Hustlin' (12 page)

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Authors: L. Divine

BOOK: Hustlin'
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“I'll be there with bells on. Thank you, Netta.” Jeremy glares at me out of the corner of his eyes. He's trying to focus on finding his car keys in his many-pocketed pants while listening to my conversation. I know he's pissed that I didn't ask him to take me to Compton, but we've been over this already. I'm not ready to deal with being harassed by my hood folks for bringing home a white boy. And we're not even officially dating anymore, so why attract the drama?
“Uh huh,” Netta lovingly grunts. “See you in the morning, little Jayd.”
Convincing Jeremy to give me another chance is going to take more game than sweet-talking Netta. Mama and Netta have to forgive me for making bad judgment calls, but friends can be less forgiving and quick to turn on a sistah, like Nellie has proven this afternoon. What would I do without Mama and Netta consistently having my back, no matter how often I show out?
“Well, if you want to give me a ride to my mom's, I'll give you gas money,” I say, hanging up my phone and following Jeremy to his baller ride. From the looks of the gleaming baby-blue paint and shining tires, I'd say he just got her detailed.
“Not a chance I'm taking your money. But I'll consider it payment enough if you let me take you out to eat, since you won't let me take you to work,” he snidely remarks. “I feel like I owe you for keeping you from getting paid.”
“There are so many things wrong with that statement, I don't even know where to begin.”
Jeremy stops in the middle of the street to check his backpack for the keys. “Well, then don't start.”
I like this slightly bossy side of Jeremy. I'm not going to protest too much because I am famished and all of the day's events have taken a toll on me. I knew he was holding back another part of his personality with me when we first started dating. Everyone's got to hold back a little: self-preservation is all a part of the hustle. He looks up at me and laughs at me leaning up against his ride. I'll let Jeremy go ahead and spoil me, for old times' sake.
“Okay, we can hang out, but only for a quick minute. You and I both have a ton of work to do.” I pass him my backpack as he slips my weekend bag into the trunk.
“Tell me about it. My government paper topic has changed twice already, with the last one being the most difficult sale to Mrs. Peterson, but she finally approved it.”
Jeremy walks around to the passenger's side and opens the door for me. I get in and reach across the soft leather seats to unlock his door, causing him to smile. He slides into his seat, closing the heavy door and pulling his seatbelt across his muscular chest. It felt good to be in his arms again and feels even better hanging out with him.
“Why is it so difficult?” I ask as he starts the engine. More than anything, I miss our conversations. I can talk to Jeremy about almost any topic and receive some interesting feedback. “There's plenty of information on Caesar. It's finding concrete information on my ruler, Califia, that's a challenge.” The only information I can find outside of our family lineage is incomplete. I'm going to have to ask Mama for more suggestions when I get home on Sunday.
“Nah, I'm not doing it on him any more. I'm doing it on Barack Obama.” Jeremy's choices never cease to amaze me. But I can't blame him for being interested in the Black politician. I'm interested in him, too. But my interests aren't all that professional.
“Why the sudden change of heart? Are you trying to get on Mrs. Peterson's bad side permanently?” I doubt she has a good side, especially since she's shaped like one of the Krispy Kreme donuts she loves to eat so much. But if she does have one, I'm sure Jeremy's on it. All the female teachers love them some Jeremy.
“Nah. I just got sick of reading about taxes and shit. That's all Caesar did: wage wars and raise taxes and that's not my idea of a good leader. Barack's got that cool-daddy, old-school hustler vibe about him that makes me want to know more about how he gets down. You feel me?”
If I didn't know better, I'd say Jeremy's been hanging around other Black folks besides Nigel and me.
“Yeah, that does sound kind of boring. Barack's definitely a more interesting topic than Caesar any day.”
Jeremy laughs at my assessment of his paper topic. He turns the volume up slightly on his radio, releasing his right hand from the steering wheel. I envy his vehicular freedom.
“When I get my license, are you going to let me drive? I'm taking lessons soon,” I say, placing my left hand on the leather-covered wheel, ready to take over the reins if he lets me. Looking amused by my attempt to control the steering wheel, Jeremy lets go, momentarily surrendering his vehicle to me. I wish it had been as easy for him to do the same thing with his heart—that was our second problem. His baby-mama was, and remains, our first and most fatal issue.
“You see? You don't need a license for everything.”
