by Hannah Weyer
How old you gonna be, Paloma asked.
Eighteen. Tha’s nice though. Tha’s real nice a Niki to get you that.
Yeah, Niki’s very sweet to me.
Paloma smiled, still looking like a black China doll.
That night, AnnMarie practiced walking in the hallway outside the apartment. Put on the pair of four-inch heels she borrowed from Nadette and started in front of 4F. Hands on her hips, shoulders back, chin up, her ankles wobbling a couple times but she kept going.
Star sat on the stairs watching.
Whatchu doing, Mama?
AnnMarie got to the end of the hall, struck a pose, giving her daughter a little cat-eye look, like the magazine girls do.
Ma, whatchu doing!
How I look, Boo? Do I look good?
Yeah, you look good. But why you walking like that?
I’m practicing. I’ma get up on stage and model some fashion. Like those girls you see in the magazine.
Hands on hips, shoulders back, chin up, AnnMarie strutted. And out the corner of her eye she saw Star watching. Hands folded in her lap, eyes bright, breathing her mother in.
53
The fashion show was Saturday night at Splash Bar, in a neighborhood Paloma said was called the Chelsea.
She liked the feeling of all those eyes on her, Dre’s clothes hanging like silk, working it at the end of the ramp—the model Misu there next to her, they’d only practiced a couple times, leaning back into each other, letting the people see the dresses drape down their backs.
In the backroom, there was powder in the air, a rush of movement, clothes flying, the scent of girl all around her. Girls getting naked, stripped to G-strings no bra, AnnMarie didn’t have no G-string, wearing regular old cotton but that was okay ’cause no one was looking, everybody busy getting in and out of outfits without smearing makeup on Dre’s clothes.
Line up!
Line up!
She got in line next to Misu again, Misu who was a true professional, the way she moved her hips, gliding down the runway. Two and two they moved together, AnnMarie keeping stride with the fashionista pretty girl.
After the show there was laughter, girls laughing and talking, Dre walking through the racks saying, You all beautiful. Thank you thank you thank you. And they could hear the dirty house music start up, some of the girls dancing right there while they dressing—putting on they thigh-high boots, little miniskirts.
Niki came into the room, walked right past the curtain, laughing ’cause a couple girls shrieked, throwing clothes at her telling her get the fuck out, no free peeps.
AnnMarie was done dressing and had turned when she heard Niki say, What up girl, long time no see. Frontin’ like there ain’t been nothing wrong between them. Nothing at all.
Hey Niki, AnnMarie said. How you, you look good.
Thank you, thank you I try to keep myself in the fashion way.
Ann Marie laughed.
Paloma was leaning into the mirror, touching up her makeup.
She said, What’d you think, baby? You like the clothes?
Y’all worked it. Y’all tore it down.
Niki came up behind Paloma then, put her arms around her waist, spooning her right in front of everybody.
Dang. AnnMarie glanced around. No one was looking. Huh-uh, that ain’t right. No one cared. Niki kissing Paloma right in front of everybody. Now that was something.
AnnMarie peeked her head past the curtain and saw the club spilling people, crystal ball turning, the stage broken apart now but dancers up on raised levels, podium-type things, all the bodies grooving, having fun.
Niki and Paloma climbed onto one of the raised levels and people made room, room for her too, Niki reaching for her hand, pulling her up and by the time AnnMarie made her way off the dance floor she was pouring sweat and needing water. She slid her way up to the bar to get herself something to drink and saw a fella standing over there—leather do-rag, white tank, black leather pants, one foot hooked up on the bar stool. Nice face. Body, long and lean.
AnnMarie turned away, sipping her water. She hadn’t been with nobody for a long time. Only hands on her these days was Star’s. She watched the mirror ball spin crystals of light across the floor, across all the bodies moving in the dark.
Then Busta slammed out the box and she felt the crowd swell all at once, the model Misu appearing suddenly behind her, saying, Come on AnnMarie, let’s dance, pulling her back out onto the floor as AnnMarie let her gaze slide back to the fella at the end of the bar just as those pretty eyes turned and met hers.
