by Derrick Jaxn
"Hello?" she moaned, as if she was awaking out of what was about to be some really good sleep.
"Hey, Danielle. My bad, you weren't asleep, were you?"
"No, I wasn't," she lied. Seemed she still had her old habit of waking up any time I called.
That was a good sign, but I wasn't about to push it. I got straight to the point.
"Look, I need to ask you something."
"Ask me what?"
"That maybe if you weren't busy this weekend, we could hang out?"
She paused for a few seconds, causing me to wish I could go back in time and un-ask the question. I knew I had gotten ahead of myself.
"Hang out where?"
My confidence came back. "At the engineering building. We could make it a study...date. Except, not a date or nothin', but you know. Just some studying."
I really didn't think about the activity before I spoke, but girls like Danielle hated indecisiveness. The whole "I don't know. Whatever you wanna do" would've probably ended in a quick dial tone so I made a decision.
"That's fine. I don't wanna fall asleep on you so just remind me, okay? I'm about to get some rest."
I did the "Michael Jordan after the buzzer beater" fist pump in the air. Moon walked a few steps, even on the carpet.
I was in.
"Okay, cool. Well, then, get some rest. Good night," I said, trying to conceal my excitement.
"Okay, bye," she mumbled. A good night in return would've been nice, but I wasn't tripping. I was in.
Chapter 5
Just Go With It
"Why can't you just make my butt a little bigger? Just a little, nobody would notice," Chantel asked as we clicked through the final edits from the photo shoot on my laptop.
"Because I'm a photographer, not a magician. Besides, you don't need any more butt. You've got plenty considering you're a model."
"You think so?" she said, standing up from the couch and turning around so I could see again. She grabbed it playfully with her hand, sending innuendos for me to touch with a maniacal grin.
"Yes, I do," I replied, staring helplessly. It was perfectly shaped, draped underneath black leggings. I could even see the little cuff where my hand could go.
"Go ahead. You can feel if you want."
"I'd better not. Besides, I got some other pictures I gotta get to." I closed the laptop and handed her the USB with her pictures on it.
"Oh yeah, I forgot, Mr. Professional," she said, making sarcastic parentheses with her fingers. "One day you're gonna stop being so scary."
"I'm not being scary. I just can't just go groping on all my clients."
The corner of her lip tugged up, "So now I'm just another client?"
"Yes."
"Oh, I see how it is then. Fine." She threw the USB in her purse and grabbed her keys. "Just remember that when I'm all rich and famous."
"No, you remember. You'll be able to actually pay me then."
She ignored me and looked down at my groin area. My semi-erect imprint was showing through my football shorts.
"Yeah. You always say one thing, but that's clearly thinking something else. I'll see you around, mister," she smirked, then sashayed out the door.
Damn hormones. They answered to whoever the hell they wanted to, and as much as I didn't want to admit it, they were answering to her.
After a little walk, the blood rushed back to the rest of my body and Danielle came back to mind. I knew her guard was up, as it should be, but I couldn't fight the anticipation of having her in my presence.
I kept up the normal interaction with us so not to press too hard and come off desperate. It also helped that I was preoccupied with fraternity business with Ronnie.
He all-of-a-sudden had these tasks for me to complete just so I could submit my application. Signatures I needed from several different people who never seemed to be in their office during their office hours, transcripts that needed to be mailed, and most importantly, the money.
To even be considered would cost over a thousand dollars with most of it being non-refundable regardless if I was accepted or not.
"Well, it is voluntary," he threw out, looking at me with a raised eyebrow as I aired out my frustrations with the long drawn-out process.
How did I know this was going to loop back around to how dedicated I was? And honestly, it had even me questioning.
I stood up and put one hand in my pocket to soothe what would be one hell of a blow to it in the near future.
"Look, Ronnie, all I'm saying is that's a bit much to ask, especially of a college student."
"I give you my word that I'll do everything in my power to help ya out, but you gotta trust me."
"Speaking of trust, we don't even know each other yet. I mean, you know what I'm about but I don't know anything about you."
He took a sip from his soda and set it back on the living room table after slowly twisting the cap back on to stall for a moment to think.
"Okay, fine. Ask me anything."
I didn't expect that. But seeing as how I'd eventually be putting a thousand dollars, cash, into his hands, I figured it wouldn't hurt to seize the opportunity to know more about him.
"Where are you from?"
"Birmingham, Alabama."
"Both parents?"
"Yup. Married thirty-five years. Still going strong."
"Siblings?"
"One older brother, no sisters."
"You a Christian?"
"Yup."
"Virgin?"
"Nope."
"What do you wanna be short-term?"
"Happy."
"Long-term?" He hesitated a bit, then looked around before answering. "Anything that'd make my dad proud of me."
He looked down uncomfortably at the floor. Everything about him until this point had been so calculated with somewhat of a superiority complex, but not this time. "It's one of the reasons I joined the frat. Thinking maybe if I followed in his footsteps, he'd finally be proud of me."
