Passin'

by Karen E. Quinones Miller

  “Good. And then there’s always the Sundance Film Festival in Utah,” Rachel said. “Now, those I prefer to the Oscars.”

  “That’s because the films are more, how they call it? Um”— Cindy raised her glass up to her chin, tilted her head slightly, and pursed her lips—“more avant-garde.”

  “The Oscars are so commercial and the Sundance films are independent and more entertaining in my view,” Rachel said defensively.

  “They’re just more snooty. And the parties are, too,” Cindy said, waving her hand.

  “Now, that’s the truth,” Tina said with a nod of her head. “Snooty and boring as shit. Everyone putting on airs.”

  Shanika listened in amazement as the girls argued about Oscar, Sundance, NBA All-Star, and Super Bowl parties, before moving on to the Golden Globe parties, which they finally agreed were the most interesting of all, and singer Prince’s party was the best of the Golden Globe bashes. Then the talk moved on to the best hotels, and then back to celebrity parties. And Shanika hung on every word.

  Shanika finished her drink—her fifth or sixth, she’d lost count—and took another look around the club. More people were drifting in, and the dance floor was finally getting a little crowded. After another hour or so, Cindy finally got on the floor and started dancing wildly. She wasn’t bad, but she wasn’t good, either. She mainly moved her shoulders to the music and waved her hands in the air without ever moving her feet. Still, she was graceful, and it was hard to keep your eyes off her.

  “Come on out here,” Cindy said when the next song came on.

  Shanika needed no further encouragement, and soon she, Rachel, and Tina were on the floor with Cindy, each doing their individual thing, not seeming to care how they looked or who was watching. While there were lots of couples on the floor, Cindy and her friends seemed to care less about having a partner, and instead just formed a cluster and did their thing out on the floor. When one man tried to pull Cindy off from the cluster for a private dance, she reached down and grabbed his crotch, then pushed him away and continued to boogie with her friends.

  Everybody seemed to know Cindy, and wanted to dance close by her, but she was in a world of her own. She opened her eyes only momentarily when someone tapped her on the shoulder to say hello, gave them a half-smile, and then went back into her reverie.

  This girl is wild, Shanika thought. This whole scene is wild. And I love it.

  They stayed on the floor for six songs, then made their way back to the table, where fresh drinks awaited them. Seven or eight small groups of people stopped by the table to talk to them—all of them young, hip, and beautiful.

  She suddenly looked at her watch and saw that it was already 2 a.m. How did that happen? She had to be on the train at 7 a.m., which meant she had to check out by 5:30 or so to make sure she got there on time.

  She quickly stood up. “Oh no, I have to get out of here!”

  Cindy grabbed her arm and pulled her back down. “Oh, come on, you just got here! The night’s still young!”

  “I know, and, believe me, I normally party a lot later than this, but I’ve got to check out of the hotel in just a few hours to get my . . .” Shanika hesitated, then said, “To catch my flight.” No sense in letting her newfound friends know she was so broke she was actually taking a train from New York all the way back to Detroit.

  Cindy drew her head back in surprise. “What time is your flight?”

  “I think it’s like seven,” Shanika lied.

  “Oh, you’re insane! Why are you flying out so early?” Rachel asked.

  “You know how it is.” Shanika shrugged. “I waited until the last minute and I had to take what I could get.”

  “Well, that’s just not going to cut it.” Cindy snapped open her cell phone and hit a button. “Hello, Maureen? Did I wake you up? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize the time. Listen, can you find out if there’s any flights leaving for Detroit this afternoon, and if so, I want you to book a flight for my friend.” She paused. “Yes, I do want you to take care of it now—you’re my travel agent, aren’t you? Look, I don’t want to argue. Just get on the computer or whatever it is you do, and book a flight to Detroit for my friend. Call me back when you have the info.” Cindy snapped the telephone shut.

  Shanika put her hand over Cindy’s. “You don’t have to do that. I can catch my original flight. Call her back and tell her to forget it.”

  Cindy shrugged. “Well, she’s up now, so it would probably just piss her off if I called her back and canceled. Besides, this

  way you can stay out with us longer.”

  “But how am I going to pay for it?”

