Lovers & Haters (17 page)

“That's all right, Officer,” Xavier replied. “In a city with more crime than police officers, I'm sure somebody else might need your services.” It was a spin job. Xavier was only trying to get them away from the restaurant so that he and Samantha could jump the ride and get ghost. But the way Samantha was hatefully rolling her eyes at Xavier told him something entirely different. The date had been going just fine until those two thugged-out earthworms had crawled from their holes and mucked everything up.

Samantha was still over in a corner with her cell up to her ear when five-o left the parking lot. She ended her phone call and immediately walked over to him when the cops were out of sight.

“I guess I'm really mad at myself,” she began, “But I kind of knew that before I got in the car that you didn't have a driver's license. But what are you really into? You got all these guys wanting to do you harm. Your being affiliated with Zulu keeps popping up. Now I'm actually caught up in the middle of some kind of feud. I told you that I can't get into any trouble with you. I'm skating on thin ice as it is being seen in public with you. My daddy's a very reputable man. He has a lot of friends and all it would take is me being at the center of some sort of scandal. It wouldn't be a good look for him or his partners.”

“What are you trying to say, Samantha?”

She looked confused. “I need some time to figure things out. I have a lot at stake. And I don't want to jack my daddy's businesses, for Christ's sake. He might have his faults, but he's my dad, Xavier.”

Xavier wanted to go to her and hug her. Kiss her. To tell her everything would be all right. But the distraught look on her face told him to stay away.

“Samantha, so you're trying to tell me that you don't wanna see me anymore?”

“I don't know. I just don't know.”

Through the glass doors, Xavier could see the bright headlights of the GMC Acadia Denali pull into the parking lot. The black Lurch was back. Xavier surmised that was who she had been talking to on the phone. He followed Samantha out the double doors and into the cold night air. The driver stiffly stood at the back passenger side of the SUV with the door open.

Xavier was still speechless. His night had started as graceful as a ride in a hot air balloon, effortlessly gliding through sunny blue skies. That was until it flew right into the midst of a violent thunderstorm with lightning striking and puncturing the balloon and sending the wicker basket free-falling to the earth. Xavier was now standing in the wreckage. He couldn't say anything because of guilt.

Before Samantha slid into the SUV, she said to Xavier, “Please don't call me. Give me some time to figure out if I want our friendship to continue.” The driver closed the door and slid behind the wheel.

Ouch,
Xavier thought to himself.
That hurt.

Standing there with his mouth open and his ego crushed, he found the car keys inside his jacket pocket. Xavier carefully scanned the area for any signs of five-o. He jumped in the Buick and took off. Samantha was on his mind but he forced himself to think of the other issues at hand. He had been left hanging, abandoned, and at the mercy of a pack of desperate and famished hyenas. Somebody was going to have to answer as to why almost every cell phone carried by his crew had gone to voice mail. There was some dirt in the game. It was almost like he had been shunned on purpose. Just the mere idea of his crew not having his back had begun to raise all types of questions.

Xavier hit I-75 Chrysler Freeway and took it north to eastbound I-94.

He tried to keep the idea out of his head that he probably would lose her forever.

It might be a blessing in disguise, though,
he thought. Samantha could've been hurt tonight and it would've been his fault. He'd lied to her about not being on the wrong side of the law. His lies had taken away her right to choose. Xavier knew that if he'd told Samantha that he was a car thief and a gangbanger, the girl no doubt would've passed on him. It wasn't even a little white lie. Xavier had flat-out told a whopper out of pure selfishness. The seam that had been holding it all together was starting to unravel. His two worlds had collided tonight and Samantha was caught in between. Xavier wanted to tell her but he just couldn't. Samantha wouldn't have understood if he tried to explain to her that he'd joined Zulu to keep her safe. And if he had been in her shoes he probably would not have understood either. It was too complex. He'd gotten himself in too deep to just walk away. A lot was at stake. Everything was wrong and he knew it. Somehow he would find a way to fix it. He had to.

X
avier made it back to school Monday with trouble massively riding both shoulders. He hadn't been able to get in touch with Romello the entire weekend. Every time Xavier called his so-called friend he'd been sent straight to voicemail. He'd left Romello several messages but never received a return phone call. It made things look suspicious. Like his homeboy had been trying to duck him on purpose. Xavier knew if he couldn't catch his
friend
anywhere else, he would find him in the gym. The boy thought he was Los Angeles Clippers point guard Chris Paul or somebody. He walked right up on Romello getting dressed for class in the locker room.