Next thing she knew he’d danced his way into their circle, was dancing right up next to her and AnnMarie kept her rhythm, looking now into those eyes and saw that the boy was a girl, no two ways about it. Busta’s beat locking them in, the two of them almost touching, dancing so close AnnMarie could see the pearls of sweat on her bare shoulder, saw the brown nipples poking through her tank and AnnMarie didn’t back away ’cause she felt it, the sudden pull of attraction. Like a magnet, this girl was. When the song ended, a slow jam came on. AnnMarie glanced at the girl just as she hitched up her pants, neither of them talking but no one moving neither. Awkward. Just plain awkward. Couples paired up to dance, but the girl just leaned in and touched her arm. She said, Thanks. And AnnMarie didn’t know why she did it, but she followed her through the crowd and out the door where the bouncer sat on his stool. AnnMarie glanced at him, said, Can I get back in? He said, Yeah, you get back in.
The girl was leaning against the wall. Had her phone out, texting somebody so AnnMarie waited digging around in her purse until she looked up.
She said, That Busta song was dope.
Word.
AnnMarie dug around some more until she pulled out a pack of Pall Malls.
You want one.
Nah, I don’t smoke. Then the girl said, I saw you up there before.
You was at the fashion show?
Yeah, you was walking with Misu.
Oh, you know Misu?
Yeah, yeah. We cool.
Oh, okay.
The door pushed open and a group of people spilled out, laughing. A fella spinning around with thin arms, then walking like a runway queen, his friends laughing. They high on something. She saw it was Bodie and that Niki was with them, lighting up a blunt.
Niki!
Niki turned, then walked over with her swag on. Ignored the girl altogether as she moved in on AnnMarie, holding her hips and leaning in for a kiss.
Hey baby …
AnnMarie pushed her away, laughing. Stop bugging, Niki. You soused.
But Niki slid her hands around AnnMarie’s waist and wouldn’t let go. Nuzzling in, it was embarrasing, the girl standing there watching, Niki’s weed breath on her face.
Stop, Niki, AnnMarie said, pushing until she finally broke free. Niki stumbled, then regained her balance.
Stupid, AnnMarie said.
I’m playing with you.
Playing, Niki said as she raised her hands and backed away.
Ain’t she with Paloma, the girl asked.
AnnMarie tsked. Supposed to be.
She got the grabby-hand disease.
AnnMarie laughed, and their eyes met briefly before AnnMarie looked away.
They stood for a moment without speaking. Then AnnMarie asked, So you a lesbian too?
The girl shrugged. Kinda sorta maybe.
What you mean, kinda sorta, you either is or you ain’t.
Why you gotta define it.
What I mean is, is you with somebody?
Oh. Nah, nah … Not at the moment.
AnnMarie didn’t know why she was acting this way, frontin’ like she knew what she doing, flirtin’ with this girl.
She was happy, what it was. The air warm at midnight, summertime in the city. Forget about the little things. Dre’d said she’d done good, he liked her style. Didn’t matter about the money, sometimes exposure is enough. The door opened again, music pouring out, Destiny’s Child harmonizing, AnnMar
ie start to dance right there in the street. The girl laughed.
So you gonna tell me your name?
Ann Marie.
AnnMarie put out her hand and the girl took it, held on and said, I’m Lu.
Lu … Lu like Lu-lu or Lu like LuAnn, AnnMarie asked.
There you go again.
What?
Trying to define me.
AnnMarie laughed and Lu smiled.
Nah, I play for Brooklyn College—women’s basketball. They got L-U on the back a my jersey. Number 18. Short for Lucinda.
Oh, okay, AnnMarie said.
So you a ball playa.
Lucinda laughed, shaking her head and AnnMarie thought right then she was just about the prettiest girl she ever seen.
54
Darius called, Blessed said.
AnnMarie was getting Star dressed.
Daddy, Star said.
What the fuck he want, AnnMarie thought.