  “Cindy should pay for it, since she’s the one making all of your plans for you all of a sudden,” Rachel said with a disapproving look.

  “Well, as a matter of fact, I was just going to say the ticket’s on me.” Cindy flipped her hair and turned to Shanika. “As a thanks for returning my cell phone, okay?”

  “Well,” Shanika hesitated.

  “Well, nothing,” Cindy said as her cell phone started ringing. “It’s all a done deal, anyway. I’m sure this is Maureen calling back.”

  “Hello. Yes, I think four p.m. will be fine. What time does it get to Detroit? At seven? That’ll be great.”

  “Good Lord, Cindy, don’t you think you should at least consult Nikkie to make sure those times work for her?” Rachel tapped her fingernails on the table as she spoke.

  “Her name is Nikkie. I don’t know. Hold on, you can ask her yourself. And just charge the ticket to the family account.” Cindy passed the telephone to Shanika. “She needs your full name. And move over. I have to go to the ladies’ room.”

  “Hi. It’s S-H-A-N-I-K-A and the last name is J-E-N-K-I-N-S.” Shanika quickly spelled into the telephone, her head turned away from Rachel and Tina, who were engrossed in their own conversation; probably talking about Cindy now that she’d walked away. “You got it? Great. A window seat will be fine, thanks. You have the seat number already? Oh, good. Seat 3A, did you say?” Shanika had to catch herself from gasping out loud. Wouldn’t 3A be in the first-class section? It wasn’t enough that she was upgrading from a twenty-four-hour train trip to a three-hour airplane flight, but she was actually going to be flying first class? Wow! “Okay, I’ve got that. Seat 3A. Wonderful. Thanks so much. Do you want to hold on for Cindy? She went to the ladies’ room. Oh, okay, I’ll tell her. And thanks, again.” Shanika snapped the telephone closed. “Wow. What a night,” she said out loud.

  “What’s that?” Cindy said as she returned to the table.

  “I was just saying this is really turning out to be a pretty good night. Thanks for the ticket.”

  “No problem,” Cindy said, taking her seat.

  “Hey, here comes Jovanna,” Rachel said.

  “Uh-huh. I bumped into her in the ladies’ room and invited her to join us. She should be good for a couple of laughs. She was telling me a funny story about her trip to Milan.” Cindy looked around the table. “How about we go ahead and get a bottle of champagne? I’m tired of cosmos.”

  Shanika looked up and noticed the willowy blond model she’d almost bumped into earlier approaching their table.

  “What’s wrong?” Rachel asked when she noticed the expression on Shanika’s face.

  “Nothing.”

  “No, there’s something wrong.” Rachel followed her gaze. “Do you know Jovanna?”

  “Is that her name? I don’t know her, but I saw her earlier.”

  Cindy put her arm around Shanika’s shoulders in a chummy manner. “Did she try to hit on you? Rumor is she’s a lesbo.”

  “No, but she did get smart with me,” Shanika said just as Jovanna reached the table.

  “Hey, Cindy!” she said in a heavy Italian-accented voice. “As usual you’re the life of the party, eh?”

  Cindy withdrew her arm from Shanika’s shoulders, then glanced at Rachel and Tina before looking over and addressing Jovanna.

  “Why are you over here
talking to us?”

  Jovanna jerked her head back in surprise, but managed to keep the smile on her face. “What?”

  “I asked you”—Cindy picked up her cosmo and took a sip—“why are you over here talking to us?”

  “Didn’t you invite me to join you?”

  “Well, yes. It’s just that”—Cindy nudged Shanika under the table—“it’s just that we’ve decided we don’t like you.”

  All the girls at the table burst into loud laughter, while Jovanna stood there, seemingly in shock.

  “In fact”—Cindy leaned forward—“I think we hate you.” She tapped Shanika on the back. “What do you think? We hate her, right?”

  Shanika gave Jovanna the same up-and-down look the model had given her earlier, then nodded and said, “Decidedly so.”

  The girls burst out in laughter again.

  Jovanna looked at them, one by one, then tossed her hair and said, “Whatever” before stomping off.

  “Now, see, that’s exactly what she told me,” Shanika said, pounding on the table with laughter.

