On my forehead, my armpits, my hands.
“Baby boy, you okay?” asked Mya.
I managed to shake my head.
I wasn’t.
Mya looked into my eyes, then turned to follow my gaze. The girl from the bathroom was maybe ten feet from her booth.
Mya turned back to me. Smiling. “I ain’t mad at you. She’s pretty.”
“Pretty Young Thang,” I said.
“You’ve got the thunderbolt, baby boy.”
“What?”
“Ever watch The Godfather?”
“No.”
“Good. You’re too young. But anyway, the thunderbolt is when a man sees a woman and…”
“And?”
Mya laughed. “And he gets that dumb and dumber look on his face that you’re sporting now.”
“I feel ya. And it’s even worse because I’ve thought about this particular girl every day for the longest.”
“You know her?”
I nodded slowly.
Suncoast video store at the mall. She was more beautiful than anything I could ever put into words. And dressed to kill. True Religion jeans so tight they looked like they’d burst if she took a deep breath, a formfitting pink T-shirt, Steve Madden boots, a pink Yankees fitted cap on her head. She was Lisa Raye-brown, with hazel eyes and the body of a fully developed woman.
Endia Patton.
Same initials as mine.
I had a notepad at home with her name scribbled on it a million times. Scribbled a million times on top of that with her last name replaced as mine. Endia Posey. It had a nice ring to it, I thought.
“Tell me about her,” Mya said.
I sighed, took a deep breath, tried to clear my head. “Met her the same day I met Fiasco.”
A smile played at the corners of Mya’s mouth. “The girl in the video store?”
I hunched my eyes in surprise. “Yeah. How did you know?”
Mya smiled. “Fiasco told me about that little episode. She handed you her cell phone, you typed your number in it, then closed it without saving the number. Fiasco said you were clueless that she wanted you to give her your number. You thought she just wanted you to check out her phone.”
I groaned.
“I thought it was cute,” Mya said.
“It wasn’t. Believe me.”
I’d struck up a conversation with Endia because I’d overheard her asking a sales associate in the Suncoast store about a certain song. Endia knew the words but not the title or artist. I did know, though. Our conversation went well. I was the epitome of uncool then, but Endia was feeling me for some strange reason. But I did everything wrong. Fiasco had been in the wings, observing my game. Final verdict, I had no game. He came up to me after Endia left, wearing a bogus disguise, and schooled me from A to Z on what I’d done wrong with Endia. Thus began my friendship with one of the most gifted rappers alive. But I didn’t get the girl.
That stung.
“You don’t know how long I’ve been praying I’d run into her again,” I told Mya.
“Well, now your prayers have been answered. So go handle your bidness.”
My pulse quickened. All the dreams I’d had about Endia no longer mattered. The confidence I’d built up over the past few months left me. “What? Go talk to her?”
“Talk to her,” Mya said. “Get her number. Call her. Fall in love. And after college, I repeat, after college, y’all make me some beautiful little nieces and nephews.”
“I was kinda hoping to go half on a baby with you,” I joked.
“Oh, were you now.” Mya’s eyes sparkled.
“With my looks and your intellect…imagine the possibilities.”
Mya reached across the table, touched my hand, smiled. “Stop stalling. And go seal the deal with ol’ girl.”
I slid from the booth without further hesitation. Since meeting Fiasco and Mya, and becoming part of their lives, I’d grown in confidence. I had gained swagger. Seeing Endia sparked the memory of that time when I didn’t have it. When I was uncool. Seeing her made me feel uncool again.
With a capital U.
But I would rely on muscle memory. I’d try and regain my swagger.
The girlish chatter in the neighboring booth stopped on a dime when I planted myself by their table’s edge. My hands shook like I had Parkinson’s. I put them in my pocket. Struck a cool pose. Or what I thought a cool pose looked like. I didn’t know anymore. I was frazzled.
I looked Endia in the eyes. “Endia.”
She blinked a few times. Frowned.
I smiled. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember me. That’d hurt my heart.”
She blinked some more.
“Suncoast video at the mall. Last year.”
