Come With Me, Sheba From the Novel Come Wth Me, Sheba by Preston L. Allen Copyright 2004 Sheba was being watched. As she pulled into the lower entrance of the Miami Mall by the Bay's parking garage and found a spot in the employee spaces under the ramp leading to the upper levels, she had music on her mind, and words. And she was being watched. She killed the engine, but left the battery on so she could hear the rest of the song playing on the radio. Survivor by Destiny's Child. It had a nice beat. Nice words. Some people told her that with her fair complexion, relaxed hair, and sparkling eyes she resembled Beyonce, the lead singer, but Sheba didn't see it. She liked to listen to the words of a song, see how other people put them together. She liked putting words together, too. Maybe one day she would write a song. As the song bounced to its close, Sheba checked her watch, a half hour to a nine a.m. opening, and made another pass over her lips with a light gloss. Kissed her lips closed to make it glisten just right. Made sure she had her notebook. Opened her door and said, Whew, as the stifling August heat fell upon her like a blanket. There was no one else parked under the ramp leading to the upper levels. There was no one else pulling into the other spaces. There was no one else in sight. Except for the boy blocking her entrance to the main part of the parking garage. The boy with NiggaZ on his shirt. He looked to be about 15, 16. He was not blocking her entrance exactly, not even looking at her really. He was leaned up against the concrete guard rail with one hand to his mouth like holding a cigarette, only he was not holding a cigarette. The other hand bulged in the pocket of his baggy, long-kneed, off-the-hip-hanging denim shorts. His exposed boxers were Tommy Hilfiger white with red and blue spots. His T-shirt was baggy and black with NiggaZ on it in silver. The boy was not blocking the entrance exactly. There was plenty of room for her to pass. He wanted her to pass. He wanted her to try, NiggaZ did. Sheba clutched her purse. Gripped her notebook tighter. Frozen to the spot. Too late to get back in the car. He was too close. Before she got her key out of her purse, he could be right on her-. The boy licked his liver colored lips and peered at her through white, angry eyes. He had a funny afro, slanted, like from sleeping on one side all night. His skin was very black, and evenly spread, like lacquered on. His white eyes were wild, like he was ready to do something. He had that one hand in his pocket as he took the first step toward her. She backed up to her car. Take the twenty dollars in my purse. Take the credit cards too. Don't hurt me. She was so tired of being hurt. She hugged her notebook to her chest and opened her mouth to scream-. "Whuzzup?" A uniformed security guard appeared behind the boy. He had the whistle between his lips and his hand on the heavy baton. "Whuzzup, young man?" The boy with white eyes, thick lips and NiggaZ on his shirt turned, his hand still in his pocket, the back of his neck alive with razor bumps and sweat. And as he turned, he lowered himself into an almost crouch as if to bolt. But the guard was blocking his exit. "I did ask you whuzzup, young man." The young man did not answer. He got lower in his crouch. Preparing to. Preparing to do something. A few feet separated them. The guard in his straw-colored uniform and ranger hat, slapping his palm with the heavy baton. The boy in his crouch, that hand gripping something in his pocket. The guard let the whistle on the string around his neck fall from his lips and took a single step toward the boy. "Come on, le's me and you go to my office, young man." The boy's lean body tightened in that crouch. Like a cornered animal. Ready to. Ready to do something. He said, "Ain't going to no office. Ain't done nothing wrong." "Oh. But I didn't say you did anything wrong." The boy's hand in the pocket twitched. The black, fatty flesh around his eyes knotted in rage. His lips scarcely moved as the words came out in a hiss. "Then why I gotta go to your office, dogg?" "Well. Maybe I wanna talk to you. Maybe I got some advice for you." "Advice bout what?" "Good books you should be reading." "Books?" "Books. Like what they got in school. You supposed to be in school." "Ain't no school. It's summer." "They got books in summer school, too. Kids these days just don't read enough. Kids these days can't spell." He nodded at the boy's shirt. "You ain't my daddy, dogg." "I got your daddy right here, dogg," the security guard said back. His posture had changed. Less rigid. Leaning now. Like the boy's when he had been up against the concrete guard rail. The baton hanging down now like a gun in a holster. He was sending him a message. I am your daddy. I am worse than your daddy. The guard, who was about average height, had a thick chest and arms that looked like they meant business. Ain't nothin in your pocket can stop this ass whuppin I'm gonna give you if you keep with that attitude, dogg. The boy rose slowly out of his crouch and took his hand out of his pocket. It was empty. "I ain't done nothing, man. Just let me step." "You don't want the advice? I give good advice." "I wanna step." The security guard sighed. "Kids these days just don't read enough." He gestured brusquely with his hand. "All right, then. Step." "Straight up?" "Get to steppin," the guard told him. "Dogg." The boy, who seemed much smaller now, scooted past the guard, then took off running through the parking garage. The word NiggaZ was on the back of his shirt, too, but smaller and white. The guard was chuckling as he turned to Sheba. "I used to be just like that little rascal back in the day." "Yeah," she said. Glad those days were over. Glad he was who he was now, and here with her now. He was still musing. He had a little boy's innocent smile on his face. "I don't think he'll be back, but maybe I should walk you to your store." "Would you? I'm a little shaken." "Don't be shaken. I'm here to watch over you." "Watch over me?" "To protect and serve," he corrected. Playfully. Little boy smiling affably. "That's what we're here for. That's what we guards do. That's what I meant by watching over you. That's all I meant." "Oh." She laughed. Quite at ease, despite his over-explanation.