by T. J. Hope
“Do I detect a little jealousy? Your old girl is fine as hell.”
“Cut that out, Q. That ain’t funny.”
Jamika didn’t hear the loud stereo system, but she saw the souped up Caddy as it turned the corner. Quinton noticed the car, too. “I am going to get outta here, but call me. You never called, but I know you still got my number,” he said.
“I just might do that,” Jamika said, sliding off the hood of his Nissan, “thanks again, Q.”
“Anythang fo’ you!” he said, winking his eye.
“Um-hmm,” Jamika returned, with a smirk and a wave.
She turned to walk towards the house so that she would not have to face Zahrice. He was acting so possessive and violent lately, she had no idea what to expect from him. Zahrice parked his car parallel behind Quinton’s car so that he couldn’t back out. His face looked like that of a mad man’s. His face was contorted and his eyes bulged with anger. He was walking up to Quinton and Jamika felt as if she should calm him. Zahrice was up in Quinton’s face before she could intervene.
He yelled at Quinton, “What the fuck you doin’ at my lady’s house, Jitty bug?”
Surprisingly, Quinton held his ground. “You need to calm down, man. You don’t know me like that.”
Jamika broke in, “Look Zah, he was just droppin' off my—”
Zahrice cut her off, “You ain’t nuttin' but a slut! We ain’t even been broke up an hour, and you already got another nigga over here. What? You fuck this nigga or something’?”
Quinton spoke up again. “Look man. I was just dropping her books off that she left at school. You want to keep a girl like her; you need to be a little more secure. All those names you calling her ain’t necessary neither. That’s a young lady. You keep treating her like that, I will have her.”
At that moment, Jamika found a new respect for Quinton. He was standing up for her. She couldn’t help but smile. Her smile was immediately erased as Zahrice’s fist connected with her right eye. She fell back in the grass and when she looked up, she saw green and yellow spots floating around. It looked as if she’d stared directly into the sun.
She could hear the scramble of the two young men fighting. She blinked rapidly to clear her vision. By the time her sight returned, her neighbors had run over and were pulling Zahrice and Quinton apart.
Zahrice’s shirt was ripped and dirty. He was screaming to the top of his lungs, “I’ma kill you, Jit. Believe that shit! You might as well go ahead and buy yo’ bitch ass momma a black dress. That’s my word!”
Quinton’s face held a smirk. He didn’t look as if he’d been fighting at all. He went over and offered Jamika his hand to help her off the grass. The neighbors were telling Zahrice that he had better leave, or they would have to call the police. He finally agreed.
After Zahrice and the neighbors left, Jamika looked at Quinton and said, “Q. I am so sorry. I-I didn’t—”
He cut her off. “Hey, you are way too special to be sorry. Don’t ever let me hear you say that. That nigga has a problem. You better go inside and put some ice on that eye.” He bent over and kissed her softly on her rapidly swelling eye. He was then gone with a, “Call me.”
Three weeks had passed and Jamika was still on punishment. Her restrictions included no television, no telephone, no company and no leaving the house. Quinton was allowed over, only to bring her missed assignments. Quinton would sneak over during lunchtime to meet with her, while Felise was working. They had been talking on the phone every late night when Felise would go to sleep. They had become good friends and had a special affection for one another.
It was homecoming night, and Jamika was only allowed to go, because Quinton had begged Felise without mercy and had promised to pay for everything.
Felise liked Quinton a lot more than Zahrice. It was something about Zahrice that had always rubbed her the wrong way. She wondered what had happened between him and Jamika. He no longer came around. It seemed one day he was just suddenly out of the picture.
She looked in on Jamika. She was engrossed in preparing herself for her first high school homecoming dance. She looked on as Jamika applied makeup to her blackened eye, which still hadn’t regained all of its color. Felise still got a sick feeling when she remembered how she felt when she walked in the house and saw Jamika’s eye swollen shut.
The principal had called and said that she had been in an intense fight, yet she hadn’t expected that. Whoever the girl was that hit Jamika in the eye, had a hell of a punch, she was thinking.
