Magic Touch

by Treasure Hernandez

  Simmy’s eyes were stretched so wide she was sure she looked like a crazy person. She turned to Jayla with a quizzical look on her face: furrowed brows, mouth hanging open, crinkled nose, head tilted.

  “What? You thought we were just coming out here to get gear for ourselves?”

  “Ye . . . um, yeah,” Simmy answered honestly.

  Jayla laughed. “Oh, my God, Simmy. You have so much to learn. No, that’s not how it works. The way you make real money is getting shit you can sell in the streets for slightly less than it costs in the stores; that’s called fencing your goods. I mean, when we are inside getting the stuff, in the process, if you see something you like and you can get it, fine; but the goal here is to get enough shit to get paid cash. What we look like taking a risk just to look fly walking up and down Brooklyn? I already told you, we leveling up. Top level. The goal is always cold, hard cash in hand.”

  Simmy blinked a few times like a bright light bulb had gone off in her head.

  “Once you sell your goods, then you take that cash and go buy whatever the fuck you want. But always remember I told you this: in this lifestyle, it’s mandatory that you spend a little and save a lot, you know, for rainy days,” Jayla continued, her tone motherly. “Because in this business sometimes there’s going to be rainy fucking days. . . .” Jayla’s voice trailed off like she had just remembered something horrible. Simmy was getting ready to ask Jayla what she meant by her last statement, but Jayla shook her head, let out a breath, put her hand up, and smiled at Simmy.

  “You’re ready. I can see it in your eyes, little cousin. So let’s go. We wasting precious time.”

  What does she mean by rainy days?

  Simmy snapped her lips shut and dismissed her thoughts. She didn’t know how relevant the question’s answer would be and how soon.

  * * *

  Simmy and Jayla had gone into five stores, and Simmy was feeling more confident with each store.

  “You’re becoming a pro,” Jayla had said to her as they exited Nordstrom loaded with items. “Last thing. Shoes. You did real good, little cousin,” Jayla told her.

  Inside of Neiman Marcus, Jayla continued moving like a consummate professional. She smiled and waved at the sales associates as she glided through the shoe salons like she had been born shopping like this. Simmy followed along, a willing protégé.

  “Can I see these both in a size eleven?” Jayla asked, turning to a tall, dark, and handsome men’s shoe salon associate who was dressed in a neat, fitted suit. He seemed to be so enthralled with Jayla’s round hips and perky tits that he probably would’ve given her the shoes to leave the store with if she’d asked. He took the men’s sneaker display model from her hand, looked at a tag inside, and handed it back to Jayla.

  “You’re a gem,” she said. He blushed.

  When he was gone, Jayla placed her kitted-out bag down next to her legs. The man returned with the shoes, smiling like a silly schoolboy with a crush on his teacher.

  “Let me see,” Jayla squealed acting excited. When the associate put the shoeboxes down in front of her, Jayla ran her fingers over the top of his hand.

  “I have never seen a man with such nice hands,” she flirted. “I guess working in retail has its advantages.” She giggled.

  The man stepped back with a smile so wide his mouth resembled a row of piano keys.

  Jayla examined the shoes and crinkled her nose. “You know what? Can you get the size twelve? I think I’ll need to compare them because these, they kind of look small for my dad.” Jayla was sure to put the emphasis on the word “dad.”

  The sales guy seemed more than overjoyed to keep helping her, especially once he figured she wasn’t looking to buy the shoes for her man. The handsome guy disappeared through a doorway at the side of the register and Jayla went to work.

  She put the new pair of sneakers in her bag and took an old pair out of the bag and placed the old pair in the box. She took the box that still had the other new pair inside and stacked it neatly on top of the box with the old pair inside. When the sales associate returned, Jayla smile brightly. “You’re quick,” she said, winking at him. She opened the box with the size twelve sneakers inside. “Hmm, okay. Still not sure.” Jayla tapped her nail against her perfectly straight, gleaming white front tooth: the signal. The sales guy seemed mesmerized by her flirty antics.

  “Excuse me, sir. Can I see these in a size ten?” Simmy asked from behind him.

  The sales associate jumped nervously like he’d been caught peeking at a naked woman through a window. He looked over his shoulder to see if he saw any of his coworkers; then he looked at Simmy. She could see that he was slightly annoyed when he realized he was alone, and would have to leave Jayla to help her.

