Jayd's Legacy (6 page)

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Authors: L. Divine

BOOK: Jayd's Legacy
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“Jayd, what the hell is wrong with you?” he asks, getting straight to the point. This is the Raheem Nigel was missing last night. “A White boy? Now, I know you may be missing a nigga, baby. But don't go getting all desperate and shit, Jayd. You could've just picked up the phone and called me,” he says, amusing himself with his witty hood repartee. At times, he sounds a bit like KJ. But, unlike KJ, Raheem wears his confidence like a crown and it's very seductive.
“I'm not desperate, Raheem,” I say. “I'm happy. Do you know what that is?” I ask. “That's when a dude spoils me and doesn't cheat on me and makes me laugh and challenges my mind,” I say, listing all of Jeremy's good qualities, like I'm his character witness.
“Yeah, but can he make your soul move?” Raheem says, making me remember Jeremy doesn't believe in God, or a soul, I assume. Raheem and I used to have long, deep discussions about all the different religions in the world, especially among Black folks. And whenever he came over, he and Mama would vibe for hours about traditional religion and Mama's role in it. Mama actually likes Raheem as a person. It's his actions she doesn't care for.
“My soul doesn't need moving,” I say, not wanting to get into a deep conversation with him right now. It's almost two in the morning and I have to get up and go to work in a few hours. Besides, I shouldn't be on the phone with him at all. He doesn't understand what it means to be just friends.
“Jayd, this is Rah, your boy from way, way back in the day. What happened to my little revolutionary, spunky street scholar?” he says, referring to our old crew. “She'd never be seen with no White dude,” he says, sounding genuinely disappointed. Not just hating, like KJ.
“Well, things change,” I say, feeling a little guilty. What the hell? “And, I got to get up and go to work in the morning, Mr. Super Producer,” I say, trying to get off the phone. “Thanks for the shout-out,” I say, ready to push “end.”
“Wait, Jayd,” he says. “You looked good last night. And, I don't mean just in the physical.” Oh, here we go.
“Rah, I don't have time for this,” I plead. He has the same kind of power over me that Mama's daddy had over her mother, and my father had over my mother. It's best I end this conversation right here, right now.
“Jayd, you're glowing,” he says, ignoring my plea. “I remember when you first told me you were getting a breast reduction. I didn't want you to. But, now look at you. I don't know if it's from the surgery, the new man or what. But, you shine, girl. And, I just wanted you to know I see you. I see you,” he says, making me stop and listen to every word. Why does this conversation feel so familiar?
“I must've been insane to treat you the way I did,” he says. “And, I don't want to make your life difficult or no shit like that. But, I miss you in my life. Can we start over, as friends?” he says, sounding sincere. Truth be told, I miss him too. I never stopped missing him. Part of the reason I fell so easily for KJ in the first place was because he was the closest thing at school I'd seen to Raheem.
“I don't know, Rah,” I say, not sure what to do. “You're not good at being my friend.”
“I will be this time,” he says, not giving up. “I'll even introduce myself at homecoming when I see y'all,” he says, catching me off guard.
“Whose homecoming?” I ask.
“Yours,” he says. “You think I'm going to miss my boy's premiere game? I got money riding on him, baby,” he says. I forget he's a betting man. He used to play craps behind the boy's locker room in junior high. And, he usually won.
“Well, Jeremy won't be there,” I say, still feeling the pinch of this evening's disagreement.
“Why the hell not? The boy ain't got no school spirit?” he asks. Westingle brothas take school functions very seriously. Raheem went to every event at Family Christian, with me right by his side. And, I'm sure he hasn't missed any at Westingle, either. The boys and girls there alike take pride in getting all pimped out for special occasions, cars and all.
“He's just not into school events,” I say, not understanding Jeremy's issues myself. But, like he said earlier, I'll either deal with them or not. And, right now, I choose to deal.
“Not even if you are? Now, that ain't right,” he says. “If you were still my queen, I wouldn't let you out of my sight for a minute. I know you gone look fine, girl,” he says. I would if I'd get the dress I tried on earlier. Why am I still on the phone with this boy? He ain't doing nothing but bringing up bad feelings.
“Well, I'm not your queen. So, it's no longer your concern. Now, for real. I got to go, Raheem. Good night,” I say, but hanging on his final good-bye.
“You'll always be my queen.” And, with that last move, he hangs up. I sulk myself to sleep.
6
Reality Sucks
“My cow just died/ I don't need your bull.”
—SALT 'N' PEPA
 
