by Derrick Jaxn
He looked at me, then at his brothers who were all looking at him with the "You know him?" face. His hesitation made me defensive and confirmed I'd made a horrible decision.
"Umm...'tsup, Shawn? I'm going to have to meet with you another time. I'm on my way somewhere right now."
"Look, man, it's cool. I don't know what your deal is, but I don't do the whole hint sending and catching thing with other grown men. I wouldn't even be pressing you if it wasn't for the deadline coming up but--"
"Oh, so this is the dude you were talking about?" one of his brothers laughed, cutting me off. "The little jail bird, right?"
I looked at him then back at Ronnie. "What?"
His frat brothers busted out laughing. I caught on to what they were talking about. Not sure how they got wind about me getting arrested, but apparently it had already been a topic of conversation.
"Look, Shawn. I told you it's not a good time."
"Honestly, I don't know what I was thinking anyway. This whole thing never sat right with me from the beginning, but I thought a little more of you than this."
"More of me? You mean, you're running around breaking the law and still expect to get down with the brothers of Alpha Kap--"
"No. I expected the brother who needed help communicating with his father to realize that I been down. Regardless of his fraternity."
His frat brother chimed in, "It's more than just a fraternity, it's a lifelong bond of--"
"I wasn't talkin' to you."
He looked at me as if I'd crossed the line. As far as I was concerned, the line was long gone.
I got back in my car, halfway feeling stupid and the other half glad I didn't give them a dime of my money after all. The fraternity thing may have had its perks, but I could do without filling out applications and paying for people to claim me as a friend. My social circle would be a dot consisting of me, myself, and I before I went that route again.
Ever.
Chapter 12
The Thot-osphere
The recruiter continued looking over my résumé before asking me another obvious ass question I was going to have to answer with responses I'd memorized instead of what I really wanted to say.
"Okay, so Mr. Fletcher, tell me. Why do you want this job?"
My thoughts: Because I don't want to be broke the rest of my life. Broke people stay hungry because food costs money. Money requires a job. The job requires me to be in here with this suit I'll never wear again pretending I've actually been a great student so you'll believe I can be a great employee. But even that's questionable.
I answered, "Well, I felt like the mission of the company aligned well with my strengths and the values posed the kind of potential for professional and personal development I'm seeking over the long-term, sir."
"I see. That's not a bad reason to want a job at all." He smiled as if he was impressed. I was nervous since the beginning of the interview, but holding together well. He continued, "Well, I'm curious. How did you hear about us?"
My thoughts: Last-minute Google search once I found out you had an empty slot for interviews.
I responded, "Well, your company is second to none when it comes to a long-standing tradition of excellence in sales leadership. You're practically a household name amongst the students here. I figured everyone knew who you were, but I was anxious for the opportunity to talk to someone like yourself within the company and find out more from your experience in which I'm sure you have plenty of insight to offer, sir."
He took off his glasses and smiled, "Well, I'm glad you asked. I've been with the company for 14 years now, and I've always loved..." so on and so forth about how the company saved his life.
It was a tire manufacturing company. I didn't know or care anything about a tire, but they had a job willing to pay 70k to anybody that could impress the Uncle Phil-looking guy in front of me who had sweated out the armpits of his shirt trying to pretend he was comfortable squeezing in his chair.
While I was considerate enough to pretend I was listening intently, I was partly distracted by my thoughts of all that had gone on in the last month, so I didn't know how the interview was going in his eyes.
My little life game of Who's Next to Go had already gotten old, and so was I. Well, not exactly old, but I was growing up without my priorities. Here I was less than a month away from graduation with no job, and my biggest concern was who was going to be my friend.
This interview, or some interview was going to have to work.
"Well, Mr. Fletcher. I must say that I'm thoroughly impressed with you and what you've been able to do. I can't give you an answer right now until I've at least seen the other candidates, but from where I'm sitting, your chances look pretty darn good." He stood, reaching his hand out.
"I'm honored, sir, and regardless of the outcome, this has truly been a privilege. I look forward to hearing from you." I met his hand and forced out a Colgate smile until I was out the door and completely out of sight.
Other students were outside, a nervous wreck, last-minute prepping for their interviews, and all I could hope was that he hated them. All of them.
I loosened up my tie on the way to the parking lot, rolled the window down once I got inside the car, and made my way to the cafe. I'd not been in a while, hoping to let things cool off before seeing Auntie. With things working out for the better on the legal end, now was as good a time as any.
She was cordial through the line as usual. Nothing was out of the ordinary with exception to what I saw when I got back to my seat.
"Well, hey there, stranger. " Chantel crossed her long legs, slightly leaning to one side to reveal her thigh showing between the black mini skirt and knee-high leather boots she had on.
I exhaled uncomfortably, "What's going on?"
"Nothing much. You just gon' act like you didn't see me in here, huh?"
"Act like what? I really didn't--You know what, I'm just trying to eat my food. I didn't come here for all--"
"Calm down. I'm not here to stir you up. Just figured I could speak. It ain't like you to smash and dash, ya know? I think you're changing."