“My dude, what's up with your cell phone service these days?” Xavier asked Romello.

“What you mean, fam?” Romello dryly replied. He was sitting on a bench in front of his locker, bending over, tying up his sneakers.

“Oh, now you gonna play me?” Xavier sternly questioned.

“I don't know what you talking about, homey.”

“Why are you playing dumb, man?”

Romello sat up and put his hands on his knees, still not looking Xavier in the face.

“Fam, if you got something to say, bring it to me.”

“All right. Is your cell phone number still the same?”

Romello fished a LeBron James jersey from his locker. “Yep.”

“If that's the case, why haven't you been answering my calls? Does your joint not recognize my number anymore?”

“You're right. Metro PCS has been tripping lately. I heard some of their towers went down a couple of days ago. So there you go.”

“It's like that, huh?”

“All I know is that there is a lot of paper to be made in this school with pushing a little product. But you wouldn't know anything about that, huh, homeboy?”

“That's why you left me hanging Friday night? Don't play me stupid, like you didn't hear about me piecing Dylan up at the soul food restaurant.”

“Word,” Romello responded, faking enthusiasm. “Damn, Floyd Mayweather, I don't know how that one got by my ears without me hearing. You've wanted to break his beak for a while now.”

Xavier noticed that he had been kicking it with Romello for a few minutes and the phony cat hadn't once looked him in the face.

“So this whole thing is about greed?”

“Greed ain't got nothing to do with it. It's about respect, boss. These suckas at Coleman don't respect anything but power. It's about turf, guy. That little car snatching gig is peanuts compared to what we could do up here. We have the muscle to lock the school down and get busy, you feel me?”

“Turning students into zombies—you think that's business? What about the pact we had?”

“You and this pact. Man, it's free rec today, b-ball until we drop. We can kick it about this another time, Floyd Mayweather.” Romello turned his back on Xavier and started up the stairs toward the gymnasium. “By the way, that chick Brenda Sanders is sweatin' you. She walked up to me last hour, riding your Johnson hard, son. You need to check her out. Stop wasting your time with uppity-zilla.”

“So it's like that?” Xavier asked for the second time, but Romello didn't stop walking. Nor did he look back.

He never did directly answer Xavier's question, which put Xavier up on game. Romello had sold out his best friend. Dead presidents had replaced Xavier and were apparently Romello's new BFFs.

 

Xavier spotted Tyson in the main lobby, getting ready to go into the school's bookstore. The boy had on jeans, a heavy coat, baseball hat, some expensive casual shoes, and pricey sunglasses.

Xavier rolled right up and cut into him. “So I guess your Metro PCS was tripping Friday night too, huh?”

Tyson gave him attitude right back. “First of all, Mr. Hunter, don't be rolling up on me like that, like you my daddy or sumpthin'.”

“Man, kill all that, because you already know what it is on the physical tip, you feel me?”

Tyson was no fool. He knew he couldn't withstand the heat and the pressure Xavier would bring. He wasn't even trying to go there. So he softened his voice, recognizing the alpha dog. “Look, I heard that the towers were down. Other than that I don't know what else to tell you.”

That was Romello and Tyson's story and they were sticking to it. Xavier sized him up. He wanted to let loose on Tyson, but the boy wasn't worth it. Not if it was gonna land Xavier in hot water with Principal Skinner. The principal was living for the day when Xavier would slip up, and the Tyson beatdown would give the old kook the bottomless pleasure of kicking Xavier out of school for a week.

Tyson took his shades off. “Are we done?”

“For the moment, fam—only for the moment.” Xavier walked off toward the cafeteria.

“I need to talk to you, dog,” Xavier said, tapping Alex on the shoulder. At a table full of fine honeys, Alex was a little hesitant about leaving, but the rabid look on Xavier's face let him know that it wasn't a request.

The two boys walked out into the hallway and into the boys' lavatory a few doors down. Xavier opened up the doors to all the bathroom stalls, making sure that they were alone.

“Alex, can I trust you?” Xavier peered directly into Alex's eyes, waiting on a verbal response.

Alex looked a little disturbed by the question, but slowly said, “Yea. No doubt.”

So many thoughts were traveling through Xavier's mind, he didn't quite know where to begin. His gut was telling him that Romello was about to pull some shady stuff. Whatever it was, Xavier knew that it would come with bad intentions for him.

“What's Romello up to?” Xavier's eyes were brimming with doubt, fear, mistrust.

