BLACKBiiRDS

8 | J E T T

M A R C H  1 8 | F R I D A Y

Today was the day.

Jett's job interview at the new luxurious hotel, Zensai, and she had not had a great morning to kick it off. From the moment she opened her eyes there was bull crap going on. Nana Vivian and Yolanda had gotten into an argument, which had upset her mother so badly, she retreated to her room in tears.

It took Taj literally yanking his twin back so she wouldn't go pounding on their Nana's room door to give her a piece of her mind.

Yeah, it was her grandmother's house, and her daughter and her "ungrateful" grandchildren had to abide by her rules since they were under her roof, but look, Jett was ready to risk it all for the sake of her—and her mother's—dignity.

Yolanda and Nana Viv had never really gotten along, 'till this day, Jett couldn't pull it out of her mother the reason why. But living with her nana for three years now had shown her who she truly was a person, and could almost come to terms why her mother turned out to be so withdrawn and reserved.

She understood why Yolanda had fallen for her father. Mauricio saved her mother in a sense. Fell in love with her, married her, and rescued her from the mundane town of Willingboro to travel the country with him.

Taj made a good point that morning as Jett fumed in the bathroom (of course in their whispered manner), that Jett had to get the job first and at least the first paycheck before she put the knife through her current situation.

But she was so confident in this opportunity that that almost didn't matter.

Before leaving the house, Jett went in to kiss her mother goodbye, promised to bring her back two Oatmeal Raisin Cookies from Insomnia and to call her as soon as she was offered the job.

But by the time Jett and Taj were getting on the expressway, she'd realized she forgot her wallet. Which meant she had no form of I.D. or money for the upcoming toll. Taj was broke as well. So they spent a solid five minutes at the toll booth trying to explain, then were told to pull over to the shoulder and had to wait another fifteen minutes until an attendant came over with a form for them to fill out.

Jett's temper was stewing.

Finally, after a nearly thirty-minute delay, they were back on the go, headed to Center City Philly. Jett didn't know exactly where the hotel was located but was familiar with Rittenhouse Square enough that she told Taj to drop her off two blocks down since he'd been complaining about weaving through the tight traffic with the old noisy truck. She could maneuver faster on foot anyway.

They agreed to meet up later that afternoon before Jett set off, hustling down Walnut Street in her heeled sandals like she owned that sidewalk.

She'd been so consumed in crafting an explanation for her tardiness, all while trying to slip into her leather jacket and not drop her backpack at the same time, that she hadn't seen the red sports car flying way too fast down 16th street. As if the driver was blind to the 25 mph speed limit and his light that just turned red.

Said driver—who didn't have the sense to slow down in time but had the audacity to roll his window down and tell her to watch out next time—was young-looking. As expected. The arrogance was disgusting. Jett didn't miss that part of being in downtown Philly, the dudes in their flashy cars that wanted to show off by hitting 40 mph between blocks, just to have to slow back down at each light.

Fucking idiots.

Jett's entire life flashed before her eyes within the three-second incident. Yes, she'd gotten far enough across the street to not get hit...but still. Principle of the matter.