Upper East Side #2

by Ashley Valentine

Next, she dialed Mekhi’s home number.

  “Hello?” a gruff voice answered.

  “Is this Mr. Hargrove?”

  “Yes, what do you want?”

  “Is Mekhi there? This is his friend, Chanel.”

  “The one with the golden arms and raspberry lips? The one with wings for hands?”

  “Excuse me?” Chanel said, taken aback. Was Mekhi’s father insane?

  “He’s been writing poetry about you,” Mr. Hargrove told her. “He left his notebook on the table.”

  “Oh,” she replied. “Well, can you tell him that I called?”

  “Of course. I’m sure he’ll be delighted.”

  “Thanks,” Chanel said. “Bye.”

  She hung up and began chewing on her thumbnail, a bad habit she had picked up last year at boarding school. The idea of Mekhi writing poetry about her made her even more nervous than the idea of him watching her film. Was Mekhi way, way, way more into her than she’d thought he was?

  Um, yeah. He was.

  “I don’t think she’s coming.” Bree yawned. “She was probably out really late last night or something.” Bree liked to think of Chanel as a goddess of the night, out at all hours swilling champagne and dancing on tables.

  Until recently, that would have been true.

  “I’d still like to see her film, though.” Mekhi brushed his shaggy twists from his eyes and grinned slyly at Yasmine. “Do you think we could go over to your place and watch it?”

  Yasmine shrugged. “I’d rather not. I’ve watched it like four hundred times.” The real truth was she couldn’t stand to sit and watch Mekhi drool over Chanel like a lovesick puppy. It was too unbearable.

  “I think you should wait until Chanel says it’s okay,” Bree told Mekhi. “I mean, how do you know she wants you to see it?”

  “She won’t mind,” he said.

  Yasmine hated the giddy anticipation shining in Mekhi’s eyes. He couldn’t wait to see Chanel’s film. She handed him her keys. “I’m going to hang here with CJ. You guys can go watch the film if you want. It’s on the DVD player in Ruby’s room. Don’t worry, she's away for the weekend.”

  Bree shook her head. “I don’t want to watch it without Chanel.”

  Mekhi took the keys and stood up. He was disappointed Chanel hadn’t shown up too, but no way was he going to miss this.

  “Fine,” he said. “I’ll watch it alone.”

  Bree swiveled from left to right on her bar stool, watching her brother leave and nursing her Coke.

  “Hey, do you have Peterson for American history this year?” Yasmine asked her, in an attempt to start a conversation. “People are always making shit up about how she’s this big drug addict, but we had a student-teacher conference once, and she told me all about this shaky hand disease she has. It was actually really cool of her to tell me about it.”

  Bree kept swiveling her stool. “We don’t do American history until next year,” she said flatly. She didn’t know why Yasmine was being so nice to her all of a sudden.

  Yasmine had expected a warmer welcome. “So you have European history? Sorry, I can’t remember anything about ninth grade.”

  “Yeah,” Bree responded shortly. “It sucks.” She hopped off her bar stool and fumbled with the buttons on her jean jacket. “Um, I think I’m going to grab a cab home. See you later.”

  “Bye.”

  So much for trying to be nice. Yasmine wished she could just dump Mekhi and his rotten little sister from her life altogether. To distract herself, she watched CJ’s butt as he bent over to stock the bar fridge with more bottled beer.

  “Hey boyfriend,” she yelled at him. “I’m lonely.”

  CJ looked over his shoulder and blew her a kiss.

  Thank God for CJ, Yasmine thought. If only he were more…

  If only he were Mekhi.

  9

  “Can you let me off here?” Bree's cab driver had taken the FDR uptown after the Williamsburg Bridge and was trying to cross over to the West Side at 79th Street, but traffic was terrible and they’d been stopped at the same light for ten minutes. Bree watched the fare on the meter go up and up while they stood still. She could have bought three new MAC lipsticks for what this cab ride was costing her. Finally she couldn’t stand it anymore. It was a beautiful autumn day; she could walk.

