentlemen what they were doing for the rest of the day and they told her that they spent most of their days sitting on the bus bench across from the laundromat watching folks go about their business. Miss Vel let them use the bathroom in the laundromat when need be and they made sure that they were home before dark. Libby told them she would be grateful if they would stop by at five and help her finish up the left over fish stew.
“Doesn’t freeze well,” she claimed.
The men were happy to oblige. Libby walked with the gentlemen to the boulevard and popped her head into the laundromat to invite Miss Vel and La Rand for leftovers and they too, accepted the invite. Nine storefront churches promising salvation, three liquor stores with lottery machines, one small windowless grocery store and a job center that charged a fee for sending a job seeker on an interview lined the boulevard. Around the corner on NW 2nd Street was the house Libby’s Father rented, a huge vacant lot, “Alpharetta’s Cafe” and two “we fix flats” store fronts. If you walked just five blocks east, a theater for the performing arts costing millions was being built.
“Doesn’t freeze well,” she claimed.
The men were happy to oblige. Libby walked with the gentlemen to the boulevard and popped her head into the laundromat to invite Miss Vel and La Rand for leftovers and they too, accepted the invite. Nine storefront churches promising salvation, three liquor stores with lottery machines, one small windowless grocery store and a job center that charged a fee for sending a job seeker on an interview lined the boulevard. Around the corner on NW 2nd Street was the house Libby’s Father rented, a huge vacant lot, “Alpharetta’s Cafe” and two “we fix flats” store fronts. If you walked just five blocks east, a theater for the performing arts costing millions was being built.
The boulevard in this neighborhood was festooned with palm trees and brand new condominiums costing six figures. Bright modern street lights, well paved roads and highly visible security were the norms on this boulevard. A waterfront promenade with scads of food venues (some owned by international celebrities) catered to the denizens on this boulevard. Concerts, book fairs and parades for a winning sports team with a ninety per cent African American roster were held on this boulevard, in this neighborhood, just five blocks east of the boulevard in Overtown.
“Not fair, needs fixing,” thought Libby.
“Not fair, needs fixing,” thought Libby.
Her dinner guests arrived early, so she put them to work. Miss Vel set the table and made a pitcher of iced tea. Cousin Mitch and Purnie propped open the front and back doors to catch the breeze, then secured the latches on the screen doors. La Rand went out back to water the garden.
“Hey, girl! What ‘cha doin’ in that yard?” It was Ellis Malloy, a neighbor from three blocks over.
Libby called from the opened kitchen window,
“No harm, I asked her to water my Father’s garden.”
Ellis introduced himself and told Libby how sorry he was to hear of her Father’s passing. He mentioned that her Daddy often gave him fruit and vegetables from the plot to take home to his family; a wife and a five year old daughter.
“Been unemployed for a long while now,” he sighed.
Libby invited him in. Ellis Malloy was big, almost seven feet tall. He was wearing a pressed collared shirt tucked into trousers that were too short and held up with a braided leather belt. His shoes had such a high gloss shine she was sure that raindrops would bead up and roll away if he ever got caught in a thunderstorm.
“Just came from job interview. I’m keepin’ my fingers crossed,” he said.
Libby set another place at the table and Ellis Malloy joined them for supper.
“Hey, girl! What ‘cha doin’ in that yard?” It was Ellis Malloy, a neighbor from three blocks over.
Libby called from the opened kitchen window,
“No harm, I asked her to water my Father’s garden.”
Ellis introduced himself and told Libby how sorry he was to hear of her Father’s passing. He mentioned that her Daddy often gave him fruit and vegetables from the plot to take home to his family; a wife and a five year old daughter.
“Been unemployed for a long while now,” he sighed.
Libby invited him in. Ellis Malloy was big, almost seven feet tall. He was wearing a pressed collared shirt tucked into trousers that were too short and held up with a braided leather belt. His shoes had such a high gloss shine she was sure that raindrops would bead up and roll away if he ever got caught in a thunderstorm.
“Just came from job interview. I’m keepin’ my fingers crossed,” he said.
Libby set another place at the table and Ellis Malloy joined them for supper.
Like most stews, Libby’s fish stew was even more delicious the second time around. Ellis Malloy, a chef by profession, identified almost every ingredient Libby used. She was impressed and couldn’t understand why he’d been unemployed for so long, what with Miami breaking all sorts of tourism records, hotels and restaurants were clamoring for talented kitchen staff.
