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until the next applicant arrive d . The q uestions were a smoke screen t o give the appearance of due consideration when in fact there was no consideration at all . Ms. Barton had already written her off. At the end of the hour, the woman had quickly risen, giving Nailah a pleasant but final send-off , all the while weakly shaking Nailah's hand, a touch that ended just a bit too abruptly .
    When Nailah arrived at the condo after an hour's ride on the Metro , she'd doffed her bitterness along with her sage Chanel threads . She'd pulled on a comfortable red tee along with her favorite faded jeans . She then headed to the k itchenette, pulled out a bottle of red Merlot, retrieved the container of berries from her refrigerator followed by an orange and a lemon which she summarily peeled. She mixed the ingredients into the blender along with half a bottle of the Merlot. After a few minutes, she switched off the blender and poured the newly made Sangria into a wine glass . The recipe was one she'd picked up during her trip through the south of Spain last year . As she drank first one then another glass , she began to feel fine. Actually she began to feel r eally fine, in fact. After the third glass, she was able to give a good f uck off in her mind to both Ms. Barton and Internance.
    Midway through her fourth glass , a craving for barbecue took over . Ruby's piquant sauce would go just right with her sangria . It was a little after three in the afternoon, too late for lunch, too early for dinner. Then again, it was also too early for half a bottle of Merlot. And there was that small promise to God to lay off the indulgences. But given her rotten day, maybe God would allow her some dispensation. Since she'd already broken one cardinal rule, what did it matter if she indulged herself a little more with some succulent meat ?
    She headed to the door, feeling just a little bit wobbly but still holding her own. Thank goodness she didn't h ave to drive to the rib joint.
    Fifteen minutes later, she entered Ruby's BBQ . There was already a line several folk deep. No matter the state of the economy, Ruby's would never go out of business. Hot links, rib tips and fries drenched in Ruby's secret sauce was the menu de jour every day. In addition, the clientele could choose other dishes such as blackened catfish fried up as good as anything one might find in New Orleans . Not to mention collard and mustard greens, beans and rice, bean pie, sweet potato pie, lemonade and sugary iced tea. For just a few bucks, those suffering from any type of malaise were sure to get a spicy pick-me-up. As well as pick up a few pounds. For the weight-conscious customers, there was always diet soda.
    When she left the establishment , she had a bag with a container of ribs, fries along with a side dish of sweet potato pie. She didn't know if the dessert would taste good with Sangria but she would find out within a few minutes.
    A sense of déjà vu aros e with the sound of rumbling engines. Specifically, the rumbling engines of motorcycles. She knew instinctively that those engine s belonged to the bikers from yesterday. The ones that had gathered in the parking lot across the street from the cleaners.
    Damn. Two days in a row meant that they had m oved into the real estate and had probably already claimed territory. She knew next to nothing about gangs except basic stuff about graffiti signs along with the inevitable rise in crime. Crime that usually centered around drugs. Street drugs, prescription drugs, club drugs. There was always somebody – or some dead body – in the news because of the underground economy. Just like Ruby's, drug dealers would always have customers no matter what was going on, up or down. Actually a bad economy probably padded the customer list.
    She knew the damage drugs could do. Had seen the ravages on both relatives and friends. She definitely didn't want to be anywhere around dealing . With that thought, s he hastened her pace but found