by Erica Hilton
“I want to show you something.”
“Like what?”
Chanel took a seat right next to her big sister and opened the laptop. Claire looked like she was ready to become upset, but she took the time to listen to what Chanel was going to tell her. Chanel went to the GoFundMe page and proudly announced, “I got you the money you needed.”
“You got me what?” Claire asked, her face a picture of confusion and shock.
“I was able to raise thirty thousand dollars for you to attend Harvard this fall. I set up a GoFundMe page and lots of people wanted to help you out with your education.”
Claire’s mouth remained open. “You raised thirty thousand dollars?”
“Yes. And I’m turning the account over to you.”
“Wow!”
At first, Chanel thought Claire was proud of what she’d accomplished. But then Claire went on to say, “So you think you’re better than me?”
A look of incomprehension decorated Chanel’s face. “Huh?”
“You think I’m some fuckin’ charity case, Chanel?” Claire asked.
“I just wanted to help you out.”
“You help me? Do I look like I need your help?”
Claire felt some kind of way that she hadn’t thought of the idea. Then Claire uttered the unthinkable when she said to Chanel, “Thirty thousand dollars, huh? You sure you ain’t steal any of it? How do I know you didn’t raise more and spend it?”
Chanel was befuddled by the accusation. Now Claire was accusing her of stealing?
When Charlie heard about the idea, she was upset that she hadn’t raised the money. She was supposed to be the hustler of the family. The fundraiser completely turned against Chanel, and her family looked at her foul and showed absolute ungratefulness for what she did to help Claire out.
The only thing Chanel could do was cry and hide in her bedroom. What was an act of kindness turned into bitterness and hatred against her. After her tears and disappointment dried up, it hit her. She’d had enough.
“Fuck this!” she said to herself.
She called Mecca and asked if she could stay with her for a while. Chanel wanted to spend the rest of her summer in Harlem, and when Mecca’s parents said it was okay, Chanel packed her things and left the apartment that evening without anyone noticing.
***
Chanel exhaled and smiled. It felt like a new day. Sleeping at Mecca’s place was like a whole new world—absolute peace and tranquility and no bullshit from her family. Last night, she and Mecca laughed and talked for hours and snacked on pizza, chips, and candy and played games. It was the perfect sleepover.
Chanel wanted to thank Mecca for having her over, and she felt that the perfect way to thank her friend was to cook breakfast. The one thing Chanel knew how to do well was cook. She went into the kitchen to make an omelet, but the one ingredient she needed to make her omelets was missing—eggs.
“Mecca, you don’t have any eggs in your fridge,” Chanel said.
“I know. We need to get some.”
“I’ll go to the store,” Chanel volunteered.
“You sure?”
“Yeah! I got this, girl. I’m about to make us the bomb-ass breakfast,” Chanel said cheerfully.
Chanel quickly got dressed. It was a beautiful summer day, and the only thing she needed to wear outside was her cream shorts, a tank top, and her clean white sneakers. Of course, her long hair was styled into a ponytail. With a five-dollar bill from Mecca, Chanel left the apartment and walked toward the nearest bodega. She smiled the entire way, enjoying the bright sun in her face and taking in the busy sounds of Harlem—the people, the culture, the boys, and the atmosphere. She did not want to go back to Brooklyn anytime soon.
Inside the bodega Chanel bought a dozen eggs and a couple of sweet peppers to season the omelets. Her family always took her for granted, but her friends cherished her talents in the kitchen and it made Chanel feel special for once.
“Gracias,” she said to the Spanish man behind the counter.
He smiled at the young girl. She was cute.
Chanel turned and made her way outside, but once she stepped foot onto the sidewalk, her entire world lit up and a wide smile grew on her face. She couldn’t believe it. Her heart fluttered and her eyes became fixed on him.
“Hey, I’m seventeen now,” she called out to Mateo.
He was standing near a black Tahoe and talking on his cell phone. Mateo turned around to see Chanel gazing at him with admiration, and her wide smile caused him to smile wide too. He curtailed his phone conversation and focused his attention on Chanel. He laughed at her comment.
“Seventeen, huh? Well, happy belated birthday,” he said.
“Thank you.” She moved closer to him. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Likewise.”
Chanel couldn’t stop staring at him. He was fine—extraordinary. He had on a pair of beige cargo shorts, a stylish T-shirt that fit his frame, fresh new Nikes, and that Patriots logo designed into his haircut.
“You know that logo in your haircut’s gonna piss off some Giants fans,” she said.
He laughed. “So, let ’em be pissed. I’m proud of my team.”
“So you’re from New England?”
He smiled, taken aback. “You watch football?”
“A little . . . not much, though.”
“Impressive.”
“I haven’t seen you around lately,” she said.
“I’ve been busy. Why, you missed me?”
She chuckled. Of course she did, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. “How can I miss someone I don’t know?”
“You’re witty. I like that.”
Chanel continued to smile brightly. Mateo couldn’t take his eyes off the pretty, young girl. There was something special about her. He told himself that seventeen was better than sixteen. Still, he was twenty years old, and the last thing he needed was a statutory rape case against him. But Chanel was compelling, and staring at her beauty was almost hypnotizing.