Ellis Malloy laughed,
“A record is what done me in. An arrest record. I was eighteen, took a car and went on a three block joy ride. Been heartache and misery ever since when it comes to gettin’ a job. Nothin’ joyful about that ride.” Libby suggested he try applying at smaller, locally owned restaurants, “Have you tried “Alpharetta’s Cafe?”
The entire table burst into finger snapping, foot stomping, stomach cramping laughter. Tears rolled down Miss Vel’s cheeks and Purnie had to be slapped on the back because he started choking. Ellis Malloy admitted to being a bit of a rascal as a teen; that’s when he had the falling out with Alpharetta. Back then he and his friends were playing football in the vacant lot and Alpharetta told them to stop before they broke her window.
Ellis smart mouthed her,
“Take your wide behind back inside and leave us be, old woman. You don’t own this lot!”
What Ellis didn’t know was, yes, she did own the lot and still does. Alpharetta chased him for nine blocks armed with a meat mallet and for the past ten years he has crossed the street when he sees her heading his way. Just as he finished his tale there was rapid knocking on the frame of the screen door, sounded like a crazed woodpecker.
Ellis Malloy laughed,
“A record is what done me in. An arrest record. I was eighteen, took a car and went on a three block joy ride. Been heartache and misery ever since when it comes to gettin’ a job. Nothin’ joyful about that ride.” Libby suggested he try applying at smaller, locally owned restaurants, “Have you tried “Alpharetta’s Cafe?”
The entire table burst into finger snapping, foot stomping, stomach cramping laughter. Tears rolled down Miss Vel’s cheeks and Purnie had to be slapped on the back because he started choking. Ellis Malloy admitted to being a bit of a rascal as a teen; that’s when he had the falling out with Alpharetta. Back then he and his friends were playing football in the vacant lot and Alpharetta told them to stop before they broke her window.
Ellis smart mouthed her,
“Take your wide behind back inside and leave us be, old woman. You don’t own this lot!”
What Ellis didn’t know was, yes, she did own the lot and still does. Alpharetta chased him for nine blocks armed with a meat mallet and for the past ten years he has crossed the street when he sees her heading his way. Just as he finished his tale there was rapid knocking on the frame of the screen door, sounded like a crazed woodpecker.
“Coo yah, Missy! I want a word with you before I call the proper authorities and report you for running a restaurant from your lodging. Bumbo ras! I’ll mash your corn for pilferin’ the last of my paying customers!”
It was Alpharetta Simmons, cafe and vacant lot owner, pitching a grand mal fit. She was a sturdily built woman and everything about her was immaculate; her fingernails, her shoes, her kitchen whites, her tidy hair bun tucked beneath a barely visible hairnet, everything clean and tidy and in place. She was born and raised in Miami by Jamaican immigrant parents and when she was upset the patois she heard as a youngster surfaced and it veiled her usually ladylike comportment.
Everyone at the table( except Ellis Malloy) begged Alpharetta to calm down and she did. She told them that business at the cafe was so bad she might have to close up shop. She claimed she had no one to help her and she just didn’t know what to do. Libby made room for her at the table and placed a bowl of fish stew in front of her; she didn’t push it away.
Alpharetta soon returned to her good humored self,
“This stew need nuthin’ at all,” she smiled.
It was Alpharetta Simmons, cafe and vacant lot owner, pitching a grand mal fit. She was a sturdily built woman and everything about her was immaculate; her fingernails, her shoes, her kitchen whites, her tidy hair bun tucked beneath a barely visible hairnet, everything clean and tidy and in place. She was born and raised in Miami by Jamaican immigrant parents and when she was upset the patois she heard as a youngster surfaced and it veiled her usually ladylike comportment.
Everyone at the table( except Ellis Malloy) begged Alpharetta to calm down and she did. She told them that business at the cafe was so bad she might have to close up shop. She claimed she had no one to help her and she just didn’t know what to do. Libby made room for her at the table and placed a bowl of fish stew in front of her; she didn’t push it away.
Alpharetta soon returned to her good humored self,
“This stew need nuthin’ at all,” she smiled.
Libby figured this was the perfect opportunity to offer her help.
