Mugs of Tea

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

**Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-Check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

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Kyle Thomas was sick of apartment living. With no high school diploma; he'd failed the GED three times, his options for employment weren't great. Menial labor for minimum wage did not pay enough to live on.

But as long as Kyle Thomas was a high school drop-out, Wendy Thomas, his mother wouldn't let him live under her roof. So, he rented a shitty apartment with shitty neighbors in a shitty part of Jack's Creek, Louisiana. And then his landlord let him know, the owners had sold the apartment building and the new owners planned to tear the building down and build townhouses where the building now stood.

Kyle was fortunate that somehow he'd managed to get a job with A & A Soaps; Toni Delacroix paid eleven dollars an hour. But even then, after state and federal withholdings, dental and medical insurance and optional 4O1K investments were taken out, Kyle was living paycheck to paycheck, hand to mouth.

With only a few weeks to find somewhere new to live, Kyle used his PC Nation cell phone and A & A Soaps' Wi-Fi to look for an apartment.

"What you looking at?" Miller Garcia asked, then giggled, "Porn?"

"You know it," Kyle smirked. "No, looking for a new place to squat."

A duplex popped up in his search field. It was a two bedroom, one bathroom duplex in a middle class neighborhood in Bender, Louisiana. At $650 a month, 412A Cindy Street was more than Kyle was paying now, but if he could get a roommate, that would offset some of the costs.

"You looking move out your momma's house?" Kyle asked Miller.

"You kidding? Way my Madre cooks?" Miller said. "I ain't never moving out."

"And I'm sure your mom's just so happy to hear that," Theresa Prejean, a very attractive blonde with pneumatic breasts said, shaking her blonde head.

"What about you?" Kyle asked Theresa.

"Nope," the beautiful woman said.

Then Theresa brightened. Looking around, the co-worker spotted Latisha Morten, a fairly new hire. She pointed to the attractive African-American woman.

"I'm not, but I heard Latisha telling Chelsea she's breaking up with her boyfriend? She needs to move out of their ASAP," Theresa said.

Kyle looked across the crowded lunch room toward Latisha Morten. The nineteen year old woman was an attractive woman, with hair in a tight afro style, skin the color of a cup of coffee with a generous amount of cream stirred in, café au lait, Kyle's mother would say. Being at least forty pounds overweight, Latisha's breasts were two melons on her five foot four inch frame, and her buttocks were two basketball sized spheres in her snug jeans.

"Dude, you're not asking her on a date; you're asking her to split a duplex," Kyle told himself as he quickly finished his fruit cup.

"But, wouldn't be worse thing in the world," Kyle thought, looking at the attractive young woman.

"And course, he acting all ignorant and shit," Latisha was complaining to Glen Calloway, a co-worker.

The obviously gay man was sympathizing with Latisha. Both looked up as Kyle stood across the table from them.

"Hi Latisha, I'm Kyle Thomas. We met your first day here," Kyle smiled. "Word is, you're looking to move?"

"Where you hear that?" Latisha said, defensively.

"Anyway, I'm looking to move too. I found a duplex out in Bender," Kyle pressed on, not answering Latisha's defensive question. "We share it? We can both save a ton of money. And, since we both work here, carpooling will save us even more. I mean, have you seen the price of gas these days?"

"Oh, that horrible Putin," Glen lisped. "He hadn't gone and attacked Ukraine, you know gas wouldn't be half as high as it is."

"I don't know why it's so high; I just know I don't like paying for it at the pumps," Kyle said, not wanting to get into a political debate with the man.

Despite her original hostility, Latisha agreed to look at the duplex with Kyle. But when Kyle called, the woman at Tab Properties let him know the duplex had already been rented. She did have an available unit in Kimble, Louisiana that was fifty dollars cheaper, though. Kyle made an appointment for himself and Latisha to see it that afternoon. As he pointed out to Latisha, the Kimble duplex was closer to their place of employment.

On the car ride from A & A Soaps to 1121-B Dorchester Road, Kyle was already questioning whether he could stand to live with Latisha. The first thing she declared, upon getting into his car was that 'the pussy ain't part of the deal, know what I'm saying?' Kyle's witty remark that 'the cock wouldn't be part of the deal, know what I'm saying?' was met with indignant and loud protests from Latisha.

The duplex was nice, with two bedrooms and one and three quarters bathrooms. The living room was small, but the kitchen was a fairly large room. The agent had brought the paperwork with her and, leaning against the countertop in the kitchen, Kyle and Latisha filled out the paperwork.