"Look man, some people don't even have their dads, at least--"
"--I got one, right?" he finished my sentence for me. "Yeah, that's what everyone says. But it's no point in having one who could've done without you. I'm no athlete like he and my brother was. I'm just a smart kid who enjoyed going to school. Apparently that didn't meet his manly expectations." He looked up at the ceiling and exhaled, "Look, let's change the subject."
I looked at him, wondering if more guys were in his shoes; feeling a sense of inadequacy and trying to fill that void with achievement or groups they thought would help, because men aren't always equipped with proper knowledge on how to articulate emotions, nor are we always the best listeners when someone else is.
"Your dad," I said, "what does he do?"
"He owns his own luxury transportation company."
"Oh, wow. So he drives celebs around and stuff or what?"
"Yeah, pretty much. They're usually high-profiled. Meets a lot of entertainers along the way. He says that's one of the perks. Gets to go to all the really big events. The Grammys, the inauguration, everything. Said he wants me to take over the business once I get out of college."
"That's what's up. You already got a job waitin' on you when you get out."
"But I don't just want a job. I want to have a career, of my own."
"And what's stopping you is...?"
"Look. Enough about me. Are you gonna be able to get the money or not?" he said.
"Yeah, a few trips to the blood and sperm banks and I'll have it covered." We laughed a little, breaking some of the tension from my little questionnaire.
"Well whatever you gotta do, just make sure it's legal. Don't get in any trouble and try to stay low key."
"Most definitely." I said, reaching out for a hand-shake. But instead, he brought it in for a bro-hug.
A bro-hug starts off as a handshake to establish masculinity before the actual hug that ends in a manly pat on the back. Normally it only happens between friends but maybe this was the
beginning of just that. A friendship.
***
Two very long days passed and my study date with Danielle was upon me. I had prepped a binder of reading materials, highlighting a bunch of lines in the textbook that I didn't read. But it looked like I did.
After I finished with that, I flung my books in the car, checked my nostrils in the rearview mirror for uninvited guests, then peeked down at my fuel level. The hand was on E, which meant I had plenty left. That wouldn't be the case with most cars, but mine was different.
We had been through hell and back together, occasionally getting put along side of the road on the way, so I knew exactly how much more fight she had left in her.
I pulled up to the engineering building about an hour early. Picked an empty room on the top floor where I knew no one else would be so we could talk as we pleased with no listening ears or interruption.
A little while later, my phone vibrated.
Baby: Hey, I'm here but I don't see you. What room???[9:52 p.m.]
Me: 428. Fourth floor on the left.[9:52 p.m.]
It was game time.
I did my hand-in-front-of-the-face breath check then flipped open my books, staring intently at the middle. For good measure, I even slowly drug my finger across the page and mouthed a few words to myself silently. You know, because presentation is everything.
She walked in, natural hair tied back into a poof, her "I'm being mature today" square frames on instead of the contacts she normally wore, and university sweat-suit. Nothing about her said, I'm trying to look cute for you and as hard as she wasn't trying, she failed. She was looking damned good.
I played it cool while my heart kicked up and added another count to its usual cadence. "Hey, what's up?"
"Nothing. Mad at you for making me climb up all those steps."
"A few steps ain't never hurt nobody. Might help you tone up those glutes."
She looked at me like I was trying to insult her and had a few seconds to clarify that I wasn't before she snapped.
"Even more," I added, smiling and hoping she would too.
She chuckled. "Yeah, okay. So...what are we studying tonight and why did you need a study partner?"
"Never said I needed a partner. I just wanted to hang with you and be constructive in the process."
"So we're hanging now? What's this? Some kind of getting back together 12-step program?"
That's a lot of damn steps, I thought.
"No. Can a brother simply want to see you and decide not to hide it? Why I gotta be up to something? Maybe I just wanted to see you."
Probably because I was up to something and I didn't just want to see her. I had plans of this leading to us being in each other's circle a little more closely again. Not necessarily as one, but close.
"Mm-hmm. Okay then, just checking."
She sat down next to me. An elementary school "ooh, you gon' catch the cooties" nervousness crept all over me while she looked completely unbothered.
Over the next two hours I honestly tried to study but to no avail. I was thinking about everything but studying, mostly on whether or not I appeared to be studying.
That plus the fact that I hadn't lost any love for her since the first time I confessed my feelings three years prior when we were parked out by the lake. And even though I knew love alone wasn't enough, love alone is exactly what I had.
But I didn't know what to do with it.
"It's getting kinda late," she said,, sighing and sitting back in her chair. "I think I'm going to go ahead and go home. I still gotta cook and the meat isn't even thawed yet."
You cooked? I been hungry as hell, let me get a plate, would've come off needy.
So I just said, "Okay cool, well, let me walk you out."
We went outside with the cool night time air and street lights meeting us. The luminescent moon watched over the parking lot like a protective mother bear.
"Hold on, let me put my books in the car," I said, rushing to my car before we would have to split ways.
On my way, the feeling of missing her trickled back over my chest, again. I wasn't ready to see her go, but wasn't confident I could make her stay. I opened the door and put my books in, trying to think of some kind of excuse to stall a little longer.
