Dirty South

by Phillip Thomas Duck

  “A li’l cutie. I might be overstating it about her being his girlfriend. But they’re kicking it. I just dropped them off at the movies.”

  “Good for him.”

  “There’s more.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a double date.”

  “Double date?”

  “Eric’s li’l girlfriend brought along her friend. And you’re not gonna believe who Eric brought.”

  Lark clutches my arm. “Don’t tell me he’s kickin’ it with Crash again?”

  Crash is a man-child I went to school with. One of Eric’s so-called friends. Fair-weather friend, at best. A bully to the nth degree. There was a time Eric was seriously under Crash’s thumb. Like he was hypnotized or something. And Crash never returned the love. In fact, he beat my brother up last year. Eric’s most humiliating moment in a year of humiliating moments. Then Eric met Fiasco. And everything changed. A new Eric emerged. E, as he likes to be called. Top of the food chain.

  Swagger.

  My brother had it now.

  “Nope,” I tell Lark. “Definitely not Crash. But good guess.”

  Lark puts a finger to her lip, taps it. “Can’t think of anyone Eric is tough with. Other than that goofy-ass Benny.”

  “Da Da,” I say.

  “Shut up.”

  “Yup.” I nod. “And Benny’s girl was fly, too.”

  “Damn.”

  “And she was feeling that boy.”

  “Jean Claude Van Damn!”

  “S’what I said.”

  Lark takes in a breath, shakes her head. “Well, this is all very interesting but not what you came over here for. So wassup?”

  Count on my homegirl to get to the nitty-gritty.

  I’m sitting on one of the green benches in front of Lark’s building. Lark’s standing. I look across the way. Girls playing double Dutch in the middle of the street. Mexican boys kicking a soccer ball around on the basketball courts across the way. Some old folks sitting in lawn chairs, gossiping. Lots of activity. Everybody into something.

  “Donnell,” I say.

  “What a surprise,” Lark says. “What he do now?”

  “I’m not sure about the long-distance setup.”

  Lark nods. “I feel you. Donovan and I have the same issues.”

  Donovan wasn’t going away to school. He was already working for his father’s landscaping business. And he promised Lark he’d take classes at the local community college during down season in his father’s business.

  “Not quite the same, Lark. Trust me on that.”

  “Exactly the same,” Lark says. “You have to set parameters. That’s what we did. Donovan’s idea, too.”

  “Parameters?”

  “Yeah, Ken. Rules to live by. You’ll crash and burn without them. Long-distance relationships are tough. Gotta have parameters.”

  “Like?”

  Lark starts ticking them off on her fingers.

  “We have to communicate a minimum of twice per day. One can be a text, e-mail, whatever. But one has to be live. Have to hear one another’s voice.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Even if I’m stressed and gotta pull an all-nighter studying,” she goes on, “I have to at least call him and speak for a few. That establishes that I am ‘sugar sweet for he.’”

  “‘Sugar sweet for he?’”

  Lark smiles. “Yeah. My baby.”

  Her Jamaican lover boy.

  I’m not mad at her.

  Do you. That’s my motto.

  “What else?” I say.

  “If by chance I do see something else I want to get into, it’s a must I’m honest about it.”

  “He’s following the same guideline?”

  “Of course. That’s a must.”

  “Agreed, then.”

  “Feelings will get hurt regardless,” Lark says, “but there is some comfort in the honesty.”

  “No doubt.” I shift on the bench, very interested. “What else you got?”

  “We’re not gonna let more than six weeks pass by without seeing one another. So either he comes south or I come north every month and a half.”

  “Who’s footing those bills?”

  Lark smiles. “He’s working. He volunteered.”

  “You got a keeper there, girl.”

  “Yeah, we’re lucky, Ken.”

  We’re lucky.

  If only she knew.

  I remember the time when I thought I was lucky to have Donnell’s love.

  Then I learned how fleeting it was.

  He treated me like just some girl.

  Worse, he acted like just some guy.

