Hustlin, p.7
Hustlin', page 7
“I have a question on the floor that’s still unanswered,” I quietly remind him, as Mr. A makes himself comfortable in Mrs. Peterson’s chair. I can’t wait until she’s retired and he’s here full time. It’ll be nice to have another teacher I can look up to for a change.
“Yes, you do,” he says, taking off his thin-rimmed silver glasses and placing them on the stack of papers on the desk in front of him. “Weren’t you supposed to be looking up Califia?” He looks me in the eye and I can tell he’s trying to read my expression, but I’m not that easy.
“I did. I printed that out, too. But this caught my eye. I couldn’t resist.” I toss the heavy report down on top of the paper pile and await his response. His golden brown cheeks flush with embarrassment, but from what, I wonder. “You can’t be that surprised that I found this interesting, can you?”
“No, not at all. I just hoped you wouldn’t find it just yet. I wanted to take more time before talking with you about it.”
“Well, what’s there to talk about?”
Mr. A looks at me, then out toward the rest of the class. He looks like he wants to tell me a big secret and I think it’s bigger than I can imagine. What the hell is really going on with this brother?
“Jayd, there’s more than meets the eye, don’t you agree?” He looks at me, his hazel eyes sparkling with no help from the sun this time.
What’s Mr. A not telling me about his knowledge of my lineage?
“Yes, I do. Which is why I’m asking you what you have against voodoo queens. Why do they have to be vixens?”
Mr. A picks up the familiar text, flipping through the pages and quickly skimming the words. He chuckles as he reads more, making me wait patiently for his response.
I glance across the room at Jeremy, who’s waiting for me to come and sit down. I want to catch up with him too, but I never know for sure when I’ll get to see Mr. Adewale again, so Jeremy will have to wait until lunch. He sent me a text this morning when he didn’t see me at the bus stop and I told him he could come with me to the dress rehearsal since it’ll be more laid-back than a normal rehearsal.
“Do you know the meaning of the word vixen, Jayd?” Mr. A looks at me.
“Is this a trick question? I know it’s a negative word for a female, or else that book about the video chick wouldn’t have sold so well.”
Mr. A laughs at my reasoning. “Yes, Jayd, that is true. And that’s why I titled the term paper what I did. But a vixen is actually a female fox. They’re survivors, Jayd, true hustlers, if you will. This paper was a praise for the queens. But, like everything you sell, the packaging is what gets it a first glance, and an A in this case.”
“Okay, you worked your way around that one. But what was all that about me being a different bird last time we talked? What do you know about my lineage?”
Mr. Adewale looks past me towards Jeremy and then back at me. His chiseled jawbone tightens. Now I know I’ve hit a nerve.
“Jayd, I know a lot more than you think. What I don’t know is why you aren’t more open about who you really are. I’m originally from Compton, also by way of New Orleans. I know who your grandmother is and, more importantly, who your great-grandmother was, and her history with white men. Haven’t you learned anything from your history?”
Damn, not another hater. “I know you think you know me, but you don’t.”
“Jayd, you asked me, I didn’t come at you. I didn’t want you to feel self-conscious around me. But you have to admit it’s a mighty small world.”
Yeah, too small if you ask me.
“Please don’t be defensive,” he adds.
“I’ve got to get to my work. Thanks for the info.” Mr. Adewale lets me rise without protest, even if his eyes are screaming for me to stay.
“What was that all about?” Jeremy asks, looking up from his book and pulling my chair out for me to sit down.
How do I begin to tell Jeremy about my lineage and the fact that there are research papers online that include my ancestors and grandmother’s name?
“History, what else?”
Jeremy wouldn’t understand if I told him. Besides, we have our own fish to fry, as Mama would say. I haven’t talked to Jeremy since he made the comment about always being here for me. I know he wants to explore more of an open relationship with me again, but I’m not ready for all that. Besides, Mr. A is right about me not being all that comfortable dating a white boy, even if it is Jeremy. Why do things always have to be so complicated with him?
