Hotlanta (3 page)

“Whew. I thought that damn meeting was never going to end,” Carmen complained bitterly fifteen minutes later as they finally headed toward the school's exit.

“Who are you telling? I was about to straight fall asleep up in there tonight,” chimed in Sydney's other tight girl, Rhea. Sydney and Rhea had become close when they shared the same eighth-grade gym class. Rhea was the daughter of a lawyer and spoke three different languages, her favorite of all being the Angry Black Woman Curse Out. “And for the record, if Dawn said just one more word about the damn napkin holders, I swear I was going to leap across the table and strangle her!”

“You know she could care less about the Gala,” Carmen
sneered. “She's just miserable because of what happened with Alonzo.”

“Let's change the subject, shall we?” Even though she privately agreed with her girls, as a rule Sydney Duke did not gossip, talk trash, or engage in catty behavior in public. She was better than that. “As long as the Gala is a success, I could care less about Dawn and Alonzo.”

“I'm just saying, Syd,” Carmen started again, “she needs to stop showing out ‘cause she's bitter. Everyone can't be the black Barbie and Ken like you and Marcus.”

“‘Marcus and I are going to the movies. Marcus and I are going to feed the homeless. Marcus and I are going to get married.' Marcus, Marcus, Marcus,” Rhea mocked Sydney in a high-pitched voice. “I'm surprised you two haven't totally morphed into one person.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” Syd hedged as she fingered the new Chanel charm bracelet that Marcus had given her on their fourth anniversary. She tried to casually look toward the school entrance for his car's headlights as she braced for the inevitable “we love Marcus but he takes up all your free time” discussion.

“Sure you don't. And I guess you also haven't noticed that every time we try to make plans with you, it requires two weeks' advance notice because you're constantly overbooked saving the world or spending quality time,” Rhea said.

“You guys have been complaining about this for as long as Marcus and I have been dating. Don't you ever get tired of repeating yourselves?” Sydney snapped back as they reached the curb. Normally, she would simply pacify her girls with an apology and the promise of a ladies' night out. But little did they know that she literally had to threaten Marcus with bodily harm to even get this little movie date scheduled. So she certainly wasn't about to let them jump all over her because of it.

“Come on now, Sydney,” Carmen said, softening. “We're just saying Marcus can't be your whole life.”

“My whole life isn't about Marcus!” Sydney insisted as she peeled off her jean jacket. Even though the sun had set, the humidity was getting worse by the second.

“Then prove it,” challenged Rhea. “Come with us to check out the AKA's open mic night at the AU Student Union tonight.”

Sydney avoided eye contact by fumbling in her purse. “I can't,” she sighed. “Marcus will never let me hear the end of it if I skip out on tonight—”

“See?” Rhea taunted, with her hands on her hips. “You say being a strong black woman is a priority, but you're really all about your man.”

“Oh, please, Rhea. One thing has nothing to do with the other. Just because I'm happy in my relationship does not mean I'm not a strong black woman or a good friend!”

“You know what? You may be right, Sydney,” Rhea spit back. “However, it does mean you're an unavailable friend.”

Sydney's mouth dropped open. She instinctively looked to Carmen, who was studiously reapplying her lip gloss, for some backup.

“She's right, Syd,” Carmen finally agreed. “I feel like the three of us have barely hung out the last few months, except when we drive to committee meetings and stuff. Marcus is my boy, but the whole drop everything when he calls is so caveman.”

“Exactly. Let's go, Carm.” Rhea turned on the heel of her boot and stomped off.

“But I'll definitely hit you up later and let you know what you missed, Syd,” Carmen called over her shoulder as she followed immediately behind Rhea.

“Whatever.” Sydney tapped the redial button on her cell. She wasn't about to defend the time she spent with her man to anybody. Speaking of which, where was Marcus?

Thirty minutes, fifteen text messages, and ten phone calls later, Sydney's ass was still sitting on the curb, and she was fuming. A mere two months ago, something like this would never have happened.

Seriously.

