Returning from the closet, he plopped down on the bed and started, “Man, listen. She asked me to go to dinner with her and her mom’s, right? But really, I think she just wanted me to supply the weed we smoked beforehand. Not that I’m trippin’. I mean, I’m a team player and I contribute where I can. But that dinner shit got wild outta hand real quick. Like, your girl Jayla was there, and her and her mom were just… you could tell there was some tension. I mean, I was high as shit and I could still feel the bad energy, so it had to be potent as hell.”
An actual sit-down dinner being involved was news to me, the thing I could pretty much assume Jayla hadn’t wanted to talk about. And it made sense once Shaq continued, “Anyway. Jayla’s ex-husband showed up to the dinner, and she went off. Like, I ain’t never seen that side of her, and it might’ve turned me on a little bit.”
“Come on, man,” I interrupted, shoving him in the shoulder as he gave a little laugh.
“What? I’m just being honest. And that’s not even the point to this story, so let me continue.”
I gave him the nod to do just that, listening intently when he started back up. “After the dinner, Mila and I went back to her spot and did our usual chill and smoke shit. Fucked around a little bit, and I stayed the night.”
“Man, just get to the point,” I urged, none of these details sounding like it had anything to do with their fight.
Still, Shaq insisted, “It’s coming, it’s coming.” before continuing on to explain, “So I wanted to wake and bake the next morning. You know, start my day off on the right foot. And I might’ve, accidentally burned a hole in her new couch when I sparked up.”
He rushed that last part out on purpose since he already knew what my reaction would be. “You did, what?”
That melancholy tone returned when he said, “I know, I know. And I tried to hide it under her little throw pillows and shit, but she found out anyway and went ape shit. So I’ve been here ever since.”
“Wait. So you slept here, outside, overnight?” I asked, wanting to laugh while also trying to figure out why he wouldn’t have just gotten a hotel. I mean, his pockets might’ve been thin, but he wasn’t that damn broke.
Of course he tried to play it off when he replied, “Man, I already told you what I’m on now. Gotta get used to the elements if I expect to last the twenty-one days.”
I could only shake my head as I asked, “So, now what? What are you gonna do? Buy her a new couch?”
“Hell nah. The burn wasn’t even that big. I’ll just... buy her a patch of fabric to cover that shit up. I mean, it’s the thought that counts, right?”
His question was plain enough, but it made me think about my own circumstances; how I had tried to use a patch of an excuse that we should stick to business because of my job situation to cover up the bigger picture that I was wrong in texting Shawnie back that late at night and replying to those girls on Instagram in the wee hours of the morning. I knew Jayla’s outlook, knew she had trust issues, and honestly, even without the trust issues it still wasn’t right for the simple fact that it had obviously made her uncomfortable.
She was trying to express that and I just tried to make myself right, throwing the fact that she still hadn’t committed to anything regarding us in her face as if I didn’t understand what she was up against. And now that I had knowledge of her little dinner from hell, it only made me feel especially selfish for trying to force my hand right after she had dealt with something so… traumatic.
It also made her little surprise trip to see me make sense.
Even if I had caught the stray bullet of her being upset after dealing with her ex and her mother, she had still shown up to redeem herself, had made an effort to show me how she felt about me regardless of the words we had put to it. And while it had all been confusing then, it was clear now.
I had fucked up big time.
&
Monday morning came quick, and the call from one of Jayla’s associates came even quicker.
The whole thing felt weird since it was my first time talking to someone other than Jayla about my influencer career, Carl’s exaggerated enthusiasm about meeting with me over coffee as soon as possible only making me appreciate Jayla’s suave demeanor even more. And when I finally showed up to the coffee shop, I already had a feeling shit wasn’t going to work out between us, Carl’s greasy, shark-like vibe completely rubbing me the wrong way the second he shook my hand.