  She paid the driver and stepped onto the sidewalk at 79th and Madison and headed west, toward Central Park. The November afternoon sun was low in the sky and Bree squinted as she hurried across Fifth Avenue and into the park. Autumn leaves scattered the walkways, and the air smelled of burning firewood and hot dogs from the street vendors. Bree kicked along the walkway with her hands stuffed into her jacket pockets, looking down at her light blue Nikes and brooding about her brother. Did he know how lame he was being? It was as though he’d completely lost his personality and was devoting every waking minute to worshiping Chanel. Bree also knew for a fact that Mekhi had been writing mopey, sad ass poetry about Chanel, because she’d caught him doing it.

  When I cut myself shaving, I think of your teeth on my lip, and the pain becomes pleasure.

  That was the line she had managed to read before he had snatched his notebook away. It was worse than pathetic.

  The useful thing about Mekhi getting together with Chanel was that now Bree could walk up to Chanel in school and just start talking to her, even though Chanel was like, the coolest senior in New York and Bree was just a lowly ninth grader. But if Chanel ever found out how pathetically lovesick Mekhi was, she would run away screaming. What if she got so sick of Mekhi she wouldn’t even want to talk to Bree anymore? He was going to ruin everything.

  Bree wove her way through the park, not caring which direction she was walking. She reached the edge of Sheep Meadow and stepped onto the grass. A few hundred feet away a group of boys were playing soccer. Bree couldn’t take her eyes off them—one of them in particular. His wavy hair shone in the sunlight as he dribbled the soccer ball nimbly past his friends and shot it into the makeshift goal made up of the boys' sweaters and backpacks. His skin was smooth and caramel, and the muscles on his bare arms made Bree want to hug herself.

  Suddenly the soccer ball came sailing through the air. It landed and bounced to Bree’s feet. She stared at it, heat creeping into her face.

  “Go on, kick it!” one of the boys shouted. Bree looked up. It was the golden boy, standing only thirty feet away, hands on his hips, his green eyes sparkling. His face was flushed and his forehead was beaded with sweat. Bree wanted to taste it. She’d never seen a boy look so good, or felt the way she did looking at him.

  Pulling her eyes away, she concentrated on the ball, biting her lip in concentration as she drew her foot back. Then she kicked the ball as hard as she could. Instead of rocketing back into the stretch of grass where the boys were playing, it shot straight up into the air above her head. Bree clapped her hand over her mouth in utter mortification.

  “Got it!” the boy shouted, sprinting toward her. The ball fell out of the sky and he headed it back to his friends, the muscles in his neck flexing magically. He stopped and turned to look at her. “Thanks,” he said, panting. He was standing so close she could smell him. He offered his hand. “I’m Kaliq.”

  Bree stared at his hand for a second, then reached out and took it. “I’m Brianna.” Brianna sounded so much older and more sophisticated than Bree. From now on, she promised herself, she was going to be Brianna.

  “Want to come hang out with us for a while?” Kaliq asked as they shook hands. This Brianna girl had such a sweet face, with a cute little mouth and big, baby-doll eyes. And she’d tried so hard to kick the ball, well, he couldn’t resist.

  “Um…” Bree said, deliberating. As she did, Kaliq noticed her chest. Man, was it ever huge. He couldn’t let her get away, not without Jeremy and the other guys getting a chance to check her out.

  “Come on,” he said. “We’re all good guys. Promise.”

  Bree glanced at the other three boys, making sure
that Jaylen Harrison wasn’t among them. Bree had drunk a little too much champagne at a big fancy party a few weeks ago and had let a boy named Jaylen dance her into the ladies’ room. All he did was kiss her, although he’d have done much more if Chanel and Mekhi hadn’t come to her rescue. He hadn’t even bothered to ask Bree’s name. What an asshole.

  But Jaylen Harrison wasn’t there.

  Bree shrugged. “Okay,” she said. She couldn’t believe this was happening. She’d heard of a Kaliq from parties and school gossip, and she was sure this had to be the same guy. He was the most beautiful boy on the Upper East Side, and he had just asked her to hang out! It was as if she’d walked into the other side of the wardrobe and entered a world of fantasy come true, leaving her lame lovesick brother and his stupid poetry far, far behind.

