by Kiki Swinson
“Damn, I was about to call you. Got me window lurking. You ten minutes late,” Briana complained as she settled into the front seat.
“Bri, really? I came here as soon as I got off. You have no patience. Get your nerves right, girl,” I joked while pushing the gearshift into drive.
“You know a bitch been cooped up in that house all day with Kat.” She referred to her mother. Briana and her mother Kat were like night and day—they never agreed on anything.
“You two know you can’t live without each other.” I laughed.
“I guess. You know she ain’t havin’ me move out.” Briana chuckled. “And what’s up with this radio?” Pulling out her iPhone, Briana swiftly connected it to my aux cord and put her Pandora on Future station. Soon Future’s “Low Life” was blasting out of the speakers. “Now, that’s my shit.” Briana threw her hands in the air.
I smiled. I loved my friend; she kept me in good spirits at all times. “I wasn’t feelin’ it at first, real talk. I’m starting to like it, though. I would like it even better if he would stop beefing with Ciara,” I threw in.
“If they got rid of Facebook and Twitter they could squash that shit. Social Media could ruin a wet dream.” Briana kept it real.
Pulling into the lot where Hair Plus was located, I searched for a close parking space. The less distance between us and the store, the less panhandling we would have to deal with. Bums hung out in droves in shopping centers and corner stores in East Oakland.
Briana reached over and turned down the music. I knew then something was up. “Speaking of beef, I am so done with your boy Ronnie. He got me so fucked up, I swear,” she declared.
“What now?” I sighed as I shut off the ignition. Ronnie was Briana’s on-and-off-again boyfriend for the past three years—more off than on because there was always some drama between them, but they always seemed to find their way back to each other. In my eyes he was a straight bum, still running the streets with his boys selling nickel sacks. I was so over him. Hopefully, whatever she was about to say would mean she had finally seen the light. But I wouldn’t get my hopes up. That nigga had done some foul shit and she had forgiven him.
Briana twisted her mouth up like she tasted something sour. “This time he got some basic bitch callin’ my phone, talking about they have a six-month-old daughter.” Briana’s neck rolled as if it was on a swivel.
This time my neck snapped. “What?” I wasn’t surprised but outdone. Ronnie never seemed to amaze me when it came to bullshit and beyond.
“I told that hood rat good luck and to lose my motherfucking number. These hoes is crazy. And I’m done smacking bitches over his ass. Then I called him and cursed him out. And just so he wouldn’t forget, I reminded him that he was a peon and bag boy. Bitch-ass nigga.” she sighed. “I told him to jump in front of a speeding car. And I meant it. I’m done with him. Ugh!” She was pissed. But there were no tears, and something about the calm but pissed look on her face told me she was possibly serious this time. Having a whole baby was a new low even for Ronnie.
Inside the store we headed straight for the hair. “So what did he have to say?” I was curious.
Twisting up the corner of her mouth, Briana looked at me. “Porsha, you already know. That the baby is not his.” She shook her head. “And you know that nigga probably lyin’. Either way, I’m done. He has finally gotten on my last nerve. Nigga doing everything possible to pull me down in the gutter wit him.”
“Well, I hope you for real this time.” I sighed. I was celebrating inside, but I didn’t want to see her hurt. “Real talk, though. Are you okay? Because if you ain’t, you will be.”
“I promise you, I’m straight, Porsha. Now let’s get this hair.” Briana was the baddest freestyle do-it-at-home hairstylist in the hood. There was no one in East Oakland that could step to her with hair game. She was the best, hands down. And she didn’t take no shit from anyone either. Come out your mouth slick at Briana and her fist was going in your mouth. I, on the other hand, was a bit more reserved. But not to get it twisted, I was no punk. I would get in that ass too. Maybe just not as fast as Briana, though.
After dropping Briana back off at her crib, it was time for me to head home. “Hey, Ma,” I said as I entered the front door, which led straight into the living room.
“Hey.” She silently shifted her weight to her left elbow and tightened her robe that she appeared to be already snugly wrapped in as she watched Good Times on television.