Realization sparked light into her eyes. “You helped me find that song I was looking for. I don’t even remember the song.”
“You’ve got a good memory, baby girl.”
Mya cleared her throat at our booth. Loudly. That got my attention.
Oops.
Baby girl was for Mya.
My bad.
“Glad you remembered me…li’l bit.”
Mya coughed. Loudly.
I glanced over at her. She shook her head. A pained look on her face.
I settled my gaze back on Endia.
Ma?
Shawty?
Boo?
I was confused, unsure of which way to go. I settled on the simple. “Endia.”
I heard Mya say “Yes.”
Endia was looking at me like I had two heads. And both of them were the size of OJ’s.
“So, how have you been, Endia?” I asked.
“Good. Getting ready for school.”
“You ’bout to be a junior, too, correct?”
“Yeah.” She smiled, and a funny thing happened.
My nerves calmed.
I could do this.
Muscle memory. Like riding a bike, you never forgot it. I had swagger. I wasn’t uncool anymore.
I reached in my pocket, took out my LG enV phone. Slid it across the smooth table surface. Endia stopped it with her fingertips. “Let me get your math,” I said. “I’d love to kick it with you sometime.”
She didn’t move.
“You don’t already have a man, I hope. Don’t wanna step on anyone’s toes.”
“Nah. I’m solo.”
“Your math, then.” I head-nodded at my phone. Confident. Direct. No wasn’t a possible answer I’d accept.
“You’re different,” Endia said.
“You, too,” I said, smiling. “You’re actually even more beautiful than I remember.”
One of the girls with her made a sound. A low whistle. I’d won over her girlfriends. I was in the mix like Robin Thicke.
“We had the same initials,” Endia said. “I forgot your name, though.”
“Forgot my name.” I touched my heart, staggered back a step. Her girlfriends laughed. Endia smiled. “We still got the same initials. Think hard now. You’re gonna hurt my heart if you don’t remember.”
It didn’t take long. “Eric Posey,” she said.
I smiled inside. Swagger was incredible. Swagger was a magic potion.
“I’ll holla at you real soon, Endia. We can try and set something up for a weekend or something.”
She still hadn’t saved her number in my phone.
But my swagger was off the charts.
And I knew it wouldn’t let me down.
Sure enough, Endia flipped the phone open and started to type in her info with the keyboard. She typed slowly, carefully. A smile on her face, biting her lip as her fingers moved. I imagine her stomach was doing flips.
I know mine was.
I finally looked at the other girls at the table. “How y’all ladies doing?”
They stuttered. Actually stuttered. “F-fine.”
“That’s what’s up,” I said.
Endia finished, closed my phone, held it against her chest for a moment as she eyed me. Then she fina
lly slid the phone across the smooth table surface to me. I stopped it with my fingertips. Didn’t take my eyes off of her.
“Thank you,” I said sincerely.
Endia nodded.
“This is something seeing you like this, ’cause you been all on my brain,” I said.
Thank you, Mr. Kanye West.
“You were nice,” admitted Endia. “I’ve thought of you a couple times.”
“Just a couple?”
She swallowed. “Maybe more.”
I picked up my phone. “I’ll get up.”
I said that and moved back to my booth.
Mya jumped, startled. She’d been eavesdropping heavy.
“Nosy O’Donnell,” I said.
“Whatever, Lionel Sissy.”
“Who?”
“Nicole Richie’s…forget it.” She waved me off.
“Don’t front on me,” I said. “I handled mines. I went all in.”
Mya smiled. “I’ll give you that. I’m impressed. You were smooth.”
I didn’t reply. Listened to the whispered chatter from the girls’ booth.
A lot of giggling was happening over there.
Smooth. Yes, indeed.
Chapter 3
Kenya
Lark says, “Bare Escentuals. Ooh, Ken, we’ve gotta hit that up. Then I need some fish and chips from Arthur Treacher’s.”
I’m still reeling from the turbulence on our plane ride, and not the least bit interested in bath oils or body sprays. And forget about food. Especially fish. Oh hells no. That wouldn’t be a good look with my stomach still doing flips.