  Kaliq led Bree over to his friends, who had stopped playing ball and were sitting on the grass, drinking blue Gatorade. “Guys, this is Brianna,” he introduced, with a happy smile on his face. “Brianna, this is Jeremy, Charlie, and Anthony.”

  Bree smiled at the boys, and the boys smiled at her chest. “Nice to meet you, Brianna,” Jeremy Scott said appreciatively. He was small and skinny, and his khakis had grass stains on them.

  “Come join us,” Anthony Avuldsen said in his classic stoner voice. His skin was light and his nose was sprinkled with adorable freckles. His arm muscles were even bigger than Kaliq’s, but Bree preferred Kaliq’s.

  “We were just about to light up,” Charlie Dern said, brandishing a little pipe. His head was a mess of unruly black curls, just like Bree's, and he was monumentally tall. Sitting cross-legged, his knees were practically up to his ears. In his lap was a little plastic baggie full of weed.

  “You don’t mind, do you, Brianna?” Kaliq asked.

  Bree shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, even though she was a little nervous. She’d never smoked weed before. “Of course not.”

  She and Kaliq sat down on the grass with the other boys. Charlie lit the pipe, inhaled deeply, and passed it to Kaliq. Bree studied the way he held the pipe. She wanted to try it, but she didn’t want them to know it was her first time.

  Kaliq’s cheeks were full of smoke as he passed the pipe to her. She cupped it in her left hand and brought it to her lips, just as he had done. Kaliq lit the bowl for her, flicking the lighter a few times before it caught. Then she inhaled. She could feel the smoke filling up her lungs, but she wasn’t sure what to do with it.

  “Here,” Bree said, desperately trying to hold in the smoke. She passed the pipe to Anthony.

  “Nice hit,” Charlie remarked, nodding approvingly at her.

  Bree’s eyes were tearing. “Thanks,” she said, letting a little smoke seep out the corners of her lips.

  “Damn, this stuff is strong,” Kaliq remarked, shaking his head.

  “Whew,” Bree said in agreement, finally blowing out the rest of the smoke. She felt extremely cool.

  The pipe made its way back to her, and this time she lit it herself, copying the way the boys had done it, while trying to look casual. Again, she held in the smoke for as long as she could bear to without coughing. Her eyeballs felt like they were going to explode.

  “This reminds me of something,” she said, passing the pipe to Anthony once more. “I can’t remember what, but it’s definitely something.”

  “Yeah,” Jeremy agreed.

  “It reminds me of summer,” Anthony said.

  “No, that’s not it.” Bree closed her eyes. Her father had sent her to a hippie arts camp in the mountains for the summer. She’d had to write haikus about the environment, sing peace songs in Spanish and Chinese, and weave blankets for the homeless. The entire place smelled like pee and peanut butter. “My summer sucked. What I’m thinking of is something good, like Halloween when you’re a little kid.”

  “Yeah, definitely.” Kaliq lay back in the grass and looked up at the orange autumn leaves fluttering in the trees overhead. “It’s exactly like Halloween.”

  Bree lay down next to him. Normally she never would have done such a thing, because when she lay down, her boobs oozed over the sides of her ribcage and bulged out of her clothing in a deformed manner. But for once she wasn’t worried about her boobs. It felt nice just to lie there beside Kaliq, breathing the same air that he was breathing.

  “When I was little I used to cover my eyes and think no one could see me if I couldn’t see them,” she said, passing her hand over her eyes.

  “Me too.” Kaliq closed his eyes. He felt completely relaxed, like a dog napping in front of the fire after a long run. This Brianna girl was genuinely mellow and so completely without expectation. It felt good to be with her.

  If only Porsha knew how easy it was to make him happy.

  “When you’re younger, everything is pretty simple like that, you know?” Bree's tongue felt loose in her mouth, and she couldn’t stop talking. “Then the older you get, the more complicated things are.”

  “Yeah,” Kaliq replied. “Like getting into college. All of a sudden we have to plan what we’re doing for the rest of our lives and try to impress people with how smart and involved we are. I mean, do our parents take eight classes a day, play on sports teams, edit the paper, and tutor underprivileged children, or whatever every single day? No.”

  “It’s crazy,” Bree agreed. She had yet to feel the pressure of getting into college, but she could empathize. “I mean, all my dad does all day is read and listen to the radio. How come we have to do so much?”