  He let out a long breath. “Um, okay. Just a minute,” he replied, talking to Simmy. Then he turned to Jayla. “I have to help this customer. If you need anything else, anything, my name is Kofi. I’ll be right back,” he said, smiling again.

  “You’re too sweet, Kofi,” Jayla sang. When he was gone, she went about her work on the second pair of shoes. She repeated the same thing: out with the old, in with the new. Simmy was pacing; her nerves were getting the best of her now. She kept looking up at the ceiling. She was sure there were cameras but, for some reason, Jayla didn’t seem to care.

  “Let’s go,” Jayla huffed, springing up from the chair, snatching the handles of her kitted-out shopping bag, and speeding toward the door. Simmy was hot on her heels, running behind her like a lap dog.

  As they made it to the door, it seemed to Simmy like things were moving in slow motion. Each person they passed caused more hairs to stand up on the back of her neck. Were they all watching her? Did they know what she and Jayla were doing? Was someone going to call security or, worse, the police?

  Simmy felt lightheaded, and her entire body was engulfed in heat. Her heart thrummed so hard she could feel the large vein in her neck pressing hard against her skin. Her nerves were so wiry she felt like a scarecrow trying to balance on straw legs. When the thick, humid outside air finally hit her face, Simmy took a deep breath and held it in. They had made it out! She exhaled loudly.

  “You a’ight, little cousin?” Jayla chuckled. “You look pasty as hell.”

  Simmy couldn’t even speak. Her nerves were too bad. She thought she’d seen the golden gates of heaven when she spotted Jayla’s car within walking distance. Simmy wanted to sprint to the car, but Jayla sauntered like nothing, so she followed her cousin’s lead.

  Once they got to the car, Simmy rushed inside, rested her head on the passenger side headrest, placed her hand on her heaving chest, and tried to slow her rapid breathing. She wondered if what she was feeling was how people felt when they got high for the first time. It was a rush that she couldn’t explain. She could literally feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

  Jayla slid into the driver’s seat and cranked up the car. They were pulling out, seemingly as fast at they’d pulled in.

  “Talk to me. How do you feel?” Jayla asked, excitement apparent in her voice.

  “Oh, my God. I still can’t stop shaking, Jay,” Simmy confessed, holding out her trembling hand so Jayla could see what she meant.

  Jayla laughed. “That’s how it is the first few times, chick. After a while, you’ll be a pro at this. You’ll be fly as shit and have mad cash in your pockets. You’ll be addicted. Just wait.”

  Chapter 4

  Coming of Age

  For the next month, Jayla picked Simmy up from school in a different luxury car almost every day. They’d travel to malls in Connecticut and Delaware. Simmy always wondered why they’d always bypass New Jersey when logically it seemed like the easiest out-of-state stop. She never asked because she didn’t want to seem nosey, or for Jayla to think that Simmy was questioning her.

  “I’m taking you back to my place today,” Jayla announced one day, as they pulled out of a mall loaded with the stuff on the day’s list and a few extra items for themselves. �
��You’ve been doing so good, Simmy. I want you to see where this all can take you. You have to set goals in life, or you’ll be stuck doing the same shit forever like everybody in Mummy Pat’s house. I want better for you, little cousin. You’re smart, beautiful, talented. I really want better for you.”

  Simmy smiled. She felt proud of herself for how fast she’d learned the ropes under Jayla’s tutelage. It had been a long time since anyone had shown enough interest in her to teach her and show her how to help her elevate in life. Her mom and dad used to have chats with her but those days were long gone now.

  “Whose idea was the foil-lined bags and shoeboxes?” Simmy asked, seemingly out of the blue.

  Jayla glared at her. “Don’t get gassed because I gave you a compliment now,” Jayla said with an attitude. “Never ask about the techniques, Simmy. That only means you’re overthinking things. When you start overthinking, you start slipping. When you start slipping you fuck things up for all of us. You hear me? Don’t overthink shit,” Jayla scolded her.

