by Janet Walker
* * *
“Scooby! You won’t believe it!”
“What?”
“IspentthenightatJazzNelsonhouse!”
“What?”
“I spent the night…at…Jazz Nelson’s house!”
“What! When?”
“Thursday and Friday!”
“You serious?”
“Yep! Thursday and Friday, and woulda stayed Saturday night, too, if my aunt hadn’t said I needed to come home.”
“Did you meet ’im?”
“Yep, but not at his house. He went to Alabama to be with his family for Thanksgiving, but before he left, I met him in the parking lot at the Summit.”
“The Summit?”
“Yep. I went to the game on Thursday.”
“The Majestics game?”
“Yop!”
“Man, why you ain’t tell me?”
“I tried to, I called you Saturday!”
“Why you ain’t tell me before you went? I woulda wanted to go!”
“You couldn’t go with me. I went with Miz Grace!”
“Oh. She took the team?”
“Nope, just me.”
“For real?”
“Yop.”
“I didn’t know y’all was tight like that.”
“Well, we weren’t—’til she asked me to go. But Scooby, it was the best thing ever happened to me!”
“What y’all did?”
“Went to this big room on the fourth floor where the players’ family and people who know ’em eat and watch the game out the window or on these big TVs. I’m talking about good food, too! And Jason Mathers niece took me to the floor and we sat right by the court in Miz Grace and Jazz Nelson seats—’cause Miz Grace didn’t wanna sit on the floor, she stayed up in the family lounge. And after that, Miz Grace and me went to the parking lot where the players park, and I met him! And Scooby, he was so nice!”
“How he looked?”
“He was sharp! Had on this long black leather coat and his Kangol turned to the back, and a white turtleneck.”
“Lookin’ like Shaft!”
“Yop! But he was nice, Scooby. Smelled good. Pretty skin. Shook my hand, and his hand was so soft and big. And when Miz Grace told him my name, he pointed at me and said, ‘The superstar?’ and laughed.”
“Then what happened?”
“Jazz Nelson left, but Miz Grace asked me to spend the night with her. And I did, and Scooby! They got a pretty house!”
“For real?”
“Yop! I’m talking big rooms! Pretty carpet! White piano! Big ol’ picture of Jazz Nelson on the wall, ’bout to dunk. Big picture of Miz Grace in her wedding dress. Diamond chandeliers. Swimming pool that light up at night—and it’s heated! Tennis court! Track field—I’m talking about a real track. And they got this building by the house with a basketball court and a racquetball court in it. And you can look through these big windows and see out of one court to the other court. It’s bad, Scooby. I ain’t never seen nothing like that.”
“Man.”
“Yop. Oh! And they live—well, I can’t tell you that, but I can tell you that all the streets where they live named after Martin Luther King and his family.”
“Why you can’t tell me where they live?”
“’Cause Miz Grace don’t want nobody to know where she live. She real private.”
“Aw, man, who I’ma tell?”
“I can’t tell you, Scooby. I promised her.”
“Well, what she tryna keep it secret for? People can find out where Jazz Nelson live, if they want to.”
“Yeah, but she didn’t want none of the students at Beck to know.”
“I ain’t no student at Beck. And anyway that’s crazy. If you told me, she wouldn’t know you told me. For all she know, I coulda got it out a magazine or something.”
“I can’t tell you.”
“That’s messed up, Tracy. If I knew where Jazz Nelson lived, and you didn’t, I’d tell you.”
“I know, Scooby, but I’m sorry, I gotta keep my word to Miz Grace. I told her I wouldn’t tell nobody at Beck that I went to her house. And she said she liked to keep where she lived a secret so people won’t bother her and Jazz Nelson when they come home.”
“Yeah, but that don’t apply to me, Tracy. I’m supposed to be your friend.”
“You are, Scooby. But she is, too.”
“Oh, I see. Jazz Nelson wife your friend now, so to hell with me, right?”
“No, Scooby, that’s not what I mean. And are you mad for real?”
“I ain’t mad. I just think it’s fucked up, the way you acting, that’s all.”
“How I’m acting, Scooby?”
“That’s ah’ight, Tracy—”
“No, I wanna know—”
“Forget it, Tracy—”
“And you are mad ’cause you said ‘effed up,’ and you never cuss at me.”
“Look. I’ma go, ah’ight. Say hello to Jazz Nelson for me—next time you go to his house!”
“Scooby—”
“Bye!”
He hung up before she could say more.
