Street Soldiers Read online

  “Jayd, is that you?” Natasia says, walking over to me. “You’re all grown up.” I hug Nigel’s big sister much to Mrs. Esop’s displeasure.

  “It’s good to see you, too, Natasia. How’s Spelman?”

  “It’s great,” Natasia says, leading me into the living room. “I want you to meet Regina, my fiancée.”

  Nigel’s known about his sister’s girlfriend for over a year. They fell in love during freshman orientation and have been going strong ever since.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Regina. And I love the hair,” I say, admiring her short style. “Congratulations on everything.”

  “Congratulations?” Mrs. Esop says, snapping at me. “What is it you stopped by for again? You know that Nigel’s not here,” she says, shooting visual daggers at me like it’s my fault her son left home.

  “Mrs. Carmichael said to give you these.” I hand the thick envelope to Mrs. Esop who’s eyes slit in anger.

  “Natasia, why don’t you show our guest to her room,” Mrs. Esop says, gesturing upstairs. “We’ll continue this conversation later.”

  “Our guest is staying in my room, mother.” Natasia’s always been bold with her swag.

  “Fine,” Mrs. Esop says, holding her right hand against her chest like she’s had the wind knocked out of her. “Jayd, follow me.”

  We step out of the living room and up the winding staircase into her bedroom.

  “Mrs. Esop, I’m sorry I walked in when I did. I rang the doorbell but no one answered.”

  Mrs. Esop looks out of the window where she has a clear view of downtown Los Angeles. My mom would love to live in a house like this. It amazes me how much the homes are in Lafayette Square when the exclusive neighborhood’s only a stone’s throw away from the hood.

  “Natasia’s only doing this to spite me you know,” she says, lying across her king-sized bed filled with pillows of various neutral shades. “It’s just a test, like when she’d throw tantrums as a toddler. She’ll never marry a woman, not even over my dead body.”

  I hate to break it to Mrs. Esop but Natasia and Regina are serious about their nuptials. They have rings and everything. Regina’s family is from New York where they’ll have no problem making it legal. They’re certainly going to be two of the prettiest—and wealthiest—brides I’ve ever seen.

  Mrs. Esop’s not really talking to me; she just needs someone to listen to her vent and I happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. “I always wanted a daughter to groom into a proper young lady. I wanted to give her the world. All Natasia ever wanted to do was leave me.”

  “Uhmm, Mrs. Esop, can you please look over everything and get your response back to Mrs. Carmichael in three days?” I say, pointing at the package. “She highlighted each signature line and even tagged the pages to make it quick and easy.”

  It’s ironic how only a few weeks ago Mrs. Carmichael looked like hell when she found out that her husband’s secretary was pregnant with his baby. Now Mrs. Esop’s the one looking like a truck of despair ran over her ass in the middle of the night.

  “I’ve lost both my children in less than a year, Jayd. Both of them,” Mrs. Esop says, taking the papers and tossing them onto the nightstand beside her without even glancing at them. “You give your children everything from the day they’re born until you die and they could care less.”

  “I wouldn’t say that your children don’t care,” I say, eyeing an escape route. “I think they both appreciate what you and your husband have done for them.” It would be rude of me to make a break for the door but I need to get going. I want to start the week off right by getting as much homework done tonight as possible.

  “Oh please, Jayd. They both think I’m a wretched old lady who wants to control everyone and everything for my own benefit when that’s the furthest thing from the truth. All I ever wanted was the best for them. Why can’t they see that?”

  “Why can’t you see that you have done exactly that? Your children are blessed to have you as a mom,” I say, remembering the few good moments we shared. “You just have to see them for who they really are and not who you want them to be.” That last comment must’ve struck a nerve with Mrs. Esop because I can see her fighting back tears.

  “I’ll have my attorney look over the documents in the morning and get back to your attorney by Thursday afternoon,” she says, crawling into the fetal position while hugging a body pillow. “You can see yourself out.”

  Shit. I knew I went too far but I had to speak the truth. She needed to hear it and no one else seems to be giving it to her plain and simple.

