CHAPTER XXXI
10:30
Naomi was exercising in one of the neighborhood parks she came across near her building while jogging. The park had only one basketball court and a small section for kids, with monkey bars and slides. Her phone was at home because she hated any kind of distractions while getting her sweat on. It wasn't too large a park but she could do her stretches, lunges, duck walks, squats and other calisthenics. She had left the house at 10:30 after cleaning up a bit.
"You're doing those the wrong way, what are those?" a voice behind her said. She turned to find a muscular young black guy in a tank top and basketball shorts approaching.
"Cherry pickups," she replied.
"Ah, mm, that's what you call those, hm?" She shrugged and smirked. "First what you gotta do is stretch those hamstrings." He demonstrated by standing in front of her, bending forward slowly, clasping the backs of his ankles and placing his face between his knees. His hamstrings were perfectly straight.
"Yes, I know the form," she said as he slowly stood again, but when you're moving fast, all of the pickups won't be perfect."
"Looks like most if them were somewhat off, but what do I know ?" He shrugged. "The name's Marion." He stretched out his hand and shook hers.
"Naomi."
"Seriously though, it's better to sacrifice repetitions than to do a bunch of any reps of any sport in poor form. If you can do fifty good reps, it will always be better than a hundred poor ones."
"I have heard, sir." He smiled and saluted before moving away to get into his exercise routine. She did exactly fifty reps with good form, legs straight as planks, and she felt good. She also noticed that Marion was instructing several other people, mostly middle-aged women in a corner section of the park.
Naomi was on her way out of the park when Marion called out and ran up to her.
"I've never seen you around here before; you must be new here. I sometimes hold calisthenics lessons for groups, earlier though. Most of the people that come are women, seems the men are too proud to be doing cardio when cardio will keep you alive and in better shape longer than calisthenics."
"But I heard calisthenics are very good for the body."
"They are, of course. All movement of the body is good for it. But cardio works the entire body. In any event, I have to go finish this one on one regimen, but you're welcome to the lesson, it's free."
"What time do you usually start?"
"Between seven and seven fifteen."
"Wow! That's like, super early."
"Yeah, but your health should be the most important thing to you. Make time for good health. That's actually a slogan of mine as I'm getting ready to open up classes in partnership with a gym."
"Oh, okay. Well, when you set up a time in the evening in your new place, let me know."
"How do I get in touch with you?"
"I don't really like giving out my number..."
"Make time for good health." She smiled and recited her number. He memorized it and also gave her his card. "Don't be a stranger, eh!" Waving goodbye he ran back to his other clients. She put his card away and jammed to the tunes of her ear pods as she jogged back home:
We just sittin' here tryin' to win
tryin' not to sin
high off weed and lots o' gin
so much smoke we oxygen
steadily countin' them Benjamins
nigga, you should too, if you knew
what this game'll do to you
look at all the bullshit that I been through
been in this shit since ninety-two
so-called beef witchu know who
fucked a few female stars or two....
There was nothing quite like a shower after a good workout. She felt her muscles relaxing and her pores opening, with the steam of the hot water streaming down her body.
It was a fact that women's tolerance for heated water was greater than that of men. Perhaps that's why their temperaments were usually, mostly, so hot, and that's why a woman could throw hot grits, hot water or hot grease on a nigga but no one ever heard of a woman needing attention for second degree splash burns!
It was twelve-thirty when Naomi finally lay on the bed, completely naked, enjoying the room's cool temperature and watching the byproxies of Rupert Murdoch, Ted Turner, George Soros and the Rothschild families try and beg, coerce, threaten, coddle and/or frighten the general population into getting the vaccine. Naomi wondered how people could be so stupid as to get an experimental vaccine when it took years of trial test runs in order for a vaccine to be FDA approved.
The CDC and the FDA lied to the general population about the Coronavirus vaccine having been tested - that was impossible. The FDA had approved emergency use of said experimental vaccine - what did people not understand? There were no comprehensive vaccine trial results from any trials! because the people now taking the vaccine were the trial. But people, (not in the know or being wilfully blind) continued risking their lives for a vaccine that caused metal objects to stick to the person, that caused light bulbs to illuminate when placed onto the vaccine injection site - all of this for a virus with a survivability rate of over ninety nine percent! Naomi would rather take her chances with the virus.
