Hustlin' Page 2

  “That was a good game, man. Thanks for letting my boy play,” Chance says in between puffs. “What’s up with you, Jayd?”

  If I didn’t know better I’d say that Nellie has been smoking, too, but I’m sure it’s just a contact high.

  “Nothing much. Just ready to get back on my grind.” I can only relax so much when I know I have mad work waiting on me at home. This is why I must get my own ride, and soon. I hate being at the mercy of other folks, even when we are chilling. When I’m ready to roll I don’t want to have to ask anyone. And, by the looks of it, we may be here for a minute longer than I want to be.

  “How’s your leg?” I ask Chance as he passes the blunt to Nigel.

  “It’s cool. Just a little sore.”

  Rah’s looking down at his vibrating phone. The way his jawbone just tightened up I’d say it was probably Sandy. As long as he doesn’t answer in front of me we’re good.

  “You should’ve seen Nellie’s prissy ass trying to get away from the gunshots without messing up her hair. It was hilarious,” Mickey says, making us all laugh. But Nellie doesn’t find it amusing at all.

  “At least I take my health and well-being seriously, unlike you, mommy-to-be.”

  There was more venom in that comment than in a poisonous snakebite. The two of them have been hating on each other more and more lately and I’m sick of it. I wish Mickey would just come clean so we can move on from being full-time secret keepers and back to best friends chilling.

  “Taking care of myself means getting out of dangerous situations I may find myself in,” Mickey says, adjusting herself on Nigel’s lap. “It’s called street smarts, baby girl. And no, there’s no book you can run and buy to teach them to you. You’ve got to live it to be it.”

  Nellie looks like she’s about to burst with anger. It’s been an extra long day and I can’t deal with another fight.

  “Okay ladies, that’s enough,” Chance says, feeling my pain. “Where’s the blunt? Let’s get this vibe mellowed out.” Chance looks at Nellie, ready to laugh at her until he realizes she’s not joking.

  “Y’all shouldn’t smoke around Mickey. She’s expecting,” Nellie says.

  I knew Nellie would be Mickey’s nightmare of an auntie and from the look on Mickey’s face, she’s had about all she can take from our girl for one day.

  “Nellie, sit down and shut up,” Mickey says, taking the blunt from Nigel and licking it, just to irritate Nellie even more. “Every pregnant chick I know is around weed twenty-four seven and their babies come out just fine.”

  “Are you going to let her do that? She’s carrying your baby!” Nellie screams at Nigel, who’s way too high to take her tantrum seriously.

  But Mickey’s completely sober, and now she’s also completely pissed off. “Mind your business, Nellie.”

  “It is my business, Mickey.”

  I feel like a kitten watching a tennis match. I look from Mickey to Nellie and back again, knowing they want to rip into each other right now.

  Before I can stop her, Nellie lets the cat out of the bag. “Mickey’s not sure who the baby-daddy is and chose you, Nigel, because you’re going to be ballin’ one day.”

  So much for Nellie holding her tongue and allowing us a chill ending to our victorious weekend.

  “One day? Baby, if you haven’t noticed, I’m ballin’ now,” Nigel says, pretending to shoot another basket.

  Rah looks at me as if to say it’s time to roll, and I couldn’t agree with him more. We’ve both had enough drama for one day.

  “Did you hear what I just said?” Nellie shouts, stepping up to Nigel as Mickey steps up to her. “You may not be the father of Mickey’s baby.” As the words sink in, Mickey looks from Nigel to Nellie waiting for the next move. Chance, Rah and I wait in silence.

  “What happens between me and Mickey is between me and Mickey.” Nigel looks down at his girl, who looks victoriously at our girl. Nellie looks around the room and feels humiliated. I told her this would happen. She runs outside fuming and Chance is right behind her.

  “Man, I’ve got to pick up my brother. I’ll holler at you later,” Rah says. “Jayd, you ready?”

  Man, am I glad that’s over for now. “Yeah. See y’all at school tomorrow.”