Jamika’s hair had been cut into a short, sassy haircut, due to the large amount of hair she’d lost during the fight. Felise watched as she stepped into the long, blue, low-cut satin gown. She spun around and looked at herself approvingly. Felise felt so proud. “You look beautiful, Mika.”
“Thank you, Ma. Thanks for letting me go.” Jamika said.
Felise smiled at Jamika then ran off to get her camera. The phone rang, “Hello?” stated Felise. “Yeah, hold on. Mika! It’s Quinton!” Jamika had a brief, negative thought. Why was Quinton calling when he should be at her house? Was he cancelling? “Wassup, Q?” Jamika said, with slight disappointment.
“I’m on the porch. Come outside.”
“You’re on my porch? Why didn’t you knock, crazy?”
“Bring your butt outside! Dang!”
Jamika giggled. “Okay. I’m coming.”
Jamika mouthed to Felise, “He’s outside.” Jamika went over to the door and opened it. What she saw took her breath away. She knew that Quinton was handsome, but that night he looked like he could be GQ’s Man of the Year.
Quinton wore an all-white suit, with a blue tie and cummerbund. A white, plush gangster hat sat on his head, and he leaned against a white cane that he’d brought along as an accessory. In one hand, he held a brick cellular telephone that he used to call Jamika. In the other hand, he held a dozen, long stemmed roses toward Jamika.
Jamika accepted the roses. Felise was eating this all up. “Oooo, child move over. Let me get a picture of this. Y’all are too cute.” she said. “Whew-we, look-ee,” she said, referring to the white, stretch limo that neither herself nor Jamika noticed at first. “I told you Quinton is a nice boy, you betta recognize, girl.”
“That’s reka-nize, Momma!” Jamika said teasingly to Felise.
Felise ignored her and continued, “Stand over here by the limo so I can get a picture of you two.” They stood together and smiled as Felise clicked away. After listening to Felise’s long list of don’t do’s and be home by’s, they were finally off.
The homecoming dance was being held at the Double Tree Hotel, on the top floor in the Ballroom Penthouse. The music was enticing, and Jamika danced until her feet hurt. Jamika was having the time of her life. People whispered as she walked by, and some even pointed at her made up eye. Jamika was surprised and relieved that the stares did not bother her or alter her night.
As the slow song portion of the evening took over, Jamika and Quinton danced. His cologne filled her nostrils, as well as her spirit. She remembered the very first time they met and the effect that same cologne had on her. “What kind of cologne is that?” Jamika asked. “Why? Do you like it?”
“Yes, I do. It smells… uh… exotic.”
“Good choice of words… exotic… like me.”
“Whatever, Q,” she chuckled.
“So, when you gonna stop playing and be my girlfriend?”
“Q, you straight with me. Let’s keep it that way. I don’t have the best luck in relationships. Between Marquis and Zah, I just wanna chill for now, you know?”
“Marquis? Marquis Timmons?”
“Oh, I forgot. You didn’t know about that.”
“But, he’s been going out with Reva since forever.”
“Yeah, it’s a long story. I just need time for me, that’s the point. But hey, don’t stop being cool with me. I like having you around.”
“Well, I like being around.”
The dance ended at around midnight. Jamik
a had specific instructions from Felise to be home no later than 1:00 am. Quinton wanted to ride around in the limo before he took her home.
They walked out of the dance holding hands, laughing and enjoying one another’s company. As they reached valet to wait for their limo, Jamika noticed a car slowly approaching. She tugged at Quinton’s hand gently for him to step back to allow the people to pass who must have been waiting for their car. As the tinted window began to slide down, she noticed the familiar fade haircut right away.
Before she could utter a word, she saw the shiny, black barrel of the gun as it fired. She felt an intense burning in her arm as Quinton pushed her to the ground. He dragged her behind a cement wall bearing the name of the hotel in neon blue letters. The shots rang out loudly; she felt as if she was somehow lost in time. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. She saw blood everywhere and realized she’d been shot. She could feel herself losing consciousness. She could not believe that Zahrice had shot her. As she gave into the sleep that was overtaking her, she faintly heard the sounds of people screaming and trampling. The gunshots seemed to be getting louder and closer.