Before I can tease him about that loaded statement, my phone vibrates in my purse, giving us both a quick jolt. He regains control of the car as he flicks the right blinker. If we could give each other signals like that in life, we'd avoid a lot of accidents.
Why is Rah calling me when he just sent me a text a few minutes ago? Can he feel when I'm around Jeremy or what?
“Hey, Rah. What's up?” I say, trying to play it cool. “Is everything okay with Sandy and the baby?”
Jeremy touches my soft leather bag before turning into the busy intersection. I know he's happy I'm still sporting both the bag he bought me and the gold “J” bangle. It's been too cold to wear my bebe sandals and tank, but best believe I'll be rocking those, too, when the weather warms back up. The iridescent flakes in my puka-shell necklace send rainbow rays through the car—my latest gift from Jeremy. From the looks of it, I could still be seen as his girl.
“It's all good, for now. But you know how she is. I had to give her an hourly rundown of my schedule for the weekend. Sandy's unreal.”
I feel his frustration. All we needed was for Sandy to come back into the picture. We had enough problems with Rah's ex-girlfriend Trish alone.
“No, Sandy's very real and that's part of the problem.” Damn, did I just say that out loud? I'm really slipping. Rah and I are just getting to a place where we can be completely honest with each other. I don't want to ruin our progress with my sarcasm.
“Where the hell did that come from? I haven't had a chance to look at my calendar this month. You have to warn me, girl, when you're on your period.”
Oh no Rah didn't go there with me. Even if it is time for my cycle to start, he has no right to assume that because I'm irritated it's my time of the month.
“Rah, I'm being rude to my ride. I'll holla at you when I get to my mom's house.” I already sent text messages to Shawntrese and Cedric that their hair will have to get done tonight instead of tomorrow now that I'm going to be at Netta's shop all day. So Rah will have to wait until I'm done with my business to talk about his.
“Your mom's? What happened to working at Netta's?” Rah asks.
Jeremy's rugged jawbone flexes; he's obviously annoyed by my side conversation. I didn't want him knowing the intimate details of my relationship with Rah, but he's going to get the short of it right now.
“Your fictional baby-mama interfered with my plans,” I say, saltier than I intended, but still making my point. With Rah, I always come after his other broads and their shit. Why can't I be first for a change? Jeremy looks at me again instead of the road, ready for some attention of his own and I'm ready to give it to him.
After a moment Rah breaks the silence. “Who's taking you to your mom's?”
Even though he's asking, I know Rah already knows the answer. I don't want to tell him Jeremy's taking me to Inglewood because he'll think I'm on a date, and then our weekend will be ruined. But I don't want to lie to him either. And why should I? If I have to get used to their baby-mamas, then Jeremy and Rah have to get used to each other, no matter how jealous they get of me spending time with the other. And Rah really has his nerve. He should know by now that he's not the only one who has game.
“Jeremy.”
After another quick bout of silence and my obvious impatience with the subject matter, Rah lowers his tone to try to soften me up. But I'm embarrassed because I missed working with Netta for the first time without Mama, and for having this conversation in front of Jeremy. I'm way past the point of being buttered up. The only thing Rah can do for me at this point is let me go and pick me up on time in the morning. Anything else is extra I don't need.
“No matter what's out there, Jayd, you'll never find anything like what we've got. I know that and you know that. Holla at me when you get settled in.”
Rah hangs up the phone, leaving me to deal with his last words while out with Jeremy. Damn, that brotha is good at this love thing. I'm just learning the rules of juggling more than one relationship, and it's anything but easy.
“Trouble in romance?” Jeremy asks, pulling up to a Chinese spot I've never been to before. I guess he's feeling different this evening. How did he know I have a weakness for Szechuan?
“Just the usual drama.” Jeremy knows firsthand what kind of drama I'm talking about. Baby-mamas are no longer solely a Black thing, and he's right in the mix with the other baby-daddies. Chance is the only dude in my crew who doesn't have a baby-mama, as far as I know. But anything's possible.
“Now do you see why it's better for Tania to go on with her life? In the long run, I think it's better for the baby.”
Damn, here we go again. I admit, Jeremy's life seems a lot freer at first glance. But there's got to be a part of him that regrets his decision to let a stranger raise his baby. I know he feels he didn't have much of a choice, since his father made it clear that he'd disown any brown grandbabies. But still, Jeremy's not like his father and I feel like his conscience is eating away at him.
