Calling All Cars

I never met my mother-in-law face to face.

Shawn warned me she was crazy but would likely bring me under her wing as one of her own like she had his other friends in life.

I almost met her. We were weeks away from moving into an apartment above her duplex in Crenshaw before the Feds took Shawn away.

"She’s going to love your pies. I want you to show her how you make a crust when we get to L.A. She’s going to adore you like I do."

"Are you a momma’s boy?" I asked.

"Of course I am. There is noplace I’d rather be than with you in my momma’s home. She is such a good cook. Sexy, you’ll never have to do laundry again and expect to sit down to a home-cooked meal every evening."


I carefully assessed the situation. I was far from being my mother’s favorite. Moving to L.A. with a man I had known for just over a year was scary enough, but men who can’t let go of momma’s apron strings are ticking time- bombs.

"Are your sure your brother Bobby can’t rent us an apartment in a different part of town?" I asked.

"Bobby has a safe in this place. We can’t keep the money in a bank. Here’s how it’s done– we get mindless 9-5 jobs and keep those minimum wages in the bank. We pay our taxes and live the fruitless existence that we already live here in New York. But in five years we’ll have enough cash to buy a place down in Puerto Rico."

"Will you give me the combination to the safe? What if you get caught and I have to make a run for it? I promise, if you let me have the combination, I’ll take care of your mother if something happens to you."

"I’m not worried about you running off with our money. I’m only worried that you will run from me. Things are different in L.A. for a white boy as fine as you, sexy. You’ll meet some rich white mother-fucker and realize that you don’t need me."

"I don’t need you now. Believe me, I know better than to allow myself to become a housewife and depend on another man."

"I’m still not giving you the combination to the safe unless you make me."

I pulled down my underwear and told him to try crackin’ it and he mumbled out ‘32-3-38' as I slowly turned the lever clockwise.