"So, which bedroom you thinking you going want?" Kyle asked.

The front bedroom had a small bathroom with commode, sink and shower cubicle attacked. The back bedroom, however had a large closet. Latisha opted for the larger closet space. Kyle used his phone and did the transfer of first and last month's rent. The agent verified the funds, then handed the two their new keys, including the keys for their individual bedroom doors.

Two weeks into the move, Kyle could see it would be a very long six months. Latisha and her boyfriend might have broken up, but Manny Espinoza, Latisha's ex-boyfriend was there every night and spent the night in Latisha's bedroom. They played their thudding booming music at intolerable volume and neither Manny nor Latisha respected Kyle's property, especially Kyle's food and alcohol.

Even on weekends, Latisha and Manny did not respect Kyle's wishes to sleep late. From the moment they awoke, their music went on. They did not seem to be able to listen to their music unless it was set to a ground-shaking volume.

As for ride-sharing, unless Kyle wanted to be late for work every morning, he had no choice but to leave without Latisha in the car. Kyle did notice, when Latisha was responsible to get Latisha to work, the girl was on time. Three weeks into their move, Kyle bought a good, serviceable bicycle from a Cash For Gold Pawn shop and biked to work.

Kyle approached Toni Delacroix, the owner of A & A Soaps with an idea to stagger the shifts of the establishment. The beautiful woman listened as Kyle outlined his idea to have forty percent of the thirty employees come in on Saturdays and Sundays and assemble those orders that came in after five pm on Fridays, those orders that came in on Saturdays and Sundays. The orders would be packaged and ready to ship when Fed/Ex came in on Monday morning. The twelve employees that had worked Saturdays and Sundays would be off on Mondays and Tuesdays. Mondays would not be as hectic; the Saturday and Sunday shift would have already prepared the Monday shipment. Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays would be fully staffed by all A & A Soaps employees.

"But like, I really don't like want to be here on like Saturdays and Sundays," Toni said.

"Like, have a manager that is like here," Kyle suggested, wincing as he slipped into Toni's annoying speech pattern of peppering several 'likes' throughout any given sentence.

"Hmm, I'll like think about it," Toni agreed.

Two days later, Toni let Kyle know she would be implementing the staggering of the shifts. She then let Kyle know he would be the manager on duty on Saturdays and Sundays. He would also be receiving a bump up in pay, pay commensurate of a manager.

"Only one request," Kyle said, beaming with happiness. "Latisha Morten is not to be among the forty percent on Saturday/Sunday shift, okay?"

"I like figured it wouldn't like be too long before she like drove you crazy," Toni whispered.

The change did slightly improve their living situation; since Latisha worked Monday and Tuesday, Kyle did get his weekend peace and quiet. He also bought a small refrigerator for his room and kept the bulk of his food in his locked room.

Neither Manny nor Latisha were very happy about the lack of food; Manny did not have a job and Latisha had run out and bought herself a car the moment she secured the job with A& A Soaps so was tapped out when she paid her half of the rent and utilities and cable/Internet and exorbitant car note.

One night, Latisha and Manny decided they would have a party. To Kyle, the only difference was that there were more bodies in the living room and kitchen and Latisha's bedroom. He shook his head; the volume of the music was so loud it was actually distorted.

In the kitchen, Kyle politely asked a guest to please move from the stove so he could make himself a cup of tea. The guest was about to refuse, but a very pretty African-American girl told the guest that Kyle was the other person living in the duplex.

"What kind tea you making?" the girl smiled, putting her small hand on Kyle's muscled bicep.

Her skin was the color of peanut butter. Her black hair was straight, hanging down to just below her bra strap and she'd combed blonde highlights through the black hair. Her eyes were large, cow eyes, Kyle's mother would have said. Her nose was small and slim and her lips were full. She'd applied a gold lip gloss to her lips, making them full and wet looking.

She stood five feet six inches; in her five inch heels she was nearly eye to eye with the six foot tall Kyle. Her breasts were more than a handful, stretching out her snug gold colored top. Her waist was narrow and her hips and buttocks were displayed nicely in her snug khakis.

Looking into her large, deep eyes, Kyle was smitten. He'd been in love before, he'd been in lust before. But Kyle had not felt this immediate connection with a woman before. She had to repeat her question; Kyle was just standing, staring into her eyes.

