The Fight (11 page)

“That's what you get for partaking in illegal behavior,” Nellie says, in her original self-righteous tone. “It's not natural for your head to spin unless you have a fever. Do you have a fever?” Nellie asks, putting her hand up against Chance's head.

“Get your hands off me, girl,” he says, playfully shooing Nellie back into her seat.

“All right. I'll be right back,” Jeremy says, walking out the door toward the pool house.

“So, what'd I miss?” Chance asks, stretching his legs out across the couch, comfortably positioning himself across my lap.

“Well, just make yourself at home, why don't you?” I say, smacking him in the forehead. He's lucky he's my boy. Otherwise, his ass would be on the floor by now.

“I know Jeremy would like to make himself at home right here,” he says, bracing himself for my impending blow.

“Boy, shut up,” I say, smiling because I'm glad he thinks so. If it's one thing I've learned from living in a house full of men, it's that dudes talk as much as we do.

“What did he say about my girl?” Nellie's always asking the important question.

“He thinks you're fly, like everybody with good taste,” he says, making me blush. These White boys know how to make a girl feel good, even if I'm just a friend.

“Really? How did he say it?” Nellie pries, unsatisfied with his simple answer. It was enough for me because I feel the same way about Jeremy.

“He just said it,” Chance says, repositioning his head on my lap. “So, for real, y'all seemed in deep conversation when I walked up, or were you just playing Truth or Dare? If so, I pick Dare. Truth always gets me in trouble.”

“No, fool,” I say, pulling the bottom of my shirt from under his head. “You need to get up. You're getting hair gel all over my shirt.”

“You're going to have to get used to this. I think Jeremy uses the same kind,” he says, rubbing his head on my shirt and jeans.

“Chance, you're a punk, you know that?” I say while pushing him and his sticky hair to the floor.

“I like this girl; she's got spunk,” Jeremy says, walking back in from the pool house, obviously stoned. When KJ and his boys get high, they say stupid stuff too. That's why, unlike Nellie, I'm cool being the designated sober person: My mouth already gets me into enough trouble as it is.

“That was quick,” Chance says, dusting himself off and taking a seat in the chair next to Nellie.

“Yeah, that was kinda short,” Nellie says.

“How would you know? You've probably never even seen a bong, let alone know how long it takes to use one,” I say, once again blowing her cover.

“Why you all up in my business?” Nellie says, sounding a little embarrassed. I didn't mean to put my girl on the spot, but sometimes she fronts a little too much.

“So, how was it?” I ask, redirecting my attention to Jeremy.

“It was what it was,” he says with a big, goofy ass smile on his face. I notice that he never really answers a question. Instead, he gives incomplete answers that really annoy me. But, I guess I'll have to get used to that too, I smile to myself.

“Anyway, back to the subject at hand,” Nellie says, getting us all back on track. “I believe the topic of debate was cookies for cheddar: Is it really an even trade?” Nellie says, sounding like Barbara Walters. “I think it was your turn, Jeremy. Can a sistah's milkshake be bought with dough?” she asks, using her martini glass as a microphone.

“Why are money and sex always equated to food?” I ask, annoying the hell out of Nellie.

“That is so not the point here. Stay on track, Ms. Jackson,” she says, again pointing the glass at Jeremy. But, Chance beats him to the mic.

“Hell yes, it's even,” he says, while Jeremy finally reclaims his seat next to me. Just the fact that he's in the same room with me gives me chills. Now that he's sitting next to me again, I feel an entire cold front coming on. “Okay look, I don't know about where y'all are from, but where I'm from, the bigger the chain, the more girls you catch,” Chance says, showing off the diamond and platinum chain around his neck. Even the Notorious B.I.G. would be envious of his bling. That's the thing about rich White boys into hip-hop: They have the money to mimic their idols to the tee; pimp, players, and all.

