The Meltdown (23 page)

“Where’d my folks go?” I ask, noticing Rah, Nigel, and Mickey have disappeared from our front lawn.

“They went to smell the trees, and I’m going with them,” Bryan says, speaking in code for smoking weed. “You coming, man?” Bryan says to Mr. A, who respectfully declines the invite. I guess it’s just my favorite teacher and me.

“Bryan told me you’re going to be in a cotillion?” Mr. Ade-wale says, like it’s not the interrogation it obviously is. He tries to be so coy about his shit, but he’s not.

“That’s right,” I say, parking Nickey’s stroller in the shade and putting the cover up so she can get a good nap in. “But it’s not really by choice as much as for the benefit of my college applications.”

“I think it’s a good move, Miss Jackson,” he says, taking a swig of his water on the table. “My fraternity will be there to support our sister sorority. You’ll enjoy yourself, I promise,” he says, smiling big and displaying his perfectly straight teeth. His dreadlocks are pulled back, showing off his well-defined cheekbones.

“You’re going to be there?” I ask. Now I’m more nervous than ever about the ball next weekend. Before I wasn’t really tripping, but now I want to be on my best behavior: Mr. Ade-wale always brings that out in me.

“I sure am and I can’t wait to see you in all white.” Mr. Adewale’s bright hazel eyes glimmer in the afternoon sun, reminding me of several dreams I’ve had of me and him married. Something tells me that he’s not talking about my white evening gown Mrs. Esop purchased.

Before we can get too deep in conversation, our friends rejoin us, much more mellow than they were a few minutes ago.

“Cake,” Mickey says, going for my plate, but she’s got another think coming if she thinks I’m sharing my dessert plate. There’s enough food up and down Gunlock to satisfy her munchies without picking off mine.

“Is that roasted corn?” my uncle asks, spying the sweet cob on Mr. Adewale’s plate.

Mr. A looks as serious about his food as I do about mine. “Yeah, and there’s some more two doors down,” he says, pointing toward Alondra Boulevard where we see an unwelcome visitor.

“What’s Sandy doing here?” I ask Rah, pointing down the block. Sandy switches her way toward us with Rahima in a stroller, knowing the girl’s too big for that tiny thing. Rahima will be three in a couple of months and is tall for her age, which is no surprise. Her father clears six feet and her mother’s not far behind.

“Oh, shit,” Rah says, shaking his head. “I told her where I’d be if there was an emergency or something.” Emergency my ass. The only crisis is the one Sandy’s about to create.

“Why do you do shit like that when you know the girl can’t be trusted?” I ask, watching our semi-pleasant afternoon
come to a crashing halt the closer Sandy gets to my grandparents’ house.

“She said she was having some stomach pains or something when I left. I just wanted to make sure she knew where I was, just in case.”

“It was probably menstrual cramps,” I say, wishing Sandy were lying about the whole damned thing, not just about the baby daddy, who I know for a fact isn’t Rah. Now, I’ve just got to prove it.

“Jayd, she’s really pregnant. I saw the test with my own eyes,” Rah says, looking at me cross when he should be throwing the evil eye to his baby mama. I know better than anyone that eyes can play tricks.

“Okay, then, fine. Why didn’t you bring Rahima with you if she wasn’t feeling well? That would have made more sense.”

Nigel and Mickey stay out of this one.

“Because Sandy said she missed our daughter.”

Yeah, right. He and I both know Sandy drops off the baby to whomever she can, whenever she can. If he fell for that shit, he’s tripping harder than I thought. My uncle and teacher are engrossed in a conversation with our neighbor and eating the sweets I’m craving. Even Sandy can’t ruin my appetite today.

“Rah, you need to take her. I’ve got to be somewhere,” Sandy says, pushing the stroller toward us without any type of greeting. Where was Sandy raised, in a barn? This girl could use an etiquette class or two her damned self.

“I thought you were sick?” Rah asks, taking the stroller by the handles and turning it around so that Rahima’s sleeping face is out of the sun.

“I was, but I feel better now,” Sandy says, straightening out her short shorts. She looks at Nigel and me, then back at Rah, completely ignoring Mickey. I’d hate to see the two of them really go at it. “Bye.”

“Damn, Sandy. You need to get your priorities straight,” Rah says. “That’s how you got yourself pregnant again.” He parks his daughter next to Nickey so she can finish napping in peace.

