by L. Divine
“Damn, girl, do you see this bling around my neck? Do you know I had this handmade in Italy and the diamonds shipped from Africa herself?” he says, putting his chain directly in Nellie’s face.
“I don’t give a damn if your daddy owns the diamond mine,” she says, getting up in his face to make her point completely clear. “It’s the looks, baby. If you pick me up in that old-ass car, people are going to think you’re a mechanic or something. And that’s not enough for me.”
“Well, what’s the price? Maybe we can make an even trade,” Chance says, playing with his chain and Nellie at the same time.
“See, that’s the type of thing I’m talking about,” I say, getting frustrated with their behavior. “She can’t be bought, Chance. Besides, what good is that chain going to do her?” I ask.
“Yeah, do I get a matching one?” Nellie asks, enjoying the game with Chance.
“It’s not funny,” I say, trying to get my girl back on my side. I think she’s been blinded by the ice hanging from his neck.
“Why are you getting so upset, Jayd?” Chance asks, backing up from Nellie and turning his attention toward me. “If two consenting young adults want to make a fair exchange, what’s the problem?” he asks, sounding less high and more serious.
“The problem is multifaceted. First of all, you can’t equate my cookies with that chain. Ever. That chain can’t push a baby out of it, now can it?” I say, vexed that we’re even having this conversation.
“Uh-oh. Here’s the Jayd I know and love,” Chance says, getting excited, like he’s about to witness a good fight, which may not be far from the truth in a couple of days. “You should see her in action when she’s really pissed,” he says, hitting Jeremy on the leg.
“You know what, forget it. I can see my energy is being wasted on y’all anyway, including you, Nellie,” I say, playfully kicking Nellie’s Candies boots.
“That’s why I don’t engage in too many debates: It’s futile,” Jeremy says, again adding his enlightened two cents. “People are going to do what they want anyway, car or no car, bling or no bling,” he says, pulling his baseball hat low onto his face, sinking down into the couch and closing his eyes.
“My boy J here is right,” Chance says, leaning back in the oversized leather chair, identical to Nellie’s, revealing his flawless custom-made Tims. “If the girl wants to give it up, it’s all on her. What are we going to do, say no?” he adds.
“That’s not exactly what I said, but close enough,” Jeremy says, giving Chance a slight nod.
“I think you’re both wrong,” I interject, ready to kill this sexist conversation. “Yes, it’s a sistah’s responsibility to value her body; I totally agree. But, the dude has some responsibility too. He has to respect and value his body as well as the girl’s. Why is it always on the girl? And, why are men so obsessed with sex and money?” I say, really wishing I could ask KJ that question. It’s not like I’d expect an honest answer from him, but still: I should’ve asked.
“Okay, y’all are bringing me down,” Jeremy says, sitting straight up and bending over, placing his elbows on his knees. “We’re both wrong. We’re both screwed up for even referring to sex the way we do. Jayd made a good point earlier that wasn’t addressed: Why do we equate these things with food?” he asks, displaying his good listening skills. He’s capable of holding an intelligent conversation and he’s a good listener. Can the boy be any more fly?
“When I was little, my auntie Ron use to give me oatmeal cookies and cheddar cheese as a snack. I never thought it would one day be a substitute for sex and money. That said, I think it’s because they’re both necessities, like bread and butter,” I say. “Both girls and guys need to act differently if we want different results,” I say, supporting my soon-to-be man.
“Well said,” Jeremy says, giving me a nod in agreement.
“No, not well said. That statement assumes that dudes want different results, and we don’t, or at least I don’t. I’m very satisfied with having my sweet ass ride and honeys coming in and out, know what I’m saying, J?” Chance says, raising his hand to Jeremy’s for a high five.
“I’m going to have to leave you hanging on that one, man. I don’t like a bunch of different girls in my ride. Too much drama,” he says, smiling at me. What does he know about drama?
“This looks like a party for the Debate Club, not the thespians,” Matt says, interrupting our private vibe.