“Dude, now you know it takes a lot more to get a girl than that overpriced piece of metal hanging around your neck,” Jeremy disagrees. “Like I said earlier, women need to respect their value. If the woman equates what she thinks she's got to give with material shit, then that's her bad,” Jeremy says, looking at me with blood-red eyes. He can't be that high: Nobody can be this insightful while intoxicated.

“I agree. Can a sistah get dinner first?” Nellie says.

“Maybe, if she's nice,” Chance says, flirting with Nellie.

“Oh no, White boy. I need a man with a much better car than that old thing you drive,” she says, shooting down his advance. Nellie would be caught dead first before she's seen with someone in a car like Chance's. Even if he's balling, he's still got to show it through his ride so that our neighborhood sees it. And, that means he needs to roll a Chrysler or an Expedition at the least. Not a Nova, no matter how classic it is.

“Damn, girl, do you see this bling around my neck? Do you know I had this handmade in Italy and the diamonds shipped from Africa herself?” he says, putting his chain directly in Nellie's face.

“I don't give a damn if your daddy owns the diamond mine,” she says, getting up in his face to make her point completely clear. “It's the looks, baby. If you pick me up in that old-ass car, people are going to think you're a mechanic or something. And that's not enough for me.”

“Well, what's the price? Maybe we can make an even trade,” Chance says, playing with his chain and Nellie at the same time.

“See, that's the type of thing I'm talking about,” I say, getting frustrated with their behavior. “She can't be bought, Chance. Besides, what good is that chain going to do her?” I ask.

“Yeah, do I get a matching one?” Nellie asks, enjoying the game with Chance.

“It's not funny,” I say, trying to get my girl back on my side. I think she's been blinded by the ice hanging from his neck.

“Why are you getting so upset, Jayd?” Chance asks, backing up from Nellie and turning his attention toward me. “If two consenting young adults want to make a fair exchange, what's the problem?” he asks, sounding less high and more serious.

“The problem is multifaceted. First of all, you can't equate my cookies with that chain. Ever. That chain can't push a baby out of it, now can it?” I say, vexed that we're even having this conversation.

“Uh-oh. Here's the Jayd I know and love,” Chance says, getting excited, like he's about to witness a good fight, which may not be far from the truth in a couple of days. “You should see her in action when she's really pissed,” he says, hitting Jeremy on the leg.

“You know what, forget it. I can see my energy is being wasted on y'all anyway, including you, Nellie,” I say, playfully kicking Nellie's Candies boots.

“That's why I don't engage in too many debates: It's futile,” Jeremy says, again adding his enlightened two cents. “People are going to do what they want anyway, car or no car, bling or no bling,” he says, pulling his baseball hat low onto his face, sinking down into the couch and closing his eyes.

“My boy J here is right,” Chance says, leaning back in the oversized leather chair, identical to Nellie's, revealing his flawless custom-made Tims. “If the girl wants to give it up, it's all on her. What are we going to do, say no?” he adds.

“That's not exactly what I said, but close enough,” Jeremy says, giving Chance a slight nod.

“I think you're both wrong,” I interject, ready to kill this sexist conversation. “Yes, it's a sistah's responsibility to value her body; I totally agree. But, the dude has some responsibility too. He has to respect and value his body as well as the girl's. Why is it always on the girl? And, why are men so obsessed with sex and money?” I say, really wishing I could ask KJ that question. It's not like I'd expect an honest answer from him, but still: I should've asked.

“Okay, y'all are bringing me down,” Jeremy says, sitting straight up and bending over, placing his elbows on his knees. “We're both wrong. We're both screwed up for even referring to sex the way we do. Jayd made a good point earlier that wasn't addressed: Why do we equate these things with food?” he asks, displaying his good listening skills. He's capable of holding an intelligent conversation and he's a good listener. Can the boy be any more fly?

“When I was little, my auntie Ron use to give me oatmeal cookies and cheddar cheese as a snack. I never thought it would one day be a substitute for sex and money. That said, I think it's because they're both necessities, like bread and butter,” I say. “Both girls and guys need to act differently if we want different results,” I say, supporting my soon-to-be man.