  “Jayd, can I ask you a question?” Mrs. Esop says to my back.

  “Sure,” I say, turning around at the threshold. I should’ve walked faster.

  “Did you at any moment during the weeks we spent together enjoy your time as a debutante in training?”

  I gaze out of Mrs. Esop’s balcony double doors into the backyard where she’s meticulously planted award-winning roses, tulips and other flowers. Her lush, green lawn is immaculate and the furniture is worthy of being featured in one of Martha Stewart’s magazines. Being a part of her home made me feel like I was worthy of dreaming this big; that I could one day have a home like this. I look at Mrs. Esop’s blank stare in the same direction and realize that’s not what she’s looking for. She wants to know if she taught me anything about being like her in a way that surpasses my actual enjoyment.

  “When you taught me how to fold my napkin just so. For some reason I really liked learning how to crease the fabric perfectly before setting it in my lap. It made me feel like a lady.” And it did, although rolling around in her custom Jaguar made me feel even better. “I’ve never really used a cloth napkin for anything, but it changed me so much that I went out and bought my own to use when I’m alone.” Mine are from Target unlike her custom designed sets but that doesn’t matter to me. I love eating with them. “If I never said it before, thank you for the experience. I’m sorry it didn’t work out as planned.”

  Mrs. Esop lifts her head from the silk pillow and slightly smiles. I return the gesture and walk out of the door where the housekeeper’s standing with Mrs. Esop’s dinner awaiting permission to enter. Mrs. Esop signals for her to set the tray down on the table near the window.

  “You can come by Thursday afternoon to pick up the papers, Jayd,” she says, pushing back her cream-colored Duvet cover and sitting on the side of her bed. It’s a trip how depression can cripple a body as much as any physical illness. I’m used to seeing Mrs. Esop working outside or on her away to one of her charity functions, not like this. I wonder if her children know how much pain she’s in. No matter what my mom or grandmother ever did to me I’d never want to see them like this. “And Jayd, please tell my son that I love him.”

  “Why don’t you call and tell him yourself?” I ask.

  “Because he won’t answer my calls. At least Natasia calls me on Sundays even if she only allows us about a minute to chat, and now I know why.”

  I never thought I’d be the one sticking up for Mrs. Esop to her only son but I think I need to have a chat with my boy about compassion. I can understand him being unforgiving toward Mickey, but not neglecting his mother and daughter—ever. Granted, Nickey’s not his blood child but he said he’d take care of her like his own. As Nickey’s godmother I often have to remind her parents of their responsibilities.

  “Good bye, Mrs. Esop,” I say before heading back downstairs and then home. “I’ll relay the message to your son.”

  “It may not make sense to you why a nigga would want to trip you, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t watch your step.”

  -Bryan

  Drama High, volume 14: So, So Hood

  * * *

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN: GOLDEN EYE

  Because of my wild dreams about Pam and dogs and whatnot I’ve lost my ability to get that good, good sleep again. I’ve been meaning to make an appointment with Dr. Whitmore but the weeks keep flying by. The African Student Union h
as to make an official bid to nominate a candidate for Homecoming court by tomorrow, and Friday’s quickly approaching.

  For one reason or another most of the girls in the group are ineligible. We have a few exceptions, myself included, but I’m not running. What we need is someone unsuspecting to snag the crown right up from under Nellie’s ass. She needs to be punished and humbled at the same time. Once Nellie’s fake friends drop her ass for losing the crown, she’ll come crawling back to us. Then, maybe she’ll rat Cameron out for the conniving heffa that she is.

  “Jayd, please pass me the scissors,” Mama says, setting down a crystal vase filled with water on the nightstand in between our beds.

  There was a guy selling flowers off of the freeway exit where I purchased a dozen yellow roses to cheer her up. Mama needed my help with Pam’s service arrangements after our work at the shop so I decided to spend the night in Compton. Maybe I’ll sleep better knowing Mama’s in the bed across from mine just in case Pam’s soul decides to make another appearance.

  “Here you go,” I say. I’ve been folding programs for the past hour. Netta’s son has amazing graphic design skills.