Until two months ago, Marcus was the perfect boyfriend. Cosigned by both Sydney's social-climbing mother and her
extremely overprotective stepfather, Marcus Green had a reputation for outstanding community service and stellar academic achievement that had been well established since the seventh grade. It seemed only natural that he, the official good-black-man in training, and Sydney, the Duke family's golden girl, would be together. Not to mention how much Marcus's mother, Ms. Althena Green (the hard-nosed, revolutionary, former Black Panther-turned-city councilwoman), L-O-V-E-D Sydney. Both parents and peers admired the couple equally. Aside from his occasionally controlling, slightly chauvinistic, somewhat opportunistic attitude, Marcus Green was the cream of Atlanta's young, progressive African-American crop. And simply put, life couldn't have gotten any better—except that for some reason, ever since junior year had started two months ago, Marcus had been acting real funny.

Sydney knew Marcus was busy studying for the SAT on top of his numerous extracurricular activities. But dammit, she was, too. Yet she found the time in her busy schedule to try to make room for their relationship. Whenever she tried to talk to him about it or about the distance growing between them, he insisted she was being emotional and overreacting. But now he had her sitting out in front of a deserted high school in the middle of the night because he wouldn't answer his phone. And there was nothing emotional about that.

The sudden sound of leaves rustling startled Sydney. What was once a gentle breeze had now picked up into an
aggressive wind that threatened to usher in a late-night rainstorm. She instinctively stood up and headed back toward the well-lit area at the top of the stairs. About ten steps up, the sound of footsteps stopped her dead in her tracks. Sydney turned around, expecting to see Marcus.

“What's up, Sydney?”

“Jason Danden, you scared the crap outta me!” she called out against the wind as the school's star football player appeared at the bottom of the stairs. She retreated back down to curb level.

“My bad, ma. I didn't mean to scare you. I was just rushing to get home so I can catch up with the rest of the team at South City Kitchen.”

The thought of soul food from South City made Sydney's mouth water. “No worries,” she said, noticing how much bigger Jason's chest had become over the summer. This boy was no joke. Ever since he and his family had moved down to Atlanta from New York their freshman year, he'd just gotten better and better looking. Not to mention, more and more popular.

“So what are you doing out here so late?”

“Um, what are
you
doing out here, Mr. Lots-of-Questions? If I'm not mistaken, didn't football practice end about thirty minutes ago?”

“Oh, true, I didn't mean to be all up in ya business like that…” Jason shyly stepped back. “You ain't got to tell me nothing.”

“Oh, I was just playing with you, Jason,” Sydney said. “I was actually waiting for my…sister. Lauren is supposed to be picking me up, and no big surprise, she's running late.”

“Oh, okay. Well, I'm still here because Coach wanted to talk to me about some secret play he's formulating for this weekend's game against the Wolverines,” Jason answered with a diffident smile. “But don't ask for details, ‘cause this co-captain can't tell you anything.”

“Co-captain? Wow! Is a Yankee boy trying to run the A?”

“Aww, not me,” Jason continued modestly, “but being named co-captain as a junior is a good look. I'm definitely trying to get that football scholarship when the time comes.”

“Not that your family needs the scholarship, but I'm sure you'll make it happen,” she said, moving closer to allow his body to block the wind that was picking up. As the storm clouds lurked ominously overhead, Sydney wished she'd thought to wear her new Louis Vuitton rainboots.

“Yeah, I guess…”

“Don't guess. You gotta know,” she corrected him gently.

“Yo, you're right, Sydney.”

“You make me sound like a little know-it-all.” She nervously looked around him to make sure they were really alone. Last thing she needed was Marcus showing up and getting the wrong idea.

“Naw, not at all. Beauty and brains is a hot combo.”

Whoa. Hold up. Did Jason Danden, future football star and all-around hottie, just call Sydney Duke beautiful? Despite the twins' nearly identical looks, thanks to her long-flowing and extremely expensive weave most guys considered Lauren the beautiful twin. Add to that Sydney's conservative attitude and refusal to follow every new hoochie-mama trend, and, well, let's just say she'd long grown accustomed to Lauren outshining her in the “hotness” department.