“Hey, Matt, this is some shit right here. These girls are something else,” Chance says, shaking his head like he’s been defeated.
“I believe it,” he says, looking more stoned than Jeremy and Chance combined. “Oh, yeah. The first sober shuttle is here, if you ladies have somewhere to be,” he says, leaning onto Nellie’s chair for support.
“What the hell is that?” Nellie asks, still holding her full drink.
“It’s our designated driver shuttle. We always have one with our parties. We like to live wild, but still live, know what I mean?” Matt says, putting a smile on Nellie’s face.
“These cats have style,” Nellie says, holding her glass up in salute.
“Was there something wrong with the drink?” Matt asks, noticing she hasn’t touched it. “I can have the bartender make you another one before you go.”
“She doesn’t drink,” I say, completely busting her cover. Nellie’s face falls and she gives me the evil eye. “Come on, Nellie. It’s time for us to roll,” I say, not wanting to leave, but knowing that it’s way past my play time. I feel like the streetlights are on and Mama’s standing on the porch, waiting for me to come inside.
“Leaving so soon?” Jeremy asks, gently grabbing my hand. “I was looking forward to talking some more. I promise I’ll go easy on you this time,” he says, revealing his perfect smile.
“Funny, I thought I was too hard on you,” I say, releasing his hand and getting up, grabbing my backpack on the way.
“Wow, did you feel that?” Chance says, looking around the room. “Was that an earthquake, or did y’all just create some serious seismic energy up in here?”
“Good-bye, stupid,” I say, socking Chance in the shoulder.
“Why the abuse? I’m on your side,” he pleads, pretending to be hurt. “You don’t have to be so hard on me too,” he says, like a wounded puppy.
“We’ll see y’all at school tomorrow,” I say, following Nellie back up the stairs toward the kitchen.
“It was a pleasure, boys,” Nellie says, giving a Hollywood wave from the top of the stairs.
“Believe me, the pleasure was all ours,” Jeremy says, looking right at me. I turn back around and walk up the stairs, speechless for what must be the first time in my life. This boy is something else.
When we get outside, the same girls and guys are hanging around, plus about twenty or so new faces. The sober shuttle is actually the school’s Drama Club van. I’m sure they worked it out that this party somehow fits into official club business. I’m just glad they have the good sense to have a sober van, even if the designated driver, Seth, has questionable mental stability without being under the influence of anything.
“Hey, En Vogue. Aren’t you short a member?” he says, acknowledging Mickey’s absence.
“Just shut up and drive,” Nellie says, already irritated with him. She has little patience for people she don’t know making small talk with her.
“Hey, Seth. Please don’t drive like a maniac and get us back to Compton safely,” I say, taking a seat right behind him, directly across from my girl. We’re the only ones on the van. I guess everybody else at the party is just getting started.
“No problem, Lady J. One, nonstop direct ride to the CPT coming right up,” he says, pushing the button, closing the automatic sliding door. As we pull out the driveway, heading back east toward home, I wonder if Jeremy misses me already, as I do him. After all this mess with Trecee and KJ blows over, maybe we can talk some more. I haven’t been that attracted to someone and stimulated by their mind in a lon
g time.
“Hey, girl, what you wearing to school tomorrow?” Nellie asks.
“I don’t know. I was thinking about wearing my jean miniskirt and a big off-the-shoulder shirt. But, I’m not sure yet. Why?” I ask, not really caring. I’d rather daydream about Jeremy some more than snap back into the reality of having to face another day at Drama High tomorrow.
As we cruise down 190th, listening to Seth sing along with the Black Eyed Peas, the scenery quickly changes from big houses with lush lawns to a busy industrial area. There’s really no direct way to get from this part of the South Bay to Compton. So, going down 190th until we’re able to hit Artesia, which merges with the 91 freeway, is the best way to go. Mickey comes this way, too.
“Who gets dropped off first?” Seth asks in between songs.