  “You look tired, Jayd. Have you been sleeping well?” Mama asks, forcing my eyes to meet hers.

  “Not really. I’ve had a lot on my mind,” I say, thinking about Jeremy and Keenan, Rah and his drama as well as my own shit. How will I ever be able to handle college with all of this extra bull to contend with?

  “How are your dreams?” Mama asks, her eyes probing for the truth.

  “Actually, I keep having this nightmare about a rabies infected pack of dogs chasing us,” I say, recalling my most recent vision. “You fall to the ground and I look back and run toward you. The dogs are right on top of you, sniffing at your bare feet. I try to help you up but it’s like you’re in a trance or something. I look at your eyes and they’re glowing like Maman’s, and here’s the really freaky part: so are the dogs’ eyes.”

  Mama continues cutting the rose stems, inadvertently clipping her index finger on a thorn. She stares down at the blood pattern on the cutting board and reads the message.

  “Jayd, how long have you been having this dream?” Mama asks, still examining the blood.

  “It’s been about a week now. Each time it gets more and more intense. Sometimes I wake up screaming it feels so real.”

  “I see.” She takes a deep breath, says a prayer in Creole and kisses her fingers.

  Mama’s not going to tell me everything she’s envisioning and she doesn’t have to. I can see the worry written all over her smooth face. That’s the last time I buy her flowers. I don’t like seeing Mama bleed, even if she has nicked herself from time to time while chopping vegetables. It has always made me uncomfortable.

  “Mama, what is it?” I take a tissue from the dresser and hand it my grandmother who looks unfazed by my gesture.

  “I wish I knew. It’s a warning from the ancestors, Jayd—that much is for sure,” Mama says, pressing the napkin against her injured finger. “Make sure you record it exactly as you see it in the spirit book each and every time it comes to you. I don’t care if the dream is always identical. Keep writing it down and notate any differences no matter how slight the change may be.”

  “Mama, what is it? I know the dogs’ eyes means something.”

  Mama looks away from her personal divination, the creases in her forehead from years of worrying prominent.

  “Lexi,” Mama says, shaking her head from side to side. “I think Esmeralda’s going to try and turn Lexi against us.”

  As if she heard us from her in-house spot under the kitchen table, Lexi appears at the threshold between Mama’s room and the hallway. What the hell?

  Mama locks onto her loyal canine’s eyes who glares back at Mama like she’s a stranger. Lexi’s mouth drips with foam and she’s eager to charge.

  “Jayd, be very still,” Mama says, staring into Lexi’s dazed eyes.

  Lexi begins barking loudly at her owner; Mama doesn’t budge. I never thought Lexi would be crazy enough to cross the threshold into our bedroom but she looks like she’s going to pounce at any moment. All the men are in the garage watching the game. I think screaming would piss Lexi off even more.

  “Esmeralda crossed Lexi’s thoughts with another dog suffering from rabies. She’ll regret playing mind games with my girl,” Mama says, her eyes aglow. “Jayd, take the corners of your blanket in both of your hands and be ready to throw it over Lexi’s head.”

  “Say what?” I ask aloud even if I meant to curb the outburst. There are two things I don’t mess with when they’re angry: dogs and bees.

  “Jayd, this is no time to be scared. Lexi’s our dog. She won’t hurt us and we won’t have to hurt her if you do exactly as I say.”

  Technically, Lexi’s Mama’s dog but this isn’t the time to argue semantics.

  Lexi’s eyes go from confused to lethal in a matter of seconds. She leaps across the threshold onto Mama’s bed and attempts to take a bite out of my grandmother’s thigh.

  “Lexi, no!” I scream, leaping to my feet. I drape the blanket over Lexi’s frantic body, entangling her in the blanket.

  “Good job,” Mama says, wiping blood from her leg. “It’s just a scratch; I should be fine.” Mama takes the edges of the rowdy blanket and leads the way outside.

  “If Esmeralda had the ability to control Lexi’s mind this whole time why is she just now attacking?” I ask, opening the backdoor.