  As we walk out of the garage I look in the driveway to see Nellie and Chance talking in his car. Knowing my girls, there’s going to be some drama to follow in the morning. I know Nellie thinks she was trying to help, but that’s the problem with giving people things they don’t want: they have the right to throw them back in your face no matter if they needed it or not.

  “How was your weekend, baby?” Mama asks, rolling over in her bed and sitting up under her blankets. The floor heater in the hallway has to heat up the entire house and Mama likes to keep the door closed, which makes it pretty chilly in here at night. We used to sleep with a portable heater on the floor in between our matching beds, but Mama had a dream about it catching her bed on fire and got rid of that and her electric blanket just to be on the safe side.

  “It was okay. How was yours?” I ask, plopping down on my made bed and placing my backpack, purse and weekend bag down beside me. It’ll be so nice to have my own room one day. But I must admit, I’m happy to be home. My mom’s couch gets a little uncomfortable after a couple of nights and with the long weekend we just had, my back is screaming for my tiny bed.

  “You know, Jayd, I just finished working at that shelter all week like I do every year, on what I refer to as the misgiving holiday, and they already asked me back for Christmas. And not only do they want me back to help serve, they also want me to donate one hundred of my prosperity gris-gris. Now mind you, I just donated twenty-five of them to several of the guests, including Pam, who should be dropping by tomorrow afternoon if she remembers,” Mama says, referring to the neighborhood crackhead she feeds on a regular basis.

  “Wow, one hundred,” I say. I’ve only made a few of the infamous charm bags myself and one can take me all night. I can’t imagine making as many as Mama does on a regular basis. “Are you going to make them?” I ask as I unpack the items in my weekend bag and spread them across my bed, organizing it all into tiny piles. There’s a pile for my toiletries, dirty clothes and clean clothes.

  “Hell no, I’m not going to make them,” Mama replies, looking at me and my stuff over her glasses as she eyes my inventory. I know Mama goes through my things when I’m not at home. I can tell by the way everything’s so neatly folded when I return and I’ve never cared that much about avoiding creases. That’s why I keep all of the important stuff—like letters from Mickey and Nellie—in my locker at school.

  “I don’t see why you even go to the shelter in the first place. Don’t you get tired of helping people for free?”

  Mama looks at me like I’m someone else’s child, not the granddaughter she practically raised from birth. “Never, Jayd, never. What I do get tired of is being taken for granted by those I do choose to help. I can see why Netta sticks to doing hair. Being a full-time priestess is no joke,” she says, taking a small, open container off of the nightstand and rubbing her special menthol and eucalyptus shea butter ointment on her hands.

  “Yeah, but there has to be a better way to help folks than getting run down while you do.”

  “I feel you, girl, and trust me. There are those days when I want to throw this book at some of my clients, literally.” Mama points at the large spirit book. If she hit someone with that it would knock them out instantly. “But that’s why we are here, Jayd, especially those of us who can help. It’s when we give to people who don’t appreciate our efforts or when we give for the wrong reasons that we get in trouble.”

  “I hear you loud and clear,” I say as I reflect on Nellie’s unsolicited news this afternoon. I begin to take out my homework that didn’t get finished over the holiday weekend. “I hate when they make us do assignments on Thanksgiving. What is there really to be thankful about when discussing the actual holiday?”

  Why did I say that out loud? Now Mama’s really going to go off.

  “That’s why I call Thanksgiving the misgiving holiday. Only in this country can you have a national holiday that’s supposed to be about joy and being thankful for what you’ve got, based on the massacre of the natives who were here before the Europeans arrived. As long as Queen Califia was here before Cortez and his men showed up, they never had to break bread with people they didn’t want to.”

  Mama can’t stand any of the commercialized holidays, except for Christmas—which she’s changed into her own holiday, much to the disapproval of my grandfather. But Daddy knows better than to mess with Mama, especially when it comes to her spirit work.

  “I feel you, Mama. People make too big a deal about the holidays anyway. I like the way we celebrate Eshu on Christmas Eve and our ancestors on Christmas Day.” Truth be told, it’s feels no different, especially since the entire family gathers on Christmas Eve like we always have. The only difference is that being that he’s a full-time pastor, Daddy says his prayers and Mama says hers.