“What’d you do today?” I dropped my purse on the coffee table next to the empty love seat.
“Nothing. I had this awful headache that just would not quit. I took some extra-strength Excedrin.”
“So you good now?” I leaned down and kissed her on the forehead.
“Yep,” she answered, her eyes never leaving the television.
Thirsty, I headed toward the kitchen, where I was greeted with the smell of no food and darkness. For the past two years this had become the norm. I could remember coming home to sweet potatoes simmering in the pot, fried chicken in piping-hot grease, and Marvin Gaye playing softly in the background. The icing on the cake was my mother, whose name was Jennifer, always had a welcoming smile plastered on her beautiful face. But that had all changed a little over two years ago when my older brother Kenneth had been murdered. I can remember like it was yesterday. It was my first year at community college. We had never had a lot of money, but we did okay. Ma had a job as a LPN, and I had plans of becoming a registered nurse. Kenneth, though, he was on a different path—always had been. Smart as a whip, he declared that school just wasn’t for him. Without a male figure in his life, he took to the streets of Oakland dealing like a baby took to a bottle of formula. Making quick money and driving nice cars was how he chose to live his life. And to be honest, he was good at it. He wanted to move us up out of the hood into the suburbs, but Ma would not have it. She refused to have anything to do with the lifestyle his drug money afforded. In spite of how deep he was in the game she still believed she could save him. But then the reality of being the mother of a drug dealer in the dog-eat-dog world of Oakland kicked in, in the form of a phone call. Kenneth was dead. He had been murdered in broad daylight. And no one had seen a thing. Ma’s life shut down shortly after the funeral. She refused to leave the house. She stopped working all together. Kenneth had left a safe full of money, but I came home from school to find out she had donated the money, which she referred to as “blood money,” to the Salvation Army. I was pissed. But I loved my mother and the last thing I wanted to do was upset her any more than she already was. She had suffered enough. So to pay the bills, I had to quit school. I found a job and went to work full-time. The plan was I’d just work until Ma was better so that she could get back to work.
But here we were two years later, and she was not back working yet. I was not giving up on her, though; I had faith. Back in the living room I smiled as she laughed at James on Good Times as he threatened to slap Mad Dog. Like I said, I was not going to give up on her. A year ago you couldn’t get her to laugh at anything. Things were moving along, it was just taking time.
“Ma, get dressed and let’s go for Japanese?” I was hungry, and Japanese food happened to be one of my favorites.
“Not tonight, Porsha. I don’t feel like it. Besides, I had a bowl of Froot Loops not long ago.”
“Ma, really? You can’t be serious. That’s not food.”
“I know, Porsha, I’m just not in the mood. Even more I don’t feel like putting on clothes.” This time she looked at me with puppy dog eyes.
“A’ight.” I gave in. I didn’t want to force her. “Tell you what. How about I order up some takeout? How about Italian? Some lasagna and garlic bread from Mazzo’s?” Just mentioning it made my stomach growl.
“Yeah, that does sound good.” She smiled.
“Mazzo’s it is, then.” Grabbing my cell, I scrolled down my contacts for Mazzo’s. I kept them on speed dial. They had some of the best Italian food around. Eve
n better, they still delivered in the hood. East Oakland was no joke. Life was real at all times.
CHAPTER 2
“Thanks, Mrs. Rasrio. Enjoy the rest of your day.” I pushed the send button to send her deposit receipt back down the chute. The drive-through was busy. It was the first of the month, which meant nonstop traffic inside and outside. The only difference was the outside people didn’t get upset as fast as the people who came inside. Either way, I worked swiftly to keep a steady pace. Taking a breather for a second, one glance at the clock reminded me that lunchtime quickly approached. I signaled Sheila, one of the tellers, to take over for me at the window.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“Take over the drive-through while I send Judy to lunch.” Being a lead, I had to make sure my team went to lunch before I could even think about going.
“Sure.” Sheila stepped over to the drive-through and greeted the next car right away. One of the slower tellers, she would do better on the drive-through; Judy was one of my faster tellers, so I would have to cover her spot while she was at lunch. Sheila would be overwhelmed by the crowd, and I needed at least two strong people on the front end.