***
Jamika looked into the intense, bright, white light. She’d heard stories of people seeing this light when they die. The light seemed to be getting brighter and brighter. She thought of Felise, Rasheeda, Big Momma, her cousins, Nalisha, and even Zahrice, who had taken her life.
She heard a faraway voice saying, “She’s coming to.” She blinked and the bright light was blocked by her mother’s face leaning over her.
“Jamika, can you hear me?” Felise was asking.
“Y-yes,” whispered Jamika, through a sleepy, cracked voice that did not sound like her own.
“You gave us quite a scare, young lady,” said a man in white. “I am Doctor Holland,” continued the man. “You were grazed by the bullet. You did lose a vast amount of blood, but we’ve patched you up and you’ll be able to go home in a few days. I’ve left instructions with your mother on how to care for the wound.”
Jamika lay there in silence. She felt relieved that she was not dead. She’d get to see all of the people she cared for again. Quinton had saved her life when he’d pushed her down. She needed to thank him. “Where’s Quinton?” she asked. She realized that he was probably in the waiting room, waiting for his turn to come in. He wouldn’t just leave her there. He was quite the gentleman when it came to serious issues.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the eerie silence that had taken over the room. Felise’s eyes had become glassy. Jamika decided to repeat herself. “Where’s Quinton, Ma?” Felise looked resentful, but spoke anyway. “I’m sorry, Mika. Quinton didn’t make it.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Jamika started. “He had to get the limo back. I’ll just give him a call at home and—”
Felise abruptly interjected, she knew that Jamika would have to face this. “No Mika, Quinton is dead.”
“Dead, b-but…no…b-but…how?” Jamika asked, close to hysteria.
A policeman standing in the corner that she hadn’t noticed, began to speak. “Witnesses stated that whoever shot you two came over behind a short, cement sign wall. He saw that you were passed out, and unloaded the gun into one Quinton James. I’ll need a full statement of the events that took place tonight from you.”
“No…oh God…no!” shouted Jamika. A flood of tears blurred her vision, and her body shook violently against the seemingly freezing cold hospital sheets.
Felise looked over at the officer. If looks could kill, the officer would have been on his way to the morgue in a body bag next to Quinton’s. “Not now, Officer. My little girl has just been shot and one of her closest friends, killed. We have your card; we will call you.” Felise stated sternly. “Please leave me and my daughter alone now.”
The officer looked embarrassed and quickly followed the doctor out of the room. Felise wrapped her arms around Jamika. They hugged and cried until Jamika was lulled back to sleep.
Chapter Nine
Jamika and Shaquita walked through the huge Sawgrass Mills Outlet Mall. Jamika was turning seventeen, and everyone had forgotten her birthday, with the exception of her cousin, Shaquita. Shaquita had talked her into buying a nice outfit, and going out to a movie with her.
Jamika spotted a hot pink blouse with the shoulders cut out, in the 5-7-9 Outlet Store. This store was for females that could fit into those sizes, but Jamika could count on occasionally finding a twelve, or a ten with stretch material. She found a black mini skirt that was just that.
Shaquita could tell that Jamika was in a foul mood, and was trying her best to cheer her up. “Girl, you know Marquis asked about you. You know he and Reva don’t go out no more.”
“I don’t care about Marquis. He can go jump off a roof for all I care.”
“Meek, every time I bring up a guy’s name, you get all defensive. Are you turning gay on me or something?” Shaquita asked with a chuckle.
“Never that. I just don’t want a boyfriend. I am trying to finish school and go to college. I want to be a singer, you know that already, Kita.”
“Yeah, I know. But, you are young, Meek. You gotta live a little, girl.”
“Shoot, I live a lot. I wake up breathing every day,” Jamika said sarcastically.
“You know what I’m saying,” Shaquita said, rolling her eyes. “Look at that cutie over there checking you out.”
Jamika looked towards a handsome, young man who was sitting alone. He was dark as she was. He had a low haircut, sensitive eyes, and about ten shopping bags were crowded around his feet. “See, that’s what you need, a cutie with flow. Look at those damn bags. I bet he’s driving a—” Shaquita was saying.