Still, I tried to give him a chance, paying decent attention as he listed all the different ideas he had for me moving forward and the various companies he saw me working with. But even with that, there was an obvious disconnect since Carl really had no idea who I was and what I stood for, had no idea of my interests nor the fact that I operated with morality.
He just… wasn’t Jayla.
In the middle of one of his spiels, I interrupted to ask, “What all did Ms. Mitchell tell you about me?”
It wasn’t that I needed the ego stroke. I was simply interested to know what it was she had shared that made him think he was equipped to take me on as a client. And for whatever reason, his face immediately flushed red when he answered, “Well… she wasn’t in the office today, so I haven’t gotten the chance to really speak to her. But when she put your file up for grabs, I was the first to snatch it after seeing how quickly your brand has grown in such a short period of time.”
The knowledge of Jayla not showing up to work was a surprise since it had been a struggle to get her to take a day off just last week. So for her to have taken two off in a row meant… something. A something I couldn’t acknowledge quite yet since I was still busy applying a little pressure to Carl’s ass when I followed up by asking, “So I was just, what? Some sort of cash cow to you?”
His face only turned redder. “What? No. I mean, yes you are one of the stronger clients on our companies roster, but I really see your potential, Mr. Irving.”
His use of, “Mr. Irving” only made me chuckle since it was obvious he was just trying to get on my good side. But before I could call him out on it, my phone began to vibrate on the table we were sharing, the unsaved number recognizable enough to tell Carl, “I need to take this.”
He gave a nod of approval as if I was asking him instead of telling just as I peeled myself from the chair. And while I considered stepping out of the coffee shop to take the call and never coming back, I knew I didn’t want to completely ruin my reputation by being a straight up asshole.
The way I had with Jayla.
Shaking my head, I finally clicked to answer the call. And I barely got my, “Hello” out before the person on the other end was already shouting, “Khalid! Hey, bud. It’s me. Mike.”
“As if I wouldn’t have recognized that damn goofy ass voice otherwise,” I thought, glancing across the street to find a black man and his son headed into what looked like a barbershop.
I had never noticed it before, probably because the only time I got clippers put to my head was for an every once in a while line-up from a shop closer to my house. But for some reason, I couldn’t take my eyes off the building, not even when Mike said, “Khalid? You there, bud?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m here. What’s up, Mike?” I asked, watching as another man came out of the shop with his swag turnt all the way up, clearly feeling like new money. It was the same feeling I used to get from a fresh retwist until Londyn moved away. And even though she had touched me up over the weekend, my locs were still beginning to feel… different.
“So you remember last time I called, I had bad news, right?" Mike asked, interrupting my thoughts as he continued, “But this time, I have great news. I was able to get your case expedited to the first one on the company’s desk this morning.”
My first thought was, “Damn. His wife must’ve really been on him about that cereal”. But my second one, I voiced out loud. “That is good news.”
“But it’s not even the best part. Are you ready for it? Tell me you’re ready for it.”
Si
nce it was a good news call, I couldn’t help but chuckle a little bit when I told him, “Mike, come on with this goofy shit, man. Just get to the point.”
“So… after explaining to them that you were one of our best employees, and that the nut job who started to key one of the cars in the parking lot before they realized they had spelled their message wrong was just some recently-divorced loser trying to get revenge, they decided to drop the case entirely. You can return to work tomorrow!”
He shouted it like he was the host on a game show, or like he was Oprah giving away those damn cars, something that might’ve annoyed me had he not been telling me exactly what I wanted to hear. But he was, so after swiping a hand down my mouth to regroup, I finally replied, “Wow. That’s… incredible. I really appreciate that, man.”
Somehow, I could feel his pride through the phone, imagining the goofy smirk he wore to match. And after a moment had passed, I thought back on the second part of his news, tempted to jump to an obvious conclusion, but deciding to just flat out ask instead, “Do you know anything more about the guy who did it?”