“You can close up for lunch.” I stepped into the booth next to Judy and asked the next person in line how I could help them. April was standing to the left of me. She was another one of the faster bank tellers. Her only problem was time. She was always late, normally only by a minute or so, but the girl could never seem to make it on time. I was always giving her pep talks, hoping she would get it together. And April was a good worker. The last thing I needed was her getting fired, because there was no way in hell I could work more hours than I already did. I liked working for Bryers Savings and Loans, but they were not quick about the hiring process, not to mention they were all about saving the company money. Now, Judy was dependable and had lead status, but she would check a customer quick if they said or did anything she didn’t like or she thought was disrespectful. I had to constantly remind her that the customer was always right.
Sheila, well, she was just slow. Her customer service skills were impeccable, but she could piss a customer off quick taking too long to process their request. Other than that, I loved my team. But most of all, I just wanted back in school.
“Porsha.” Sheila said my name just loud enough to get my attention. Turning to face her, I almost stepped on her feet. I had no idea she had closed in on me that quick.
“This guy.” She handed me his ID. “He has his own account here, but he wants to cash his check, then put the deposit into his wife’s account. I told him that she has to show her ID in order for me to access her account. But he refuses to listen.”
I hated when clients chose to be stubborn. Quickly studying the number of people waiting in Judy’s line that I was now servicing. I knew I had to be hasty. Speaking into the mic, I explained why we couldn’t access his wife’s account without her present, but convincing the man proved to be harder than pulling nails out of a block of wood. The guy just wouldn’t take no for an answer. In the end he requested his check back, threatened to close his account, and drove off burning rubber. Glad to be rid of him, I sighed with relief as I returned to my waiting customers.
“Sorry about the wai . . .” I stalled. Not only had my line totally cleared out, the customer that had been next in line was no longer there, and I was now standing face-to-face with my past.
“OMG, Porsha.” My past was just as surprised to see me as I was to see her.
“Sasha,” rolled off my tongue. It was bittersweet.
“Wow, it’s been a long time.” She smiled. That surprised me too because the last time we had said a word to each other, it didn’t end well.
“Yes. How are you?” I wasn’t sure how to respond, but I was at work, so being courteous was definitely an option.
“Good. I’ve been banking with Bryers for a few years, but this is the first time I’ve ever been in this branch. Now I’m glad I stopped in. What’s up?”
“Just living. You know how it is.”
“How is Bri? I ain’t seen her in forever either.”
I couldn’t help but smile when she called Briana, Bri. That had been our nickname for her. We were the ones that actually christened her with that nickname. “She’s good. Same old Bri.”
“She still slaying heads, I’m sure.”
“You know it.”
“That’s what’s up.” The smile on her face suddenly faded. “Hey, I heard about Kenneth a while back. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, we getting through it.” That was absolutely the last thing I wanted to talk about. “So what can I do for you today?” I cut to the chase. This was my job, not the streets.
“Oh yeah, I almost forgot why I was here.” Placing her all-white Coach bag on the counter, she unzipped it and pulled out a wad of bills. “I need to make a deposit.” She passed me the cash with her left hand. “Here is my deposit slip and ID.”
Reaching for the money, I read the deposit slip. It read five thousand dollars. I counted the bills. After typing her account information into the computer, I made the deposit and handed her a receipt.
The smile reappeared as she gripped the receipt I handed her. “I just can’t believe we ran into each other. Listen, we got to keep in touch.”
“Yeah, we should,” I agreed.
Picking up the pen next to her Coach bag, she scribbled numbers down on the back of her deposit receipt. “Here is my number. Call me.”
“Cool. And here is my cell.” Grabbing one of the bank business cards, I wrote my number down and handed it to her. I wasn’t sure if I would call her, but this was my way of extending the invitation.
“I promise to keep in touch. We have a lot of catching up to do.”
“Just hit me up.” I smiled.