“Not really. You don't know how your baby's going to be raised or if he or she will be healthy. Don't you want to know anything?”
Parking in the crowded lot and turning off the purring engine, Jeremy puts his hands on the steering wheel, appearing ready to confess. “I put up a private trust for Tania and the baby so that they'll always have money, just in case her marriage doesn't go as planned. In return, she promised to send me updates on the baby. So, yes, I do care. But I still think this was the best arrangement, short of having an abortion.”
Jeremy knows how I feel about abortion, so I won't even comment on that subject. It took a lot for him to tell me about their arrangement, and I'm glad he feels he can trust me enough to let me in.
“I knew you cared. I know you hate dealing with Tania, but I'm proud of you,” I say, softening up.
Jeremy gently pulls me by the waist into his embrace, kissing me like he wanted to when were on the steps a little while ago.
Even while Jeremy's got me enraptured in his flavor, I can't help but think of how some girls just got it like that. I mean, their hustles are so tight any pimp would give them props. Tania's got a ballin' new hubby and a trust from her real baby-daddy. Mickey's got a man who won't even question the paternity of her baby and Sandy uses her daughter like a pawn on a chessboard to get what she wants from Rah. I'm not really hating as much as I'm just curious. My main question is how do some chicks do it? And, more importantly, how can I be down? I know Netta's got some golden advice on this topic and without Mama there to censor her tomorrow, anything goes.
8
Gold Digger
“Now I ain't sayin' she a gold digger/
But she ain't messin' wit no broke niggaz.”
KANYE WEST
 
 
 
I
t's six in the morning and Rah is on his way. He must really love me to get up this early to take me clear across town on a Saturday morning. Jeremy wanted to come up after dinner, but I had too much work to do. When I got to my mom's house last night, Shawntrese and Cedric were chilling on the steps, awaiting my arrival. I sent Rah a text to let him know I was in, but didn't call him until I woke him up this morning. Rah hasn't looked at me the entire drive from my mom's to Compton. I know he's pissed about me hanging with Jeremy, but he'll have to get over it.
As we silently cruise down Greenleaf Boulevard toward the shop, the waning moon fading into the blue sky accompanied by the rising sun reminds me of relationships coming and going. Sandy and Rah, Tania and Jeremy, me and Rah and Jeremy. If it weren't for the drama with his baby-mama, Jeremy and I would probably still be together. Rah and I have always had our share of issues, so I'm not sure what it would take for us to be together fully. But Sandy being back in the picture doesn't help our relationship at all.
“How's your baby girl doing?” I ask, this time being the first to chisel away at the ice. He looks like he had a rough night and I'm not totally unsympathetic to what he's going through.
“Sandy wouldn't leave her with my grandmother last night without me being there. It was just a ploy to see me,” he says, yawning as he cranks up the heat. The leather seats feel warm under my lavender Old Navy velour sweatsuit. With my gray Nikes to cushion my feet and complete my outfit, I'm all set to be comfortable for my long day.
It's less than two weeks before Christmas, so I know the sisters will be up in the shop in record numbers today, and that means good tips for me. I could use them, too. I intend on looking for a car after the first of the year. By then, I should have a few hundred saved to bargain for a halfway decent ride. My holiday motto is New Year, new ride and new ways of escaping drama, especially if it belongs to someone else.
“Yeah, Sandy's good at getting what she wants, no matter who it hurts,” I say, remembering how she used to bait Rah, leading him to believe he was going to see his daughter, only for Sandy to show up without her. Back then he couldn't drive, so getting from one place to another was a struggle. Sandy would make Rah take the bus across town for nothing but an argument, mostly about money. I don't know why Sandy tripped. Rah always takes care of his seed, and the mama, too, which was always my problem with the whole situation. Sandy feels entitled to Rah's pockets because she has his child. But I think she needs to get her ass a job and stop living off of dudes.
“Sandy is good at creating drama, I know that. My grandparents are getting too old for this shit, but they were happy to see their great-granddaughter. I ended up leaving her over there to spend some time with them and my auntie last night. I don't care what Sandy thinks. She doesn't need to know all of my business.” Knowing Sandy, she's one step ahead of his game, even if he's unaware of it. Her hustle is fierce when it comes to Rah and yanking his chain through their daughter. “I just got off the phone with an attorney my grandfather thinks might be able to help me get my baby.”