“I do. Just drop me off at the bus stop on Alondra. I’ll walk the rest of the way,” I say.
“Jayd, why don’t you let the boy take you all the way home?” Nellie says, putting her iPod down and looking at me. “It’s getting late. You shouldn’t be walking around by yourself anyway.”
“I’ll be fine. Besides, I don’t want him knowing where I live,” I say, playing with Seth. He’s dropped me off after plays before, so he already knows my address. It’s really Mama asking questions I’m worried about.
“Yeah, you never know what I might do,” Seth says, playing along. “All right, Jayd, here you go. Be careful,” he says, waving at me as I get out of the van, leaving Nellie in his care.
“Get my girl home safely, man,” I say. “Text me when you get to the crib,” I say to Nellie.
“All right, Jayd. And, don’t wear that miniskirt yet. I’m going to wear mine next week and we can match,” she says as they pull off. My girl, my girl. The truth is I don’t have much choice. I only have a certain amount of stuff at Mama’s. Everything else is at my mom’s. I would wear the skirt on Friday, but I might be scrapping and I don’t want all my goods showing. So, I’m saving my other pair of jeans for then.
“Hey, girl. Where you coming from?” Bryan says, sneaking up behind me. He must be coming from his part-time job at Miracle Market.
“I had a meeting,” I say, knowing he ain’t buying my lie. But, it’s what I’m sticking with.
“If you say so. How’s the KJ drama going?” he asks, pulling out a joint from his backpack, putting it behind his ear. As he slips his bag over his shoulder, his phone rings and he doesn’t answer it.
“Dodging the honeys again, I see,” I say, pulling his chain. “Why do guys have to be dogs?” I ask him, not really expecting him to answer.
“Girl, you don’t know? Cookies can make a man crazy. And, vice versa for the girls and whatever they want from the man. It all makes us do some strange things, like dodging girls that call you every hour on the hour,” he says, erasing the phone number from his inbox. He’s right; this whole day was strange. And, this situation with KJ was even stranger. Maybe Bryan can give me some advice on how to handle KJ, and a little insight on Jeremy too.
12
Déjà vu and Other Strange Things
“Flee from hate, mischief and jealousy
Don’t bury your thought, put your dreams to reality.”
—BOB MARLEY
“The sooner you understand that men and women think differently, the better,” Bryan says, putting his phone in his pocket, giving me his full attention. “I’m surprised you even asked the question, especially considering you’re the only girl in a house full of dudes. I thought you’d know this by now,” he says, sounding slightly disappointed.
“Just because I know it doesn’t mean I understand, especially if it doesn’t make any damned sense,” I say, pushing him with my shoulder. Bryan’s by far my favorite uncle.
“All right, what happened at school today?” he says, knowing I’m irritated about something.
“Nothing in particular. It’s just KJ and his bull, you know, the usual,” I say, dodging a pit bull coming my way. “Why don’t people keep their dogs on leashes?”
“You know what, Jayd? You’re asking some real stupid questions today,” he says, laughing at me. “When’s the last time you’ve seen a dog on a leash around here? You’ll be lucky if they walk them with chains,” he says, telling the truth.
“All right, that was a stupid question. But my first one wasn’t. Why can’t dudes understand that no amount of panties is worth this much drama?” I say, secretly wishing KJ could be more like Jeremy in personality. Jeremy doesn’t give off player vibes at all.
“Because most boys KJ’s age don’t think that far ahead. They’re all about the game, which is literally cat and mouse. Once the cat catches the mouse, there’s nothing else he can do with it but play; it’s the cat’s nature.”
“What the hell kind of analogy was that, Pepe le Pue?” I say, socking him in the arm.
“I’m just telling the truth. I don’t want you to think too hard about this, Jayd, ’cause there’s really not a lot of worrying going on on KJ’s side, believe me. I’ve been in his situation a couple of times, and all the brother wants to do right now is retreat.” Just then, I get a text from Nellie saying she made it home.