“Alpharetta, I’ll be happy to help you revive your business. Your cafe will be packed, I promise you. All you have to do is hire Chef Malloy here, and he’ll prepare the fish stew with the recipe I give him. How’s that sound for starters?”
Alpharetta digressed to her agitated state,
“I’ll have nuthin’ to do with that labba mout’ hot stepper. He a raggedy ass bumboclot!”
Libby spoke gently,
“You don’t have any other choice, now do you?”
It took some doing but Libby finally won Alpharetta over. Ellis Malloy stretched his almost seven foot frame self to even higher heights,
“Don’t you worry, Alpharetta. I’ll handle everything.”
Alpharetta swatted him with her side towel,
“Address me respectfully, you hot steppin’ labba mout’! I am “Miss Alpharetta” to you, ‘specially in the presence of my customers. Do you hear me hard ears!”
Ellis Malloy hung his head and apologized,
“Yes, Miss Alpharetta, I hear you loud and clear.”
“Alpharetta, I’ll be happy to help you revive your business. Your cafe will be packed, I promise you. All you have to do is hire Chef Malloy here, and he’ll prepare the fish stew with the recipe I give him. How’s that sound for starters?”
Alpharetta digressed to her agitated state,
“I’ll have nuthin’ to do with that labba mout’ hot stepper. He a raggedy ass bumboclot!”
Libby spoke gently,
“You don’t have any other choice, now do you?”
It took some doing but Libby finally won Alpharetta over. Ellis Malloy stretched his almost seven foot frame self to even higher heights,
“Don’t you worry, Alpharetta. I’ll handle everything.”
Alpharetta swatted him with her side towel,
“Address me respectfully, you hot steppin’ labba mout’! I am “Miss Alpharetta” to you, ‘specially in the presence of my customers. Do you hear me hard ears!”
Ellis Malloy hung his head and apologized,
“Yes, Miss Alpharetta, I hear you loud and clear.”
Sunday morning Libby, Alpharetta and Chef Elis were at the Opa Locka flea market buying in bulk all of the fresh ingredients needed for the fish stew, then they were off to the Miami River dock to buy grouper filets. The boat captain had shrimp for sale and Alpharetta bought fifteen pounds,
“I make a wicked gumbo most folks would do time for,” she laughed.
Shopping done, Libby dropped Alpharetta and Chef Ellis at the cafe to get started on the fish stew, then she headed to the restaurant supply house in Hialeah where she bought five hundred (only used once for a wedding) water stained large white cloth napkins for twenty-five dollars,
“What a bargain!” she thought.
“I make a wicked gumbo most folks would do time for,” she laughed.
Shopping done, Libby dropped Alpharetta and Chef Ellis at the cafe to get started on the fish stew, then she headed to the restaurant supply house in Hialeah where she bought five hundred (only used once for a wedding) water stained large white cloth napkins for twenty-five dollars,
“What a bargain!” she thought.
Libby dropped the napkins off at the laundromat and Miss Vel had them washed and dried and looking like new in no time. Libby set up an assembly line engaging La Rand, Cousin Mitch and Purnie to fold the napkins into neat triangles. Not surprisingly, Alpharetta’s Cafe was as immaculate as she was. You could see your reflection in the red tiled floor and you could white glove the slow turning ceiling fans and not find a smidgen of congealed grease on their blades. There were twelve stools at the counter and fifty could be seated at the tables. The restrooms could pass the most stringent health inspection. They sparkled and were well stocked with soap, paper towels and bathroom tissue and there were multiple placards posted to remind employees and patrons to wash their hands throughly when they were done taking care of business.
Libby returned to the house to do some baking. Banana nut muffins, guava turnovers, chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin cookies would do fine for getting started. She decided she’d bake the bread first thing in the morning then carried three trays laden with the sweets to the cafe where Cousin Mitch and Purnie were busy polishing the cutlery and the water glasses. Alpharetta was setting up the counter with salt and pepper shakers and bottles of hot sauce, ketchup and mustard would be set out in the morning. Libby called out to Alpharetta,
“Phone your waitress and cook and tell them to come in an hour earlier tomorrow morning. There will be plenty to do and you’ll need all hands on deck.”
Alpharetta stopped what she was doing and laughed out loud,
“Libby, I am the waitress, cook, cashier and dishwasher. I’ve not been ringin’ more than fifty dollars a day for the past five months. I’ve been tendin’ to it all!”