  “So you see, Ken, it’s all very manageable,” Lark says.

  “I don’t disagree. It is manageable.”

  “Without a doubt.”

  “Just not for me.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” I wave her off.

  “Something. Why are you giving off such a negative vibe?”

  “Angry,” I admit.

  “I can see that. You look like La Toya that time…” I give Lark a look that pauses her. “You don’t want to hear anything about the Jacksons right about now,” she says.

  I shake my head. “Or ever.”

  “Sorry,” she says.

  I smile despite my heartbreak. “No prob, girl.”

  “So what’s up, Ken? What am I missing?”

  “Got other issues with Donnell that you don’t have with Donovan. At least I hope you don’t.”

  “Okay. Tell me. You’re spoon-feeding me. That can’t be good.”

  “It’s not.”

  “Okay,” she says.

  I take a deep breath. “Your man didn’t sleep with Melyssa Bryan.”

  “We need to get together,” I say into my cell.

  “Okay.”

  “Discuss some parameters if we’re going to stay together.”

  “Parameters?” Donnell echoes. “If? Thought we’d settled that.”

  “If,” I reply.

  “I told you I was sorry, YaYa.”

  “That and a token can get me a ride on the bus.”

  “You are your brother’s sister,” Donnell laughs. “Sounds like something Eric would say.”

  “Don’t make light of this, Donnell.”

  He regroups. “I’m sorry. Okay. When do you want to get together?”

  “Gotta pick up my brother and his friends. I’ll call you when I’ve dropped them off.”

  “Aight,” Donnell says. “Call me when you get home. I’ll swing by and get you. We can go to the park and talk.”

  “No. I’ll meet you at the park. I’ll drive myself.”

  “Why waste the gas? I’ll swing by and get you.”

  “It might be the last conversation we ever have. Better this way,” I say and disconnect the call.

  Chapter 10

  Eric

  Diaryof a Mad Black Woman was still playing. Kenya was still in the lead. We were parked outside of Benny’s house. Kenya and I were sitting in her Acura, Benny and the girls chilling out on his porch, waiting on me. The movies had gone well, and we’d had a good time walking around the mall, cracking jokes and hating on people we passed by. So I had talked Endia and Tanya into continuing our date at Benny’s place. I suggested punch and video games, or a movie DVD, if they weren’t movied out, in the plush comfort of Benny’s den. I had to take charge; Benny was still mostly silent around the girls. I’d rib him about that for the rest of our lives, or at least until we were old enough to collect social security. Mr. Cool Stuff wasn’t so cool with two pretty females around.

  Despite Benny’s lost tongue, Endia and Tanya were more than happy to keep the date rolling.

  They couldn’t get enough of us.

  That was a good sign.

  Almost everything was right with my world.

  Almost.

  Kenya didn’t want to leave me, even though I assured her Benny’s father would drop us all home. I was surprised
by my sister’s concern. It actually warmed my heart. Wasn’t like her. I waited patiently for the other shoe to fall.

  “You better let Mama know this wasn’t my idea, Eric,” Kenya said.

  “E,” I said.

  “Whatever, boy. Just let Mama know I didn’t have anything to do with this. Everything I’m going through, I don’t need her on my butt.”

  Suddenly I felt foolish. Kenya wasn’t concerned about me. It was about self-preservation. She was on some CYA. Cover your assets. Know what I mean?

  “I’m gonna tell Mama you dumped us at Benny’s door and peeled out of here like a bat out of hell,” I said. “Bat out of hell” was one of Mama’s sayings. That extra touch would really make an impression. “I’ll say you left four teens with raging hormones alone in a big house by ourselves for hours,” I continued. “You knew Benny’s father was out and wouldn’t be back for a while. I’ll tell her a lot jumped off with the girls…but what happens at Benny’s house stays at Benny’s house.”

  I was kidding.

  I wasn’t about to tell any of that to Mama.

  I was in good spirits, had jokes.