  She looked at Cindy, who was laughing so hard she was gasping for breath. She was a trip, arrogant and sometimes rude, but she sure was fun. So were Rachel and Tina, but Cindy was definitely the ringleader, and it was obvious—to her, anyway—that Cindy welcomed her into the group. Imagine dissing Jovanna like that on her behalf. Oh yeah, it was juvenile, but it was funny. And Jovanna did deserve it.

  “Girl, did you see that look on that stupid bitch’s face? I was waiting for her to say something to me because I woulda stepped to her,” Tina said as she wiped the tears of laughter from her face.

  “Oh, you ‘woulda stepped to her,’ huh?” Cindy gave Tina a shove, then looked at Shanika. “You have to excuse her. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, Tina is our resident wigga.”

  Shanika stopped mid-giggle. “Your what?” she asked slowly.

  “Our resident wigga,” Cindy repeated. She leaned in closer to Shanika. “I didn’t know what a ‘wigga’ was, either, until one of my black friends told me. A wigga is a white person who wants to be a . . . you know . . . a nigger.”

  “Oh please, Cindy,” Tina snapped.

  “As if I’m lying,” Cindy retorted. She turned back to Shanika. “Tina is always trying to act all hip and down, or whatever they call it. Always using black slang and everything. You’ll get used to it.”

  “She used to do it in front of black people, too, but after Jasmine called her a ‘wigga,’ she stopped that nonsense,” Rachel added.

  Shanika took a deep breath to try and calm the butterflies that had suddenly invaded her stomach. “Who’s Jasmine?”

  “Jasmine’s our black friend. She moved with her family to Brazil a couple of weeks ago,” Cindy answered. “See, we’re a diversified group.” She giggled. “Me, I’m the spoiled arrogant one. Rachel’s the refined sophisticated one. Tina’s the . . . well, you know, the wigga. And Jasmine’s the black one.”

  “Well, now that Jasmine’s out of the country, I guess we need to get another black,” Rachel interjected.

  Shanika’s breath quickened as her mind raced. So Tina wasn’t using Ebonics because she knew Shanika was black, but because she thought she wasn’t. They all thought she was white. That is what Cindy was saying, right?

  “So,” she said slowly, “have you picked Jasmine’s replacement yet?”

  “No hurry. I was getting tired of her, anyway. She was beginning to act as spoiled as me. She actually thought she was better than me, I think,” Cindy said while pouring herself a glass of champagne. “Nope, no hurry at all.” She raised her glass, spilling a bit of its contents onto the table. “Drink up, everybody! The night’s still young!”

  Shanika snatched up her glass and raised it high above her head. “That’s right. The night’s still young, and so are we. Young and beautiful, and the world is ours!”

  “Girl, you’re too much.” Cindy slapped her on the arm and then turned to Rachel. “Isn’t she too much?”

  “Yep.” Rachel nodded. “She’s too much.”

  “You know what?” Cindy slapped Shanika on the arm again. “You should come up with us to Cancun this weekend!” Cindy looked around the table. “Oh, my god, that’s such a great idea!” she said as if she hadn’t come up with it herself. “Nikkie should come with us to Cancun!”

  Shanika giggled. “Just like that? You want me to go with you to Cancun?” She shook her head. “Girl, you are such a trip.”

  “No, I’m not a trip, but Cancun is,” Cindy said as she took a long slurp of champagne.

  “But I can’t just pick up and fly to Mexico anytime I want,” Shanika protested. “I mean, I’m not rich or anything.”

  “So what? I am.” Cindy giggled. “The trip’s on me, okay? Let’s just say I’m still paying back for the cell phone thing, okay? Like you said, we’re young, beautiful, and the world is ours. So let’s enjoy!”