Naomi had read something online stating that it has taken five years for the connection between thalidomide taken by pregnant women and the birth defects and miscarriages to be linked to the drug. Meanwhile, it had maimed an estimated twenty thousand babies and killed eighty thousand. She had to have a talk with Branson about- yikes! She jumped up from the bed and grabbed her levitating phone from its antigravity charger. The phone, normally loud, had been on vibrate the whole morning. And there were a bunch of calls from Katrina, a few from Imani and a couple from Branson. Surprisingly, there were two missed calls, or call back flashes from her mother. She hadn't heard from her mom in about a year. But first...
"Yo, where you been? Like, I was calling you all morning 'n shit." Branson said, sounding pissed off..
"Babe, I left the phone on charge and went to do some exercise. Even after I got back from the park-"
"Park? What park?"
"Yeah, baby, there's a park over here with a basketball court and a space to do my calisthenics-"
"Whatchu was wearing?"
"Sports bra, short white tee, another, larger tee over that one and leggings."
"Don't go out with them leggings any more. Buy yourself some other sportswear, some other sweat suits, but don't be moving around like that, fat ass jiggling and bouncing all over the place." For some reason, Naomi instantly thought about Marion and a sense of guilt overcame her. "What the dealy, yo?" Branson's voice brought her out of her brief reverie. "Cat got ya tongue? Something you wanna tell me?"
"No, babe, it's nothing."
"Nah, it's something. Don't worry, we'll talk about 'nothing' tonight."
"You gotta trust me, baby-"
"Yeah, okay. I do trust you... For now. Remember what I said - don't wear them spandex out the house no more."
"I hear you and that's no problem."
"And make sure the sweats are baggy."
"All right, handsome. What time will you be in?"
"Ion know; maybe four or five, likely later."
"And how's your day going?"
"I'm at Harlem Hospital with Get Right and his shorties."
"What happened?" she asked, instantly worried.
"We went to see one of the other bosses. While there, we found out Get Right had gotten locked up. Me and Twin went to the Twenty Eighth, where Twin got Get Right's arrest warrant dismissed. So boom, Twin 'n 'em comin' out the Twenty Eighth now, right? The nigga that got killed last night? Blue Boy's pops? Nigga fired on the crew. Kingson managed to tackle the nigga but Katrina and Imani got shot."
" Whaaaaaat? I'm on my way!"
"Ain't no need to-"
"I SAID I'M ON MY WAY!"
"Okay, okay, ma. Gadam! But I'm about to dip." Naomi paused while looking through her newest clothes for something casual to wear."
"Where are you going?"
"Back with Twin to finish up our biz with the other boss, at least for today, and then we headed to Park Avenue to see a client of his, one of our old friends."
"You just a busy little bee today, huh?"
"And you just a busy li'l bee this morning," Branson countered, in good nature but still a bit acerbically.
"You can't even compare, I was working out. In that case, I'ma be at the hospital with Katrina and Imani for a few hours."
"What about your furniture shopping?"
"Shit, that could wait, baby."
Loyalty!
She had just met Katrina and Imani a couple of days ago but was changing her plans completely when hearing about their situation. Brandon was impressed.
"After we see the client, I'ma call you to see where you at, and I'll make my way to you."
"That's cute, babe."
"What's that?"
"That you'll make your way to me." She was such a softy, he reflected, but duh! Girls were meant to be soft. Even Rose Namaguchas ("Thug Rose," as she was nicknamed), an absolute tiny, cutie warrior fighter, was soft. And that was A-Okay. Even them set it off types were cool... in the right dosages..
"I-ight, lemme go now, I gotta bounce."
"Okay. Smooches." He didn't even know how to reply. What real gangster nigga said "smooches" to his girl? Shit sometimes had him confused and doubting his gangsterism.
"Yeah. Uh... Boomerang!" Eureka! The perfect response. Naomi tittered and silently applauded Branson's resourcefulness in framing such a cure-all comeback perfect, really, for all sign-offs. "Boomerang" - she made an appreciative noise.
She found some form fitting Faded Glory jeans and a tight Hilfiger V-neck that she casually threw on with a Coco Chanel belt and Coco Chanel shades, a pair of flashy Coco Chanel sneakers and a Coco Chanel handbag, into which she put a few hundred dollars and her phone. She had always made it a habit to travel with money on her person just in case she had to leave from where she was going; the habit was still strong in her, even if her situation had improved. She folded up a Benjamin note into the tiny zip pocket. She remembered her driver's license in the wallet she had left on the dresser at the last minute. Naomi shut and locked the door, taking off in her brand new granite toned G80.
