Rhys and the Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day (Ilonda)

[Rhys Freeman]

It had been a shit day to say the least.  Casey was riding his ass all morning about getting his shit done and when he snapped one of the little UFO plastics he straight up left the shop.  He would deal with Casey later, for now he needed to get the hell out of dodge before he broke something else; like his bosses face when he stood there screaming profanity at him, little drops of spittle flying across the air and slapping him in the face like he was standing on the bridge above the damn log flume.

As if things weren't already bad, he got tailed at the convenience store.  He was wearing a baggy hoody and baggy pants which were tucked into his flashy kicks.  His fingers were black and greasy from working in the shop all morning and all he wanted was a damn candy bar, some chips and a freaking soda.  But no, the manager or whoever the hell it was, was following him around the store waiting for him to steal something.  He wanted to simply out of spite, but the thought of being wanted right now for petty theft seemed ridiculous when he had wallet full of cash.  He paid with a hundred dollar bill just to piss the clerk off and pocketed a pack of gum when he wasn't looking just cause he could.

As if his day could get worse, when he got to his car the damn thing wouldn't turn on.  In the ten minutes he was in the store his damn battery had managed to die completely. After screaming some profanities and kicking the damn thing he realized he left his phone at the shop.  With Casey.  He wondered why he hadn't heard from his boss yet.  Grumbling, Rhys took off for the closest place; Hammel.  When he got to the campus he figured he would have to find a way to call someone for help, maybe Elijah could come up and jump him.  He sure as hell wasn't calling Casey, that was for sure. Did he even know anyone else's number off the top of his head?  

Pissed, Rhys walked into the gym, throwing the door open and nearly hitting someone.  He was about to snap at them when he realized it was a girl.  Not that he wasn't above yelling at a girl, but he was somewhat mature enough to not take his aggression out on an innocent bystander.  The girl was cute, and probably the nicest thing that had happened to him since, well, he woke up.  

"There a phone up in here somewhere?"

[Ilonda McCoy]

“Oh, wow,” Ilonda said, having narrowly dodged a door swung her way. “Watch where you goin’.”

She had never seen Rhys before. She would have remembered him if she had: he was tall and sort of intimidating - if he wore that expression around all the time, that was. Not a guy for niceties, either. Ilonda wrinkled her nose, leaning her head back and giving him what her momma called that stink eye. “In a gymnasium,” she intoned.

Ilonda was chewing on a bright piece of gum, which he would likely see between her teeth, moving from the left to the right. She’d put it in to stave off hunger. “I think there’s a phone in the office,” she responded, finally, then paused to study him. “What you need it for?”

She had one on hand, too, but she wasn’t about to hand it to any old stranger.

[Rhys Freeman]

Was this bitch giving him the stink eye!? He supposed he would too if she'd nearly knocked him out with a door, but considering his current mood he wasn't keen on getting dirty looks from anyone, deserved or not.  Of all his luck, he had to ask someone with a fucking attitude problem where the phone was.  

Finally she offered a solid answer and Rhys looked down the hall.  The office, of course.  Why hadn't he thought of that?  Maybe if he wasn't so frustrated he would have. Her question brought his attention back down to her, and he was reminded of his sister.  Jocelyn talked with that air of bitchiness sometimes too.  It was strangely comforting if not sincerely annoying.

"My cars dead and I left my phone at work." He explained, not sure why she deserved any sort of explanation, unless she was considering loaning him her phone.  "I need to call my brother, see if he can gimme a lift or somethin'."  He ran a hand over his short hair, rubbing the back of his head as he looked at the girl.  "Look, I know you don't know me, but could I use your phone real quick?" The edge was mostly gone from his voice, at this point trying to butter the girl up to get what he wanted.  Going on a witch hunt for a freaking phone was not going to improve his mood.

[Ilonda McCoy]

Usually, Ilonda had a problem with other people touching her phone. Suppose he started thumbing through her gallery? There was nothing incriminating in there, of course, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to see that picture of her posing in front of Wendy’s with her lips puckered. The problem here was that she was a damn nice person. She’d feel bad about denying him a phone call for the rest of the day. “Just so you could save yourself a walk to the office?” she asked.

Then, sighing, she held her phone out. “Fine.” When Rhys would reach out to take it, she yanked it back up. “But I’m watchin’ you.”

This time when she lowered it, she let him take it. True to her word, Ilonda would stand right there and observe. Rhys might have been better off looking for the office phone after all.