  “I hope you understand why studying about your ancestors is so important, Jayd. We give because it’s a large part of who we are, never because we expect something in return. Be just as leery of people who give because they want to be thanked for it as you are of people who want more of what you give without giving anything in return. Either attitude is the opposite of good character and that shit doesn’t fly in my book. Your ancestors can testify to that mistake.”

  Yes they can, all of them.

  “Speaking of ancestors, I’m doing my report in government class on Queen Califia.”

  Mama looks at me with that coy smile of hers I only get when she’s extremely pleased with my growing crown. “I’m proud of you, girl. I know that
wasn’t an easy topic to choose at your school.” Mama reaches over to grab the spirit book from the shrine. She must’ve been using it tonight because it’s usually in the spirit room out back or in the kitchen. “Did you get all of the information out of here you need to get started?” Mama thumbs through the aged pages of the oversized book. Every family should have one of these to keep up with their lineage.

  “Yes, I did. And I also have a teacher at school who may be able to help.”

  She stops browsing and looks me dead in the eye. Her green eyes shimmer as she probes my sight, trying to see what I see. I know she can if she really wants to, but I’d prefer she ask instead. “A teacher at South Bay High that knows about the Black Queen of California and our Golden State’s namesake. Really?” Mama sounds more interested than I expected. It’s not like Califia’s that big of a secret. And besides, I think the story of her and her people may be one of the original misgiving tales to tell.

  “Yeah, Mr. Adewale. He’s the latest addition to the faculty roster and he’s not bad on the eyes either,” I say, folding my clean clothes, ready to take them into to Daddy’s room to store in the closet. I can wash the dirty ones while I’m in the spiritroom working on my homework. I’d better get to work now if want to be in bed by a decent hour. It’s going to be hard waking up at five-thirty in the morning after not having to for several days.

  “Mr. Adewale,” Mama says as the name rolls off her tongue like syrup. It’s almost as if she’s recalling something, but I can’t tell what. My skills aren’t nearly as tight as Mama’s. “Uh huh. Don’t you think you have enough boy trouble as it is?” she asks, again reading my mind. But as strong as my vibe is, I think anyone can tell I’m feeling Mr. A. “Speaking of which, how is Rah? Did you have a good time with him on Thanksgiving?”

  “Well, I actually spent the day with Nellie, Chance, and Jeremy,” I say, leaving out the part about us having dinner at Pann’s on Thanksgiving. Details aren’t that important, especially not the ones that are going to get me yelled at.

  “Where was Rah?”

  I return Mama’s stare from across the small room and take a deep breath. I don’t feel like getting into our long weekend filled with baby-mama drama and hating girlfriends. But I can’t lie to Mama about it all if I want to get to work anytime soon.

  “He was visiting his daughter.”

  Mama’s curious look quickly morphs into a concerned frown as she remembers the pain I went through with Rah and Sandy. More importantly, she remembers the prayers we did for Rah to get his daughter back. Sandy ran off with their baby when she was only a few weeks old and hasn’t looked back since.

  “How is the baby? She must be almost two by now, right?” I know Mama wants to go off, but she spares my feelings and doesn’t grill me any further about Rah and I do appreciate it.

  “She’s fine, I guess.”

  From my response, Mama can tell I haven’t seen his daughter, and rolls her eyes. I know there’s still a lot of mess and unfinished business between Rah and me regarding his baby girl, and I intend to get on it as soon as I can. I’ve got to tighten my hustle if I’m going to make it through Mickey’s pregnancy and through this battle between Rah and Sandy over their daughter. I also want to give myself the best Kwanza gift of all: a car. And it’s all going to take some serious hustling on my part.

  2

  The Art of Husting

  “Some of them want to use you/

  Some of them want to get used by you.”