“I don't know about all that, but I appreciate you clarifying.” Sydney scuffed her new Gucci loafers on the pavement.

“I'm saying, I don't feel right leaving you here by yourself. Can I give you a ride home? Or you could always roll out tonight with me if you like. You know, grab a bite with the team…”

“Jason, now you know I got a man! Why you trying to get me in trouble?”

Sydney could certainly appreciate Southern hospitality as much as the next chick, but there was no way she was about to show up at South City Kitchen on a Friday night with Jason Danden. It wouldn't take but two seconds for Marcus to hear about that. Sydney knew he'd answer his damn phone for
that
information.

“Hey, all I'm saying is it's dark, the sky is about two seconds from opening up, and you shouldn't be alone out here.”

With streaks of lightning cracking in the distance, the enormous school looked like something straight out of the opening scene from the next blockbuster horror film. Sydney glanced around the now completely deserted parking lot. Public perception be damned, Sydney Duke wasn't spending one more minute alone in the dark. “On second thought, you know what? I would love a ride home. Thank you.”

“Bet. My ride is parked over there,” he said, nodding toward a dark blue Tahoe SUV as he bent down to pick up her book bag. Like the exterior of the truck, the interior was spit-shined and even smelled of wildberry car freshener. Sydney shifted in her seat to sneak a good look at the immaculate backseat and wondered how it would feel to be stretched out back there. She quickly turned around and caught Jason peeking at her out of the corner of his eye.

“What?” she asked suspiciously, thankful that he couldn't read her mind.

“Nothing. You good?”

“Just fine, thanks.” Her gaze fell on his hand gripping the gearshift. His nails were perfectly trimmed. She forced herself to stare out the windshield and concentrate on the road.

Twenty minutes later, Jason parked his car in her driveway and turned the headlights off. They both stared at the illuminated water fountain in front of the bleached-brick-and-stucco mansion. Raindrops pitter-pattered around them.

“It was cool getting to spend some time with you.”

“Ditto.” Sydney unbuckled her seat belt. “And I really appreciate the lift. Although I must admit, I haven't sat through that much crunk music in my life!”

“All righty, Miss Mainstream. If I promise to only play Mary J and Justin Timberlake, will you call me sometime?”

“I mean, as long as your girlfriend is okay with that,” she hinted coyly about Jason's girlfriend, who had graduated from Brookhaven the year before.

“Tyra's at Florida A&M now. She ain't thinking about me no more,” he answered.

“Oh, I see. Guess I missed that YRT alert, huh?”

“Apparently. But the real question is, will your boy Marcus mind you calling me?” Jason countered with a raised eyebrow.

“Don't you worry, I make sure my man has no reasons to worry,” Sydney replied, surprising even herself at how easily she flirted back.

“Well, in that case…”

Sydney tapped his numbers into her phone and let herself out of the truck. If it hadn't been so dark and had he looked really close, Jason might've seen Sydney grinning from ear to ear as she ran for the foyer, ducking under her jean jacket and dodging puddles on the toes of her suede loafers.

Sydney had barely closed the door to her bedroom before it reopened. Surprised at the intrusion, she turned to face the only person in the house who never waited for an invitation to enter—her mother.

“Who was that bringing you home in a big ol' truck?”

“Were you spying on me?” Sydney gasped dramatically, putting her hands on her hips.

“I have a right to know about anything that happens on
my
property.” Keisha Duke smirked. “I heard a truck, so I looked at the security video.”

“Oh.” Sydney looked away, unconsciously tugging on that right earlobe again.

“So, who was driving the truck? I thought you were headed to the movies?”

So did she. “Marcus got caught up in a meeting, so Jason Danden was kind enough to offer me a ride home.”

“Hmm, Jason Danden. Isn't he that football player I keep reading about in the paper?” her mother asked as she raised one perfectly waxed eyebrow.

“Perhaps,” said Syd as she turned away. More than anything she wished her mom would leave the room so she could get back to thinking about her unbelievable ride home.

Mrs. Duke remained undeterred as she pulled her honey-blonde hair up in a twist. “Well, you know how quickly rumors can get started.”