 
“S
o, how was your date last night, Miss Thang?” Sarah asks, smacking me on my behind with a towel. I love working with her on the weekends. She makes the time go by much faster.
“It was all right,” I say, not really wanting to get into a deep conversation right now. It's one o'clock and the after-church crowd will be here any minute.
“That doesn't sound like a good time to me,” she says in a strong, Jamaican accent. This girl is straight out of Kingston. Only seventeen years old, she helps support her mother, little sister, and two little brothers. She's in school full-time at Crenshaw High, graduating this year. “Come on and tell Auntie Sarah all about it,” she says, laughing. She can be so crazy sometimes.
“No, nothing bad happened. And we did have a good time, for your information,” I say, retrieving the wet towel from the juice sink and smacking her in the arm with it.
“Hey, you were supposed to work out all of that frustration on your date last night, remember? I guess it didn't go so well after all, huh, lady?” she says taking the oversize blender full of juice and pouring it into the large Styrofoam cup, making me thirsty.
“What kind of smoothie is that?” I ask, reaching for my own cup to pour myself a sample.
“The kind you can't have none of until you tell me what happened on your date last night that's got you so tense,” she says. “Here. Give this to that man when I call his name. Me not want to see him right now,” she says, referring to the same regular from yesterday who made my butt twitch with his plain veggie burger.
“I don't want to see him either,” I retort as she calls his name through the microphone. “Besides, he's your customer,” I say, forcing the large drink back into her hands and returning to the blender for my free sample.
“Did someone call Gerald?” he asks, pretending he didn't hear her. He was sitting right by the door next to the counter where we are. Customers can be so strange sometimes.
“Yeah. Here's your shake. Have a nice day,” Sarah says half-heartedly, rushing from the counter to the kitchen in the back.
As I pour the banana, mango, peach, and wheat germ smoothie into my small cup, I hear Gerald utter a sigh of disgust. “Excuse me, miss. Is that my smoothie you're drinking?” Gerald asks me as I take a sip of the thick shake. Sarah sure can mix a drink.
“No. Your smoothie's in that cup,” I say pointing to the drink in his hand. “This here is what we like to call leftovers.”
“Yeah, but at Jamba Juice they give you your leftovers,” he says, expecting an apology or something of the sort.
“Well, I hear they closed down Fat Burger and opened one next to Magic's Starbucks in the Ladera Center,” I say, leaning up against the counter, sipping my drink. He's really got his nerve, demanding more after all the shit he puts us through on a regular basis. And today, I'm just not in the mood.
“With that attitude, young lady, you'll never get ahead,” he says as he turns around and walks out the door.
“Good job, girl. I don't know what Jeremy did to get you all riled up, but I'm glad I'm not at the receiving end of your wrath today,” Sarah says, coming through the swinging doors that connect the front counter area to the kitchen.
“God, he's pretentious,” I say, still irritated at Gerald's audacity. Luckily Shahid wasn't here. I would have received the lecture of my life if he witnessed that little episode. “I'm not all riled up. There's just a lot on my mind today.”
“All right, Jayd. Stop making me wait and just tell me what's going on with you and your man,” Sarah says, perching herself up against the counter, ready to listen.
“It's really kind of silly, especially since usually I'm not really into dances. But, my girl Nellie is running for junior class homecoming princess and I want him to be my date, but he's not into dances.”
“So, take someone else. That's what I would do in your situation. That'll teach him to take you the next time around.”
“I can't do that. It would be rude.”
“Why? Your man doesn't want to go, so that must mean he's cool with you having another date. Or at least that's the way I'd take it if I were you. And what's rude is your boyfriend not wanting to take you and show you off, no matter how much he hates dances.”
As Sarah cleans the front counter, I decide to rearrange the desserts in the display case, thinking about what she just said. Maybe I should go to the dance with someone else. Just because Jeremy doesn't want to go doesn't mean I should go alone.
“You know what, Sarah? You've got a good point,” I say, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, finishing my smoothie.
“A good point about what?” Summer, our manager, asks as she walks in from the store to the restaurant, surprising both of us.
“Jayd's man doesn't want to go to the homecoming dance and Jayd wants to go,” Sarah says, making my monumental problem sound so simple.
“I know you're not letting some man control you, Jayd,” Summer asks, replacing the menus left on the tables to their holder on the counter. “Once you let them control one decision, they'll take that as the cue to control them all.” Summer's a trip. Forty years old and never married, she's got two kids, both in college. Short and tiny with locks to her butt, the sistah's real strong in her opinions and lets everyone know it. She also doesn't take any shit. That's why she and Shahid make the perfect management team.
Summer's got a good point. There's always some madness when dealing with men. It's better I get this mess with Jeremy out of the way sooner than later.
“Summer, can I take a quick break?” I ask, walking toward the counter, assuming she'll say yes. It's cool like that here.
“Sure, but make it quick. You know the church folk will be here any minute,” she says, walking to the back to change the Bob Marley CD now playing to one of Aretha Franklin's gospel albums, our Sunday favorites.
“Going to talk to your White boy?” Sarah asks while cleaning out the blender.
“Yeah. I want to see if he'll mind me going to the dance with someone else,” I say, knowing I'm about to start something. But, Summer's right and so is Sarah. I can't let him keep me from enjoying myself. If I can't have my dress, I will have my fun.
“Hello,” Jeremy says, sounding like he was in the middle of a good nap. It must be nice to sleep the afternoon away.
“Hey, baby,” I say. “Got a minute?”
“Yeah, what's up?” he asks, waking up. “You need a ride home?” he asks, remembering it's my day to go back to Mama's.
“No, my mom's going to take me. I wanted to ask you something else,” I say, almost ready to back out. But, Sarah steps outside to where I'm standing by the front entrance, signaling for me to go through with it.
“What's on your mind?” he says, now fully awake.
“Would it bother you if I went to the dance with someone else?” I ask.
“Not at all,” he says. I thought he'd be a little surprised, pissed, something. This boy's nonchalance never ceases to amaze me. “You're your own woman.”
“OK, cool. I just thought I'd let you know I'm considering it,” I say, now seriously thinking about taking someone else, since he's calling my bluff.
“I'm cool with it, Jayd. I think you should have a good time. And, I'm not concerned about you being with any other guys. I trust you,” he says. God, he's good.
“Fine,” I say, watching the church procession pull into the parking lot. “I've got to go back to work now. I'll see you in the morning,” I say, rushing off the phone. He's put me in a very awkward position. Now I'll have to find someone to go with just because I said I would. If I don't, he'll never fall for another one of my bluffs again.
 