  “Because she didn’t have Rousseau,” Mama says, wrestling with her beloved pet. When Lexi realizes what she did she’s going to feel horrible. “He can con any animal by becoming one himself. He must’ve gotten close to Lexi, allowing Esmeralda the perfect opportunity to slip in but that’s okay. We’ve got something for her ass.”

  “What are we going to do?” I flick the lights on in the backhouse and let Lexi and Mama inside. The warm, sweet scented place calms us all down.

  “You’re going to write this incident down in the spirit book, take a protection bath and go to bed,” Mama says. “I’ll take care of Lexi.”

  “But Mama,” I begin, but she’s not hearing it.

  “Jayd, when you don’t sleep you’re spiritually and mentally weak. And if you’re weak you can’t help anyone, including me. Don’t worry about my scratches, child. I’ll be fine. I’ve lost too much good sleep in my life to worrying, Jayd. Do as I say and get some rest. Everything else will work itself out in the morning.”

  *

  When I awoke this morning Mama and Lexi were nowhere to be found. I have no idea what happened after I went to sleep last night—I don’t even remember dreaming. The patchouli oil in my bath water was overwhelming and forced me to relax even if I didn’t want to. I’m glad it’s Friday but would feel better if I could’ve laid eyes on Mama to make sure she’s okay. Esmeralda’s getting too slick with her attacks. Mama hates playing fire with fire but after what I witnessed last night, Mama’s hot enough to literally burn Esmeralda’s house to the ground with the blink of an eye.

  “I’m loving this shit, man,” Nigel says, showing off his fancy new watch before the impromptu ASU lunch meeting. We need to nominate and vote for a candidate before lunch is over. “These schools are jocking me like females, but the perks are way better than any chick has ever given me.”

  I know Nigel’s in pain over he and Mickey’s final demise but this isn’t the way to handle it. He needs to be careful about accepting gifts from the various universities attempting to woo him. If Nigel gets caught he’s going to find himself riding the bench permanently no matter how good of a player he is.

  “Nigel, don’t you think you should reject all this crap? Besides, you know you will not be attending any school in Illinois. It’s too damn cold for your Cali-bred self,” I say, trying to sweetly tell my friend that he’s tripping big time.

  “Jayd, please,” Nigel says, adjusting his new arm piece. “You’re the only person I know who’d look a gift horse in the mouth and slap it.
You’re too suspicious.”

  “And you’re too infatuated with the bling, Nigel.” It is a nice watch but still, this is wrong on so many levels, not to mention it’s illegal.

  “Let the man enjoy his arm candy, baby,” Chase says, making light of the situation. He can do that; his family could by the watch company if they wanted to. Nigel’s money doesn’t go back that far. His dad was in the NBA and made some solid investments over the years that have sustained his family.

  “Don’t encourage him, Chase,” I say, smacking my boy in the arm. “Nigel’s playing Rolex roulette with his entire future. Is your football career really worth a nice watch?” I wish I could shake some sense into my boy but he’s in no mood to listen.

  Having played professional basketball for nearly two decades, Mr. Esop knows better than anyone about being savvy with your talent to make it to the next level. If Nigel’s smart, he can do the same thing. God gave him a second chance when the shootout resulting in Tre’s death spared his own life. He needs to count his blessings, stop trippin’ and go home.

  “Nah, it’s not,” Nigel says, removing the watch from his left wrist and observing it further. “But it’s a nice incentive to go to school in the Midwest. Hey, do you think they’ll buy me a truck to drive around in all that snow?”

  “Yeah, man. Why not?” Chase says.

  They’re both making light of a very serious situation. I wish Rah were here to talk to his best friend since Nigel’s obviously not listening to a word I have to say.

  “Nigel, stop playing,” I say. “You know you’re not a man of the elements.”

  Hell, none of us are. Me and my crew are true LA brats, spoiled by sunshine and mild temperatures. Sure, we have an earthquake every now and then but it’s a small tradeoff when you consider what the majority of our days are like.

  “I don’t see UCLA trying to keep a brotha iced. All they’ve done is invite me to socials and games and shit. Where’s the real love?”