  —EURYTHMICS

  It never ceases to amaze me how quickly one holiday runs into the other. Mama says there was a time when Halloween was Halloween and Christmas was Christmas. Now Santa hats are put out with the pumpkins, and it throws me off every year. Speaking of throwing, Misty heads my way with the rest of her sometimey crew right beside her. KJ and her are back on point, I see, and Shae and Tony look as high as ever. The first bell hasn’t even rung yet and these fools already need to escape.

  “Hey, Jayd,” KJ says, chewing on a toothpick, with one arm around Misty and the other one holding his backpack. They all turn the corner, heading toward the main office a few steps in front of me.

  I’m surprised KJ has the nerve to speak to me after his humiliating loss this weekend and his punk-ass attitude afterwards. Talk about a sore loser.

  “I told you not to talk to her. And don’t look directly into her eyes, either,” Misty says, repeating something that sounds more like my neighbor Esmeralda than herself.

  Oh, this should be an interesting day. Just when I thought my walk up the main path to the front of South Bay High couldn’t get any more difficult, Reid and Laura walk outside of the front doors, stapling the Fall Festival fliers to the front bulletin board. I stop and see my name next to Reid’s name in the lead roles. I still can’t believe I’m playing opposite him as Lady Macbeth. That’s some serious irony for my ass.

  “There’s my old lady now,” Reid jokes as KJ and followers walk past them into the main office with me not far behind.

  “You wish,” I say, passing him and his actual girlfriend as I head into the main office with the rest of the crowd.

  Christmas decorations are being spun up above our heads giving the place a very festive vibe. The six-foot Christmas tree is standing in the corner by the principal’s office. The athletes and cheerleaders will have the pleasure of decorating that gaudy thing while ASB gets to do everything else. By the end of the week the entire campus will look like Santa’s village, minus the snow.

  “Oh Jayd, please. The only reason they gave you the part was to avoid hearing your racist bull,” Laura says, spewing more toxins with every word.

  This chick is more serious about this part than I am. Ain’t nothing worse than a hating white girl.

  “Damn, Laura. Are you afraid of losing your man to Jayd or something?” Chance asks, entering the hall to have my back. Jeremy, Matt and Seth are also approaching the main office through the main hall entrance. I wish he wouldn’t have said that. Laura’s already on fire and I don’t need anyone adding gasoline to the mix.

  “As if,” Laura says, flipping her long brown hair over her left shoulder. She wouldn’t be bad looking if her attitude wasn’t so funky. “Reid has good taste, and eyes for me only.”

  Now even Laura can’t be that stupid. I wouldn’t trust any dude to have eyes for me only. If a fool tells me that, I know he’s trying to get his game on and I’m not buying it. KJ used to say that shit to me—and the rest of his broads—all of the time. He’s probably feeding that bull to Misty as we speak, and even Misty can’t be deluded enough to fall for that line.

  “Well then, stop hating on her for getting the part. Suck it up, Laura. Jayd’s an actress and you’re just a fake.” Chance puts his arm around my shoulders and smiles at a steaming Reid. If Chance could sock Reid in his jaw without suffering any repercussions, I’m sure he would. I’d even be tempted to get a punch in myself if the circumstances were right.

  “What business is it of yours, Chance? I thought you were dating the other one,” Reid says as Jeremy, Matt, and Seth join us. Only my girls and Nigel are missing from the scene. Tony and Shae are watching from the background, as usual, while Misty and KJ stand front and center, much more obvious about their eavesdropping.

  “The other one what?” Jeremy asks. He doesn’t need a reason to argue with Reid. The ongoing feud between their families is enough ammunition to last him a lifetime. I still can’t believe they hate each other because their older brothers used to date the same girl, but it’s as real as the beef between Mama and our neighbor Esmeralda and can be just as dangerous when provoked.

  “The other friend,” Reid says, chickening out of completing his racist statement, but we all know what he meant.

  “Yeah right, Reid. If anyone’s crying some racist crap it’s the two of you,” Chance says, releasing his hold on me as Nellie and Mickey both approach the tense meeting from opposite directions. I wonder how Nellie got to school this morning, because I know she didn’t ask Mickey for a ride.