“We don’t have time for all that,” I tell Lark. “We’ve gotta meet these girls.”
Carolina and Tammy; they’re our airport and campus escorts according to the letter the college sent us. In their sophomore year. Just last year they went through what Lark and I are about to go through. I’m looking forward to getting Carolina and Tammy’s outlook on school life. The real deal. The raw uncut. The tell-it-how-it-is truth. What to expect, both the good and the bad. I don’t want anything sugarcoated. I really want to know what I’m about to face.
I’m nervous. I can’t front.
I think about the bag of gifts Donnell got for me. Just thinking about him makes me smile. I really do miss him.
Lark interrupts my thoughts of Donnell with a loud sigh. When I give her my full attention, Miss Diva pokes her lip out. “College is supposed to be fun, Ken. This is some stick-in-the mud mess.”
“There’ll be plenty of time for fun. The next few days are all about business. We need to be prepared for everything that is gonna happen this year. Or at least as much of it as we can predict. If we fail to prepare, we prepare to fail.”
Usually, Lark is the voice of reason.
Today I’m the one sounding like a slogan on a bumper sticker.
Pseudo-motivational speaker on board.
“I know you’re right,” Lark says. “But I don’t want to waste one minute, Ken. I want to let my hair down and have some fun. Fun, fun, fun.”
I frown. “What’s come over you?”
“What you mean?”
“You’re acting…different.”
“I’m out of the house. Out from under my mother’s shadow.”
“Honor thy mother and thy father,” I say.
Lark studies me. Her eyes widen. She points an accusing finger at me, wags it, and something like a smile appears on her face. “I can’t believe it. This is incredible. You’re scurred, Kenya Posey.”
I suck my teeth, wave her off, and then look away. I want to pick my nails, but I don’t.
“Scurred,” Lark repeats. “I can’t believe it. Never thought I’d see the day.”
“You’re crazy. I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lark.”
My drum of a heartbeat and sweaty palms know otherwise.
Lark grabs my shoulder, repositions me so she can look me directly in the face.
I hold the eye contact. I’m defiant. I refuse to back down. Refuse to acknowledge what is probably the truth.
Not willing to give Lark an inch of rope to hang me with.
“You’re up here talking like Joel Osteen,” Lark says. “What’s that all about? Admit it. You’re scurred, Ken.”
“If you say I’m scurred one more time, I’m going to have a fit. I’m sick of that word. It’s played and stupid.”
“Scared. Petrified. Horrified. Terrified.” She pauses. “I can go on. Aghast…”
“Okay,” I whisper. “Maybe a little scared. You aren’t?”
“Of course I am, Ken. But this can’t be as bad as…” Her voice trails off into the ether. She has a strange look in her eyes I haven’t seen ever before.
“You okay? What were you going to say? Bad as what?”
“Nothing, Ken.” I don’t press her.
We’re in Concourse T at Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport. A gang of folks moving around us, but not at the frenetic pace I’m used to seeing in New Jersey. That’s why I chose a Southern university. Why Lark and I chose it. We both wanted a different pace, a slower pace, a more manageable pace. In Jersey it’s hard to get your bearings sometimes. Everyone’s in such a rush.
I’m as guilty of rushing as anyone I know.
I rushed to break up with Donnell.
A big mistake I’ve regretted every minute since I did it.
I wonder why he hasn’t called, hasn’t texted me, nothing.
The hurt in his eyes the last I saw of him stays with me. I messed up big-time.
Before I can start to feel sorry for myself I hear an unfamiliar voice. “Kenya? Lark?”
That breaks my reverie of Donnell.
I look in the direction of the voice.
Two girls that don’t look much older than me.