  “I don’t know.” Kaliq sighed tiredly. He reached for Bree’s hand and wound his fingers around hers.

  Bree felt as if she were melting into the grass. The side of her that was next to Kaliq was warm and humming, and her hand felt like it had fused to his. She’d never felt so wonderful in her entire life.

  “Hey, do you wanna come over to my house and get something to eat?” Kaliq asked her suddenly, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.

  Bree nodded. She knew she didn’t have to say anything, Kaliq could hear her. She couldn’t believe how quickly life could change. How could she have known when she’d woken up that morning that today was the day she’d fall in love?

  10

  Mekhi felt a little perverted at first, watching Chanel’s film all alone in Yasmine and Ruby’s apartment. But as soon as he’d gotten himself a glass of Pepsi from their old brown fridge, settled on the end of Ruby’s unmade futon bed, and pressed play, he’d forgotten about feeling self-conscious.

  The camera zoomed in on Chanel’s glossy red lips. “Welcome to my world,” she said, laughing. Then her lips started walking. Or rather, Chanel herself was walking. The camera stayed focused on her lips while the background changed. “I’m hailing a cab. I take so many cabs. It’s expensive.”

  A taxi stopped behind her and the lips got into the backseat.

  “We’re heading downtown now. To Jeffrey. It’s a great store. I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I’m sure I’ll find it.”

  The camera remained on her lips, which were silent for the entire ride. Music played. Something ‘60s and French. Glimpses of New York street scenes were visible through the smudged cab window.

  Mekhi clutched his glass of Pepsi. It was such a tease to only see Chanel’s lips. He felt like he was going to pass out.

  “We’re here,” she said finally. The camera followed her lips out of the cab and through the large glass entryway of a bright, white store. “Look at all these fabulous clothes,” the lips murmured. They remained slightly parted as Chanel took in the contents of the store. “I’m in heaven.”

  Mekhi fumbled in his pants pocket for a cigarette, his hands shaking uncontrollably. He smoked one and then another as the camera patrolled the store along with Chanel’s lips, stopping first to kiss a tiny brown handbag with a picture of a dog on it, and then to drag a pair of sequined arm-warmers across the camera’s lens. Finally her lips discovered a dress that they just couldn’t get enough of.

  “It’s so perfectly red,”
she said in awe. “I’m way into red these days. Okay. I’m trying it on.”

  Mekhi lit a third cigarette.

  The camera followed Chanel and her lips into the dressing room. They chattered away as she removed her clothes. “It’s freezing in here. I hope this isn’t too small. I hate it when things are too small.” Her hair, her bare shoulders, her neck, her ear were all visible in the mirror for a fraction of a second, but nothing was in focus. It was almost unbearable to watch.

  And then…

  “Ta da!” the lips said. The camera panned back slowly, revealing Chanel in her entirety, sporting a gorgeous, strappy red dress. Her feet were bare and her toes were painted red, too. “Isn’t it amazing?” she said, clapping her hands and spinning around and around, the dress flaring out around her knees. The French song came on again, and then the picture faded to black.

  Mekhi fell back on the bed. He felt drugged. More than anything he wanted to be with Chanel right now. Those soft, luscious lips! He wanted to kiss them again and again.

  He dug his cell phone out of his coat pocket and pressed the buttons to search for her number, hitting Call when he found it.

  “Hello?” Chanel picked up after the first ring.

  “It’s Mekhi,” he said, his voice cracking. He could barely breathe.

  “Hey. I’m so, so, so sorry I forgot to come meet you guys. Was Yasmine pissed or what?”

  Mekhi closed his eyes. “I just watched your film.” He reached for the remote and hit rewind.

  Chanel paused. How embarrassing. “Oh,” she replied. “What’d you think?”

  Mekhi took a deep breath. “I think—” Could he say it? Could he? All it took was three words. He could say them right now and be done with it. He could.

  But he couldn’t.

  “I love…it,” he said instead, chickening out on the last word.

  “Really?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Well, what does your sister think? She’s only seen bits and pieces of it. There was tons more film, but Yasmine and I finally streamlined it down to just the lips thing.”