With that, Sasha bounced up out of the bank as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Folding up the receipt with her number on it, I pushed it to the side. I chuckled. I couldn’t wait to tell Briana who came into the bank.
CHAPTER 3
After a long day at the bank I headed over to Honcho’s taco stand to pick up some steak and chicken tacos for dinner. Ma had called me earlier and put in her order, and I grabbed a few for Briana because she was coming over so we could chop it up. It was Monday night, so I had to watch Love & Hip Hop Atlanta. That was our show, and we tried hard to never miss it. By the time I hopped out of the shower and got dressed, Briana was ringing the doorbell.
“Man, what time is it?” she asked. “My damn cell phone died on the way over here. Then I had to stop and put some air in Kat’s raggedy left tire.” She huffed as she stepped around me, headed straight for our mahogany colored sectional. Our living room was set up in a way that some may think of as odd. Although we had a huge sectional, we also had a love seat that Ma refused to get rid of because it had been Kenneth’s favorite couch.
“Calm down, you are not late. It’s not even on yet.”
“Good.” She reached for the remote and turned on the television. “What you got to eat? You already know I’m hungry.” She flipped the channel to VH1.
“I picked up some tacos from Honcho’s.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. Let me wash my hands.” Briana set the remote on the couch and headed for the kitchen.
I was glad to hear she was going to the kitchen. I was tired. “Cool, and grab the food out of the oven. I was trying to keep it warm until you got here.” I bounced down on the couch and lay back to recline. I moved around a bit to let the comfortable sectional console me. “Hurry up, Bri. It’s comin’ on,” I yelled as the recap from the last week’s show started. I couldn’t wait to see what happened with the new girl Tommie and Scrapp’s baby mama.
I could hear Briana’s footsteps as she scrambled into the living room. “Here.” She handed me a plate with three tacos placed on it. I could smell the aroma seeping off the tacos and couldn’t wait to devour all three.
“There it is. Smack that bitch.” Briana yelle
d at the television as they started the show with the ending from the previous week.
“Ha.” I laughed. “I don’t even know why they try, knowing the producers are going to break it up.”
An hour later the show was over. Black Ink Crew was on, but we didn’t care much for it, so we used that time to talk about the foolishness of Love & Hip Hop Atlanta.
“Wait. Speaking of crazy-ass Joseline, guess who came into the bank today?”
“Aww hell, just spit it out.” Briana sat up on the edge of the couch. She hated when I played the guessing game.
Normally I would make her suffer until she couldn’t guess any more, but the suspense of her reaction was killing me. I couldn’t wait. “Sasha,” I blurted out. I knew this was one she would have never guessed.
Shaking her head, then scratching her scalp, Briana looked down at the floor, then at me. “Sasha who?”
“Bri, how many girls you know named Sasha?” I grinned. “You know exactly who I’m talking about.”
She laughed. “That Sasha, huh?” She laughed again.
“Yep, she came into the bank today to make a deposit. Ironically, she ended up in my line.” I shrugged my shoulders.
“Hmmm. So did y’all come to blows?”
“Hell no, you know I wouldn’t go there at my job anyway. But surprisingly it was cool. She was nice. We even exchanged numbers.”
Briana swayed back on the couch in a dramatic motion, making full eye contact with me. “Really? Okay, naturally this is a shock to me . . . I mean, you do remember how she carried on. The bitch went fucking crazy.”
I definitely remembered.
Damion was a guy that I started dating in the eleventh grade. He was a new kid at the school who started to hang around us from time to time. Of course we didn’t mind because of his good looks, and he always dressed nice. Soon he and I started feeling each other and decided to hook up. Right away I went to share my good news with my girls Briana and Sasha, only to have Sasha flip out, claiming that she had a crush on Damion. To make matters worse, she accused me of knowing how she felt about him, when in fact I honestly had no idea. I was totally caught off guard by her accusations. I couldn’t believe that she would think I would deliberately do something like that to hurt her. But she refused to let me explain. Briana and Sasha and I had been friends since we were in elementary school, and one misunderstanding had ruined it all.