One is thin, tall, toned but still feminine, has a short haircut, with a dark chocolate complexion set off with purplish lipstick. She’s dressed in baby shorts and a tight T-shirt that shows off her track-star body. The other is short and thick, with long black tresses, as light as the other girl is dark, no makeup, but flawless skin, extra-light brown eyes that draw you in. She’s wearing skintight jeans, and a T-shirt, as well. Both of ’em are beautiful. If they’re who I think they are, then the stakes have definitely been raised. Wasn’t but a handful of girls at school back home even close to as beautiful as these two. I was Queen Bee without much effort or competition. I won’t be Queen Bee in Georgia as easily.
“Carolina?” I ask. “Tammy?”
Dark Chocolate smiles, offers her hand. “I’m Tammy. And you’re which, Kenya or Lark?”
“Kenya,” I tell her.
She repeats the same warm handshake with Lark.
Short and Thick does the same, introduces herself as Carolina and offers a warm handshake.
“Y’all are from New Jersey, right?” Carolina asks.
“Yep,” I reply. “You?”
“Virginia.”
I think of Donnell’s family in Virginia.
It seems like everything leads me to some thought of my boyfriend.
Check that. Ex-boyfriend.
I shake that away and address Tammy. “And you? Where are you from?”
“Here, there, and everywhere,” she says.
“Okaay.” I’m not sure what that means.
Lark chimes in. “Here, there, and everywhere. Army brat, I bet.”
Tammy nods. “You got it, Lark. Emphasis on brat.” She laughs at that. “But it is what it is. I’ve spent time in North Carolina, Texas, parts of Florida, Maryland, even Kentucky.”
“Must have been hard, moving around a lot,” I say.
Tammy shakes her head. “Not really. I love a man in uniform. And there were plenty.”
She’s sassy.
Something I’ve always thought about myself. But I feel small and sassyless in comparison to her. I clear my throat, adjust my clothes. Suddenly I’m uncomfortable in my own skin. Of all my worries about going away t
o school, this feeling wasn’t one I anticipated.
“There a lot of boys here?” Lark says.
Carolina clucks her tongue. “A few boys, yeah, but in some very good cases, men. Eligible brothers trying to get their learning on. You can’t beat that. And good-looking, too. Shoot. It’s a candy factory.”
“Men,” I mumble.
“Uh-oh,” Carolina says. “Somebody’s got men problems.”
“She just broke up with her boyfriend,” Lark offers.
I give my best female friend the evil eye. She feels the power of my glare, I suppose, because she looks away.
A smart move, because my evil eye can turn you to stone.
“No time for a broken heart here, Kenya,” says Tammy. “Whatever happened in Jersey is done, homegirl. Brush that off your shoulders. It’s live here.”
Brush Donnell away?
Somehow I just can’t.
Carolina sweeps her arm forward. “That’s the Student Center. We call it the Peach Pit. I’m on the campus newspaper. The Southern. A lot of different school organizations meet up in there for business. I guess you could say it’s the heart of the campus.”
“That’s all lovely,” Tammy says. “But Beltran Hall is what you ladies need to be worried about.”
“Beltran Hall?” I ask.
Carolina smiles. “Step shows. Most of the party stuff. Tammy lives to party. Getting her to open a book takes an act of Congress. Don’t let her lead you astray.”
Tammy scoffs. “Don’t even go there, Car. I do remember a certain lightskindeded someone shaking her booty with a bevy of fine young gentlemen most of last year in Beltran Hall.” She laughs. “And I said bevy. A nice journalistic word for you. Anyway, I won’t mention any names. But this certain nameless female just happens to be our resident Lois Lane. And her name begins with a Carol and ends with a Lina.”
Carolina gasps playfully. “Hater. I won’t even tell Kenya and Lark how much you shook your track-hurdling booty up in Beltran Hall last year.”
Tammy laughs. “I compete in the 100 and the 200. Get your facts straight, Greta Van Susteren. No hurdles.”
Lark cuts in. “Forget facts. Just show me the way to Beltran Hall.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll be seeing plenty of it tonight, Lark. Plenty.”
“Tonight?”
Tammy sticks her chest out. “The Deltas do a little something-something to get you freshman ladies off to a good start.” The twinkle in her eye shines like a diamond. I can only imagine what tonight’s party is going to be like.
Dirty South Page 4