“Who’s that? See, girls play games too,” Bryan says, reaching for my cell.
“It’s just Nellie, fool,” I say, showing him her name on my screen.
“That doesn’t mean anything. You know girls swing both ways more often than not,” he says, running ahead of me up Gunlock, toward home. It’s evening time on our block, which means the smell of beans and fried chicken permeates the air, making me hungry. I hope Mama’s making something good tonight. What am I saying; she makes something good every time she cooks.
“Whatever, Bryan. Me and my girls don’t roll like that,” I say, not walking any faster. I’ll catch up with him at the house.
“Not yet. But, that’s beside the point,” he says, slowing down, allowing me to catch up with him. “Men are better at games because they know how to tap into the emotional element. And, women are all emotional beings,” he says, falling into stride with my step. “Once a man taps into that element, everything else is his,” he says, cupping his hands like he’s holding something precious in them.
“So, what you’re saying is it’s the woman’s fault for falling victim to her emotions,” I say, ready to attack his convoluted theory.
“No, Sistah Soulja. What I’m saying is women have to step up their game if they want the playing field to be equal.
“But, why does there have to be a playing field at all? Why can’t we just be honest and satisfied with each other without all the BS?” I say, sounding naive.
“Because, the fun’s in the chase. As strange as it sounds, it works. That’s just the way it is, Jayd. If you’re going to date in this lifetime, get used to having plenty of drama around you at all times,” he says, pulling his shirt out of his pants and passing me his backpack as we approach home. “Speaking of which, tell Mama I’ll be back later. I’ve got some business to handle,” he says, passing the house up and walking down the street to only God knows where.
When I walk in the house, I see Mama’s already in the kitchen, working her magic like only she can.
“Hi, Mama. Bryan said he’ll be home later. How was your day?” I say, putting my backpack on the floor and Bryan’s on the chair next to the dining room table before walking into the kitchen to give Mama a kiss and get to work.
“My day was fine, baby. How was yours?” she says while putting a big pot on the stove.
“It was okay. I went to the mall with Mickey and Nellie after school,” I say, leaving out the rest. I hate lying to Mama, so I’ll just avoid the rest of the truth instead. I knew she didn’t remember that I got out early today. That’s one thing about Mama; she’s not into the school’s business. She’s just glad that I go on a regular basis and get decent grades, just like my mom. Everything else is irrelevant.
“Mama, how come I always have so much drama around me when it comes to the
se girls? Trecee sent some stupid note to Misty talking about fighting me on Friday. And, I’m tired of this mess,” I say, picking up the onion on the table, ready to slice it like it’s KJ’s head. “Why does this always happen to me?” Mama doesn’t say anything for a long, long time. When she pauses like this, I know not to interrupt her thoughts. It’s usually to let me think about what I just said before she adds her fifty cents. I start to peel the onion as Mama begins to speak.
“From the beginning,” Mama said, “I knew you were different. You almost didn’t make it, girl. I thought your stubborn behind would never pick the right year to be born. But, you had to come when you thought it was right, not when I wanted you to come.”
Mama loves to tell stories while we’re in the kitchen. I love to listen while I chop the onions, or grate the cheese, or sift the flour, or clean the greens—whatever she and Jay tell me to do. They’re the masters of the kitchen. Her stories are always humorous, long, and full of half truths, which is what makes them the most interesting.
Every time she tells the story of my birth, I get a little nervous because I’m not so sure I want to hear it. It’s starting to feel like déjà vu, and I think she can sense this. I also don’t like hearing it because it always reminds me I wasn’t planned.
My mom was pissed to discover she was pregnant right when she finally decided to leave my dad. I don’t need to feel any worse right now. What do I need to hear this for? But, I do love to hear Mama talk. And it’s rare for us to be alone in the evening. Everyone’s usually home by now.
“Mama, what does this story have to do with Trecee wanting to fight me?” I ask, a little irritated. I really need Mama’s advice right now, not some mystical story about how I was born.