“You have a very pretty smile,” he said, mesmerized by her pink lips against her bright white teeth and her deep dimples.
Everything about her was pulling him in.
“Thank you,” said Chanel.
Though their conversation was brief, it was engaging. Chanel wanted to ask him so many questions. She wanted to get to know his world, and she wanted to tell him about hers. But they were still strangers simply encountering each other in passing. How could she involve herself in his life?
Mateo’s cell phone started to ring and he glanced at it. By the expression on his face, it seemed like an important call that he needed to take. He looked at Chanel and said, “Well, anyway, it was nice seeing you again, beautiful. You take care, a’ight?”
He was about to leave. No! Chanel didn’t want Mateo to leave and let another four months go by before they saw each other again. She had to say something.
He turned with his cell phone to his ear and was about to walk back to his vehicle. Chanel took a deep breath and said loudly, “Can I get your number?”
He turned to look at her. He said to the caller in the phone, “Yo, hold on one minute.” He then asked Chanel, “You want my number?”
She nodded. She could hardly believe it herself, but he was too cute and he was so nice to her. At first, she felt embarrassed that she had to ask. She didn’t want to appear thirsty or desperate, and by the way he looked at her, she wasn’t sure if it was a bright idea to blurt it out. But then he smiled. “I’ll give you my number only if I can get yours in return.”
Ohmygod! Chanel exhaled with relief of finally breaking that ice between them. They exchanged numbers right there and he said, “Call me.”
“I will. Maybe today,” she said.
Mateo grinned. “I’ll be looking forward to speak
ing with you.” He walked back to his truck and resumed his phone conversation.
Chanel stood there feeling a mixture of shock, bewilderment, and excitement. It was the happiest day of her life. She couldn’t wait to run back to Mecca’s place and tell her the wonderful news.
Chanel hurried into the apartment screaming, “Mecca, Ohmygod! Ohmygod! I can’t believe it!”
Mecca came flying out the bedroom in her panties and bra, thinking something was wrong. She shouted, “Chanel, what happened?”
“I saw him again! I ran into him again!”
“Who? Who did you run into?”
“Mateo. I saw him when I went to the store, and guess what? We exchanged numbers!”
“Damn, Chanel, you had me thinking someone was trying to murder you in here. Shit! You scared the shit out of me.”
“I’m sorry, Mecca. I’m just so excited. We talked and laughed, and it felt so good seeing him again.”
“Damn, you go to the store for some eggs and come back like you’re ready to get engaged.”
“I really like him, Mecca.”
“Chanel, you hardly know that man.”
“But there’s something so special about him. It’s like we connect so easily,” said Chanel.
“Wow. Y’all ain’t even fuck yet and he already got your virgin ass sprung,” she joked.
“Yup!” she happily admitted.
It felt like nothing could ruin Chanel’s day. Her time in Harlem was already beginning to look great. She wanted to call Mateo right away, but she had to fight the urge. She didn’t want to look too desperate.
Three hours later, Chanel called him. She couldn’t wait any longer. She wanted to hear his voice. She locked herself in the bathroom with the cell phone glued to her ear and heard his phone ring several times before he picked up.
“Hello?” he answered.
Chanel’s heart skipped a beat. “It’s me, Chanel.”
“Hey, beautiful,” he replied.
“I was just calling you because I wanted to talk.”
“It’s good to hear your voice,” he said.
“Yours too.”
“So, you live in Harlem now?”
“Not really. I’m from Brooklyn, but Harlem is my second home. And you?” she said.
“You already know. You saw the Patriots logo carved into my haircut. I’m from Boston, but I moved to New York when I was nine.”
“I never been to Boston.”
“It’s nice. I go back once or twice a year,” he said.
Talking to him was a fresh of breath air for Chanel, but their conversation was brief. Mateo was a busy man, but the chat left Chanel with some hope that she would see him again, maybe sooner than later.
***
It took a week for Mateo to call her back. It had been a week too long, and Chanel was about to lose hope in seeing him again. But hearing his voice again, she became excited.
“I wanna take you out. Is that cool?” he said.
Chanel was over-the-moon. She wanted to holler over the phone, but she managed to keep her cool. Of course she wanted to go out with Mateo. It was like a dream come true.
“Yes.”
“I’ll come pick you up tomorrow night.”
Chanel gave Mateo the address, and when she hung up, she screamed at the top of her lungs. It was so loud that her pitch almost shattered windows. But Mecca was happy for her.
“So, he asked you out, huh?”
“Yes! Ohmygod, Mecca, I’m so nervous right now. I don’t know what to do. I have nothing to wear and my hair looks a mess. I need to look perfect for him,” Chanel chattered nervously.
“Girl, you know I got you. Just relax.”
Chanel was overcome with emotions. This was going to be her very first date. When it came to men and love, she was a rookie. She didn’t want to rush things; she wanted to take her time and fall in love with the right man, and Mateo seemed perfect.