Alex shied away from looking at Xavier. He was up on game and couldn't let his friend go out like that. “Romello's been spitting venom on you, telling the fellas that you're weak. Slick Eddie had put the word out that you're expendable.

“It was all a setup, man, with him volunteering to help you clean up the school. Slick Eddie wanted Romello to pretend like the help on cleaning up the school was sincere. But all along Eddie knew that your intentions would get rid of all the other competition. But he didn't count on Dylan Dallas and Dutch Westwood hooking up and merging their crews. Now they go by Straight Eight. It might get bloody up here. I don't know what they have planned for the school, but it ain't good. And you are definitely not a part of the future.”

“Days ago, in the lunchroom, I saw Romello hollering at one of Westwood's goons about something. Dirty rat, freakin' dirty rat.” Xavier looked at Alex. “Where do you stand?”

Alex finally looked his boy in the eyes. “I don't want any part of it. This is getting way too deep for me. I steal cars, finesse the ladies, and try to live a halfway decent life. As of today, I'm out of all this Zulu junk.”

“Tell me the truth, Alex. Did Romello have Go Go and Arson set up?”

“All I know is that all of them weren't on the same page with Romello's plans for the school. I don't know for sure, but the way it looked that night, somebody dropped a dime.”

What had he done? Unknowingly, Xavier had signed over the deed to the welfare of the student body to Satan. He had been used, and used badly. Now he had a target on his back. Everybody seemed to be gunning for him—not to mention that Dylan Dallas was itching for payback. The way it was going, Xavier would have to walk the hallways with his back to the walls.

Alex glanced at himself in the mirror and straightened the wrinkles out of his red and blue Polo sweater. He walked over to the bathroom door and opened it, looking back at Xavier. “Romello said that you're all that's left. And he's gonna make you disappear. Watch your back, X.”

It was now survival of the fittest. He didn't know how he was gonna do it, but he was going to turn things around.

A
month had passed without incident. It was now March and things at Coleman were pretty smooth. Even though he had a price on his head, Xavier wasn't afraid to walk down crowded hallways infested by Straight Eight thugs or Zulu goons. The boy was fearless and anybody who stepped in his face would have to be crazy. Otherwise, they would be torn out of the frame.

Xavier attended all of his classes, and even walked home after school to send the enemy a message that he was not hiding, nor would he be intimidated.

In regards to Samantha, he wasn't quite sure how he'd pulled it off, but Xavier had also been able to sweet talk her into going out with him a handful of times after the soul food restaurant incident. He had convinced the girl that he was truly sorry and something like that would never happen again—although he'd had his fingers crossed the entire time. The promise was no more than a fantasy. Trouble loved him and hung out in his presence as much as his own shadow. The proof was in the violent facts that were deeply rooted in his sophomore year at Coleman. Inside a few months, Xavier had managed to save his school from descending into the depths of total chaos. But now he was forced to listen to the rumors about Romello slinging E on campus.

If Romello thought that Xavier was going to sit on his hands and let him flood the school with drugs, dude was sadly mistaken. But what could he do? He had been officially relieved of his command of Zulu. A week after confronting Romello in the locker room, some short, dark girl with a shoulder-length weave, dressed in a black outfit had walked up to him while he was standing outside in the student parking lot. She wasn't a student. Matter-of-fact, Xavier had never seen her before. But she handed him an envelope. Inside was a letter. It explained that he was relieved of duty and that henceforth Zulu was no longer his family. He'd been ousted from the gang. Left alone to fend on his own. It had been signed by Eddie. Xavier should've been afraid, but fear wasn't an option. In fact he was kind of relieved to not be a part of an organization that had no loyalty.

Xavier had to tear his mind away from his troubles at Coleman and put the focus on a couple of issues that were developing on the home front. Samantha had grown tired of hiding the fact that she was dating him and had gotten the bright idea of having both Xavier and his mother meet her parents at an expensive Italian restaurant for dinner.

On a Saturday afternoon, Xavier sat on his bed alone inside his room, mulling over his new dilemma. There was no way in God's creation that mixing the two families together over bread could produce anything positive. He knew his mother and this would present the perfect opportunity for her to throw a monkey wrench of jealousy into his program. His mother was a straight up hood rat with a forty-ounce malt liquor opinion of society. Ne Ne would be in over her head in trying to discuss anything not related to the ghetto with Samantha's parents.