“I'm glad your grandparents are being so helpful. Are they okay?” They've always had Rah's back, especially after his mother starting working the clubs—and her side tricks—on a regular basis. If it weren't for them, Rah and his brother wouldn't be able to stay in their house. Rah's grandparents are pretty well-off and own a few houses around our hood, which helps pay the rent on Rah's mom's pad. Rah makes up the difference and pays for everything else, including monthly child support plus some to Sandy through the state.
“Yeah, they're okay, but they've had it with Sandy's ass. They say she reminds them too much of my moms when she was young. I know she put my dad through a lot of shit with both me and Kamal.” I can remember his parents arguing all of the time when Kamal was about Rah's daughter's age. Rah and I used to stay on the phone for hours every night back then and I could hear them going off on each other through Rah's end. That type of heat is never good and leaves a lasting impression on the children involved.
“And you've had it with her too, haven't you, baby?” I touch his hand, softly caressing his ashy knuckles. I wish I could do something to ease his pain. But he made this bed and he has to decide how he wants to lie in it. I can only listen and be a supportive friend. Anything else is out of my realm of desire.
I don't have the same instant-family daydreams Mickey has on the regular. I admit, when I first found out about Rah's baby, I wished I was the mother because I was in love with Rah in a different way when I was in middle school and as a freshman. By the time Sandy rocked her ghetto-fabulous way into our world, Rah and I had been together for two years. I didn't think anything could break us up, but that hussie did it, and what makes it even worse is that I thought she was my friend, so I really got to know her habits. I warned Rah about her, but he never listens to me until it's too late.
“You don't even know, girl. I wish I would've listened to you two years ago when you first met Sandy,” Rah says, reading my mind. It scares me that we're so close. Rah closes his eyes, taking my hand in his and inhaling my Bath & Body Works lotion. He raises it to his lips and lightly kisses my fingers, then rubs my open palm across his smooth, chocolate cheek. I like the way his short beard feels against my skin. I can only imagine where we'd be if Sandy hadn't transferred to Family Christian and entered our lives. But she did and the rest is history.
“That's neither here nor there,” I say, straightening up in my seat. Rah has a way of making me forget why I'm not with him anymore. He's got to stop feeling responsible for each of his former girlfriend's well-being. Otherwise, he might as well just call it a harem and get it over with. At least that way I'd know exactly where I stand with him.
“What do you mean? You make it sound irrelevant that you warned me about her ass from jump.” Rah tugs uncomfortably at his braids under his black do-rag. I have to make time to hook up my boy's crown. From the look of his wrinkled sweats and T-shirt, I'd say he rolled off the couch and came straight to my mom's to pick me up. I know Rah feels slightly responsible for me too, but I need to be first if he's serious about making us work. The other two broads don't deserve his time or money.
“I'm just saying it's in the past. You don't have to feel guilty about that anymore. As a matter of fact, you should stop feeling guilty, period. You don't owe me or Sandy anything—just your daughter, and you take care of her. You're not Captain Save-a-ho, so let's move on.” I stare at Rah, who's searching my eyes for something more. I know he feels the pain evident in my voice, no matter how sarcastic my words are. But my mom always says that guilt is a useless emotion that does more harm than good. And we have enough negative shit to deal with without Rah bringing more on his head than necessary.
“And I'm just saying that as a friend, I shouldn't have dismissed you like I did back in the day. And, as my woman, I was stupid for risking our relationship in the first place.”
Rah stops at the red light and looks around for other cars. There are none. We're only two lights away from Netta's salon. Smiling at me, Rah pushes my ponytail from the left side of my neck to the right, bending into my neck and kissing me, soft at first and then harder, which he knows is my weakness. If he keeps this up, I'm going to have a hickey and I don't need that on my conscience again.
“Easy there, partner. The light's going to change and so is my skin if you don't quit.” Rah laughs at me trying to push his one hundred and eighty-five pound frame off of me. I look at his tired eyes, seeing the sadness behind his temporary smile. I wish I could make everything better for all of my friends. I'm going to have to find something to help us all out of this funk we're in.
“You're right. I need to stop playing.” And just like that, Rah's thoughts, like mine, return to the current problem at hand.