[Rhys Freeman]

He realized how dumb it must seem to her to not want to go to the office, but it was a hassle.  First, he'd have to go there after having already made the hike to the stupid gym in the first place.  The girl offered her phone and a wave of relief washed past him.  Finally, something good happening!  Until she yanked it back.  He immediately felt his anger rise, but grit his teeth.  He shouldn't expect her to trust him.  Why should she? She didn't know him and she was trusting probably one of her most personal items to him.  Fortunately Rhys didn't take offense to that.  He knew what he looked like, and he wouldn't necessarily trust himself either.  That and no one had ever really trust him so what difference did it make?

"Thanks." He grumbled softly, taking the phone.  He swiped it open and dialed Elijah's number.  No answer.  He should have known..  "Yo, I need you to pick me up, my car died.  I'm at Hammel.  I'm calling your ass again in a few minutes.  Pick up."  He ended the call and handed the phone back to the girl with a heavy sigh.  This was all such a load of bullshit.

"You can quit watchin' me now." He teased, smirking a little but letting it drop.  "But for real, thanks.  Better to get funny looks from you than one of them old bitches."

[Ilonda McCoy]

Maybe she’d been a little hard on him, she thought, as she watched him make his call. Looked like he was having a tough day. She knew that if she had a car, and if it’d broke down, she might’ve been in a bad mood, too, and throwing doors in people’s faces were the least of it. But she was still eager to get her hands back on her phone, grabbing it as soon as it was offered. “I hope he gets it soon, whoever he is,” she said.

What he said next reminded her of home: she lived in one of the middle-ground areas, not too dilapidated but not wealthy, and had an even mix of racial diversity. Yet still prejudice thrived. Not too surprising, given that she lived in Richmond - though folks would say that old Virginia barely qualified as southern anymore.

“What, here?” she asked, face cracking into a smile. “Well, I believe it - can’t go nowhere without it. You shoulda seen Richmond, though. You can’t cross the street without some white folk throwin’ stones.”

[Rhys Freeman]

Rhys couldn't help but grin slightly at her comment, her light mood was contagious, and though he was still pretty miffed at his situation, at least he had a call in to his brother and someone to pass the time with, if only briefly. Someone with an attitude he was strangely comfortable with.

"I grew up in Florida.  No better down there." He offered shaking his head, "And I'm half white." He added with an amused sniff, shoving his hands in his hoody pocket.  His size and clothing choice certainly didn't invite people to give him friendly glances, and the scowl he wore most the time as a kid didn't help matters any either.

"What's yer name?"

[Ilonda McCoy]

“That don’t matter. The white man put his own son in slavery if they born a little black. And that’s a fact,” she said, pointing a finger. “You can look it up.”

Not that she believed he doubted it. She hadn’t heard anything about Florida, but she doubted there was any place in the US of A without some good old prejudice, besides the brief pockets dotting some inner cities. Even here in Pilot Ridge it was evident. Coming here from a predominantly black area to a snowy white northeast was bound to have a few unwelcome differences…though she had to say that she was pleasantly surprised with the majority of them. Even got along with a few. Still, she wished there were more students around here from her background. Rhys almost fit the bill, even if he were a Floridian, and half at that.

“Oh, my name’s Ilonda,” she said, pulling a hand through her hair. “Is it really that bad down there? I thought Florida was out the other end of hick country.”

[Rhys Freeman]

"I know it's true." He slipped the same amount of attitude in his own voice, mocking her more than anything else, but not in a cruel sort of way.  He'd done his fair share of research into slavery, none by choice.  He remembered Elijah hovering over him making sure he'd done his homework when it came to his ancestors civil rights.  His brother embraced his heritage, both sides of it, where Rhys himself didn't really care all that much.  He wasn't in a shit situation because he was part black or part white, it was because his parents sucked at life and their parents before them weren't a whole lot better.  They created four new lives, only one of which seemed to be worth a damn and it wasn't his.

"Rhys." He gave in way of answer to her name, though she didn't ask.  It was common courtesy and if he was going to know her name, then she should know his.  Ilonda.  He didn't miss the emphasis on that first letter and wondered if people got it wrong often.

"Naw, it wasn't too bad." He wrinkled his nose a little as he talked about it, slouching some as he stood there, his hands finding his pockets.  "Just need to make the right connections, know what I mean?"  Soon as you found your crew you were golden.  Not that he had much of a crew at thirteen, or younger, but he had some friends.  No one messed too much with him; he had a reputation.  "But don't you think there's no hicks down there.  Florida's full've 'em. Stupidest people you ever met were prob'ly from Florida."