  I thought myself so clever until I noticed tears spring in Kenya’s eyes. Damn. This was serious. The other shoe had fallen, and I was the gum on the bottom of it. I touched my sister’s knee. “My bad, Kenya…. I was joking.”

  She waved me off.

  I rolled down my window, yelled to Benny and the girls. “You guys go ahead. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Benny’s eyes widened, and I could see his Adam’s apple protrude. “Hurry up, Eric,” he managed. “We’ll be in the den.”

  I nodded and turned back to my sister. Nervous. I wasn’t used to Kenya showing weakness. Wasn’t comfortable with the role of strong sibling. But obviously something had weakened Kenya, and I had to be strong for her, had to support her, encourage her through whatever tribulation was dogging her. My stomach felt like I was on a roller coaster. I forced a smile. “They’ll be in the den. Ain’t that something? An extra room to play around in. We’ve got a den, too. It’s called my bedroom.”

  Kenya didn’t respond.

  “How do you make holy water?” I asked.

  Nothing from my sister.

  “Boil the hell out of it.”

  Kenya sobbed softly, gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles pinked.

  I swallowed. “What flower name would you give for the thing between your nose and chin?”

  Nothing.

  “Tulips.”

  I laughed lightly.

  Kenya’s expression didn’t change. My jokes hadn’t eased the tension.

  I sighed. “Tell me what’s up.”

  It took her a while. “Everything is all messed up, Eric.”

  She fell into my arms before I could respond. Another rare thing. I could feel her warm tears raining on my shirt. I patted her back, tried to offer her some comfort.

  “Can’t be that bad, Kenya.”

  “It is.”

  “Problem with school? You can’t go or something?”

  She shook her head against my chest.

  Wasn’t very vocal.

  I’d have to guess her issue.

  “Lark? Are y’all fighting or something?”

  Another shake of the head.

  “Donnell?”

  She pulled away from me, sat up, board stiff. I’d finally hit pay dirt.

  “What happened with Donnell?” I asked.

  She sneered, said something I couldn’t make out.

  “Repeat that. Didn’t hear you.”

  “Melyssa Bryan,” Kenya blurted out. “She happened.”

  “Damn.”

  I couldn’t think of anything else to say. Didn’t have to even ask Kenya what exactly happened between Donnell and Melyssa Bryan. Melyssa’s reputation was clear.

  The gift that keeps on giving.

  That’s something everyone said about her.

  “What are you going to do, Kenya?”

  My sister shook her head, sighed. She looked like a world of weight was on her shoulders. Worse, she looked like she couldn’t support it. “Don’t know,” she said. “Have no idea. I have to figure something out, but the well is dry.”

  I thought of every good piece of advice I could offer.

  This was my chance to transcend our relationship, become more to her than just a little brother that embarrassed her half of the time and mortified her the other half.

  Build on the strides we’d made in that room marked Private.

  When we knocked out that monster, Alonzo.

  Kenya tapped her steering wheel. “Well, let me get out of here.”

  My sister needed me. Think, Eric. Think.

  “Aight, Kenya” was the best I could come up with. “If you need me, you know how to reach me.”

  I had to have more than that.

  Kenya nodded.

  I thought.

  And thought some more.

  Tried pulling something from deep within.

  Something helpful.

  Kenya was in obvious distress. I had to offer something else.

  “And thanks for the ride,” I said while I continued to think.

  Again, she nodded, and then started the car.

  I took that as my cue, hesitated briefly but got out.

  I felt like a real punk, a complete failure, as I stood by the curb and watched my sister drive off.

  My stomach rumbled.

  My heart ached.

  Kenya had needed me.

  And I’d let her down.

  Shake that thang

  Let me touch that thang

  I need that thang

  I’m in looooove…

  With that thang

  Yung Chit’s mindless music leaked out of Benny’s den. Chit, a rapper from the Dirty South somewhere, Tennessee or Mississippi or Georgia, I didn’t even know where, was burning up the charts. “That Thang” was the most downloaded rap single in the country. As far as I was concerned Yung Chit was poison being fed intravenously into the vein of hip-hop. His lyrics led to a black pit of nothingness. Mindless. Dumb. Not the least bit thought-provoking.