  Chapter Six

  It had been one whole week, and still no word from Cindy. Not that she could really have jetted to Cancun with them, but it would have been nice to think they were serious when they told her they wanted her to do so. The ten hours she’d spent with them had spoiled her, as did the first-class flight to Detroit. Now she was back in her hometown and it was as if she’d never left. Well, the air-conditioning was finally working, thank goodness, but all else was the same. Her father was still half-drunk from beer and sitting in front of the television, her mother was still cooking and cleaning, and she herself was still lying on the worn green shag carpet in the living room, bored as all hell with nothing to do. Nothing but think of her time in New York, and try to figure out a way to get back and resume the new life she’d so briefly and wonderfully experienced. She was young and beautiful, just like Cindy, Rachel, and Tina. Why shouldn’t she be having as good a time as they? Of course they were rich, and she wasn’t, but she’d let them know she wasn’t and it didn’t seem to bother them. And so what if they thought she was white? It wasn’t like she told them she was; she just didn’t tell them

  she was black. It wasn’t like it had actually come up in the conversation.

  She pushed from her mind—violently shoved, actually— the fact that although it hadn’t come up, there had been opportunity to tell them. Especially when they mentioned Jasmine.

  “What are you thinking about, White Girl?”

  Shanika looked up from the magazine she’d been absently flipping through. She hadn’t heard Joseph enter the room, but there he stood.

  “Nothing,” she answered sullenly.

  “You’ve got to be thinking of something. You’re turning those pages too fast for you to actually be reading.” Joseph walked across the room and took a seat in the tattered brown armchair, which was as old as he was. “And the look on your face says that whatever’s on your mind isn’t too pleasant.”

  Shanika stretched and pushed the magazine away. “I was just wondering how long I’ma have to wait to find out I got that job in New York.”

  Joseph studied his sister a moment before speaking again. She’d changed since she’d returned from New York. She was on edge, apprehensive even. Shanika was always a daydreamer—it was one of the endearing things about her—but now she seemed always far away. And when her mind was on the present, she seemed dissatisfied. What could have happened during her trip? he wondered. Did she meet some guy? He couldn’t help but notice that she jumped every time her cell phone rang, and rushed to look at the caller ID to find out who was calling her. The look of disappointment that crossed her face when she realized it wasn’t the call she was waiting for was also apparent. If Paxon & Green were calling, they’d likely be calling the house phone, so it had to be some guy she’d met, whom she was waiting to hear from.

  “You know, Nikkie, you haven’t been out since you’ve been home. Why don’t you call Toni or Jenny and see if they want to go to that club you guys like to hang out in.”

  “That club is lame,” Shanika grumbled.

/>   “Well, why don’t you call them and see if they want to go to the movies or something. I’ll give you some cash.”

  Shanika grabbed the magazine again and started furiously flipping through the pages again. “Because they’re lame, too.”

  “You’ve known them almost twenty years and all of a sudden they’re lame?”

  “Yeah. They’re lame. What of it?”

  “Fine.” Joseph shrugged. “They’re lame. Well, how about I take you to the movies? Or am I lame, too?”

  “I don’t feel like going anywhere. Thanks for asking, though.” Shanika didn’t bother to look up.

  Joseph cleared his throat. “Look, Nikkie, I know you have your heart set on that job in New York, but if you don’t get it, it’s not the end of the world. Ma said the church is looking for a new administrative assistant since Miss Rose retired. Why don’t you just—”

  “Paxon and Green are going to call. I know I’ve got the job,” Shanika snapped.

  “You’re just that sure, huh?”

  Shanika jumped up. “Yes! Yes, I am that sure! Why is it so hard to believe that they would hire me, Joe? I mean, just because you don’t think I’m smart and capable—”

  “I never said that!”

  “You didn’t have to. You treat me like I’m stupid, and you obviously think I am. You don’t think I’m smart enough to

  land a cushy job in New York. You don’t think I could survive in New York. You think I’m supposed to just lie around here and maybe get some stupid administrative assistant job at some stupid church!”

  Joseph slowly stood up. “What the hell is wrong with you, Shanika? I didn’t say any of that. I was just saying . . .”

  “I know what you were saying. And don’t call me ‘White Girl.’ ”

  Joseph drew his head back in surprise. “I didn’t call you ‘White Girl.’ I called you by your name. Shanika.”

  Shanika put her hands on her hips. “You called me ‘White Girl’ when you walked into the room, though, didn’t you?”

  “Well, what if I did? You know I didn’t mean anything by it.” Joseph stepped back. “What the hell is wrong with you, all of a sudden?”