Jayd's Legacy Read online

  “Well, you can get involved in the whole homecoming thing by being Nellie’s campaign manager and going to the dance, but I’m sure they understand a man has his principles,” he says, not bending at all.

  “No, they don’t, and frankly, neither do I.”

  “Can we talk about this later? I’m still taking you to Inglewood this afternoon, right?” he asks, reaching down to kiss me before beating the bell to his class.

  “Yes, but this doesn’t mean you’re forgiven,” I say, allowing him to kiss my pouty lips. His kisses are so tempting, but this dance is important to me and Nellie. He should come to offer his support if nothing else. “What’s the big deal if you really don’t care? Can’t you just do it because it means a lot to me?” I ask, knowing he can’t answer me right now.

  “After school, Jayd. And, it’s personal to me, baby. Real personal. I’ll explain later.” As I watch my man run down the hall, I wonder what I’ve really gotten myself into with this cat.

  I’m glad the week is over. It’s been hectic, trying to deal with Nellie’s growing head and keeping my own cat from jumping out of the bag. I wonder how long I can keep my friendship with Nigel a secret from Jeremy. Not for long, if Misty has anything to say about it, I’m sure. I just hope my friendships with Nigel and Raheem don’t ruin my relationship with Jeremy. Guys are so territorial when it comes to male friends. But, what’s up with Jeremy not taking me to the first dance of the year? He better have a damn good excuse for this one.

  As I walk up the hill from dance class and toward the Main Hall, I notice Misty and KJ walking toward the main parking lot. Where the hell are they going together? I know KJ ain’t stupid enough to actually get with this girl.

  “Hey, Jayd,” KJ says as I walk past, trying not to look directly at them.

  “Hey, KJ,” I say, ignoring Misty. I should have known better than to trust her around KJ in the first place. Like Mama says, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. I momentarily let Misty out of my sight and she single-handedly ruins my relationship with KJ, gets me into some bullshit with his side trick Trecee, and now she’s kicking it with him. Damn, she’s good.

  “Is KJ the only person you see?” Misty says. “I know you got better manners than that, Jayd.” I stop dead in my tracks and look her straight in the eye. If I could blow her up I would.

  “I don’t speak to broads,” I say, resuming my pace. I hope I can catch up with my girls before they head out. I knew Jeremy was going to take me to my Mom’s house today, so I brought my weekend stuff to school and stuffed it into my locker.

  When I reach my locker, Jeremy and my girls are already there waiting for me.

  “Hey, Jayd. What took you so long? You almost missed us,” Nellie says.

  “Hey, baby,” I say, stretching up to kiss my man and ignoring Nellie’s impatience.

  “Oh, OK. It’s like that,” Nellie says, playfully pushing me, knocking Jeremy and me off balance.

  “Leave them alone,” Mickey says, folding her cell shut. “You’re just hating cause you ain’t gotta man.”

  “That’s not true,” Nellie says, looking slightly embarrassed. “Don’t you think I could have a man if I wanted one?”

  “With your finicky, high-maintenance ass? Not really,” Mickey says, further aggravating Nellie.

  “I know someone who’s interested,” Jeremy says, of course referring to Chance. If the two of them got together, it would be a first for them both. Chance usually dates skanky White girls. And Nellie only dates Black dudes with hella Benjamins, which is why she’s perpetually single.

  “If you’re talking about Chance, I’m cool. But, I am grateful to him for nominating me, which reminds me ... Jayd, when are you going to get started on my campaign? I need posters, fliers, and buttons. I want the works. I want to give Laura what’s-her-face a run for her money,” she says, getting all riled up.

  Students and faculty alike are clearing the halls, ready to leave South Bay High behind for the weekend. And frankly, so am I, even though I am kind of excited about helping my girl win. We need to break some new boundaries around this camp, regardless of what my dream predicts.

  “Calm down, Nellie. I’ll get started next week,” I say retrieving my books and bag from my locker before slamming it shut. It’s still a little sticky from the new paint. But, at least now I can get it open without any help. Jeremy instinctively grabs my backpack, leaving me to carry only my Gap Hobo bag full of my weekend stuff.

