Authors: L. Divine
Frenemies (5 page)
“Jayd, can I speak to you for a minute?” Summer says. Shahid's already gone for the day, and Summer's on her way out with me. Alonzo and Sarah got off an hour ago.
“Sure, Summer. Let me just grab my purse,” I say, removing my apron and hanging it back on the hook next to the time clock before following her into the small office between the restaurant and the store. I take a seat in the chair next to hers across from the desk.
“Jayd, Marty says you have a problem with insubordination,” Summer begins. “And being that she's your supervisor, you're going to have to start showing her a little respect.”
“Summer, I've been working here for over a year. Have I ever caused any problems?” I say, feeling my temperature rise. If it's one thing I can't stand, it's a trick starting some mess that could affect my money. I can't afford those kinds of games.
“No, Jayd, and we love you,” she says, speaking for both herself and Shahid. “But Marty's going to be taking over the weekend shifts for us. We'll still open, but she'll come in at lunch and finish the day. So you're going to have to find a way to get along with her,” she says, giving me a hug. “Just make it easy for yourself, girl. You don't have to fight every battle.” As she releases my vexed frame, my phone vibrates. It's Rah saying he's here.
“Can I go now?” I say. I'm not really mad at her, just fed up for the day.
“Sure sweetie,” Summer says, rising to leave the office with me. “See you in the morning.” Don't remind me. I'm starting to hate this gig.
As I walk outside, the warm evening air caresses my cheeks like a soft shawl. It feels good to be off and to have a ride home. My feet are barking, and I could use some loud music with lots of bass to get my troubles off my mind. The red Acura Legend's speakers are blaring Alicia Keys and Cham's “Ghetto Story,” calling me to be healed. Reggae always does the trick for me. I might have to make this my new ring tone. Or just use it as a personal one for Rah.
“What's up, Jayd?” Kamal says, jumping out of the passenger's seat to get in the back.
“Hey, boo,” I say, giving Kamal a bear hug before he squeezes into the backseat. I flip the passenger's seat back up.
“How was work?” Rah says, securing my chair before I sit down; I fully absorb the new-car-scented tree and listen to the music. I feel on top of the world right now.
“Work,” I say, not wanting to bring myself down. “How was sleep?” I cut my eyes at him. He looks so good in his red Phat Farm polo shirt and jeans with his silver chain blinging against his chocolate skin. If it weren't for his Muslim upbringing, he would probably be sporting platinum and diamonds like everyone else. But Rah's father raised him to be more humble than that.
“Sleep,” he says. “I wanted to know, if you had time, could you hook a brotha up with some braids?” He rubs his hands through his untamed Afro. “I told them we're starting the session at eight. So that gives us a few hours to chill before.”
“Yeah, but it's going to cost you,” I say, locking my fingers in his thick hair and gently rubbing his head.
“What?” Rah says, turning down the volume slightly to hear my price. He looks like he's enjoying the impromptu massage. Mama likes the way I rub her hair when I braid it, too. She taught me that trick. It stimulates the scalp and relaxes the client before you start pulling the braids into place.
“Y'all will have to wait while I change. I've been working all day, and I need a quick shower,” I say as we pull away from my job, heading toward Inglewood. The sun's beginning to set, and all the freshly washed cars on the streets are starting to glisten.
“No problem, Queen Jayd,” Rah says, giving me a sly wink. “What happened to your arm?” The burn's physical mark is almost gone. But the psychological pain is still with me.
“I had a dream,” I say, removing my hand from his head and staring out my window, allowing the bass to massage my forehead.
“Oh,” Rah says, not pushing me further. There's no need to; he already has a vivid idea of what I'm going through. He's always been so patient and understanding, almost making me forget how much he hurt me back in the day. But he's always been a good friend.
Â
After a quick shower and change, Rah takes us back to his house for our braid session before the real one begins. I miss braiding his soft hair. It shines like granite with the coconut oil Mama and I made some time ago. I love the way it smells, and it's the perfect texture for braiding. I use it for my cornrows all the time.
“I miss being in between your legs,” he says, being a little too descriptive for me.
“Shut up, fool. Why you gotta be nasty about it?” I say, smacking Rah in the head and making him laugh. But he can feel I miss braiding his hair, too.
“Rah, Trish is here,” Kamal says. Before Rah can get up, Trish is through the door with Nigel's girlfriend, Tasha, right behind her. I saw a picture of all them together in last year's yearbook.