  Millions disagreed with me.

  What did I know?

  I shook off those thoughts, walked in Benny’s den. It was like MTV up in there. Endia and Tanya were dancing smoothly in the center of the room. Endia moved like an ocean breeze, sexy as Ciara. Tanya’s moves put me in mind of Shakira; she could really move her hips. Benny was off in a corner of the room, looking scared to death. I couldn’t come up with a musician to compare him to. There wasn’t one.

  He stood, nursing a drink.

  It looked like the hard stuff. Mountain Dew, I’d guess.

  Some color came back to Benny’s face when he saw me. He put down his drink and rushed over. “Hey, E,” he said. “What took you so long?”

  “Wasn’t but a minute,” I said. “Had to rap with my sister.”

  Benny turned the music down a notch. “Speaking of rap…did you ladies know my boy E here knows Fiasco?”

  I hadn’t told Endia.

  Didn’t want that celebrity friendship to be the basis of a relationship with her.

  Benny was messing up my flow.

  “What’s he talking about, E?” Endia asked. “That’s for real?”

  I settled on a couch, Kenya on my mind. “Yeah. I know Fiasco,” I admitted.

  “You serious?” asked Tanya.

  I nodded.

  “If that’s true, you get cool points, bro,” she said.

  Bro?

  Was Benny rubbing off on her already?

  Nope. Couldn’t be. He hadn’t said enough words to influence anyone.

  “It’s true,” said Benny. “Matter of fact, E was in one of Fiasco’s videos.”

  President of my fan club, Benny Sedgwick.

  “Ooh. I would love to see that. Love, love, love to see that,” Endia said before I could shut down any talk of the video.

  Endia
’s eyes lit up.

  Her voice held so much excitement.

  Her mouth was turned up in a smile.

  I loved her lips. Imagined myself kissing them.

  “E’s a little sensitive about the video, though,” Benny said. “Doesn’t like showing it. You have to have an executive order from the president to get him to show it.”

  Endia pouted.

  Those lips. So full, so beautiful, so kissable.

  “Go get your laptop,” I told Benny. “Video’s on YouTube.”

  Benny smiled. “Two steps ahead of you, E. I was hoping you’d say that.” He nodded to a table in the corner. His Dell was on it. Wi-Fi Internet in full effect. Web browser already on YouTube. “Set it up in case one of these lovely young ladies could convince you to show it.”

  Now he wanted to talk.

  I wanted him to shut up.

  I walked over to the Dell laptop, typed in the search terms Fiasco and unreleased video. Six results; the video in question was third on the list. I clicked the link for the video. Adjusted the volume up. My stomach rumbled like it had earlier with Kenya.

  Endia moved to my side, put her hand on my shoulder, watched the Dell monitor intently.

  My stomach stopped rumbling.

  “Wow,” Endia said when the video ended.

  “You were awesome, E,” came from Tanya.

  Benny just smiled like a proud papa.

  Endia gripped my arm. “You’re like…famous.”

  “Not hardly,” I said.

  “No. You are. That’s so cool.”

  “I have an idea,” Benny said.

  I groaned.

  “Why don’t you call Fiasco, E? Put him on speaker so these ladies can have a word with him.”

  I shook my head. “No. No.”

  That’d be overstepping a boundary.

  I felt Endia’s grip tighten on my arm. “Oh my God. You should.”

  You’d think I was made with German engineering. I went from zero to sixty, from denying to dialing, in less than six seconds.

  Fiasco picked up right away. “E.”

  In another time, without visions of Endia dancing in my head, I might have noticed the lack of feeling in my friend’s voice. Might have heard the weariness. I didn’t then, of course. Or didn’t care. It was all about Endia.

  I said, “Wassup, chief. I’ve got some friends here that wanted to talk to you.”

  “Some other time, E,” Fiasco said.

  “Got you on speakerphone,” I admitted.