“Well, it’s nice to see you this morning. I missed you at the bus stop again, but it’s cool. I can’t wait to see you in your costume at lunch. I know you’re going to look hot in it no matter what it looks like.”
Jeremy looks a bit hurt by my independence, but that’s on him too. He should’ve never let me get used to walking to the bus by myself again.
“Yeah, I was too late to see it earlier. I hope Laura doesn’t get her claws on my dress before I do.” I’ve been keeping my distance from the broad since Monday’s loaded exchange. Jeremy chuckles at my hate for his enemy’s girl. At least we have our haters in common.
“By the way, what’s up with your girl Mickey? I heard something about her having Nigel’s baby.”
Where’s he been? News travels slowly when you’re catching waves all day, I guess.
“Yeah, it’s a bit uncomfortable in my camp these days, to say the least.”
I know he can feel me on the tension between my girls. When Tania was here and I found out she was carrying his lust child, our time together was very uncomfortable. Retrieving my textbook from my backpack, I glance out of the open door to see Misty walking by. Her ass always finds a way to get out of class. Instead of ignoring me like she should, she smiles wickedly at me. She only looks me in the eye when she’s got something up her sleeve that she knows will get under my skin. What’s she up to now? Whatever. I don’t have time to waste thinking about her and her madness.
“Is Mickey keeping it?”
I look up from my textbook, shocked at his question. We really do think differently.
“Of course she is. Why would you ask that?” I try to whisper, but my voice carries my discontent across the room. Mr. Adewale looks at me and places his index finger over his lips, signaling me to tone it down.
“I mean, she was messing around with Nigel as well as her boyfriend, right? I just figured she didn’t know who the father was for sure.”
“She doesn’t, but that’s not the baby’s fault. She still deserves to be born.”
Jeremy looks up from his work and smiles at me, but not in a charming way. It’s that paternalistic grin he gets when he thinks I’m being too simple about something.
“Yes, that’s true. But does the baby deserve to be born into a situation that’s unhealthy for both the child and parents?”
I hate to admit it, but he does have a good point. Yet and still, that’s no reason to jump to conclusions.
“Did you feel the same way when Tania told you she was pregnant?”
Without missing a beat, Jeremy answers assuredly, much to my disappointment.
“Yes, of course I did. I just assumed everyone considers abortion as an option.”
My eyes begin tearing as I further realize how polar opposite our values are. “Well, you know what they say about assuming things: it makes an ass out of you and me. Well, actually this time it’s just you, but you get what I’m saying.”
Looking slightly hurt by my sass, Jeremy carefully considers his next move. “Jayd, you can’t be serious. If more people would exercise that option, there wouldn’t be so many poor children in the world.”
“That’s the same reasoning elitists use for welfare. If that’s the case, me and the vast majority of people in my hood wouldn’t be born.”
Jeremy seems completely unconvinced by my argument. Frustrated, I glance over at Mr. A, who can hear every word of our discussion, looking for a little support. He looks up from his papers and gives me a look as if to say, “I told you so” and then returns to his work.
What the hell?
“Jayd, I’m not saying that children shouldn’t be born. Of course they should be. The people that have them just need to consider all of their options and the baby’s well-being before adding to an already full load that life brings with it. That’s all I’m saying.”
Jeremy really doesn’t hear the stupidity in his words, but I do and it’s making my blood boil. The last thing I want to do is get into a full-on argument with him when we are just getting back to a space where we can be friends.
“Babies aren’t a burden to everyone,” I say, burying my head in my studies and ceasing our conversation for the time being. Every time I forget we’re from different hoods, Jeremy says something to make me remember. Right now I’m going to concentrate on my schoolwork and try to forget about everything else. I’ll talk to Mama about Mr. Adewale’s research when I get home.