“Look Kita, those are the shoes I need right there to go with this outfit,” Jamika said, cutting Shaquita off, leaning towards the window of the Wild Pair shoe store.
“Girl, you got issues. I’m going to go over there and talk to cutie.”
As Shaquita walked away, Jamika thought of her withdrawal towards guys. Zahrice has never been caught. Although two long years had passed since Quinton’s death, she still carried around their homecoming photo and visited his grave faithfully.
She had become engrossed in her schoolwork, and had passed ninth and tenth grades with honors. She was still in performing arts, and her vocal ability had become even more enchanting.
It seemed as if guys were after her everywhere she went, but she didn’t find anyone that was interesting enough. “Those are bad!” Shaquita exclaimed, walking into the store. Jamika looked down at the hot pink suede platform sandals she was holding. “Yeah, I know,” Jamika said, walking over to the register to purchase the shoes.
“I got cutie’s number. He might meet up with us later,” Shaquita announced proudly.
“Whatever, Kita.”
***
Jamika and Shaquita were at Millie’s house and had just finished getting dressed in their new outfits.
“Girl, you look good.”
“Naw, you look damn good!” They both laughed.
“We both look good!” they said in unison, giving each other a high five.
Shaquita said, “Let me borrow your mood lipstick.”
“Girl, it’s at my house. Use this color, it will fit you.”
“No, I want the mood. Let’s go to your house.”
“Now, you know, Monie is not going to take us all the way to my house and then to the movies.”
“I’ll take y’all,” Monie said, overhearing as she walked into the room, “but y’all have to come now.”
Monie was now nineteen and drove her boyfriend, Jesse’s, car often. She was the chubbiest one of them all. She dressed nice and her personality drew people to her. She also already knew how to cook like someone’s grandmother, from being the main cook at Millie’s for her younger sisters.
They walked out to Jesse’s 1979 Cutlass Supreme. “You gotta slam that door harder than that,” Monie was saying to Shaquita as they got in the car.
“Man this car is old and raggedy. Your man needs a new car, or you need a new man,” Shaquita said. She and Jamika burst out into laughter. Monie turned the ignition and backed out of the driveway.
“See, that’s your problem,” Monie started, “you are looking for a man driving luxury; most of them are the no good dogs. My man’s car is raggedy, but he’s a good man. He keeps these pockets intact, and his sex is all that.”
“We didn’t ask you all that,” joked Jamika.
“I’m telling you,” agreed Shaquita.
“Well, I’m just telling y’all, start to know and like a man for what he is, not for what he has.”
“Oh, here we go. Monie’s rules of love,” said Shaquita.
“All right then. I will change the subject. Did y’all know Uncle Hubert sent letters from prison for both of y’all?”
“I know you didn’t just go there,” Shaquita said in disbelief.
“I’m telling you, Monie. You can change the subject to another one,” Jamika said, backing Shaquita.
“You finish rolling that?” Monie asked.
“Rolling what?” asked Jamika.
“Just chill out, we’ll be at your house in a minute.”
Jamika peered over the seat to see that Shaquita was rolling a marijuana cigarette. “Hold up, when y’all start doing that?” Jamika said inquisitively.
“Girl, you acting like its crack or somethin’. Weed don’t do nuthin but make you feel mellow,” Shaquita said, defending her new habit.
“Yeah, everybody smokes a lil’ weed. Light it up, Kita,” Monie jumped in.
Jamika was disappointed in her cousins. “Man, y’all sound like a weed commercial. Have y’all lost y’all damn minds? Put that shit out, my momma going to smell that, it stank.”
“Yeah, that good Mary Jane kind of stank. Girl this shit have you floatin’, no worries. You need to try some,” Shaquita offered.
“No, that ain’t me,” replied Jamika.
“No, that ain’t me,” mocked Shaquita.
“Don’t worry. We will put it out before we get to your house. I got perfume for the odor and Visine for the red eyes,” interrupted Monie.