Last time they’d seen him was two weeks after Star’s third birthday, musta been July, around then. He popped up with a Plush Puppy, took the two a them to Burger King where Star got a Happy Meal and a gold paper crown. AnnMarie couldn’t help it—tight the whole time, not even able to fake she happy for her own daughter. Muthafucker had promised to get balloons and a cake with happy birthday, star spelled out in purple icing. Her birthday had come and gone—AnnMarie’d had to run to J&B, get a box cake from the bakery, put the candles on herself.
Did he say anything?
No.
Momma you gonna call him? Star asked.
I call him.
But she went to work, got Miss Doris into her tracksuit, even though the weather was way too warm for that. Lady gotta whole closet full a clothes. Beginning of June, Miss Doris’ daughter had bought her some sleeveless button-ups, cotton dresses but Miss Doris refuse. It was tracksuit or nothing. Food stains down the front, won’t let AnnMarie wash it. The day she brought over the clothes, the daughter tried to strip her mother naked, but Miss Doris strong for a old lady—gripped her daughter by the wrist and twisted. Her daughter said, I’m done, AnnMarie. Her face screwed up in anger. I am done. What you mean you done, AnnMarie thought.
On the bench now, Miss Doris got her eyes closed. AnnMarie glanced at her, couldn’t tell if she sleeping or not. She tipped her own head back, felt the sun kiss her face and thought about calling Nadette. She’d seen her dance, seen the floor managers come up on stage and pour buckets of money on top of her when she got done. Buckets. Nadette had tossed the bills up in the air like confetti.
She opened her eyes, turned and looked at Miss Doris. She wondered how old she was for real. Bony hands curled in her lap. AnnMarie thought, I could just get up, walk away—you never even know. Miss Doris. Sitting there breathing.
Outside Splash that night, Lucinda had said, Y’all want a ride? I drive you.
She’d dropped Niki and Paloma first. Then she turned to AnnMarie. AnnMarie said, You got to turn around, go back to New Haven then up Gateway. It’s a one-way. Lucinda backed up the car, the streetlight hitting her face, and for a second AnnMarie thought, What the fuck’m I doing. The girl telling AnnMarie how she’d been in a serious relationship for a while but how they ain’t together no more. She living at her mother’s house in Lefferts.
Oh, okay. Lefferts Boulevard? AnnMarie asked.
It’s over there by the Park. Prospect Park. You ever been there?
Nah.
They got horses over there.
Word? Horses, in the city?
Lucinda laughed. Near the park. There’s a stable over there.
Word, I never knew that.
Lucinda pulled up outside the building. This it?
Yeah. Thanks for the ride. AnnMarie unlatched the door and pushed it open.
Lucinda said, What’s your rush. Sit for a minute and let’s talk.
So that’s what they did. The two of them in the front seat, windows rolled down, the predawn air mild and balmy. Lucinda put the radio on low, some late-night mixtape jam, and they listened for a while, then talked some more and when AnnMarie finally got upstairs, Star was still asleep in her mother’s bed but the sun had risen, bleaching the world over.
no shame in love
55
The first time they hung out, Lucinda picked her up and they drove out to Kings Plaza where they roamed around, going in and out of stores, laughing and talking about Brooklyn College and basketball and music and the new album out by Missy, talent agents and talent scouts and how it’s important to have representation if you want to make it in this world—they mouths going a mile a minute, talking about everything under the sun. The second time, Lucinda brought her ball and they played in the courts behind Far Rock High School, Lucinda spinning around AnnMarie with the grace of a dancer. AnnMarie laughed, grabbing on to her waist until they both fell over in a heap and Lucinda stood up wincing, faking her ankle got broke, limping away crying Foul, foul, foul. Then they wandered down to the boardwalk and sat on the benches eating ice cream and talking some more, not noticing the people walking by and how the sun was sinking into the horizon, swatting flies away, not noticing nothing but each other until AnnMarie said, Let’s go to my house.
In the apartment, AnnMarie sat Lucinda down on the floor of her bedroom and combed out her hair. She said, What kinda braid you want. I can do geometric, diamond or crisscross, I can do swirl, I can make it curvy, like go off to one side, what you want.