"I bought this apple cinnamon stuff; it was on the closeout aisle at the grocery," Kyle smiled. "You want one?"

"Apple, yeah," the girl smiled.

The backyard was accessible through the kitchen; after making two mugs of the tea, Kyle ushered Keisha Mouton out onto the small back patio and offered her the choice of the rocker or the wicker chair. She chose the wicker seat and Kyle sank into the rocker.

"We was friends at Northside," Keisha offered.

"Hmm?" Kyle asked, enjoying the aromatic tea.

"Me and Latisha? We was friends at Northside," Keisha said. "I mean, we was tight, know what I'm saying? But now? I mean, shit, girlfriend, your boy Manny ain't nothing but a loser, know what I'm saying?"

Kyle had his own opinion about Manny, but kept them to himself. Keisha was Latisha's friend and Kyle didn't want Keisha repeating his words to Latisha.

"This is nice," Keisha said, indicating her cup of tea.

"Thanks. I like to fix myself a cup and come out here. About the only way I can think when they got their music going," Kyle said.

That a weeping willow?" Keisha asked, squinting in the darkness into the shallow backyard.

"Mm hmm," Kyle agreed.

"Ooh, I don't like them; my auntie? She had her one of them? My Auntie lives in Baton Rouge, and she had one them in her backyard and they was always all these nasty caterpillars all over them, sting you up something bad!" Keisha exclaimed.

"Hey, Keisha, you out here?" a young African-American man said, opening the kitchen door. "Mother fucking neighbor next door said they calling the po-po 'cause the tunes too loud, believe that fucked up shit?"

"See you later," Keisha said, giving Kyle's a little smile.

"Yeah," Kyle said, suddenly noticing that the music had been turned down to an acceptable roar.

The day before their rent was due, Kyle did ask Latisha if Manny planned on going home, or should they add him to the lease. Latisha became belligerent and Manny decided to interject himself into the argument. Kyle fought down the smirk; he was not intimidated by the posturing swaggering man.

"I am asking a simple, straightforward question; no one needs get all loud and shit," Kyle said. "He's here every night. Well, if he's going live here, then his name needs be on the lease."

"I got a right have me some guests," Latisha screamed.

"Guests usually leave sooner or later," Kyle pointed out.

"I leave when I feel like fucking leaving, cracker ass mother fucker," Manny thundered.

"Or I could just ask you to leave; you are not on the lease. And, legally? I ask you to leave? You got to be going, know what I'm saying? Bye-bye," Kyle stated, knowing what he had said was technically incorrect.

If Latisha invited Manny in, then Kyle really did not have the right to ask Manny to leave. But if Kyle could get Latisha to add Manny Espinoza to the lease, Kyle could approach Tab Properties, the agent of the property and say he was breaking his lease. Kyle could point out, however, that Latisha had managed to find someone else that would be responsible for Kyle's portion of the rent for the remainder of the lease period.

"He can do, you can do that?" Manny asked Latisha and Kyle.

"It's in the lease, and, it's the law," Kyle said, hoping neither Latisha nor Manny would read the lease or research the law.

"I, they, them people own this; they open on Saturday?" Latisha glared white-hot hatred at Kyle.

"No, but their office is right there on Sanborn Street; you could go there on your lunch break and be back within what, ten minutes," Kyle said.

When a triumphant Latisha showed Kyle the modified lease, Kyle smiled and asked if he could make a copy of it for his own records. Manny gloated from the open doorway of Kyle's bedroom as Kyle used his printer/scanner to make a photocopy of the lease. Kyle handed the lease to Manny, then enraged Manny by closing the door in Manny's face.

On Monday, his day off, Kyle went to the Tab Properties office on Sanborn Street and showed the agent the new lease. The woman gave Kyle a knowing smirk; this was not the first time she'd seen this manipulation. She was happy to show Kyle an apartment on Highway 52, between Kimble and Elgee. Kyle agreed to rent the unit and had his utilities transferred, effective the following Monday. With gritted teeth, Kyle agreed to keep the utilities on at the duplex until Wednesday, the end of the billing cycle. This would cost him an additional forty five dollars.

To celebrate Manny's addition to the lease, Latisha and Manny threw another party that Saturday night. Kyle was delighted to see that Keisha was among the invited guests. He smiled when Keisha came up to him and asked him if he had any apple-cinnamon tea.

She was wearing a very short dress of some stretchy material that hugged her curves beautifully. Watching as she absently danced to the music while they waited for the water to boil, Kyle could not see any noticeable bra straps or panty lines in the soft pink dress.