“What's up, Jayd?” Trish says, sounding hella faded. She smells like she's been drinking all day, and she's got a blunt in her hand. This can't be good. It's almost eight, and Mickey and Nigel should be rolling up soon, adding more shit to the mix. I need to call and warn Mickey.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Rah says, answering for me. “I told you I was busy tonight, Trish.” He doesn't move from his cozy spot on the floor, his now completely cornrowed head between my thighs. I know these bourgie-ass girls don't know how to braid.
“I came to see what was so important you couldn't pick me up from my nail appointment. And now I know,” Trish says, flinging her long, curly black hair over her shoulder and giving me hella attitude. Why are there heffas everywhere I go?
“Jayd's braiding my hair before the session. So what?” Rah says. One thing about Rah is that he never breaks his cool. Getting caught ain't no big deal to him, because he rarely gets caught in a full lie. He's a professional at evading the truth without incriminating himself. Speaking of criminal activity, I need to warn Mickey before she and Nigel walk in, setting Trish and Tasha completely off.
“What's the big deal?” Trish says, raising her drunken voice, making Kamal run for cover. I guess he's used to her going off. She actually reminds me a lot of Rah's mom, who's rarely here. “The big deal is this bitch is your ex-girlfriend, and I'm tired of seeing her ghetto ass over here, that's what.” Oh, no, this bitch didn't just call me a bitch.
“Why you gotta go there, Trish? Jayd, I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere,” he says, pointing toward the back door and marching Trish out of the studio with Tasha right behind her before I have a chance to go off. It's probably for the best. How can I get out of here now? Let me call Mickey. But before I can dial her number, the commotion outside gets louder. I have to see what's going on.
“What are y'all doing here together?” Tasha says to a stunned Nigel and Mickey, who are walking up the front porch as we are all headed out. Aw, hell, no. It's about to be on, and I still have oil on my hands. I can't get my earrings off like this. I need to think fast. I don't feel like being in a fight with these tipsy broads right now. It wouldn't be fair. And if I ever do whip Trish's ass, I want her to know it was an even win.
“Mickey, girl, thank you for picking me up,” I say, even though Mickey looks like she's ready to throw down. Nigel's got my girl sprung. I know her man's getting suspicious. “They need to get started on the session. You're just in time,” I say, passing up Rah, Trish and Tasha to grab Mickey's arm and head back down the driveway. “Rah, I'll get my twenty dollars next time. Peace, Nigel,” I say, leading us toward the car. Everyone's shell-shocked at how I'm handling the tense situation. But I just don't have time for all this. I'd rather be at home getting some work done if the session's not going to be productive. And Mickey's the one who'll have to get me there.
“Jayd, what are you doing?” Mickey whispers, walking quickly beside me toward the pink Regal parked next to the curb. “We can take those skanks.”
“That's not the point,” I say, opening the passenger's door and getting in. “This isn't our battle.” I look over my shoulder at the scene through her tinted windows. Everyone's going back inside except for Rah, who turns around and catches my eye. As we pull off, he mouths “call me” and looks regretful as he turns around to go back inside and deal with his drama.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Mickey says, instinctively turning her car toward Compton. Noticing her arm glistening, she takes a napkin out of her armrest to wipe it off. “And what's that on your hands?”
“Coconut oil. I'm sorry I got it on your arm, but you can rub it in like lotion. It won't hurt you,” I say, laughing at her silly self.
“I already have some on, and it's making my skin tingle,” she says, now looking for another napkin in her pink fur-covered glove compartment. Her man had her classic Regal hooked up earlier this year for her sixteenth birthday. “I won't ask what you and Rah were using it for,” she says, taking the crumpled napkins and frantically wiping her skin.
“Shut up. I have a man and a date tomorrow. I'm not trying to get too caught up with Rah, unlike you and Nigel, who don't seem to care that you each have significant others.”
“Well, I think you need to think more about that plan,” Mickey says, completely ignoring my moral warning. “Rah seems to really dig you, Jayd. And he's much finer than Jeremy.”
“Girl, can you please just take me back to my mom's and stop trying to lure me over to the dark side?” Where's Nellie's uptight ass when I need her? “I need to study,” I say, choosing to ignore the phone calls and text messages coming in from Rah. Mickey's phone is ringing, too. I guess the chicken heads have now left the building and it's safe to return. But this little queen's done for the night. I want info from Jeremy, and I need rest to be as sweet as it's going to require for me to get it.