Xavier had tried to talk Samantha out of it, but she stood firm. The dinner was set to go down at seven o'clock this evening. He warned her that after dinner—if the two families could make it halfway through without killing each other—they probably wouldn't be able to see each other again. Samantha told him to relax, that everything would be just fine. He didn't know what planet girlfriend was living on, but she didn't seem to realize she was trying to pull off the impossible. Samantha's parents were extremely educated people who both possessed MBA degrees from Ivy League institutions. This meeting had to be her old man's idea. He probably figured that fighting with his daughter on dating Xavier would strengthen the girl's resolve and drive her and Xavier closer. The best way to show Samantha that Xavier was beneath them would be to get them all together and see how different their worlds were. Xavier just shook his head. He knew that the moment Ne Ne opened her mouth and started rambling about the white man being responsible for little Pookie slinging dope on the corner, Mr. Fox would have proven his point.

Ne Ne knocked on Xavier's bedroom door and entered before he could say anything. She closed the door behind her.

“I need some money to get my hair and nails done,” she said in a way that sounded more like a demand than a request.

Even though Xavier was out of the game, he'd managed to save a nice chunk of change. But at the rate his mother had her hand out, it would be a matter of time before he was broke.

“Ne Ne, what happened to the money I gave you two days ago?” Xavier asked, his face twisted by curiosity.

Ne Ne put her hands on her hips and copped an instant attitude. “You're the one who wants me to meet these uppity people, so you're gonna pay me for my time. Plus I need a new outfit, with some smoking hot shoes. I got to show these tight people that they are not the only folks holding bread. We might not live in some fancy mansion, but one thing we sho' nuff have”—she moved her hand over her hips and spun around like she was a model—“is class.”

Exasperated, Xavier slapped his forehead with the palm of his right hand. “Ne Ne, please don't go in that restaurant acting like that.”

She pointed her finger in his face. “I'm the mama, don't you forget it. You don't get to tell me what to do. I know how to act. I graduated high school and I can talk that bougie stuff. Where do you think you got your intelligence from?”

“My father's side of the family,” Xavier mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“I don't see what you want with that little high society heifer anyway. In their eyes, you will never be anything but a hood rat. And if you're really lucky, they'll probably let you drive one of their exquisite cars”—she laughed at herself—“
exquisite
, that's a big word right there, but I distress.”

“Ne Ne, I think you meant to say
digress
—”

“I know what the word is, you nerd. But like I said, if you're a real good boy, they will give you a top coat and a chauffeur's hat to drive them around like you're a little slave boy.”

Xavier covered his face with both hands and fell backward on the bed. Tonight was going to be something special—dinner with dysfunctional people that was sure to begin with pleasant introductions and quickly dissolve into heated disagreements, arguing, name calling—probably a punch or two thrown—followed by everybody in handcuffs in the back of squad cars and being hauled away downtown on a disorderly conduct charge.

“Honey, be proud of your heritage. Us Alexanders are intelligent people, but as far as your father's side—a bunch of savages. The kind of people you wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley without a weapon.”

“Ne Ne, didn't you once tell me that all of Dad's sisters have degrees and that the old man had gone back to school to get his GED?”

“Never mind what I said, just give me the money.” She shoved her hand in his face, letting her fingers wiggle in anticipation.

Xavier went into his pocket and came out with a few hundred dollars.

Ne Ne quickly snatched the cash away, as if she expected the loot to vanish if she didn't grab it fast enough.

With the doorknob in her hand, she stepped over the threshold. She turned and delivered her parting shot. “And if you start taking up with that little stanky-tail heifer on a more serious basis, don't think for one minute that you're gonna stop hustling on them streets and leave me and your brother to fend for ourselves. Not gonna happen. I never asked you how you are making your money. Not my business, but what is, is the rent. Rent that I can't afford if you leave that hustle alone. And if you do, I'll make sure your life becomes a living hell.” She closed the door on her promise.

Xavier didn't exactly know what version of
living hell
Ne Ne was referring to. As far as he was concerned, she had no idea of how much hell was already in his life. He already had enemies coming after him. Xavier's heart was tremendously big with compassion for people. He'd give the shirt off his back if it would help improve somebody else's circumstances. His kindhearted nature also was responsible for him being in the predicament he was in now.

He wasn't sweating it, though. He could take care of himself. He was a true dog and could sling fists with the best of them. Whatever crew that would be fortunate enough to bag him would get a few of their soldiers scuffed in the process.