After my discussions with Jeremy and Mr. A today I just wanted to chill for the remainder of the afternoon. They both gave me a lot to think about and I wasn’t prepared for either conversation. Looking around my neighborhood, I see many children outside playing and yes, most of them come from single-parent households. And yes, some don’t know their daddies, but they still seem happy enough. The more I think about Mr. Adewale’s rationale for calling my ancestors vixens, the more I understand it.
“Jayd, where’s your Mama at?” Pam, the neighborhood crackhead, whispers like she’s on a top secret mission.
I just left Bryan’s post outside of Miracle Market where he’s getting his side hustle on. She was there begging for money or the opportunity to make it, as usual. Her pregnant belly is growing bigger, even if the rest of her seems to be dwindling away. Now I could see why someone would suggest she get an abortion. But like Mama says, you never know which ancestor you’re keeping from coming back when you kill the unborn.
“I guess she’s at the house, Pam. Why don’t you go see for yourself?” Before I can finish my sentence, Pam walks off back toward the market. I feel for that girl in a real way. Bryan went to high school with her and said she was fine back in the day, but that’s not the Pam I know.
Continuing my walk home, I can feel someone’s eyes on me but I don’t see anyone else around. I hope Esmeralda’s not trying to focus her evil eyes on me again. I’m in no mood to fight her off. Before I can check my paranoia, Mickey’s man rolls up in his black-on-black Monte Carlo with his personalized GANSGTA plates. Why is this fool following me?
“What’s up, little witch girl?” Mickey’s man says, rolling down his tinted windows, revealing his beet-red eyes.
Is he ever sober? “Nothing.” The last thing I want to do is engage him in conversation. I haven’t forgotten his indecent proposal the last time I saw him at Mickey’s house. That may be the way they get down, but I’m cool with sleeping on my enemy.
“Why are you in such a hurry? You should come take a ride with me. We have some catching up to do.” He abruptly turns the corner in front of me and pulls into an empty driveway, blocking my path.
“I have to get home.” I step around his car, but not before he can open the heavy door, blocking my exit even more. What does he want with me?
“Not so fast.”
Brandy’s little brother, Tre, rolls down the passenger-side window. I knew he was hanging with some gangsters, but I was hoping he’d stay away from this crew. They are nothing but trouble and he just got out of jail. The last thing he needs is another strike against him.
“Word on the street is that my girl’s been messing around and that you hooked them up. And I trusted you,” Mickey’s man says, chewing on the raggedy toothpick in his mouth.
“What the hell,” I say, for lack of a better expression. “Why would I hook up Mickey with anyone when I know she’s with you?”
“I don’t know why bitches do any of the shit they do. Maybe because you want me all to yourself. I know where you’re from, Miss Nutty Block. You want a gangster to show you the ropes.”
“As if, fool,” I say, passing him by. “If you know where I’m from, then you know who my uncles are and who my grandmother is, so back the hell off.” Amused by my heat, he gets out of the car and steps close to me, snatching my right arm.
“I like it when you’re mad.” He pulls me closer to him, his beer-ridden breath hot on my face.
What does Mickey see in this punk?
“Hey man, you need to step off my niece before I bust this cap in your ass, nigga,” my uncle Bryan says, running around the corner to my rescue. I’m glad he did, because for a split second I almost lost it.
“I was just talking to her, man. No harm.” Mickey’s man lets go of me and gets back in his car, blaring N.W.A. loudly before stating his final warning. “You make sure you tell that nigga I’m coming for him, you hear?”
Bryan stands beside me, putting his piece back in his pants. “Jayd, you okay?”
This is one of those days I wish Rah was here.
“Yeah, I’m cool.” I feel like I’ve just been raped. Mickey better handle her shit before I’m forced to take matters into my own hands.
“Jayd, I don’t know what Mickey’s gotten you into, but you better check your girl. That was a bit too close for me.”
“Don’t worry, I will.” Mickey’s going to get more than a piece of my mind come tomorrow. I’m with Nellie now; this shit has gone way too far.
“Does Rah know what’s going on with Mickey’s man? You know he deals with them niggas, too.”