It's hard enough to come home from my mom's cozy, feminine apartment to Mama's house full of men, but this evening's especially difficult and foul.
“Jayd, go on and tell Mama and Daddy I said hi. I'm already running late for dinner with Ras Joe,” my Mom says, rushing me out of her car.
“All right, Mom. I'll see you Friday,” I say, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek before getting out of her little Mazda. After retrieving my bags from the trunk, I walk through the back gate to find Lexi sleeping in her usual spot at the bottom of the porch steps.
“Hey, girl. Did you miss me?” I ask, stepping over her and onto the porch. As I enter the kitchen, the stench of a thousand funky asses hits me like a ton of bricks.
“What the hell is that smell?” I ask aloud to anyone who can hear me.
“The toilet overflowed and flooded the bathroom and hallway. Watch your step,” Jay says, closing the refrigerator door. His face is masked against the smell.
“Is that my scarf?” I ask.
“Yes. It was the only one I could find. I'm sure you have plenty more, little miss thugette.”
“Shut up and give it here. That's my pink, silk Coach scarf from last spring's collection!” I yell, snatching it from his face. “Why were you going through my stuff anyway?” I ask, following him from the kitchen and into the living room, where the stench worsens.
“I was saving your shit, man. Some of the water seeped into the closet where our stuff is. Damn. It's going to take forever to clear the smell out of the house,” Jay says, taking a seat on the plastic-covered sofa before digging into his homemade burger and fries. Nothing stops these dudes around here from eating, not even the smell of a sewer in our house.
“Where's Mama?” I ask, not wanting to stay indoors any longer. And, knowing Mama, she probably went to a neighbor's house or Netta's.
“She's out back working off some steam. You missed it. Her and daddy had it out,” Jay says, smacking his lips in between bites. “Daddy went back to the church for evening service. I don't know how he's going to preach about being holy after what he said to Mama and what she said to him.”
“Jay, you act like they've never argued before,” I say as I take my bags into the dining room and place them behind the china cabinet. “Make sure nobody touches my stuff and that includes you, sticky fingers,” I say, heading through the kitchen and out the back door to find Mama. I need some good advice and now.
When I get outside, I can hear Mama humming to herself in the back. I go all the way around the garage toward the spirit room. Her and Daddy must've had a real good falling out to make her hum.
“Hi, Mama,” I say, walking over to where she's kneeling by her herb garden, next to the backhouse. She's busy pulling weeds and picking fresh herbs.
“Hey, baby. How's your Mom?” she asks, turning her cheek up to receive my kiss. I kneel down beside her, gathering the extracted weeds to eventually toss into the garbage can.
“She's fine. Rushing off to meet Ras Joe,” I say, thinking about my mom's crazy behind. I didn't even get a chance to mention my drama; she was so busy telling me about hers. She wants to call it quits with Ras Joe because he's getting too possessive. Her problem's the exact opposite of mine, as usual.
“That girl. When will she learn to leave those trifling men alone?” Mama says, tugging at the stubborn weeds a bit harder than necessary.
“Everything all right, Mama?” I ask. “Jay said you and Daddy had a fight.”
“That old Negro thinks he can just do what he wants, when he wants,” she says, going right into the drama. “I told him to call a plumber hours ago. But, no, he thinks he can fix the damn toilet his own self. He's cheap, Jayd. Just cheap,” she says, ripping the weeds from the ground. “Now the hall's soaked with shitty water and the house smells like a sewer.” I feel sorry for Mama sometimes. It must be hard being the matriarch in a house full of men.
“I'll help you clean up,” I offer.
“Oh, no you won't either,” Mama says, pulling the last of the weeds and looking at me. Despite the anger apparent on her face, she looks at me gently and smiles.
“This is your grandfather's mess. Let him figure out a way to clean it up,” she says. “Now, how was your weekend?” she asks, reminding me of my original intention.
“It was kind of cool, and it kind of sucked,” I say. “Jeremy won't take me to homecoming and Raheem wants to be friends,” I say, making it short and sweet.
“Well, you can still go to the dance, but not with Raheem, if that's what you're thinking.” How did she read my thoughts before I even realized them myself?
“No, of course not,” I say, shutting down the possibility. “But, Raheem did say he's going to be there.”

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