I looked at the radio, the same one we used to fight over, but also the same one that used to set the mood for our quality time when we first got together.
"What's taking so long?" she yelled out, her tone irritable from being left standing there holding her books.
"Just one sec, I'm on my way."
Think, Shawn. Think.
I put the key in the ignition and turned the car on. Chris Brown's first album was in the player, one of our favorites to listen to. I skipped to track eleven and turned the volume full blast.
It was almost midnight so no one else was outside. Only a few mosquitoes and occasional police sirens somewhere closer to downtown, but other than that, all you could hear was Chris' sixteen-year-old voice ringing out as he sang his hit single, "Yo(Excuse Me Miss)".
I emerged from the car bobbing my head getting ready to catch the beat. I had watched the music video a million times and memorized the dance routine he and his dancers did, and fortunately, I had enough rhythm to pull it off. In my opinion.
I started mouthing the words, and then I got straight to it.
Kick left, kick right, waterfall fingers in front of the face; I did it all. I thought I was killing it till I caught a glimpse of myself in my car window mid-spin. I looked more like Terry Cruz from White Chicks since I was so big, but it was too late to stop now. I was too legit to quit.
Danielle tried to cover her mouth as she politely held back laughter, but I could tell she liked it.
"And I gotta admit that ya got my attention. You makin' me wanna say yoooo," I sang.
I pop-locked my way closer to her with every step, timing it just right as the song was going off. I was sweating, putting my heart into every motion and lyric.
But it was all worth it when I saw her face light up with laughter. "I cannot believe you!"
"What you mean? See, you don't recognize greatness when you see it. I didn't even charge for front row seats. You should be thanking me."
"Well, thank you, sir. You definitely get an A for effort. I honestly was not expecting that. Did you rehearse or was that all freestyle?"
"You ain't gotta rehearse it when it's real, girl. You just go with it," I joked, getting a little closer to her now. My body was grooving in a slow rhythm even though the disc was between songs.
The next track was a slower tune. The mood brought about an ultimatum, to kiss or not to kiss. I chose door number two, erring on the side of caution, but couldn't accept the night being over just yet.
"May I have this dance?" I asked, trying to control my breathing enough for it to sound suave.
"Why, yes, I don't see why not." Her brown sugary eyes, melted and mixed with mine.
I grabbed her books from her and set them on the ground. I didn't know if she'd throw a fit since they were like her little bundles of joy, but she didn't. She was just as in the moment as I was.
I placed my right hand on the small of her back and took her right hand in mine. She rested her head trustingly on the planes of my chest, exhaled, and softly chuckled, "Why are you so silly?"
Her closed eyes and smile injected a double entendre so I responded by holding her a little closer, a little tighter, and that seemed to be just fine with her.
A few cars passed by, some slowing down to see what was going on, but we didn't care. We just slow danced. Right there. In the middle of the parking lot.
Nothing else mattered and that alone felt amazing.
Chapter 6
I Want You, So I Will Have You
"I don't know, man. She got that look in her eye, that crazy look. The kinda look where you wake up in the morning and see her way across the room, orange juice in one hand and ya dick in the other.
All 'cause she went through yo
ur phone and saw something she ain't like," one of the guys said sitting behind me.
"But she still badder than a two-year-old baby." Him and his boys started laughing obnoxiously as the girls across the cafeteria rolled their eyes, flipped their hair, and kept eating.
They were probably freshmen. Hell, everybody looked like freshmen to me; I couldn't tell any difference. That was a sign that I had well overstayed my cafeteria welcome.
My generation belonged off campus, with our soon-to-be wives and children getting ready to go out into the real world. But since I was single, I had to adjust to a different lifestyle--people watching and cafe food. Hell, if they had checkers I'd play those too.
One of the cafe servers, an elderly and always kind woman, had a lot of school spirit since she was born and raised in the city of Tuskegee. She used to give me and my teammates more than the other students for extra motivation to win on Saturday. Even when we wanted to take some to the dorm room, she'd sneak us a plate, like family does at a cook-out. That's why we affectionately called her Auntie.
She was a typical church woman, humming gospel hymns, short salt-n-pepper wig that was never on straight, glasses just above the tip of her nose, and her school t-shirt always tucked neatly into her long jean skirt that met at the laces of her Keds shoes.
She fed students with a smile for decades, like it was more than just a job for her. But as I'd gotten older, I started thinking about the fact that Auntie had a life outside of the cafe. I mean, of course she did, but I didn't really dwell on it until later.
And I don't think any of us ever asked her how her day was without accepting the default, "Good and yours?" that she replied with that surely couldn't have been the case every single time. So I decided to change that.
I finished my food and went over to empty my tray into the trash. I saw her behind the serving counter wiping down and getting ready to put everything up and tried to catch her before she got too busy.
She noticed me walking up and cracked open her usual grin. "Hey, sweetie. You give me just a second. I gotta clean this here mess up and I can go to the back and get you somethin' to take with ya," she said in her deep Southern accent.