  Simmy slid down in her seat and stared out of the passenger side window of Jayla’s newest car, a pearly white BMW 535i. She had definitely been enjoying the new clothes, being able to get a new hairdo every week, and all of the attention she was getting at school and especially the attention from Kyan. But, Simmy was still not sure boosting was something she was cut out to do for the long haul like Jayla. She had seen firsthand what could happen to you when you get too caught up and involved in illegal things. Boosting was not something she wanted to do for too long. She wouldn’t dare tell Jayla that, though.

  “This is it,” Jayla sang as she pushed open the door to her Harlem high-rise apartment. “My humble abode.”

  Simmy’s mouth dropped open as she crossed the threshold of Jayla’s door. She spun around in wide-eyed amazement. The colors—grays, silvers, deep purples—were so majestic.

  “This is gorgeous, Jay,” Simmy gasped, overwhelmed by all of the glittery accessories, glass-covered tables, and beautiful, ultra-modern furniture. She rushed over to the wall of windows in front of her, and the view of the city skyline and the Hudson River almost snatched her breath away. Simmy practically pressed her face against the glass.

  “This view,” she whispered, “is everything.”

  “Ain’t it pretty?” Jayla came up next to her. “Stick with me and you’ll be living like this in no time, Simmy.”

  Simmy could only dream of having her own place like that someday. It was definitely a far cry from her cramped little room in Brooklyn. Simmy wondered how much boosting Jayla had to do to afford an apartment like that. Her adoration for Jayla had just grown bigger.

  Jayla gave Simmy the tour of her apartment. Jayla’s master bedroom had to be Simmy’s favorite room. Jayla’s silver suede tufted wall-to-ceiling headboard was enough to make Simmy want to never leave the room.

  “These glass-covered dressers are so pretty, Jay. And, these silver beaded crown-shaped pillows are perfect for you. This room looks like it’s for a queen, for real.”

  “Yeah, I may have overdone it with the sparkles. But, I love everything sparkly. That’s why you see all the sequined pillows and shiny glass everything. I think after all I’ve been through in life, I deserve to shine, literally,” Jayla said, laughing afterward. “C’mon. Let’s go count up our takes for today so we will know what we getting paid.”

  As Simmy followed Jayla back into her living room, Simmy’s cell phone rang. She went to answer it, but Jayla grabbed her hand.

  “Nah. When we are on a paper chase, social shit comes second. Right now, we conducting business. That little boy can wait,” Jayla said firmly. Simmy’s heart sank and her mouth sagged at the edges. She never ignored Kyan’s calls. Shoot, she was happy that he was calling her every day, three and four times a day. Street dudes never did that and Simmy knew it. Kyan genuinely seemed interested in getting to know her. He’d ask her about what her likes and dislikes were, and he actually took the time to listen to what she had to say. She really liked him, and she didn’t want him to think that she was blowing him off by not answering his call.

  “If there’s one thing I teach you in life, it’s never to put no nigga before yourself, your business and, most importantly, your family,” Jayla said, her tone serious. “Those niggas will never do the same for you. You hear me?”

  “I hear you,” Simmy acquiesced, although she really wasn’t happy about not taking the call. She hit IGNORE on Kyan’s second and third calls. Finally, as Jayla laid out all of the things they had boosted that day, Simmy just turned her phone off. Family and money over everything, she told herself.

  * * *

  Simmy walked into Mummy Pat’s kitchen the next day and proudly dropped on the table the six bags of groceries she’d purchased. Mummy Pat was at the stove, as usual, and she turned around with a warm smile.

  “What is that, Simone?” Mummy Pat asked, still smiling.

  “I got you some stuff from the store. Your favorite chamomile tea, a few cans of corn beef for the days you don’t want to really cook, a big bag of rice, some . . .” Simmy rattled off as she pulled items from the bags.

  “Where you getting money from now, all of a sudden?” Sheryl walked into the kitchen, her voice filled with suspicion.

  Simmy rolled her eyes. “I’ve been working,” she answered dryly.

  “Oh, yeah? Since when?”

  “I go to Harlem every day and help Jayla out at her job,” Simmy lied with ease, repeating the story Jayla had given her just in case this day ever came. “Always have your story ready, Simmy. Never get caught slipping without that backup plan,” Jayla had preached.

  “What kind of money you making helping out at an office that you can afford five thousand dollar handbags and eight hundred dollar shoes and sneakers and clothes for all the kids in here?” Sheryl pressed, looking Simmy up and down and pointing to the bags Simmy had left by the kitchen entrance.