"I'm changing? You didn't know me to begin with."
"Well, what I do know is that I'm a week late, and if I don't start my cycle in the next few days, we'll both be getting to know each other really well over the next 18 years."
I almost swallowed my fork. "Late? Late to where? I know you're not talking about your period."
"That's exactly what I'm talking about."
"Chantel, we didn't even have sex. I never even got to--"
"Damn, Mr. Bunched Panties, take a joke. I was just playing. You really are stressed out, aren't you?"
I looked at her for a moment, refusing to return her smile. "Nah, I'm not stressed out. Well, maybe a little. I just haven't figured out this whole on-again, off-again blister."
"What blister? I didn't see a blister."
"Doctor said it's probably nothing and who knows? It might not be nothing. It comes and goes. And it hurts."
"Wait, so you have blisters, and you let me suck your dick?!" she yelled, her pitch becoming frenzied.
The surrounding tables began side-eyeing the both of us, me being the only one who noticed or cared for that matter.
"Chan, chill. I was just kidding. Can't you take a joke?"
She threw one of my napkins at me. "Shawn, that's not funny!"
"Yes, it was. Clearly I'm laughing," I chuckled.
Her voice went back to soft and sweet, "Okay, but seriously, so when do I get to see you again or are you still mad about last time?"
"Not mad. But I am done. Not trying to start nothing back up. Let's just leave it where we left off."
She rolled her eyes. "Still hung up on ol' girl, huh?"
"That's none of your business, Chan."
"Well, what you need to make your business is the fact she's running around here with another guy. I was hoping that would have brought you to your senses by now, but I guess not."
"What she does ain
't my concern either."
She cocked her head to one side and squinted. "You mean, you're a swinger?"
"No, I mean I'm not with her. She's not with me. She's grown."
"Well, at least that makes one of you."
I stood up from the table, "It was nice seeing you, Chantel."
"Wait, wait. Sit back down. I didn't mean it like that." she said, grabbing my arm to stop me from leaving.
I didn't care to finish my meal, at least not with her there. But was patient enough to allow her a few more words before I pulled away.
"So you really not gon' finish eating? Cool. Then I'll go. You stay and finish your food. I just wanted to speak," she said, defeated.
She walked off, twisting her hips with every step as if she were on the catwalk, seemingly reconstructing her pride along the way.
By this time the cafeteria had begun clearing out and Auntie was no longer behind the serving counter. That meant she was prepping to wipe down tables.
I went ahead and scarfed down the rest of my food, and like clockwork, five minutes later she was heading towards my table before any other. She must've had something to say to me too.
"How you doin', baby?" her voice rang out with that thick country accent leading the way. She had a lot more energy than usual.
"I'm doing good, Auntie. How you?"
"I'm blessed. Aw'ways blessed by the Lawd."
"You know, I apologize for everything that happened. I didn't mean to--"
"I already know what you's 'bout to say, and far as I'm concerned, the Lawd told me to be done with it. So I'm done with it and I advise you to do the same."
"Lamarcus told you?"
"Yeah, he did. Before he told me, the Lawd told me so I wasn't worried about that no way."
I decided to change the subject. There was no going back and forth with religious people. Any objection or question you had became a test to their faith that they got more determined to pass the longer you talked.
"Well, that's good. Other than that, you been all right?"
"Don't worry 'bout me. What's botherin' you? That young lady I saw you sitting with, is that yo' girlfriend?"
"No, ma'am. Just an, um...associate."
"Well, where is yo' girlfriend? I know a handsome young man like you ain't runnin' round here alone."
"I guess you could say that's kinda what's bothering me, Auntie. I don't have one...anymore. She's gone."
"Gone? How so?"
"She said it."
"With what?"
"Her mouth."
"But what did her heart say?"
"I don't know, Auntie. All I have to go on is seeing her leave, and now she's with another guy. I don't know. I didn't mean to bring my problems all on you or nothin'. I'm just having a hard time tryna--"
"Do the same thing you been doing that still ain't workin'?" she asked.
I shook my head, "Yeah, I guess so."
"Well, there's one problem right there. Baby, you can't keep following the same path and expect to end up at a different place. Life don't work like that. You got to try something new."
"Like what?"
"I have a feeling you can figure that out," she said as she smiled. "Until then, I think I best gon' head and get back to work. You take care of yaself, okay?"
"Yes, ma'am."
I sat there a few minutes, elbows propped on my knees, my head hanging and staring at my shoes. The cafe was empty and so was my box of answers. I hated moments like these, but I knew sound advice when I heard it. It was definitely time to try something new.
It was Friday evening and the night was young. I could use a break from the house and I needed a drink. Scratch that, I needed ten drinks, but since I was my designated driver, one was going to have to do.
I could take a rain check on Auntie's life advice but my stress wasn't interested in waiting. I had to deal with that immediately.
I hadn't been to a club since my freshman year. Cost too much money, not enough return on the investment. But now that I was nearing the close of my college tenure and I had a few dollars to my name, why not?