His signature nasally sigh was back as he explained, “Well, we didn’t get a good view of his face on the camera, but we were able to catch the moment he fled the scene in what turned out to be a rental car. It was returned that same night, but linked to someone named Jason Anthony. And the only Anthony we had registered in the building’s database was a Jayla Anthony, which was recently changed back to Jayla Mitchell. Her maiden name.”
“Right, right. I think I know who that is,” I told him with a nod he couldn’t see, trying to hold in my real feelings about it all since I didn’t need Mike in my business. But knowing the kind of shit Jason had put Jayla through pre-divorce, and the fact that his trash ass had the nerve to show up to dinner after all this went down, had my blood boiling like no other.
“I know that nigga have better left town for good,” I thought as Mike continued, “But get this? Not only was his message misspelled, but he was also keying the wrong car! The car he vandalized wasn’t the one we have registered to her name, and he wasn’t even smart enough to recognize it. Like, no wonder they’re divorced!”
The laugh he let out straight into the phone just about filled my Mike-quota for the day as I replied, “Sounds like a real idiot.”
“Real idiot, indeed,” Mike agreed. Then his voice took a surprisingly normal tone when he added, “But hey, man. We’ll see you here tomorrow night, alright?”
“And I’ll be sure to bring a few boxes of that cereal and some coupons for you, big homie.”
It was really a no-brainer to hook Mike up after the work he had put in on my behalf. But I almost wanted to take my offer back once he squealed into the phone, “You will?!”
Instead, I laughed him off as I answered, “Yeah, man. I gave you my word, didn’t I? You really helped me out here, so I got you.”
“Aww thanks, bud. I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” he insisted, only making me laugh again since I knew he really meant, “I’d do it again for more cereal for my wife.”
I didn’t bother teasing him about it, instead telling him, “I’ll see y’all tomorrow,” before ending the call. And after another quick peek at the barbershop, I made my way back inside to find Carl looking stressed as hell until he saw me coming and straightened up his posture.
“Hey, Mr. Irving. Is everything alright?” he asked once I joined him back at the table.
While everything was definitely on the up-and-up overall, I knew things with him were as good as over with now that I officially had my job back. So I tried to put it to him lightly when I answered, “Look, man. I’ma be real with you. I’m sure you’d be the perfect fit for someone, but there’s only one person in this industry who’s the right fit for me if I continue doing this.”
It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy doing the whole social media influencer thing. But without Jayla involved, none of it felt nearly as fulfilling. I mean, being able to work with her, and be witness to her greatness, was what really made it fun for me. And it was clear I wasn’t the only admirer of her expertise considering the heavy sigh Carl let out before admitting, “Ms. Mitchell is one of the best.”
I was quick to correct, “Nah, she is the best. Top two and she ain’t number two, you feel me?”
I could tell my use of Queen Bey’s flow had gone straight over Carl’s head, though he still gave me a nod to express, “Understood, Mr. Irving.” Then he waved a hand towards the food counter while asking, “Can I get you another coffee to thank you for your time? Maybe a pastry?”
Hopping up from my seat, I replied, “Nah, I got some other stuff I need to go take care of. But I do appreciate the offer and the chat.”
He gave another nod before standing up and extending his hand to me for a shake. And now that I had sealed things up with him, it was time for me to go handle my next order of business in going to see about Jayla.
But first, I had a stop to make.
Jayla
This might be the best idea she’s ever had.
It wasn’t even noon yet, but I was already good and buzzed thanks to the brunch spread Jamila had whipped up for us. A brunch spread that included all the fatty breakfast foods we had learned about later in life because my mother never used to let us eat them and unintentionally bottomless mimosas because… why not?
Sure, it was Monday and I probably should’ve been at work. But after finding out about the blow-up she had with Shaq and getting her up to speed on the blow-up I had with his cousin over the weekend, it only made sense for us to both take the day off and bask in what Jamila coined the, “Niggas ain’t shit afterglow”.
Except, there was nothing all that glowing about it.
