Black & Ugly (18 page)

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"Oh my goodness," an old lady says as she sits next
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to me under the dryer. "You are beautiful."

"Who?" I question. "Me?"

"Yes." She smiles. "You remind me of my daughter."

I examine her vanilla-colored skin trying to imagine how someone so light could have a daughter as dark as me.

"Thank you," I respond. "Carol does a really good job on my hair."

"Sweetheart, I can't see your hair," she replies. "I'm talking about your face. You're beautiful." I sit here and listen to her but can't stop the tears from forming in my eyes. In my entire life, no one has ever called me pretty, let alone beautiful, except Miss Wayne and Daffany. And here I am, speaking to a total stranger who has nothing to gain by complimenting me.

"I appreciate it, but I don't think I'm nowhere as pretty as you are. I wish I had your complexion."

"Why do you say that?" she asks with her face dis-torted.

"Well, I think light-skinned people are pretty, and I'm far from light skin."

"Sweetheart, I don't know who you've been talking to. It doesn't matter if you're light or dark. If you're beautiful, you're beautiful. And if you haven't learned to appreciate your beauty, both inside and out, I beg you to start today."

"I'm ready for you, Mrs. Skarlett," one of the hair-dressers says.

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"Okay," she responds, looking away before turning back to me. "Remember, sweetheart, love yourself because if you don't, nobody else will." The dryer is extremely hot and my ears are burning, but I continue to sit here wondering if what she said could possibly be true.

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13

Parade

"WHAT'S GOIN' ON, SKY?" I ask as I smooth the Proactiv mixture on my face, praying that it works.

Today I woke up deciding to take better care of myself since nobody else would. I figured I'd start with my face. I know Sky said she knew somebody who used it and it didn't work, but I want to see for myself.

"What you doin', girl? And why the water sounds so close? You ain't takin' no bath with me on the phone, are you?" she yells in my ear.

"No. Just washin' my face. Let me rinse this stuff off real -"

"What stuff? You usin' that Proactiv shit? 'Cuz I told you it don't work."

"I know," I say, disappointed due to her reminding me that it may not work. "But I just wanna see what happens. So what's up?" I ask, trying to rush her off the phone and finish what I am doing since Jay is coming over.

"You hear anything yet?"

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"Oh ... 'bout that?" I ask, not wanting to discuss it over the phone. "Maybe we should talk about this kind of thing in person, Sky. I think that would be better."

"No need. I just want to make sure you won't betray me since we was beefin' the other day."

"I wasn't beefin' with you. You were mad at me, Sky."

"It wasn't that I was mad. You've been acting funny lately. Like you not being real with me or something.

The only reason I'm calling now is to make sure you'll keep our little secret. After all, this is your fault." I sit on the toilet to let the toner work throughout my skin, failing to understand why Sky is so dead set on making me feel bad for something I already feel guilty about. She's called me six times already saying the same thing, and each time my answer is the same.

I would never sell her out.

"I'll never betray you, Sky. I swear it. I told you that already," I assure her, hoping the truth can be heard in my voice.

"When you say you wouldn't betray me, does that mean with
everything
?" Her words hit me like an electric shock. I wonder what she means and if she knows about me and Jay after all. The only thing that allows me to brush it off is that I've never known Sky to bite her tongue for anything or anybody.

"What do you mean?" I ask, hoping she would clar-ify.

"You know what I mean. I need to know that you
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wouldn't stab me in the back after all the things I've done for you, and I'm not just talkin' about with the girl, Parade. Because if I find out you're phony, I'm neva fuckin' wit' you again."

"I know," I say. "You don't have to worry about nothing. My lips are sealed."

"I hope so." She ends the call.

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14

Markee

"I AIN'T GOT NOTHING ON ME, I swear. Why you doin'

this? Please don't hurt me."

"Shut the fuck up, bitch, and open the door!"
Markee yells at an unsuspecting girl entering her
apartment near Quincy Manor.

Markee had taken the hallway light out and lay in
the cut waiting for his unknown victim to come along.

He was happy to see the young black girl in her twenties going into the apartment right in front of where he
stood hidden in the corner.

"Okay, okay. Please don't hurt me. Take what you
want," she says as she opens the door and he follows
her in.

Inside the apartment, Markee is relieved. Sometimes
he gets certain people who would rather take their
chances with him, based on his youthful looks and
speech, than give him their money. That didn't do anything but make him more vicious over time. He wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger if somebody failed to give
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him what he wanted.

"Where your money at?" he yells as he locks the
door behind him while keeping the gun pointing in her
direction.

"It's right here. This all I got," she pleads as she
empties her purse.

"You ain't got nothing else here?" he asks as he
motions for her to go to her bedroom and check in
there. "I know your folks be ballin'."
In her bedroom he finds a few pieces of cheap jewelry and an iPod. He quickly puts them in his pocket
and motions for her to go back into the living room.

"You sure you ain't got nothing else in here?" he
persists, excited by the control.

"No, this all I got."

"Damn. Where's your ATM card? I know you got
one."

"Yes. If you want, we can get some money out
tonight," she suggests, trying to take her chances back
outside instead of in the apartment.

"Naw. Write your pin number down. And if it's not
right, I'ma come back and finish you off. You don't
want to fuck with me. You probably heard of me
already anyway," he brags as he begins to feel himself
by taking pride in the crimes he's committed around
the neighborhood.