Libby was convinced that tomorrow’s business would warrant hiring a line cook and a waitress. Chef Ellis called out from the kitchen,
“My wife is a waitress. A great waitress, even speaks Spanish.”
Only when Chef Ellis said she’d work just for tips did Alpharetta utter, “Bring her in.”
Alpharetta decided that Chef Ellis would work the line and she would jump in if he got jammed up. It was ten o’clock in the evening when they agreed to meet at Libby’s at five in the morning for coffee. They all left for home and not a one of them slept a wink.
“Phone your waitress and cook and tell them to come in an hour earlier tomorrow morning. There will be plenty to do and you’ll need all hands on deck.”
Alpharetta stopped what she was doing and laughed out loud,
“Libby, I am the waitress, cook, cashier and dishwasher. I’ve not been ringin’ more than fifty dollars a day for the past five months. I’ve been tendin’ to it all!”
Libby was convinced that tomorrow’s business would warrant hiring a line cook and a waitress. Chef Ellis called out from the kitchen,
“My wife is a waitress. A great waitress, even speaks Spanish.”
Only when Chef Ellis said she’d work just for tips did Alpharetta utter, “Bring her in.”
Alpharetta decided that Chef Ellis would work the line and she would jump in if he got jammed up. It was ten o’clock in the evening when they agreed to meet at Libby’s at five in the morning for coffee. They all left for home and not a one of them slept a wink.
It seemed as though the entire neighborhood was up early that Monday morning. Libby insisted on taking a group photo before opening the door at seven. Employees from the hospital up the hill were the first customers, all in a hurry for coffee to go, but once they eyed the banana nut muffins they couldn’t resist. Miss Vel arranged to take the week off so she could help out working the counter and the “to go” station. Chef Ellis’ wife brought in a red apron for her to wear,
“Deep pockets for your tips,” she smiled.
Cousin Mitch and Purnie dressed in their Sunday best were stationed outside at a small table by the entrance handing out menus doing the meet and greet. Libby took a few more photographs and then left saying she’d be back soon.
She strolled down to the performing arts construction site on the other boulevard and asked to speak to the foreman. His name was Tito, an Afro-Cuban almost as big as Chef Ellis. Libby explained Alpharetta’s dire situation and promised him a free lunch for every twenty paying workers he steered to the cafe. The foreman’s sense of community spirit rallied for the cause and at noon he showed up with sixty hungry construction workers. Alpharetta had to close early on that Monday, sold out everything, every spoonful of the fish stew, every lick of gumbo, a whole baked ham, every grain of rice gone and paid for. It was a good, good day.
“Deep pockets for your tips,” she smiled.
Cousin Mitch and Purnie dressed in their Sunday best were stationed outside at a small table by the entrance handing out menus doing the meet and greet. Libby took a few more photographs and then left saying she’d be back soon.
She strolled down to the performing arts construction site on the other boulevard and asked to speak to the foreman. His name was Tito, an Afro-Cuban almost as big as Chef Ellis. Libby explained Alpharetta’s dire situation and promised him a free lunch for every twenty paying workers he steered to the cafe. The foreman’s sense of community spirit rallied for the cause and at noon he showed up with sixty hungry construction workers. Alpharetta had to close early on that Monday, sold out everything, every spoonful of the fish stew, every lick of gumbo, a whole baked ham, every grain of rice gone and paid for. It was a good, good day.
Tito became a great friend to all at Alpharetta’s Cafe. One day Libby sat with Tito for lunch and mentioned the problem she was having with her Father’s insurance policy,
“My Father’s insurance agent said he changed the beneficiary from me to his landlord in exchange for the deed to the house he rented. I’ve hunted high and low for the deed and can’t find it and every time I call the property office or the landlord I get the run around.”
Tito had connections at the downtown office and said he would be happy to make a few inquires for her. Libby thanked him. Tito was a man of his word and discovered that the landlord was a fiddling little weasel who also happened to be the head honcho down at the property office for the past twenty something years getting away with all sorts of underhanded shenanigans. Tito loathed weasels.
“My Father’s insurance agent said he changed the beneficiary from me to his landlord in exchange for the deed to the house he rented. I’ve hunted high and low for the deed and can’t find it and every time I call the property office or the landlord I get the run around.”