“Well said,” Jeremy says, giving me a nod in agreement.

“No, not well said. That statement assumes that dudes want different results, and we don't, or at least I don't. I'm very satisfied with having my sweet ass ride and honeys coming in and out, know what I'm saying, J?” Chance says, raising his hand to Jeremy's for a high five.

“I'm going to have to leave you hanging on that one, man. I don't like a bunch of different girls in my ride. Too much drama,” he says, smiling at me. What does he know about drama?

“This looks like a party for the Debate Club, not the thespians,” Matt says, interrupting our private vibe.

“Hey, Matt, this is some shit right here. These girls are something else,” Chance says, shaking his head like he's been defeated.

“I believe it,” he says, looking more stoned than Jeremy and Chance combined. “Oh, yeah. The first sober shuttle is here, if you ladies have somewhere to be,” he says, leaning onto Nellie's chair for support.

“What the hell is that?” Nellie asks, still holding her full drink.

“It's our designated driver shuttle. We always have one with our parties. We like to live wild, but still live, know what I mean?” Matt says, putting a smile on Nellie's face.

“These cats have style,” Nellie says, holding her glass up in salute.

“Was there something wrong with the drink?” Matt asks, noticing she hasn't touched it. “I can have the bartender make you another one before you go.”

“She doesn't drink,” I say, completely busting her cover. Nellie's face falls and she gives me the evil eye. “Come on, Nellie. It's time for us to roll,” I say, not wanting to leave, but knowing that it's way past my play time. I feel like the streetlights are on and Mama's standing on the porch, waiting for me to come inside.

“Leaving so soon?” Jeremy asks, gently grabbing my hand. “I was looking forward to talking some more. I promise I'll go easy on you this time,” he says, revealing his perfect smile.

“Funny, I thought I was too hard on you,” I say, releasing his hand and getting up, grabbing my backpack on the way.

“Wow, did you feel that?” Chance says, looking around the room. “Was that an earthquake, or did y'all just create some serious seismic energy up in here?”

“Good-bye, stupid,” I say, socking Chance in the shoulder.

“Why the abuse? I'm on your side,” he pleads, pretending to be hurt. “You don't have to be so hard on me too,” he says, like a wounded puppy.

“We'll see y'all at school tomorrow,” I say, following Nellie back up the stairs toward the kitchen.

“It was a pleasure, boys,” Nellie says, giving a Hollywood wave from the top of the stairs.

“Believe me, the pleasure was all ours,” Jeremy says, looking right at me. I turn back around and walk up the stairs, speechless for what must be the first time in my life. This boy is something else.

When we get outside, the same girls and guys are hanging around, plus about twenty or so new faces. The sober shuttle is actually the school's Drama Club van. I'm sure they worked it out that this party somehow fits into official club business. I'm just glad they have the good sense to have a sober van, even if the designated driver, Seth, has questionable mental stability without being under the influence of anything.

“Hey, En Vogue. Aren't you short a member?” he says, acknowledging Mickey's absence.

“Just shut up and drive,” Nellie says, already irritated with him. She has little patience for people she don't know making small talk with her.

“Hey, Seth. Please don't drive like a maniac and get us back to Compton safely,” I say, taking a seat right behind him, directly across from my girl. We're the only ones on the van. I guess everybody else at the party is just getting started.

“No problem, Lady J. One, nonstop direct ride to the CPT coming right up,” he says, pushing the button, closing the automatic sliding door. As we pull out the driveway, heading back east toward home, I wonder if Jeremy misses me already, as I do him. After all this mess with Trecee and KJ blows over, maybe we can talk some more. I haven't been that attracted to someone and stimulated by their mind in a long time.

“Hey, girl, what you wearing to school tomorrow?” Nellie asks.

“I don't know. I was thinking about wearing my jean miniskirt and a big off-the-shoulder shirt. But, I'm not sure yet. Why?” I ask, not really caring. I'd rather daydream about Jeremy some more than snap back into the reality of having to face another day at Drama High tomorrow.