***
It was Saturday night, and the temperature outside was a high 95 degrees. The heat wave was becoming ridiculous—almost unbearable. Every air conditioner in the city was on blast, and folks dressed in tank tops, shorts, and slippers loitered outside on the blocks of Harlem downing ice cold water and fanning themselves.
Despite the heat, Chanel was determined to look her best tonight. She wanted to impress Mateo with her beauty and her grace. Butterflies continued to swim around inside her stomach. She had never been so nervous about anything in her life.
“Mecca, you almost done? It’s getting late. He’s gonna be here soon.”
“Just a few more minutes,” Mecca replied.
Chanel’s hair was the last touchup. She couldn’t sport her go-to long ponytail or braids tonight. Mecca was giving her a blowout, and it felt like it was taking forever. Mecca was skilled at doing hair, and she promised Chanel that she was going to make her look dazzling tonight—that Mateo was going to be in complete awe at her transformation.
“What time is it?” Chanel asked.
“It’s eight thirty-five.”
“Shit! He’s gonna be here soon, Mecca.”
“You wanna look perfect for him, right?”
“Yes!”
“So, let me work.”
Chanel sighed. She didn’t want to be the late bitch on her very first date with a boy. But she also didn’t want to look like Plain Jane or a sloppy bitch either. She had no choice but to trust Mecca.
“There. I’m finished.”
Chanel stood up and stared at the final touch to her look. Her long hair was flowing past her shoulders in a black mane of beauty around her angelic face. She wore Mecca’s black mini-dress with her same white sneakers. Mecca also had blessed her with a pair of earrings, cubic zirconia of course, and a thin necklace to match. Chanel smiled at her appearance. She was cute before, but now she looked stunning.
“I love it, Mecca.”
“I knew you would.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Just then, Chanel’s cell phone rang. Knowing it was Mateo calling her, she hurried to answer it. “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me. I’m downstairs,” he said.
“I’ll be down in one minute.”
She ended the call and then spun around with a nervous look about her and exclaimed, “Oh shit, he’s here. I’m so damn nervous, Mecca.”
“Chanel, just chill and take a deep breath. You go this. Just be yourself and have fun. Besides, he’s the one that should be nervous—look at you. Damn, girl, I would fuck you.”
Chanel laughed. “Thanks.”
Chanel took one final look at the outfit Mecca let her wear. The dress showed enough of her long legs to captivate attention, and it was comfortable and cool enough for the July heat wave. The final touch was a small purse for her to carry.
“Now, go out there and have some fun. And, bitch, don’t come back here pregnant,” Mecca joked.
“Oh, shut up, Mecca.” Chanel laughed.
“I’m serious. Shit, the way you’ve been carrying on about this nigga you’ve only met twice, you worry me, girl.”
“I’m just getting to know him, and we’re only going out to see a movie and get something to eat.”
“Yeah, enough time to make a baby.”
“I’ll behave. I promise.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about.”
“I trust him, Mecca. He’s cool,” Chanel said.
“Yeah. We’ll see. But look, if you have any problems, call me right away. Okay?”
“Okay, Mom!”
Mecca and Chanel laughed. Their friendship was genuine, and Mecca was the sister Chanel wished she had.
Chanel walked out of the door still nervous, but she strutted with some confidence. Inside the elevator, she took
a deep breath and said to herself, Just be yourself, smile and have fun. She exited the lobby to see Mateo standing outside the same pearl white Range Rover that she met him in. She smiled widely. He looked fine in his black cargo shorts, black sneakers, and a V-neck—dressed so simple and still looking too fine.
Mateo was taken aback by Chanel’s transformation. “Damn, you look astonishing. You are so beautiful.”
Chanel beamed brightly from the compliment. “And you look great too, Mateo.”
“Thanks.”
From there, their date started. Mateo escorted Chanel to the passenger side and opened the door for her. She couldn’t stop grinning. She was giddy.
Mateo climbed into the driver’s seat. “You want to see a movie first, or do you want to get something to eat?”
She shrugged. “It don’t matter.”
“You look hungry. Let’s go eat first.”
“That sounds great.”
Mateo was completely smitten by her innocence. He had just had a huge fight with his girl, Nikki, and he needed relief. He needed something new and refreshing in his life, and Chanel was perfect.
The two of them dined at a Manhattan restaurant and talked for hours. Their conversation flowed so easily, they decided to skip the movie and just enjoy each other’s company. They took a walk-and-talk around Riverside Park, where they had a view of the illuminated George Washington Bridge.
Chanel was glowing with happiness. She didn’t want the night to end. This was her fairytale—her happily-ever-after ending away from home.
Chapter Eleven
Damn, you’re going out with him again tonight?” Mecca asked Chanel.
“Yes. He’s wonderful, Mecca. We have such a great time together. We talk about everything and he treats me so special.”
“I see that. I’m glad that he’s making you happy.”
“He is.” Chanel smiled, and her love for Mateo radiated from her.
She lit up every time she was around him or when she spoke about him. Throughout the summer, Chanel had spent more time in Harlem with Mateo than with Mecca. He was the perfect gentleman.
“Y’all had sex yet?” Mecca asked.
“What? No. He respects me.”
