||Wildwood Vol. 2||

Wildwood...

||Nate:||
Watching Maya stumble past me gives an instant brightness to my stressful day. I wish she would admit that she likes me - but I've heard she only dates black guys. I guess that narrows my chances slim to none. I put my Zune on pause, and stop my "Go Getta" playlist so I can clock in. Nas' 'Untitled' album has been empowering me since it came out, especially this Louis Farrakhan track. Being a young, single father leaves me drained at times, especially when money's low. I love my daughter Naya with all my heart, and I refuse to be a statistic - so I work and go to school just for her. My relationship with her mother went sour when she decided college life couldn't include being a responsible parent. So, I decided to take it on by myself - and at the age of 24, I am Uberdad. But, I've got to do it. This job's not perfect, but they work with my life - I'm outta here as soon as my physical therapy diploma touches my hand. For now though - Wildwood will do.

As I step out into the store, I see Maya smiling with a customer. She leans forward to hand over his receipt, and a piece of hair lands over her eye - she truly is beautiful. Regardless of how harsh or how nasty the customers are - she always keeps that smile on her face. I see her go-getta attitude daily; she's never gonna consider a dude with a kid. She's young, she doesn't need that kinda baggage.

I take my first customer of the day - an older white woman. She tells me my face should be in a magazine. I laugh, and she starts telling me how she was a Versace model back in 89. I go to ask how much they paid back then, but I lose my train of thought. The smell of vanilla teases my nose - and Maya floats past me.

Damn. This girl drives me crazy.
||Jamie:||

I get a lot of female customers hitting on my daily, and I shrug it off with a smile - mostly because they just want to flash their giant wedding bands and talk about their yacht vacations. I have no interest in that - I just want to finish my shift and go home to my music. I get free studio time in exchange for tutoring this engineer's son in math. I met him while I was at work - networking really comes in handy. I'm exhausted when I get out of here, but I know combined with my talent and hard work - this mixtape can do big things for me.
Today was a pretty wack day - got the usual skimpy-dressed old housewives who've got no business wearing anything short or tight. I play the flirty game, and sometimes I'll find a ten or a twenty in my pocket - some of them with phone numbers scribbled seductively on them. Half the time, the money's spent before I even realize. I don't know what these older women want from me - I don't have anything to offer compared to their husbands. I guess there's something about lusting after fresh meat that they can't ignore. I definitely appreciate the gestures, though - it's always nice to eat a free lunch.
This evening, one of the regulars came on my line - fine looking cougar who always got her clothes on point. One thing about this place is - if you didn't know high-end fashion, you'll learn all you need to know in an eight-hour shift. My sister studies fashion design at the Art Institute - I know good quality when I see it. A men's Purple Label dress shirt was her outfit of choice, with a belt to transform it to a dress. Normally when the old maids try stuff like this, my gag reflexes kick in - but not this one. If I could guess how old she is - I'd say thirty-eight or thirty-nine. Her body is on point, though. Must be all of that free time - most of these dames don't work, so she's probably in her gym all day. She buys two or three things tonight, and I pack them up nicely, and give her a quick smile. Her Black Card slips out of her hand while she pays - I hear its heaviness hit the counter. I can't tell if she's trying to show off or not. She blushes, so I guess she's embarrassed. I help her with her bags, hand her the card - and catch the scent of Chanel No. 5 - a signature Cougar scent. I say good night, and start on the next customer, but I can't help but glance back and watch her red-bottomed heels click out the door...
||Customer A||I tell the cashier I'm in a rush, and she smiles and starts my order. I hate waiting - time is money. As I bark at my assistant on my BlackBerry through my Jabra earpiece - she hands me my receipt and nods. I throw it at her and leave. Wasting my time with stupid paper.
The latte's half way gone by the time I reach my X-Type - remote startup's got the car running and the top almost off. If only they could install a fax machine in this bitch. I've gotta finish that spreadsheet before the meeting. Why isn't Addison finished with the spreadsheets? The faster she does it - the quicker I can take credit for it. The Peterson account is on the line - and I'm gonna get my promotion at any cost.
I start going off on Addison about the spreadsheets as I zoom out of the parking lot. She's apologizing - something about her workload, blah, blah, blah. If she had taken the paperwork home like I told her - we wouldn't be having this problem. My personal Treo starts ringing - IN THE BACK SEAT! By the time I get a hold of it and shut Addison up - the blare of the big-rig horn is too late. A tractor-trailor fishtails as I slam into the -