“What? You don't want to go back?” she says, immediately turning the car back around.
“No. I have a lot of work to do, and I'm tired from working all day. Besides, what's to stop Tasha and Trish from coming back? I'm not in the mood for all this mess tonight, Mickey. Please take me back to Inglewood,” I say, sending Rah a similar message. I just want to go home, study my lessons and maybe eat some chocolate Nutter Butters, if my mom left me any in the refrigerator. I just want to chill and focus on making Jeremy tell me the whole truth and nothing but the truth tomorrow. Everything else will have to wait.
5
Revelations
“Though my eyes saw the deception/
My heart wouldn't let me learn.”
My heart wouldn't let me learn.”
âFUGEES
I
don't like walking home in my mom's neighborhood. I feel more exposed with all the apartments around here. I told Jeremy he could pick me up from here an hour after I got off work, which was thirty minutes ago. I need to change out of my work clothes, and I didn't want him to wait with my mom. She's liable to grill him again, and I don't need him tense, not today. Besides, I don't think he's all that comfortable over here, unlike Rah. Too bad my mom wasn't home when he and Kamal came by yesterday. I'm sure they have some catching up to do.
don't like walking home in my mom's neighborhood. I feel more exposed with all the apartments around here. I told Jeremy he could pick me up from here an hour after I got off work, which was thirty minutes ago. I need to change out of my work clothes, and I didn't want him to wait with my mom. She's liable to grill him again, and I don't need him tense, not today. Besides, I don't think he's all that comfortable over here, unlike Rah. Too bad my mom wasn't home when he and Kamal came by yesterday. I'm sure they have some catching up to do.
Approaching the long driveway leading toward my mom's apartment, I see her gray Mazda parked in its stall. I wonder if she'll let me drive it when I get my license. I forgot to tell her about my dad paying for my driving lessons. I know she'll have something to say about that. Maybe I should save that information for next weekend.
“Hey, baby. How was your day?” my mom says, sprawled across the cozy couch. She knows Jeremy's picking me up today so she's decided to lounge until she goes to work tomorrow morning, I guess. Ever since things went sour with Ras Joe, she's been chilling at the house more. Yesterday she was out with her homegirl Vivica for a girl's day. But, unlike my mom, Vivica's married and has children at home, leaving her little time to play.
“It was okay,” I say, closing the door behind me before heading straight for the bathroom. I've had to pee since I clocked out, but I didn't want to give Marty the opportunity to say anything else to me. It was hard enough following Summer's advice of making it easy for myself by being unresponsive to Marty's stupid comments, but I've been at my wit's end all day. It can't be good for me or my bladder to hold my tongue like that. But until I figure out another way to make some cash flow, I'll have to take all the shit she shovels my way.
“Jayd, what time is Jeremy picking you up?” my mom yells from the couch. We can practically hear each other breathe, the walls are so thin in this apartment.
“In about half an hour,” I say, washing my hands and quickly undressing. As I open the door and head for her room where my weekend bag is, I can hear my mom pouring herself a drink in the kitchen. I'd bet money it's Bailey's Irish Cream. I quickly change into some Old Navy jeans and an orange GAP shirt. We're supposed to hang out by the pier and have coffee, so low key is definitely the way to go.
“How are your studies going?” my mom says, noticing me put my spirit notebook into my backpack beside the couch before finding my sandals and slipping them on. If I could, I'd wear them every day of the year. “Has Mama given you any new assignments?” she says, reclaiming her position on the couch and forcing me to sit in a chair at the dining table across the room.
“Well, sort of.” I recall the writing exercise she gave me last week. “Mama told me to focus on what I want most and write it down in the present tense,” I say, doubtful of the results. I'm not too good at any assignment that requires me to be still.
“Ah, yes. The law of attraction.” My mom sips her brown elixir. “The shit works, I'm telling you. Usually we just make it work for the wrong reasons,” she says, getting comfortable. I grab a bag of Doritos from the large wicker basket on the table full of snacks. My mom's the snack queen. I walk back across the room to retrieve my notebook from my backpack and thumb through the notes involving Marty I made today at lunch. I'm concentrating so hard on her no longer being my manager I'm surprised she made it through the day. If this stuff really worked, she'd be long gone.