  “Jayd, I want to win. So, don’t sleep on it, OK? Come on, Mickey. I need to get to the mall to pick out my dress.”

  “Who the hell you do you think you are?” Mickey says. “I ain’t your damn chauffeur.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” Nellie says, trying to clean up her mess. She knows better than to come at Mickey wrong. “I just meant I know you have to get home and I don’t want to keep you.”

  “Yeah, whatever. I hope your ass don’t win. You’re already too much of a damn princess. See y’all later,” Mickey says, giving me a hug. “And, have nice weekend, Jayd,” she says, slyly referring to the session tonight with Raheem and Nigel.

  “OK, Jayd. But, please get to work on my campaign strategies this weekend. Remember, it’s for a good cause,” Nellie says as she gives me a hug and Jeremy a pat on the shoulder. “Get my girl home safely. And, tell Chance if he gets a new car, I’ll think about allowing him to take me to dinner.”

  “I’ll give him the message,” Jeremy says, laughing at my silly friend. As they head out of the Main Hall, Jeremy and I walk slowly in the same direction.

  “That Nellie is something else,” Jeremy says.

  “Something else and much, much more.” As we walk down the hill toward the back parking lot where Jeremy’s parked, I notice the dark blue ocean water in the distance. I see boats dotting the horizon and surfers lost in the waves.

  “Do you miss going to the beach with your friends after school?”

  “Not when I’m hangin with you,” he says, letting go of my hand and pulling me close to him.

  “Well, if you like me so much, then why won’t you take me to the dance?” I ask, ready to start the conversation he put on hold earlier.

  “Like I said, it’s personal, baby. And, it has nothing to do with my feelings for you.”

  “Well, then what is it? ’Cause, I don’t understand. You see how excited Nellie is to be nominated. It means so much to her and to Chance. Can’t you come to support our friends?” I ask, looking up at him poutily as we approach the car. Breaking our embrace, he opens the car door and tosses my backpack into the backseat before letting me in. When he takes his seat and starts the engine, he looks at me very seriously.

  “Jayd, there’s a lot of history between Reid’s family and mine. And, because of my loyalty to my brothers, I don’t support any function Reid has anything to do with. Dances and all.” Being that part of ASB’s duties is to put together all school dances, I guess he won’t be taking me to a single one.

  “But Jeremy, what about your loyalty to me? And, don’t you want to see me in a sexy evening gown?” I ask, touching his thigh as we head out of the near empty parking lot toward Inglewood.

  “Baby, like I said. It’s personal. I hope you can understand I don’t mean to hurt you. And, of course I want to see you all dressed up, as fine as you are. I tell you what. I’ll come over and help you get dressed and I’ll even take you and pick you up,” he says, attempting a compromise. I know he’s trying to be sweet, but all I can see is his stubbornness.

  “Baby, please don’t make me go alone,” I say, almost pleading. I can just hear Misty, KJ, Shae, and the rest of South Central talking shit all night long if I come without my man. I’ll never live it down.

  “I’m not making you do anything. And, you won’t be alone. There’ll be plenty of people there, just not me. Besides, Jayd, dances are so boring to me. I’m just not into school functions like that.” Well, I guess that’s the end of that. Whatever happened between
his and Reid’s families must be pretty bad and I’m just dying to know what it is. But, I know better than to push him right now. I’ll wait for a more suitable time, like when I’m nibbling his ear.

  As we speed down Pacific Coast Highway, our conversation is quickly replaced by the radio. Listening to Gwen Stefani, I realize I ain’t no hollaback girl, either. I’m going to the session tonight. I’ll call Nigel as soon as I get to my Mom’s house and let him know I’m coming. Besides, it’ll be nice to see Raheem.

  4

  The Brothas at Westingle

  “You got what it takes to make me leave my man/ I just can’t control myself.”

  —LL COOL J/JENNIFER LOPEZ

  After Jeremy drops me off, I bolt inside, call Nigel to let him know I need a ride, take a shower, press my hair, and put it in five cornrows with cowry shells at the end. It’s the quickest I’ve ever done my hair. But, I don’t want to hold Nigel up when he gets here. He said he’d be here at nine on the dot. Brothers may be late for school or a date. But, when it comes to sessions, they’re always on time.