Lucinda said, I trust you, just make it look nice. And don’t pull too hard—I got a tender head.
AnnMarie teased, yanking her head back and Lucinda swatted her leg. She said stop and AnnMarie did. She got her hands to settle down and stop shaking and they eased into it, first time in AnnMarie’s bedroom, Star asleep on Blessed’s bed, AnnMarie wondering what it be like to kiss this girl but too shy to make the first move.
My mother used to braid my hair but now she got arthritis, Lucinda said.
Word? She can’t do it no more?
Nope. She comes to all my games though—brings my sisters.
They sit up in the bleachers cheering.
Sisters. I thought you had one sister.
Nah. I got two half sisters too. They young, five and seven. They with their mother most a the time but my mother takes care a them on weekends.
AnnMarie shook her head. I don’t understand that.
Yeah, she get walked on by my father. He say jump, she jump.
I told you about CeeCee, right?
Yeah … You ever see that girl?
Huh-uh. She had a boy. But you know what? I don’t care. For all I know Darius living with her right now. Could be he got bored, he with some other chick.
You got a dog for a baby father.
Word.
They was quiet for a minute, then Lucinda said, Yeah … don’t matter they ain’t hers. My mother, I guess she loves those girls anyway.
AnnMarie felt the breeze pass through the window. She combed out another piece of hair, liking the feel of Lucinda leaning back against her leg, easy, no worries, like they got all the time in the world.
After that, Lucinda just started showing up. AnnMarie’d come up the block, 6:15 from work, her face would light up, seeing the car there, looking in the driver-side window and finding it empty—her heart would start to pound knowing that girl already upstairs. She’d get inside, see her playing on the floor with Star or helping Blessed with the dishes. You don’t got to do that Lu, Ma why you got her doing that. Lucinda’d shake her head and say, Chill, AnnMarie. Chill.
One evening she came home, opened the door, looked around and said, Where Lucinda at?
She down at the check-cash.
Why.
She paying the phone bill, Blessed said.
What you talking about she paying the phone bill, why she paying our phone bill?
Blessed shrugged. Ask her.
No, Ma, I’m asking you, why the hell you giving her our bills to pay, what she gonna think.
; Blessed stared at the TV.
When Lucinda got out the elevator, AnnMarie was waiting in the hallway. She said, You don’t gotta pay my mother’s phone bill.
Lucinda shrugged.
Why you do that, you don’t gotta do that.
Ain’t no thing.
AnnMarie heard the soft way she said it, thought of the quiet way Lucinda had a talking, and felt her heart flip over.
Lucinda said, Why you looking at me like that—we going inside or we gonna tell the neighbors about it?
But AnnMarie wasn’t listening, she was thinking, what the fuck am I waiting for. She knew what she wanted to do and just as Lucinda opened her mouth to speak, AnnMarie took a step and kissed her. Her lips parting, pressing against Lucinda’s, kissing her the way she’d been dreaming of. She felt her heart melting, her whole body go slack as Lucinda’s hand rose, pulling AnnMarie into an embrace. A month of waiting and wanting, a whole month and when Lucinda drew away, AnnMarie whispered, I think I’m in love.
What your mother gonna say? Lucinda asked, softly.
Fuck my mother, what she know about love.
One evening, not long after, they was coming from the J&B where they’d gone to buy toilet paper and groceries and a toothbrush for Lucinda since she’d started sleeping over. Lu was talking about the game she played on Tuesday, how she’d tried to get in front of the girl but had slipped, the girl landing a three-point jumper.
AnnMarie was saying uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-oh, but was only halfways listening ’cause she saw the fellas standing on the corner and felt a stab of apprehension. She slowed down some, falling out a step with Lucinda who didn’t seem to notice, tossing the ball up in the air, still talking her ball-talk when AnnMarie realized one a them was Raymel.
Hadn’t seen him for a long time, heard he’d gone upstate for burglary. She wondered how this gonna go down, one fella pacing, gold flashing on his teeth, his voice loud like he some type a cock-a-the-block. So she kept her eye on Raymel and when she saw the look of recognition pass across his face, she let herself breathe.