  Simmy shifted her weight from one foot to the other and bit down on her bottom lip. She didn’t answer the question.

  “And, Jayla ain’t fooling anyone, either. She only thinks she’s smarter than the rest of us. I know she don’t work in anybody’s office. Whatever she’s into, and whatever she’s dragged you into, it definitely involves fast money. And, we all know where fast money gets you, don’t we?” Sheryl continued.

  Simmy could feel heat rising from her feet and climbing up to her face. The vein at her temple throbbed. She went to open her mouth to defend Jayla and herself with more lies, but Mummy Pat stepped between her and Sheryl and got in Sheryl’s face.

  “Would you please, Sheryl? First you say you want people to pull them weight around here. The girl is trying and helping out; now you complain. I don’t understand what will make you happy,” Mummy Pat said defensively.

  Sheryl scoffed. “I’m just trying to make sure she doesn’t end up like her mother and father, Mummy. The only jobs I know you can perform to afford these rich people things is all illegal jobs. Remember, Mummy, I was the one who first told you Chris was selling drugs back before he became some big kingpin. You turned a blind eye, and now—”

  Mummy Pat threw her hand up, halting Sheryl’s words. “Don’t you dare mention my son in a bad light in front of his only child. Don’t you dare. Leave this girl alone and let her work and finish school in peace. She’s coming of age, and nicely, given the circumstances she was left to deal with. She’s a good girl. She’s not out there in the streets cutting school, or hanging around different boys, acting fast like some girls you see out on the road. She didn’t have to bring this food here. She could’ve kept her money and spend it all on nonsense like you do. Leave her be.” Mummy Pat gritted her teeth, her Jamaican Patois coming on real heavy like it always did when she was mad.

  Sheryl threw her hands up. Hurt passed over her facial expression like a dark cloud over a sunny field. “Suit yourself, Mummy. But, when it comes out, don’t you dare say I didn’t tell you so.” She turned her sights to Simmy and s
poke directly to her. “I’m just trying to look out for you, Simone. I’d rather you not contribute a thing around here, than for you to be caught up in something illegal to do it. Jayla is not who you think she is; you’ll learn that in time. Right now, you’re being manipulated, but you’ll see soon,” Sheryl said with feeling.

  Simmy sucked her teeth and bit down on her bottom lip until it was painful. It was all she could do to keep herself from saying something disrespectful to her aunt.

  “No matter what you think of me, I do have your best interest in mind. I don’t want to see you waste your young life away for a little bit of fast money. Trust me, you’ll regret it in the end.” With that, Sheryl stormed out of the kitchen.

  Simmy collapsed into one of the rickety dinette chairs, her legs suddenly weak. She stared at all of the groceries spread on the table. All she wanted to do was help out. She had no idea buying groceries would be such a big deal. She just wanted to help.

  “Thank you for the food, baby,” Mummy Pat said, touching Simmy’s shoulder gently.

  Simmy parted a halfhearted smile and placed her hand on top of her grandmother’s. “No problem. No problem at all.”

  It was still worth it. I made Mummy Pat happy and it was worth it, she told herself. It was what she needed to get her aunt’s foreboding words—“Jayla is not who you think she is; you’ll learn that in time. Right now, you’re being manipulated, but you’ll see soon. You’ll regret it in the end”—to stop playing over and over in her mind.

  Chapter 5

  Nothing to Lose

  “What?” Simmy asked, breaking eye contact, her cheeks suddenly on fire.

  “What? What?” Kyan replied, chuckling.

  “You’re staring at me. So I’m asking, like, what? Is there something wrong? Do I have a booger in my nose?” Simmy answered sassily, shifting in her seat.

  “Nah. I just like staring at that pretty face,” he said, reaching across the table and putting his hand on top of hers.

  Simmy felt those electric currents shoot up her arm again, but this time she also felt a little something happening between her legs. She had been having long phone conversations with Kyan for over a month now, but they hadn’t been able to meet up, and they would only see one another briefly at school each day. After school had become out of the question, since Jayla was picking Simmy up almost every single day to go on their shopping trips. Simmy had finally managed to break away from Jayla for a little bit, and she had met up with Kyan at Sugarcane on Flatbush Avenue.