“That’s funny,” Blue says. Like she doesn’t think it’s funny, but feels like that’s what he wants her to say.
“It’s stupid. Sounded a lot better in my head,” Edwin says.
“So much is like that, right?” Blue says. “I feel like something like that actually happened to a friend of mine. I mean, not exactly like that, but like a warehouse in West Oakland she inherited from her uncle got taken over by squatters.”
“Really?”
“That’s their culture,” Blue says.
“What is?”
“Taking over.”
“I don’t know. My mom’s white—”
“You don’t have to defend all white people you think aren’t a part of the problem just because I said something negative about white culture,” Blue says. And Edwin’s heart rate goes up. He’d heard her get mad on the phone, at other people, but never at him.
“Sorry,” Edwin says.
“Don’t apologize,” Blue says.
“Sorry.”
* * *
—
Edwin and Blue set up the tables and canopies together in the early-morning light. They unpack folding tables and chairs. When everything is set, Blue looks at Edwin.
“Should we just leave the safe in the car until later?” she says.
It’s a small safe they got from Walmart. It wasn’t easy to convince the grantees to cut them a check they could cash. Cash was a problem when it came to grants and how nonprofits managed their money. But after the phone calls and emails, all the explanations and testimony about the people who come to powwows to compete, people who want to win cash because they prefer cash, sometimes don’t have bank accounts, and don’t want to lose the three percent cash-checking services take, they finally agreed on Visa gift cards. A whole mess of them.
“There’s no reason not to get it now,” Edwin says. “I’m sure it’ll get crazy later and we won’t wanna go all the way out to the parking lot when it’s time to hand out the prizes.”
“True,” Blue says.
* * *
—
They pull the safe out of her trunk, then walk with it together, not because it’s so heavy but because it’s so wide.
“I’ve never held this much money,” Blue says.
“I know it’s not that heavy, but it feels super heavy, right?” Edwin says.
“Maybe we should’ve gotten money orders,” Blue says.
“But we advertised cash. That’s one of the ways to draw people. You said that.”
“I guess.”
“No, but I mean, you said that. It was your idea.”
“Just seems a little flashy,” Blue says as they approach the table.
“Powwows are all about flash, aren’t they?”
Calvin Johnson
THEY’RE ALMOST DONE with their breakfast before anyone says anything. They’re at the Denny’s next to the coliseum. Calvin got eggs over easy with sausage and toast. Charles and Carlos both got the Grand Slam. And Octavio ordered oatmeal, but he’s mostly just been drinking coffee. Shit had gotten more serious as the day drew closer, and as it got more serious, they all got quiet about it. But Calvin is more worried about making sure they steal the money sooner than later. He’s more worried about getting away with it than getting the money. He’s still pissed at Charles for involving him in this shit plan. That Charles had smoked up all his shit. That that’s why they’re here. He couldn’t get over it. But he couldn’t get out of it either.
Calvin cleans up his yolk with toast, washes it down with the last of his orange juice. It’s sour, sweet, salty, and that thick specifically yolk flavor all at once.
“But we all agree it needs to happen sooner than later, right?” Calvin says out of the blue.
“How’s she not gonna come around to ask about refills after this long?” Charles says, holding his empty coffee mug in the air.
“We just won’t tip, that’ll be like getting our coffee for free,” Carlos says.
“Fuck that,” Octavio says.
“The tip is supposed to mean something. People have to be held fucking accountable,” Charles says.
“That’s right,” Carlos says.
“She already refilled you twice, motherfucker,” Octavio says. “Now shut the fuck up about the tip. You said they’re keeping it in a safe?”
“Yeah,” Calvin says.
“Big dude we’ll recognize ’cuz he’s big,” Octavio says. “And like a forty-something-year-old woman with long black hair, kinda pretty but not, with bad skin?”