Tito had connections at the downtown office and said he would be happy to make a few inquires for her. Libby thanked him. Tito was a man of his word and discovered that the landlord was a fiddling little weasel who also happened to be the head honcho down at the property office for the past twenty something years getting away with all sorts of underhanded shenanigans. Tito loathed weasels.
The very next week Tito surprised the landlord on his front porch as he was leaving for work and shoved a revolver into his belly. He made it very clear that he was going to have to return Libby’s insurance money and the deed to the house. The landlord was a coward and Tito knew that there wouldn’t be a burst of bravado from the little scoundrel even if it meant it might save his life. He pushed him back into the house and forced him to empty his home safe that contained more than eighty thousand dollars and Libby’s deed. Tito took it all and locked it in his tool box before he forced the thieving vermin into his pickup truck and drove to the foundation pit on the construction site. He signaled for his laborer to start pouring the cement and never heard the landlord scream when he tripped and fell; Tito was wearing his O.S.H.A. mandated earplugs. Oh well, a construction site is not unlike Las Vegas, what happens there, stays there. Tito palmed his laborer a couple of grand to keep schtum.
It wasn’t long before Alpharetta’s Cafe was busier than anyone could have imagined, so busy in fact she had to hire a dishwasher, a busboy, an additional line cook and two more waitresses. Even more surprisingly her relationship with Ellis Malloy improved thanks to his little girl. One afternoon when her school bus dropped her off at the cafe she asked Alpharetta if she could call her “Grandma” because she didn’t have a grandma. Alpharetta’s heart just about melted and from that moment on she took to calling the girl “my grand baby” and on occasion she addressed Chef Ellis as ‘son’.
Miss Vel earned more money in a week than she earned at the laundromat in a month so she gave notice and worked for Alpharetta full time. She was able to afford all sorts of items for her and LaRand that were previously luxuries; chicken breasts instead of chicken necks, a Sunday going to church outfit from Walmart instead of second hand garments from the Red, White and Blue thrift store and being able to pay the FPL bill on time before their service was interrupted.
Libby knew she had to return to Gam Island now that her insurance problem was resolved. She planned a farewell outing for her friends; a trip to Miami Beach. They spread their blankets and pitched their umbrellas on the sand in front of the Fontainebleau Hotel; a little “I’m back and what’cha gonna do about it?” for Cousin Mitch. Libby bought everyone a snorkel and mask at the Opa Locka flea market and it wasn’t long before her friends were navigating the Atlantic as well as any member of Jacques Cousteau’s Calypso crew. Not a one of them could swim, but they all strolled in waist high water with their heads submerged and squealed with delight when they dipped to claim a pretty stone or seashell. Libby had to insist they come out of the sea for lunch; turkey with avocado and tomato sandwiches, fresh fruit chunks, cookies and iced tea. Cousin Mitch and Purnie swore they may have seen a shark. La Rand did see a sting ray. Miss Vel and Alpharetta got their hair wet and didn’t care a whit. It was a grand day.
Libby sat on a bench towards the stern of the ferry as she made her way home to Gam Island and was already planning her return trip to Overtown. She watched the dolphins play in the wake of the ferry, smiled and thought,
“My friends would get a thrill if they could see this.”
She’d make it happen, some way, some how, she’d make it happen. She just prayed that the sharks wouldn’t get them, not the sharks in the sea, oh no, it was the sharks that cruised the streets of Overtown once night set in that Libby worried about. They were vicious predators, territorial. They killed indiscriminately over bicycles, drugs and not being respected. Good Lord, how could anyone respect them if they didn’t respect themselves.
“Not fair, needs fixing,” thought Libby.
She’d tend to it all when she returned to Overtown.
“My friends would get a thrill if they could see this.”
She’d make it happen, some way, some how, she’d make it happen. She just prayed that the sharks wouldn’t get them, not the sharks in the sea, oh no, it was the sharks that cruised the streets of Overtown once night set in that Libby worried about. They were vicious predators, territorial. They killed indiscriminately over bicycles, drugs and not being respected. Good Lord, how could anyone respect them if they didn’t respect themselves.
“Not fair, needs fixing,” thought Libby.
She’d tend to it all when she returned to Overtown.
Coreen Falco
© 2016 Coreen Falco
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. A screenplay version is available of this and all short stories by Coreen Falco. For permission requests, screenplays write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” here.