  My mom’s already out for the evening. According to the note she left on the fridge, she went to happy hour with her coworkers. I’m glad too because I needed to raid her closet to look my finest tonight. If I’m going to see Raheem I want to be as fly as possible. And, the clothes I left here last weekend are a little too casual for the studio. I settled on her black Baby Phat strapless gaucho jumpsuit and my black sandals. I know they both won’t be able to take their eyes off of me tonight.

  Luckily, Jeremy needed to get some studying done tonight. He also has to start filling out his college applications. I told him I was going to catch up on my beauty rest after doing my hair. I feel bad leaving out my little trip to Raheem’s. But, some things are best kept secret, ya feel me?

  When Nigel’s green ’64 Impala pulls up in front of my mom’s apartment building, I remember why I like hanging with the brothas from Westingle. He and all of his homies are ballers in one way or another. They’re also very intelligent and athletic, and all on their way to a UC or one of the private universities around here.

  The Westingle brothas also come with their own kind of groupie broads. Also ballers and smarties, but broads just the same. Most of these girls are the ones Nellie wishes she were friends with. They shop only at the Beverly Center or on Melrose, buy top-of-the-line everything, and can afford to change Louis bags like Kimora Lee Simmons. I hope none of these broads are at the studio tonight. I’m just not in the mood for the hating.

  “Hey, girl. Sorry to keep you waiting,” Nigel says through the window. “The two La Breas always confuse me, especially at night. You know this ain’t my territory,” Nigel says, making it sound like he lives far. As he reaches across the passenger’s seat to open the door, I begin to feel a little guilty. Should I go even though I neglected to inform Jeremy of my plans?

  “You only live fifteen minutes up La Brea, fool,” I say, taking my time getting in the car. People from Windsor Hills act like Inglewood doesn’t exist.

  “Well, are you getting in or not? You know session starts promptly at ten, baby girl. Don’t worry, your White boy won’t find us.”

  “Shut up, Nigel and don’t rush me,” I say, clutching the heavy metal door handle and sliding into the front seat. The matching green leather interior is clean and smooth, just like in Jeremy’s car.

  “I’m glad you decided to hang out with your old crew, Miss Lyttle,” Nigel says, taking me back to my BGirl days while giving me a big hug. “For a minute I thought you were trying to hide from a nigga at that White ass school,” he says, turning his radio down. “But, then your girl Mickey told me about your new man and I didn’t want to cause you no trouble and shit. But, damn, Jayd. A White boy? I never pegged you for the type.”

  “I know. But, he’s hella cool. I’ll introduce y’all next week.”

  “That’s alright. I’ve heard enough about him. It’s you I’m concerned with,” he says, looking at my hair and gear. “You’re looking good, girl. Raheem’s definitely going to be glad to see you,” he says while pulling away from the curb toward Windsor Hills.

  “So, you called him and told him you located Red October,” I say, trying not to reveal my nervousness. Raheem has always had this affect on me. I remember the first time I saw him at our old school, Family Christian. He was in the eighth grade. I was in the seventh. It was puppy love at first sight. We went together for over two years. Well, he turned into a full grown dog a couple of years later, which is how we ended up where we are now: in unfamiliar territory.

  “Hey, it wasn’t like that,” Nigel says, reaching over me and into the glove compartment to retrieve his CD case. “Your boy knew you’d been there for a year already and just wanted me to check you out, since we’re schoolmates and all.”

  “And, why are we schoolmates?” I ask, wanting to know the real reason he transferred to South Bay High.

  “Honestly, it’s closer to my mom’s house. And, I wanted to be near her,” he says, sounding like a good son. He and his mother are very close. Like me, he’s an only child. “At first it was cool going to Westingle. You know, the girls up there are hella fly,” he says, taking a CD out of the case and popping it in the stereo. Smokey Robinson. The boy’s got good taste. “But, gas is way too expensive to be rolling from Long Beach to Westchester every day.”

  “I know that’s right,” I say, agreeing the gas prices are out of control. But, as Daddy says, that’s what happens when a Republican gets into office.