“I didn’t get myself pregnant,” Sandy says, putting her left hand on her hip, displaying her bulging breasts for all to see. The strained pink shirt looks like it’s about to burst. “Or did you forget how it works already? If so, I’ll show you later when we get home.”

No, she didn’t just go there with me standing right here. I could choke on my cake I’m so pissed. “Sandy, your home is in a state penitentiary somewhere, not at Rah’s house,” I say. I’ve had it with this broad and her wannabe propositions. I know he’s not my man, but damn. She should show a little respect that other people are present before throwing her cookies around. I don’t want to hear that shit.

“Whatever, Jayd. You’re just jealous because I’ve got everything you want and then some,” she says, readjusting her breasts in her revealing top. Now this heffa’s really gone too far.

“What exactly do you have, Sandy? An ankle monitor that fits like the rest of your too-tight clothing?” I point at the blinking tracking device on her right leg. “You have no car, no high school diploma, and no one claiming your mystery baby. I’m sorry, what am I supposed to be jealous of again?” Sandy’s hotter than the link I ate a while ago, but I’m speaking the truth. Mickey looks satisfied with the drama in front of her.

“Sandy, you can go now. I’ve got baby girl,” Rah says to a shell-shocked Sandy. When will my former friends learn not to mess with me?

Defeated, Sandy struts back from where she came from, causing heads to turn with each clack of her sandals. She needs to pick up her feet, as Mama would say. A cool breeze
drifts up my shirt and to my cheeks, calming me back down. That trick always gets a rise out of me. Speaking of heffas, Misty appears on her godmother’s porch, reminding me to slip the pills into Mickey’s purse while she’s distracted.

“Hey, y’all,” Misty says from the safety of the gated entrance. “Mickey, you good?” She sounds like the dope man checking for customers. Mickey looks embarrassed by Misty’s unsolicited greeting.

“I’ll be right back,” Mickey says, walking across the yard. If she’s going to Esmeralda’s house, I can’t let her go alone. Against my better judgment, I follow my friend.

“I’ll come with you,” I say, but Mickey looks mortified at the thought.

“No,” she says, stopping me from going any farther. “I got this, Jayd.”

I look at Mickey and realize she’s not sure she can trust me after I told her about helping her through her labor. One day she’ll see that was for her own good.

“Fine,” I say, walking up the front porch and through the door. I can hear and see everything on Esmeralda’s porch through Mama’s living room window.

“What’s in these pills, Misty?” Mickey asks, shaking them in Misty’s face. “I’ve been losing weight, but I also don’t feel right,” Mickey says.

We’re not at school now. If Mickey wants to whip Misty’s ass, there’s no one here to stop her. I hope she doesn’t, for her own good. The last thing she needs is to catch an assault wrap with a two-month-old baby at home.

“Nothing, Mickey. Damn, you’re acting crazy.” Misty looks at me, the last word dangling in the air.

Crazy. Misty gave Mickey the diet pills, causing my girl to slowly lose her mind. I should’ve known sooner her evil ass was up to something else: Misty’s been too quiet for anyone’s good.

“All I know is that if there’s anything foul in these vitamins, you won’t be smiling like that for long.” Mickey walks off the porch and back to where our friends are chilling. Good thing I changed the tablets. Now I have to pull the rest off her shelf and fix Misty for this shit. Good friends do what needs to be done whether they get credit for it or not.

“What up, Jayd?” my uncle Kurtis says, coming into the living room from the hallway. Unless he was in the bathroom, he has no business back there. Actually he has no business in the house at all.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. He moved out weeks ago, and in my opinion that means no visiting when Mama’s not here. Daddy and the rest of the boys are making their rounds around the block: It’s just us in the house.

“Damn, I can’t take a leak?” he says, smiling sinisterly.

I head to Mama’s room, feeling like something’s wrong. “Move out of my way,” I say, pushing past him in the hallway. I look at Mama’s closed door, seeing the locks have been tampered with. This jackass tried to pick Mama’s locks.

“You punk! Get out of Mama’s house now,” I say, punching my big-ass uncle as hard as I can in his left bicep, which only amuses him more. Kurtis trying to hurt Mama is way beyond any line of respect that can be drawn.

“You better watch yourself, Jayd. Mama can’t protect you now.” Kurtis doesn’t budge, pushing me to my limit.