“So, it worked for you to write down what you wanted to happen in any given situation?” I say, reviewing my words. Damn, my handwriting is awful. I can barely make out what I've written.
“Well, yeah, but not in a positive way. I usually wrote down negative shit. Like, for example, I remember I was dating this fool in high school, and he thought he was gone play me with some chick up the block,” she says, sipping her Bailey's and getting real loose. I love it when my mom tells me about her school days. I can't believe how much of the same drama we go through from generation to generation. I wonder if this happens in all families or if it's just a Williams Woman trait. “I wrote him such a nasty letter saying that I hope she would give him syphilis and make his penis fall off and all kinds of stuff.”
“Did it fall off?” I say, as my phone vibrates, signaling a text. It's Jeremy, saying he'll be here in ten minutes.
“Just about. I know he got some sort of sexually transmitted disease, and it's one that will never go away. He didn't bother me again after that,” my mom said, her voice low and guttural, almost frightening. I'm glad I'm not one of her enemies. I hope she's thinking about something similar happening to Ras Joe.
“So, what was negative about that?” I say. “It sounds like he got what he deserved.”
“Yes, but so did the girl, and I didn't wish anything on her, not really. That's the thing about dealing with the negative side of our gifts,” she says wearily. “It usually hits its target, and then some, because of the power of your intentional thoughts. When you focus a lot of passion on something, you give it energy, and that can backfire on you.”
“Wow.” I don't know what else to say. My mom's sitting here telling me that her thoughts made this dude catch something and pass it on to the trick he was fooling around with. That doesn't sound so bad to me. “So how exactly did you do this?” I say, ready to take notes. Maybe I can have similar residual luck with Tania but without affecting Jeremy.
That's what I'm trying to tell you; negative always hits more than the intended victim,
my mom says without speaking. Damn, I still forget she can do that.
my mom says without speaking. Damn, I still forget she can do that.
“Mom, just talk to me without reading my mind,” I say. It was enough having to be careful what I say around her, now I have to be careful what I think, too.
Okay,
she says, still on the telepathic plane. Seeing my frustration, my mom stops and comes back down to my level. “You have to let me practice sometimes.”
she says, still on the telepathic plane. Seeing my frustration, my mom stops and comes back down to my level. “You have to let me practice sometimes.”
“I'm actually proud of you for reclaiming your power, even if it only works on me.” I wish she'd stuck with her studies, like she's advising me to do. I think my mom's very powerful in her own right, and she could use some of that power to help a sistah out.
“Well, thank you very much,” she says, her green eyes glistening in the setting afternoon sun. The time recently changed, falling one hour behind, so it's starting to get dark earlier. “Learn from my mistakes, Jayd,” she says, placing her empty glass on the coffee table in front of her and curling up into the fetal position, ready to sleep the rest of the day away. My phone vibrates again, indicating Jeremy's arrival.
“Is White boy here?” she says, smiling at herself. Why is everyone hating on Jeremy lately?
Because we can sense your true feelings, even without you saying them,
my mom says, again not moving her lips.
my mom says, again not moving her lips.
“Mom, I love Jeremy.” As the words slip from my mouth for the first time, I realize that they are only half true. I love a lot of things about Jeremy. But I don't have the same feeling as I did when I first felt love for Rah, which hasn't gone anywhere. Can I love more than one person at a time? I know it's more than infatuation, like I had with KJ. But when Jeremy told me he loved me, it really threw me off. Not so much because of the short amount of time we've been together, but more because if you love someone, you'll do anything for themâeven if you're just friends. And that isn't how Jeremy rolls at all.
“That boy's just plain selfish, if you ask me.” I don't recall asking my mom anything about him, but I need to get downstairs. I text him a message saying my mom's asleep and I will meet him at the car. “But most men are in one way or another. You'll figure out how you really feel about him in time.” Here we go with this time thing again. Why can't I just know all the answers to my questions right now?
Because that would take the lessons out of life, Jayd. And that's no life at all,
she communicates telepathically before drifting off. I walk over and kiss my mom's ebony cheek. Her skin's so soft and flawless. I hope I look like her when I'm in my thirties. I pick up my bags next to the couch and head out the door. As I lock the multiple locks, I remember the first time I went to Jeremy's house and saw his huge oak door with one lock. We are very different, maybe too different. But I'm still willing to give this relationship a try, no matter what others may think I think.
she communicates telepathically before drifting off. I walk over and kiss my mom's ebony cheek. Her skin's so soft and flawless. I hope I look like her when I'm in my thirties. I pick up my bags next to the couch and head out the door. As I lock the multiple locks, I remember the first time I went to Jeremy's house and saw his huge oak door with one lock. We are very different, maybe too different. But I'm still willing to give this relationship a try, no matter what others may think I think.
