Black James(!)
Location: Building 7 (Rec Center) -> Building C (James's House)
"Hey hey, glad y'all like. But imma be humble and quote my Mama; "Hunger makes the best spice", or something' like that..." remarked James, upon hearing the feedback from the two newcomers. It was always good to get positive reviews of his cooking.
"Bein' honest though, ain't but half mine, little less. Domestic been workin' some good stuff, what we pull out the ground here. Tell you something else, we don't always eat like this, neither. As you may have heard, we had us a wedding. First one, since all the bad happened in the world." A grin grew to ornament his ebon features,
"That means, o'course, that this here is the tail end of the First Wedding Reception. Innat somethin'?" James took a look around the room. People were starting to clear out, and he was seriously planning to leave, himself. Coming to grips with an emotional realization like he did was taxing. He didn't know how much longer he could continue acting semi-normal (for him). There was security in place, just in case the new people were more than they were letting on, and besides, Security wasn't his gig. These guys seemed genuinely grateful for the food and promise of a place to stay for the evening.
"Look, uh, y'all're gonna have to excuse me. Been up since before dawn, gotta get up again early again tomorrow. Do me a favor, huh? Eat good. Get some rest. Tomorrow mornin', talk with our Bossman. He treat you fair." A tip of his stetson later, and James returned to his plate. He brought it to the makeshift buffet and piled a couple of things on, found himself a slice of cake, and made for the door. Before he exited, James gave off a heartfelt
"Nighty night, y'all!", gave a warm smile, and let the door close behind him.
When he got back home, a short walk of about a block, he locked the door behind him. He deposited the remainder of the meal on his coffee table and got to work shedding his particularly tasteful black-and-camo tuxedo. James hung it up and draped the original dry cleaning plastic over it, though it was a little stretched from earlier, tucking it away into a nearby closet.
It was strange, looking about this building in which he now resided. James was never a man with a taste for finery. While this was not exactly
finery, it was the best living conditions he had experienced for an extended period of time, hands down. Pre or Post Outbreak, even. In his younger days he worked farms, just like his family did before him. He knew how to make things grow into food, support communities, and the value of hard work. While it did make him a dependable, worthwhile man, such a life did not make one wealthy, generally. Especially in the Deep South for someone of his complexion. Even when he took up Hog Hunting, and
excelled, giving him a bit of cult celebrity status, he couldn't have afforded something like this.
James remembered back to his days just prior to the Outbreak. His sparkling personality and regional fame combined to make him an actual celebrity, cruising along the South, Deep South, and as far out as Texas to ply his trade. Nuisance Hog Hunting, an honorable profession. He was The Man to call. Some ginger wit out that way in East Texas even jokingly wrote "The Ballad of Black James", complete with guitar accompaniment, that made him sound like a bonafide Folk Hero. And even then, when he
could afford a higher lifestyle, he didn't even think to upgrade. Come to think of it, this was the longest time James had spent anywhere in a very long time. After the world purged itself, he stayed on the backroads and woodlands of the South, just moving and surviving. Newnan was his home, pure and simple. He had honest friends here. He
lost honest friends here. Too many. One in particular stood out.
Now changed into a pair of overalls and a thick, flannel shirt, James sat down on his couch and eyeballed his food. He absently and silently made his fork rise to and fall from his mouth, genuinely enjoying his meal but unable to actually express it. There was something off about the big, good-natured man. A wound he had forgotten about that never quite healed, now back in the light for him to see. He spoke quietly into the night,
"Aw, Lici... Baby, I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I'm so sorry." He thought about the close friends he still had, acquired before or since, that he had in Newnan. It was a true comfort to him.
And of course, there was the chance to reconnect with Thana. Whether she needed his protection or friendship, he was going to offer it to her. Maybe try to make up for mistakes of his past. Get to know Thana for Thana, and not for how he remembered her. It all gave him some peace. Tomorrow would be a new day, one where he would cherish his good friends and make sure they were safe, fed, and as happy as he could make them. She would have wanted that.
It was the last thought on his mind as he passed out, sitting up on his living room couch.