I don’t give a damn if he outweighs me by more than a hundred pounds. This fool’s going down this afternoon, and I’m going to be the one to take him there. Mama left me in charge of her things and that includes her bedroom.

“You’d better watch yourself, Kurtis. You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

He grabs my arm hard, squeezing as tight as he can. It hurts but not more than my nails digging into his neck. “You little bitch!” Kurtis yells, letting me go to focus on his bleeding
skin. I try to escape, but not before he grabs me again, this time picking me up.

“Let me go, fool!” I scream, thrusting my feet up, trying to get in a solid kick to his most sensitive area. He spins me around in the air like he used to do when I was a little girl, but I’m not a child anymore. I close my eyes and bite down hard on his shoulder, causing him to let go. As I fall to the floor, Kurtis snatches my feet, pulling me back into the hallway. I turn over on my back and kick him as hard as I can in his fat gut.

“Shit!” Kurtis screams. His eyes have gone blank like an insane person: I know I’m in for it now.

“What the hell is going on here?” Bryan asks, busting through the front door with Mr. A and my crew also witnessing the fight. “Let her go, man.”

The neighbors within earshot also get a good look at the scene. I guess we know which family won for most embarrassing block party moment, even if it is taking place indoors.

“Hell, no. This little bitch bit me and she’s going to pay.”

My uncle Bryan intervenes and Kurtis backs down, knowing his younger brother has a black belt in Tae Kwon Do. I may not be able to kick his ass, but Bryan can in one quick move.

“This is your niece, Kurtis. Don’t call her out of her name again.” My friends look stunned, but this kind of thing happens around here on the regular. “Are you okay, Jayd?”

“I’m fine,” I say, picking myself up and straightening my clothes. “He tried to break into Mama’s room,” I say, pointing toward the scene of the crime. “I told him to get out, but he wouldn’t listen.” My adrenaline’s pumping, and my head doesn’t feel so good. That fall really hurt.

“She’s crazy, man,” Kurtis says. “She doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about.”

“I may be crazy, but I’m no liar.”

Bryan points at the front door, and Kurtis leaves. I think it’s time for me to go, too. My medicine is at home, and something tells me I need to take an extra dose when I get back to my mom’s house. I don’t need to stay for the fireworks. That was enough excitement for me.

A
fter last week’s block party, it’s been pretty quiet around Mama’s house. I guess going buck wild on my uncle Kur-tis was the right thing to do. Mama told him to be out weeks ago, and because she’s not here, he thinks he can take advantage of the situation. Daddy might not want to check his ass, but I don’t care. I’ve had enough of people taking my kindness for weakness and that goes for Mama’s, too.

With the cotillion tomorrow evening, I have a lot of work to do between now and then. Not only do I have to get my nails done and pick up other last-minute necessities, but I also have to fill a few clients’ orders and drop them off at Netta’s shop before heading over to Nigel’s house for my final fitting. Mrs. Esop wants to make sure the shoes, dress, and jewelry are all in accord before the big night. I feel like I’m getting married, the way she’s fussing around like the mother of the bride. The amount of money Mrs. Esop’s already spent is really ridiculous. I’m just glad I didn’t have to come out of pocket for a damned thing, because I don’t have it like that even if I am making a killing off braiding hair this summer.

I’ve been averaging three heads a day, and depending on the style, I usually end up with at least a hundred dollars in
my pocket. That might be considered small cheddar to Nigel and Rah, who can make that in one sale if the herb is superb, but I’m proud of my hard-earned money. Mama would be pleased with how I’m handling my earnings. I’ve saved almost every dime for the last month, and my bank account is stacking high. I do miss working at Netta’s, though. I can’t wait until Mama and Netta both return from their vacation and we can get back to normal. Without them my days don’t have the same flavor or balance. I need the elder wisdom only they can give. The shop doesn’t even feel the same.

“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” Rita says, clamping the flat iron loudly before running it through the client’s hair. The smell of freshly pressed hair and honey shampoo fills the warm air in the quaint shop.

“Good afternoon, Miss Rita,” I say as she buzzes me in. I set the large bag full of creams, sprays, and other beauty products Mama had me fill for the shop down on the table next to the front door. Our clients come here to pick up their regular regimens, and I’m responsible for maintaining the clients’ boxes and other supplies for the shop. I don’t get to help with the clients’ heads anymore until Mama and Netta return. I’m under strict supervision by my godmother and grandmother all of the time.