  “So, South Bay High was the next best choice, because of their academics, and of course, the football program is top notch.”

  “Well, I’m glad to have another brotha in the mix,” I say. It’ll give the wannabe brothas up there, like KJ and his crew, someone to compete with. Then maybe we sistahs can benefit. Men are at their best when there’s a little competition. As we cruise down La Brea toward Fairview Boulevard, I can’t help but feel excited as we approach Raheem’s house.

  “So, how do you like South Bay High so far?” I ask, knowing it’s a completely different world from Westingle. In Westchester, White folks are the minority. It’s located between LAX and the Marina: prime real estate location for Los Angeles. And, wealthy Black and Asian kids are the majority and they’re hella smart. Too bad my mom missed the deadline for me to transfer there. I’d probably have an entirely different story to tell, but with the same type of drama, I’m sure.

  “The weather’s the same. You know being by the beach is great for working out on the football field. But, the people are on some straight up Oreo shit, Jayd. Them brothers don’t even act like real niggas up there. I can see why you got with a White dude,” Nigel says, making me miss my baby. “So, I heard you went with the basketball star, KJ, too. You working it up there, huh, girl?” he asks, nudging my left knee with his right.

  “Stop being nasty and keep your eyes on the road.” As he makes the right onto Fairview, my stomach’s getting all knotted up. I can’t stand it. I’m too excited to see this boy. The last time I saw Raheem was over a year ago, before my breast reduction. He’d hurt me so bad I didn’t ever want to have another boyfriend again in life. I wonder what he’ll think of my new, much smaller appearance. He was the first boy to ever see my breasts under my shirt, so I’m sure he’ll notice the difference, unlike Nigel. He probably thinks I just lost weight, like most people.

  When we get to Raheem’s house, his little brother, Kamal, is hangin’ outside on the front porch listening to his iPod. Raheem’s in the doorway behind him, talking on his Blackberry. I see not much has changed. Raheem’s mother, Tasha, is a stripper and is rarely home, which is why Raheem basically took over their grandmother’s house when she passed a few years ago. His father, Kareem, is in jail for life behind that wack-ass three-strikes law, leaving him and his little brother to fend for themselves. Raheem provides the best way he knows how: hustling weed and making beats.

  The most striking feature of all of Raheem
’s fine qualities is his beautiful, black skin. Like onyx, it shines under the porch light. He’s wearing a white wifebeater tee and baby blue Enyce sweats with his feet bare: There are no shoes allowed in his home. His tattoos serve as sleeves on his chiseled arms, complementing his narrow black eyes and angular face. I notice he has a new scribe directly under his father’s name and date of entry into the penitentiary, complementing the scribe of a few verses from KRS One’s song “Reality” and his mother’s name on his other arm. I’ll have to read the words another time. He’s grown at least six inches, making him about six feet even now. The man looks like a Nubian pharaoh with a gangster twist.

  “Jayd!” Kamal screams, running straight into me, almost knocking me down.

  “Hey, lil man,” I say, embracing his eight-year-old body. When Raheem and I were together, Kamal was in preschool and I treated him like my son.

  “Are you still working up the hill at Simply Wholesome?” Kamal asks, nodding his head toward my job, which is within walking distance from here. Simply Wholesome isn’t Raheem or Nigel’s vibe: It’s too pretentious. They much prefer Pann’s chill atmosphere up La Cienega.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Did you bring me something to eat?” he asks, bringing back memories of sharing patties and burritos with him and his big brother, who’s just staring at me through the doorway.

  Finally, Raheem hangs up his phone and steps onto the porch, looking at me hard and making me even more nervous. I can smell his Egyptian Musk oil from the bottom of the porch steps. Nigel, noticing the vibe, walks up the porch steps past me to greet his homeboy.

  “What’s up, man? We ready to make them beats?” he says, breaking the ice.

  “Yeah, man. We’re ready.” Raheem steps down to move Kamal out of the way before picking me up.

  “Hey, Raheem,” I say, completely engulfed in the best bear hug of my life. With my feet off the ground, I feel light as air in his arms. God, this man feels like heaven.