In fact, we had both whined our way through brunch about our man problems which is how we ended up drinking so many mimosas in the first place. But now that the champagne was down and the whining was over with, we were back on our, “Boy bye” vibes, Lemonade playing in the background as Jamila helped me take down my sew-in.
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the greatest idea putting scissors in tipsy Jamila’s hands. But it was a chance I was willing to take if it meant not having to do the work myself, giving me the opportunity to just sit there and think - and drink - while she removed my weave.
“This hair low-key had you out here looking like Rapunzel, but the black version. So maybe… Trapunzel?”
I was already giggling when I repeated, “Trapunzel? Seriously, Mila?”
“You know we love putting Trap on everything these days, so why not?” she asked, before going into her remixed rendition of the famous quote from the fairy tale. “Trapunzel, Trapunzel, let down your bundles…”
My tipsy state turned my giggling into a full blown laugh as I shouted, “I swear I can’t stand you!”
“Whatttt? You don’t like that? If Disney can rewrite it, why can’t I?” she asked, only making me laugh harder as she joined in with giggles of her own. But once our laughs settled down, her tone turned a little more serious when she said, “I uh… I talked to mom.”
“If she’s using you to set me up again, I swear to God…” I started, but she quickly cut me off.
“No, no. It’s nothing like that,” she insisted, before continuing on to explain, “We had a little heart-to-heart of sorts, after that whole dinner situation.”
“Well that’s good for you, especially considering you weren’t even the one under attack,” I replied sarcastically, rolling my eyes and taking another hearty sip from my mimosa that ended up finishing off the glass.
Something told me getting a refill should be high on the priority list. But against my better judgement, I stayed put, listening in as Jamila continued working on my hair when she said, “Seriously, Jay. It was very eye-opening. The most I’ve ever heard her talk about her upbringing and all that.”
“Like I said, good for you,” I told her plainly, hoping that’d be enough for her to move on from it.
But of course it wasn�
�t, a piece of hair falling into my lap as Jamila continued, “All that “misguided” shit she was spewing your way at dinner? Pretty much came straight from grandma.”
Reaching up to make sure she had actually cut the weave and not my real hair by accident, I asked, “Can we talk about something else? Like, anything else?”
She smacked my hand way, insisting, “Move! I got it,” before going on to say, “And the answer to your question is no. We should talk about this cause I can’t be the only one who knows all of this shit.”
With a sigh, I crossed my arms over my chest, not giving her the go-ahead while also not really being in the position to shut her up; something she took as a green light once she started, “So grandma passed away as Mrs. Jackson, obviously. But before that, she was married to our real grandpa, Leonard Mitchell.”
“Grandpa Leo? I didn’t know they were ever married, just that mom had his last name.”
“Same. But the reason they divorced was because grandpa was out here on some reckless shit back in the day. Gambling away most of his check and drinking with the rest, leaving grandma to struggle raising school-aged mom, just… triflin’, pretty much.”
Finding out Grandpa Leo, who was honestly one of my favorite people in the world when he was alive, wasn’t always the good person I believed him to be was already enough new information for the day. But the plot only got thicker when Mila continued, “Anyway, when grandma decided to leave, she basically told adolescent-mom something along the lines of, “Marry for financial security because love doesn’t keep the lights on”.”
“Well damn,” I thought, understanding the gist of what grandma was trying to say while also seeing how that could’ve been detrimental to the mindset of a child if taken literally. And things only seemed to get worse in that regard once Mila continued her little story.
“So husband number two, Arnold Jackson, was a baller. Kept grandma and mom well taken care of and all that, but he was a cheating ass bastard. Like, making babies - plural - with the neighbor and shit. And when now teenage-mom asked grandma why she didn’t just leave him, grandma acted like it was the norm, that his mistakes were typical of men, and that as long as he continued to provide for them, it was no big deal.”
The Lessons We Learn (FWB Book 2) Page 19