“Did the attorney sound hopeful about the situation?” I ask, trying to lighten his load. If I'm thinking about his parents, then Rah must be thinking about them, too. I wish he could go to Atlanta to visit his dad in prison for the holidays, but we don't have that kind of cash or time at the moment. So much for wishful thinking.
Rah's never gotten over his parents' relationship or his father getting locked up on his third strike, especially when the first two were because of disputes between Rah's mother and father. I have a feeling that's why his mother doesn't come home when Rah's there. Ever since his dad got locked up, she and Rah have had a tumultuous relationship at best. It also doesn't help that his mom chooses her men by how much money they've got in their bank accounts—another quality she and Sandy share.
“Yeah, the lawyer sounded hopeful as long as he gets his retainer. He says the first step is to take a paternity test, but you know Sandy's not having that. That's why when we go shopping tomorrow I'm going to take us to one of those places real quick and get that ball rolling. I'm not missing another precious moment with my girl.”
“As you shouldn't. Time's the one thing we can't get back,” I say as he pulls into the empty parking lot in front of Netta's Never Nappy Beauty Shop. Rather than leaving the neon shop sign light in the window like she usually does, Netta left the Christmas tree on all night, which has enough lights on it to light up the entire block. Netta loves the holiday season just as much as Mama does. I can see her salt-and-pepper hair bobbing through the window as she prepares the shop for a hard day's work. I'm looking forward to being her apprentice.
“I wish I could go back in time. You know I would've waited for you to be my only baby-mama if I could do it all over again.” Rah cracks a smile before turning off the engine, ready to escort me inside.
“As romantic as that sounds, I'm glad I already dodged that bullet.”
“You can't dodge it forever.” Rah pulls me into a deep kiss before we get out of the car. I can feel Netta's eyes on me, but Rah's lips have always pulled me in.
“We'd better go. I've been late since yesterday afternoon, remember?” After a few more pecks, Rah separates his lips from mine and we both catch Netta's spying eye in the window. We step out of the car and into the brisk morning air. Even in Compton—where there's no snow—I can feel Christmas in the air.
“Good morning, Ms. Netta,” Rah says through the closed iron front gate.
Netta buzzes us in. She looks up and rolls her eyes at us both. The smile peaking through at the corners of her mouth lets me know she's cool, just ready to get the day started and I'm with her. I've given Rah enough of my time.
“How are your grandparents, Rah? I haven't heard from your grandmother in a month of Sundays.” Netta used to do her hair on the regular until Rah's grandmother stopped driving after her sight went bad. Now one of the neighbors does her hair and, in my opinion, she should have the neighbor give her a ride over instead of letting her touch her crown.
“She's doing well, ma'am. She misses coming to your shop, though.” Rah looks around at the festive decor and can't help smiling at the cheery surroundings. Netta always has that effect on people. I believe she can make the devil itself smile out of pure joy.
“Well here, give her some of this braid balm. I'm sure she's run out by now.” Netta walks over to the large cabinet that takes up an entire wall of the shop and opens one of the seven full-length doors. She looks up to the top shelf and pulls out a box with Mrs. Carter's name on it. She keeps all of her clients' tools, just in case they come back. “Tell her if she needs anything at all, I can send it through you or Jayd until she can get back over here.”
“Thank you, and I'll let her know.” Netta looks at Rah and I as if to say “okay, say your good-byes and let's get moving.” Equally catching the vibe, Rah makes his way back to the front door. “Have a good day and bring me my money.”
“You ain't my daddy, fool,” I say, opening the door to let him out. He leans into me and kisses my nose.
“Not yet, but I'm working on it.”
Rah thinks he's so slick. I push him out of the door while he takes his vibrating phone out of his pants pocket. Who the hell's calling him this early? He answers my question without me having to ask.
“Nigel's leaving my house now and wants us to meet up at the Westside Pavillion to go Christmas shopping after you get off. I'll be over my granny's house sleeping, so just text me when you're ready to roll.”
The last thing I want to do today is fight my way through the holiday crowds at the mall. “I'm going to be working all day. Can we go shopping tomorrow? Everyone will be at church and we'll be able to get more done.” I would really rather stay out of the malls altogether, being it's the second to the last weekend to shop for Christmas crap. And, no one's getting any presents from my broke behind, so why should I go and look when I have no money to spare?

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