When I get downstairs, Jeremy's propped up against the hood of his car, casually waiting and blocking the driveway.
“What's up, babe?” he says, walking toward me and taking my bags before kissing me on the lips. He must be chewing Juicy Fruit, one of my favorite gums. Following him to the passenger's side, I get comfortable as he slides my bags into the backseat before closing my door. He's loudly playing Creed, causing the other tenants to look out their windows as if to say, “What the hell is all that noise?” If it was Ludacris or Snoop, no one would give it another thought. But the fact that it's alternative music causes heads to turn.
“Can we turn that down a little until we pull out?” I say, feeling a little self-conscious. I've never felt like this when Nigel or Rah picks me up, and their music's always hella loud. But the attention is making me feel like a target on a dartboard. Jeremy definitely can't do this when he takes me back to Mama's tonight. I'd never hear the end of it.
“Sure,” he says, sitting in the driver's seat and lowering the volume before closing the door. “Is everything all right?” Jeremy looks concerned.
“Yeah. Why do you ask?” Why am I lying? I should just come out and straight ask him what I want to know. He doesn't have to know how I got my inside information. I just have to be tactful with my approach. But Jeremy's right, I'm tense and for many reasons. Not having Nellie to vibe with is really throwing me off. Even with all her princess qualities, she's still my best friend, and I miss her. Maybe if I send her a text real quick she'll hit me back.
Hey Nellie. Just checking on you. Hit me when you get this.
I send, still awaiting Jeremy's reply.
“I don't know. Lately you seem a little high-strung, like something's bothering you,” he says, feigning ignorance. He can't be serious.
“Well, for starters, your former fling has stolen my best friend away from me, and she's trying to get you back, too,” I say as we back out of the driveway and head toward the beach. It's a warm evening, but as soon as the sun sets completely, the night chill will hit. I'm glad I brought my sweaterâthe same sweater I let Nellie borrow over the summer and she didn't get it back to me until the first day of school. That's my girl.
“Jayd, you can't let Tania get to you, I already told you that,” Jeremy says, turning Creed back up, but not so loud that we can't hear each other.
“Is it really that simple?” Maybe everything in his world actually is that cut-and-dry. To have a baby on the way, he seems remarkably calm. A little too calm, if you ask me. “Why doesn't shit bother you that would worry the hell out of a normal person?” I say, realizing we're heading for Palos Verdes. “And where are you taking me?”
“Well, which question do you want me to answer first?” he says, trying to be a smart-ass, but I'm not in the mood.
“Take your pick,” I say, returning his attitude tenfold.
“Well, my dad decided to have a barbecue at the last minute, so I was hoping you wouldn't mind coming back to my house for dinner instead of going out,” he says, casually dropping a bomb on me. I'm in no mood to deal with his dysfunctional family today. What the hell?
“Why didn't you tell me before now!” I yell, practically drowning out the smooth tunes. How could he spring a surprise like this on me?
“Well, because I just found out when I left to come and get you,” Jeremy says, not realizing how upset he's just made me. “What's the big deal?” he adds, trying to make light of the situation.
“The big deal is that you didn't tell me about it, so I'm not prepared. I'm dressed for coffee by the pier, not dinner with the family.” Rah would never pull no shit like this. He would just know better. And so would KJ, for that matter. It must be a cultural thang.
“Nobody cares what you look like. My parents love you.” Now, he should know both of those statements are the furthest thing from the truth. His mother's a strange wench, and his dad's always drunk, so who knows what he really thinks. But whenever I'm around them I feel like I'm on display.
“Jeremy, can we skip the social hour and just kick it, you and me?” I plea. Maybe if I'm sweet he'll let me have my way. We have too much unsettled business, and we need to be alone to discuss it all.
“Jayd, stop being so self-conscious. As quick as you are to tell people off, I'd think you could care less about what people think of you,” Jeremy says, uncovering some buried resentment of his own. I knew he was embarrassed by my mouth, but I had no idea he was still upset about it.
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