"Oh! Your, the lipstick; it, last time, you had on that gold top and your lipstick was gold," Kyle blurted out.

"Mm hmm," Keisha smiled widely, pleased that Kyle had noticed.

"And, now, you got pink lipstick," Kyle went on.

"Mm hmm, and my fingernails and toenails," Keisha said, showing Kyle her pink fingernails.

"Pretty," Kyle praised and Keisha beamed.

When the water came to a boil, Kyle dropped the tea bags into the mugs and carefully added the water to their mugs. He then guided Keisha to the rear door of the duplex. As they sat, Keisha let Kyle know she was in her second year of studies at the University of Louisiana at DeGarde. She was studying Early Childhood Education; she and her mother ran an illegal day-care out of her mother's home in DeGarde.

"You'd like my momma," Keisha said, playfully tugging a lock of Kyle's whitish blond hair. "She's a blonde like you."

"Hey Keisha, yo," the same African-American male that had interrupted them the previous Saturday again stuck his head out into the darkness. "Ain't going believe this shit, need move your car."

"What? Why?" Keisha asked, grabbing her purse.

"Aw, your boy Manny? Showing off how all bad-ass he is with his blade? Stupid mother fucker bleeding all over the place," the young man said, rolling his eyes.

"Shit!" Kyle said, rushing past the young man into the apartment.

Kyle grabbed a dishtowel from a drawer and found a hysterical Latisha and a distraught Manny in the hall bathroom. Kyle pushed the four or five spectators aside and grabbed Manny's bleeding arm.

"Here, hold this, no, turn the water off, hold this against the cut," Kyle ordered.

After a few moments, Kyle pulled the bloodied towel away and could now clearly see a deep gash in Manny's forearm. Somberly, he nodded his head and again pressed the towel to the wound.

"Yep, you're going have to go to the hospital. That's going need some stitches," Kyle said. "The rest of you? Party's over, hear?"

"Hospital; that cost, they going charge anything for that?" Latisha asked, glaring at Manny now that the initial crisis was over.

"A lot less than his funeral's going cost you," Kyle told her. "Let's go; come on, everyone, out the way, huh?"

After the last guest had left, Kyle went into the unlocked bedroom of Manny and Latisha, grimacing at the stale sweat odor emanating from their unwashed bedding. He clicked the stereo off and sighed as the garbled booming and thudding ceased. He then gathered up the dirty dishes and glasses from their floor and dresser. Obviously, Latisha and Manny did not worry about attracting cockroaches. Also, all the glasses and dishes and silverware belonged to Kyle. Loading everything into the dishwasher, he ran the noisy appliance.

Kyle found the bloodstains on the living room carpet, thanks to the wicked looking knife that still lay on the floor. He treated the area with carpet foam after putting the still bloody weapon onto the vanity in Latisha's bathroom.

After vacuuming, Kyle locked up the apartment and drove to Huvall's Texaco and bought some sturdy moving boxes. The kitchen took little time to pack up; the dishes were still warm as Kyle packed them into the first box. Pots and pans and utensils went into the second box. Both boxes fit in the trunk of his car.

The clean kitchen towels went on top of the dishes. Kyle shrugged about the loss of the towel that Manny had taken with him.

What food items still remained in the pantry, including his wooden spice rack, his coffee maker and his toaster went into the third box.

Kyle then remembered there was at least one coffee mug on the back porch.

Pouring out the now cold tea, Kyle poured himself two fingers of his St. Elizabeth's Premium Whiskey into the mug and toasted himself. He smiled as he saw the smudges of pink lipstick on the second mug.

"Oh, my momma would have her a total meltdown I show up with a black girlfriend," Kyle laughed, thinking of Keisha Mouton.

"I ain't prejudiced, Lord knows I ain't prejudiced," Wendy Thomas would say.

Then Wendy would follow that disclaimer with an extremely racist statement. Only a pure-bred lily-white person escaped Wendy's racist attitude. Wendy hated all African-Americans, all Asians, and all Hispanics. Indigenous Americans, Wendy declared should just 'go back to the reservations where they come from.' Because Rome was the birthplace of the Catholic Church, and Rome was filled with Italians, Wendy also hated those of the Catholic faith.

"Mother, you shouldn't judge people by the way they look," Kyle had said when she expressed outrage that her baby boy was living with an African-American woman. "You know, they got some pretty nasty white people out there too."