“No, I didn’t know that.” This city is too damned small for me. If Mickey’s man knows Rah, it’s only a matter of time before he finds out about Nigel. Thank god Nigel doesn’t live in Compton anymore. But location will only buy him a little time. True retaliation knows no boundaries and that’s the only way Mickey’s man and his crew roll. They are straight out of Compton, for real.
“Well, you might want to holla at your boy about your girl and her man. This shit is getting serious, Jayd, and you may be in over your head.”
Bryan’s right. I need to let Rah help with this one. But before I see him tomorrow, I need to warn Mickey about her man and me, because I’m not taking on her bad decisions any more. Her mess has brought too many people down and it’s time one of us stepped up to the plate.
5
It’s On
“Mama said knock you out/
I’m gonna knock you out.”
—LL COOL J
“I never read anything about Lady Macbeth having a weave,” Laura says. She and the usual haters stand around me while I apply my makeup in the dressing-room mirror. I have on an orange robe and my hair is pulled back in a red, black and green bandana. It’s opening night and the dressing room is crowded with cast members, groupies, and parents. Everyone’s parents except for mine.
“Me neither. I guess that’s why you didn’t get the part,” I say, rolling my eyes at her in the mirror and continuing to get dressed. For some reason, even in my dream, I haven’t seen my costume yet.
“Touché, Jayd. Touché,” Laura says, stepping closer to my chair while Reid checks his makeup in the wide mirror. Without notice, Laura runs her manicured fingertips through my hair, sending a wave of panic through my head.
“What the hell’s the matter with you? Get your hands off me,” I scream at her, silencing the buzzing room.
Mrs. Sinclair and Mrs. Bennett run into the dressing room to see what all of the commotion’s about. Before I can explain, Laura accuses me of attacking her and everyone in the room is silent.
“You little liar. I did no such thing. You came at me,” I say, proclaiming my innocence. But I’m in a room full of people who don’t support me, except for Mrs. Sinclair, who looks perplexed. But I get the feeling the final decision’s not hers to make.
“Come now, Jayd,” Mrs. Bennett says. “We all know your tendencies and they’re anything but passive.”
Entering the scene late, Jeremy’s mom catches up with another parent and heads over to add her two cents. I knew she was a member of the drama department’s booster club because her name was on the stationery, but I thought she was more of a financial contributor than an active participant. Mrs. Sinclair looks from Mrs. Bennett to Laura to me. As she holds my costume, her eyes sadden and I know I’ve lost her vote.
“As a senior member of the booster club, I vote that we let the understudy fill in as Lady Macbeth until this matter is resolved,” Mrs. Weiner says, adding her venom to the mix.
“But there are only three shows in the two-day festival. I can’t afford to be on trial,” I say, mocking the impromptu judge and jury session. How did Laura touching my hair escalate into this big mess?
“Didn’t I tell you not to let anyone touch your crown?” Netta says. Suddenly, she is seated in one of the dressing chairs and Mama is doing her hair. What the hell?
“You should’ve heeded your mother’s warning, Jayd. She told you to listen to Netta and so did I. Now look at the price you have to pay for not honoring your crown.” Mama spins Netta around in the chair and they’re gone just as quickly as they appeared. All eyes are still on me, waiting for the next move.
Before I can plead my case any further, Laura walks over to Mrs. Sinclair, claiming the costume for herself. “Jayd, don’t feel bad. It’s better this way. Sometimes you have to be the martyr for the sake of everyone involved.”
Mrs. Bennett hands Laura the dress and it’s like she’s being crowned right before my eyes and I feel stripped of my powers in the process. All I can think to do is cry and get the hell out of that room. Where are my friends?
Making my way outside, I find a quiet spot on the side of the drama room, facing Pacific Coast Highway. The fancy Mercedes Benzes, BMWs and other expensive cars are speeding down the street, passing me and my solitude by. But one car that doesn’t belong slows down: it’s Mickey’s man. Out of all the people to run into when I should’ve been inside getting ready to make my grand entrance, it would have to be him.