The idea of copping some heat off the street came to mind. But he knew better than that. Xavier had a good head on his shoulders. Something about shooting somebody didn't sit well with him. The idea of a human being dying by his hands would be enough to drive him insane. Death was permanent—there wasn't any coming back from it. There would be nothing he could do to console the victim's family. Not even with a lousy apology. His life more than likely would be over for committing murder. Having to live life behind penitentiary bars without the possibility of parole would be hell. He had better things to do with the money he'd saved from assisting in stealing cars. The money was in a shoe box buried under garbage bags of junk from the old crib in the basement storage room. Nobody ever went in there. But he didn't have to worry about money. He needed to focus on tonight.

The dinner—he had to put his mind back on the dinner tonight. Mixing the volatile, unstable agent of the ghetto in his mother with the snooty, upper-class arrogance of rich suburbia in Samantha's folks would be a rim-rocking explosion only fit to be captured by the cameras of a reality television show. The verbal jabs were set to start in approximately four hours. Xavier had to get his mind right. Ne Ne didn't want this union to happen. And God only knew what foolishness she would bring out of her bag of tricks.

Alfonso stuck his head in his big brother's door. “Can I talk to you?”

Not now,
Xavier thought. He was mentally exhausted and definitely couldn't handle another problem. But he couldn't turn away his little brother.

“Sure, Alfonso. What is it?”

Alfonso had a look of concern inside of his big brown eyes. He looked around the room like he was struggling to put the words together.

He finally said, “I think I saw Apollo after school yesterday.”

Xavier asked with a straight face, “What makes you think it was him?”

Alfonso shrugged his shoulders.

Xavier knew that his brother sometimes suffered from an overactive imagination.

Xavier questioned, “Did you get a good look at him?”

Alfonso said honestly, “Maybe, but it was from a distance. Seems like he was following me home. Every time I stopped to look back at him he pretended like he was walking in another direction.”

Xavier tried to reassure his brother. “Alfonso, we are least thirty minutes away from where we used to live. Apollo doesn't know where we live nor do any of our old neighbors. Trust me, little brother, you're safe.”

Alfonso looked at Xavier with puppy dog eyes. “You sure?”

“Yeah, you little knucklehead,” Xavier said, getting up off the bed, grabbing and tickling his little brother.

Alfonso was laughing so hard he farted.

Xavier stopped tickling and pinched his nose, laughing. “You stank. Now get out of my room. I have a lot of stuff to do, you stanky booty lil boy.” Alfonso left and closed the bedroom door.

Xavier was right. He had a ton of stuff to do, but decided against starting right away. There was a mountain of stress and worry mashing down around his shoulders. So, he did what he always did when confronted by stifling challenges. He kicked off his sneakers and climbed underneath the covers, where he fell into a deep sleep.

 

De Angelo's was a quaint Italian restaurant with a five-star rating. It sat back off the Detroit River in a nice, quiet little area, just a mile from the development of a new subdivision that boasted spacious, three-story homes for those with deep pockets. De Angelo's had a casual dress code and operated by reservation only. The restaurant was open six days out of the week and was always jammed to the brim with hungry people who couldn't get enough of the proprietor's scrumptious cuisine.

Valet was located in the front, but those with tight pockets drove around back to save on having to kick out that tip. The inside had an industrial look—split levels, open ceilings, beautiful wooden walls, dark granite floors. Exquisite light fixtures beamed with low lighting to provide a relaxing atmosphere.

Xavier didn't want to ride in the car with his mother, so he took a cab instead. He wanted to make a good impression on Samantha's parents and needed to practice lines of engaging dialogue without being interrupted. On the way over, the cabbie, who barely spoke a word of English, didn't care how crazy Xavier sounded talking to himself. Just so long as he collected a fare at the end of the ride.

Ne Ne was supposed to meet Xavier out front. When he pulled up, she was nowhere to be found. He waited on her for ten minutes and then went inside. She had sold him out, but he would live with it. Hell, it was probably best that she didn't show anyway. There was no doubt that it would look bad to Samantha's parents, but in the end, Xavier would be better for it. Ne Ne was a roughneck and her ghetto mentality couldn't be trusted in a classy joint like this.

The blond, long-haired hostess led Xavier through a diverse crowd and up the stairs. His party was seated at the back of the restaurant, next to floor-to-ceiling windows that held an amazing view of the city of Windsor, Ontario, across the Detroit River.

But before he got anywhere near the area, Xavier recognized his mother's voice. It was carrying across the floor. She was loud and in full rowdy mode. Xavier's first impulse was to turn and beat it. He'd rather kiss an orangutan than have to stare down the many faces of other patrons sitting nearby who periodically glared at his mother with pure disdain. She began cracking up in laughter, increasing his embarrassment.