AMERICAN GIRL ⤑ T'CHALLA (BLACK PANTHER)

2

Akira

"Akira, you're late! And I thought I told you to do something with that bird's nest on your head, you can't be seen like that today!"

Another work day at Ivory, another complaint from Jeffery. He was like a mouse; always squeaking and scurrying across the restaurant floors, a nuisance to all.

I rolled my eyes at him as I clocked in by the back door where I'd entered.

6:25

I was supposed to have been there at six.

"I should probably stop doing that," I thought to myself.

As much as I hated the boujie place, I knew I needed all the money they were paying me to wait tables for the boujie men and women who could afford to dine there. The tips were definitely nice too.

As I settled into my shift, I began looking around and noticing the day's vibe. It felt different than usual. Normally things were pretty relaxed, but as I observed I picked up on the chefs nervous head sweat and Jeffery's eyes continually darting back and forth toward the front door. The only time things ever felt off like this was when we had celebrities, but I didn't see anyone famous around as I scanned the room and surveyed the tables. I stopped one of my co-workers to ask him what was up.

"Yo, Bryan," I whispered to him in the kitchen, "what's the deal?"

He shrugged and popped a butter roasted brussels sprout into his mouth. "I don't know," he said with his mouth full. "Some king or something."

One of the chefs shooed him away for picking at the food before shooting me glare just for standing there.

"King?" I repeated out loud.

"Yes," the chef replied impatiently, "King-"

"T'Challa," I finished for him. I'd said it just as the man walked in.

Him again.

Wearing a fitted suit jacket with a kente cloth sash draped over his shoulder, he breezed in and stole every person's attention.

"Of course," I scoffed under my breath. This is just the type of place he would come and eat while in town. He wouldn't go have fried fish at JJ's or get a street taco from one the food trucks. Yet he claimed he was here to uplift the city. All the while he didn't even care about the culture. What a clown.

He was looking all around as he approached the podium to be seated. For the first time I was actually grateful for Jeffery's attitude toward my fro because now he'd most likely let me sit this one out rather than look "unkempt" in front of royal company.

I was right.

He swapped me and Bryan so that I washed the dishes while Bryan was on king duty. Now I didn't have to worry about anything. I just put my earphones in and scrubbed plates, singing lyrics under my breath.

"I've paid enough of petty dues, I've had enough of shitty news..."

It was therapeutic for me.

When my mom had custody of me and my brother she'd hated cleaning so she always made us use paper plates. It made me feel poor. I wanted to eat from something made of glass; something that was shiny and white like in my grandma's china cabinet. Not something that would get soggy and soak right through if you took too long to eat your greens.

That's why when we moved in with my grandma and she had all those glass plates, I took a real liking to them. I always offered to wash them after meals, just so I could touch and see how they felt. She didn't mind it at all.