I foraged around my drawer for a grey V-neck I got from the mall. It was plain, but the fabric stretched to fit (either that or it was a size too small), hugging my biceps and revealing the cuts in the top of my chest. Same trick girls used with their cleavage except mine never got me out of any speeding tickets.
I took my time getting out of the house, being that I wasn't meeting anyone there nor did I feel like being the first one in the club. For some reason, that always just seemed like a sad position to be in.
But I chose the wrong night to be fashionably late. It was free before eleven, and packed both inside and outside. Cars were lined up down the road at least a half mile away from everyone trying to get their party on for the last time before summer break.
Made me wonder if more young people would read books with a Free Before eleven advertisement on the front of a bookstore.
So, I paid the unreasonably high cover to get in, then realized absolutely nothing had changed about the club scene since I last stepped foot in one.
Plain Janes I'd seen walking around at school were transformed into half naked(I say half loosely) eye candies.
There was the somebody's-grandaddy-aged man sitting at the bar in his baggy suit he got forty years ago when he first became a deacon.
There was the timid girl, clutching her purse over by the bathroom who'd been scared straight by friends telling her if she didn't get out more, she'd grow up to be an old lady with a house of cats.
There were the wanna-be cool brothers who let one of their friends cut their hair. I could tell because they had a fade that didn't fade; it just came to an abrupt stop.
And of course, there was still the guy who got there super early, already drenched in sweat and break dancing his heart out like he was on America's Got Talent.
And all of it was just fine with me. I went and ordered a vodka and cranberry, then sat back and enjoyed the show. As I sipped and the alcohol set in, my thoughts drifted to my conversation with Auntie.
You can't follow the same path and expect to end up at a different place, I thought. What did she mean by that?
"Eh-hem," I heard someone clear their throat beside me. Then they coughed a little louder.
I tried not to look since, you know, staring is rude. But they kept going. I looked to my right and saw a girl cutting eyes at me almost to see if I'd noticed she was pretending to be choking.
"You all right?" I asked.
Her throat magically cleared up, "Yes, I think I'll be all right."
"Yeah, maybe you should get something to drink."
"I know, right?" she responded before waiting for me to go on. I turned my head back forward to continue my drink, so she continued, "I would but I left my wallet in the car."
"Damn, don't you hate when that happens?" I yelled back.
She looked less than pleased with my answer. I realized I was being a bit inconsiderate and decided to do the gentleman thing and get her a drink.
I wailed, "Bartender!" trying to overpower the boom of the club music. "Can I have a water please? For the lady." I nodded to the girl beside me as she rolled her eyes and got out of the chair, heading back to the dance floor.
Ungrateful.
But then it dawned on me. The something new I needed to try was another fish in the sea. It was full that night and my net had been empty due to the seemingly gaping holes I could never mend to keep the one I really wanted.
I put a hand in front of my face to check my breath real quick, making sure it didn't smell too strongly of the liquor or the turkey burger I'd eaten a little earlier that day, then slid my tip on the counter, wedging it beneath my glass.
I walked to the dance floor, peering through the artificial fog and towering over everyone, feeling awkward.
When most guys go out, they first look for a few lesser-attractive fish, to get their feet wet before they aim for the big ones. A rookie
mistake. Fine sisters noticed everything, and whether successful or not, if you went for someone they didn't consider to be up to par, you were black-listed. Even if she didn't actually see you, her friends would hip her to the game the moment you walked off and you'd be getting the who this? reply to your first text.
It may have been a while since I'd gone, but I knew better. I understood the environment, the layers of the atmosphere.
The Snooty-sphere Layer was against the wall where girls that were dressed to kill, resurrect, and then kill again grooved within their own circle. They dared any brother to come close before they publicly (and proudly) shamed him, migrating away in some fashion that called the attention of those nearby.
The Flake-osphere, consisting of those girls who were a little intoxicated but still being ladylike were a little off the wall, still on the outskirts of the dance floor. They were grooving on each other, doing the fake-gay thing that'd become all the new rage; that's where they earned their name. Every now and then they'd dance with a brother, but he'd have to be either extremely good-looking in the dark or familiar to them. I wasn't completely sure I was either, but this was more my speed.
Beyond them was the Forget-usphere. These were the girls who wanted to dance but didn't have anyone to dance with. While they may have all had wonderful personalities, rarely does anyone go to the club looking for a soul-mate. So unless a girl was extremely attractive or visually selling sex, there'd likely be no customers waiting in her line, which may be a good thing.
But their layer ran adjacent with the Thirst-osphere Layer of guys who were waiting for their turn with the girls in the Thot-osphere.
This was the nucleus, where the life of the party really stemmed from. These were the three-point-stance, no shame in their game, cheap leggings and dollar store flip-flop-wearing, eight-month-pregnant, dropping-into-a-split-from-hand-stand girls. No Thot-osphere; no party. This layer was critical.
Occasionally girls from the outer layers would dip in once they got the nerve or enough alcohol in their system. Seen a lot of relationships end that way. Good girls, proudly claimed as wifey by their man, getting liquor poured down their throat. And every man knows that once another man pours liquor down your girl's throat, she's no longer your girl.
