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Authors: L. Divine

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BOOK: Second Chance
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“I'll see you after school,” I say, stretching my lips up toward him as he meets my kiss halfway. “And good luck,” I say, walking back into the main hall and toward my locker to get my Spanish book before returning to class. No doubt this little rendezvous will be all over school by break, if Misty has anything to say about it.
As I walk back to class I notice Mrs. Bennett walking toward the office. She notices me too and gives me a sly smile. I can't wait until this hearing is over so I can concentrate on fixing her ass next.
 
English class may as well have been German today, for all I know. It's impossible to concentrate on Emily Dickinson when my man's future hangs in the balance. I hope he didn't crack under the pressure. These administrators up here could easily double for ATF interrogators. As I walk toward the quad to meet up with my girls they rush toward me, almost running.
“Girl, have you heard the news?” Nellie says, almost out of breath. Mickey, two steps behind Nellie and also out of breath, spills the beans.
“Misty just told everybody in South Central Jeremy's been cleared.” I can't believe it. My baby's free. Now, that's some serious work those cupcakes did. I can't wait to tell Mama my first prescription worked. But first, I have to write it down or she won't hear me at all, which means I won't be telling her for a while. I have too much going on to think about bringing my journal up to date.
Let's take a long walk ...
And there's my man now, calling to share the good news.
“Girl, let's sit down. I'm tired,” Mickey says to Nellie as they claim an empty bench and leave me to talk to Jeremy in peace.
“Hey, baby. I heard. Congratulations,” I say loud into my cell like he just won the lotto.
“Thanks, baby. It was tough. They grilled me like I damn near committed a murder or something, but my lawyer was intense,” he says, sounding relieved, but not surprised.
“I'm so happy for you. I can't wait to hug you after school,” I say, feeling tingly just thinking about his touch.
“Ah, baby. My family's taking the law firm out to dinner tonight, and I have to go and tie up some last minute legal shit with my dad. So, I'm sorry but I won't be able to make it back by the time school's out,” he says, sounding regretful. I admit, I'm disappointed, but it's cool. I want to be ready when my mom gets here. It's rare for her to pick me up after school, and I don't want to keep her waiting.
“It's okay, Jeremy. I understand,” I say, trying not to sound too upset.
“But,” he says sweetly, sensing my hurt, “what are you doing tomorrow night? My parents are having a family dinner to celebrate, and I would love it if you could be there.” Oh, snap. It's time to meet the parents already? I don't know if I'm ready for all that yet.
“I'm sure your family just wants to celebrate with the actual family, Jeremy. It's kind of a personal victory, you know,” I say, trying to get out of it. I don't really want to meet his parents, not yet, anyway. It's just too soon. I get attached to families and hate when it doesn't work out. Like KJ's parents. I love them and wish we could keep in touch, but I'll probably never talk to them again.
“Look, if you don't want to meet my folks, just say so,” he says, sounding as hurt as I did a moment ago.
“No, baby, it's not that. It's just that we're not officially a couple yet, and I don't want to give your family the wrong impression.”
“What impression is that?” Jeremy says, sounding defensive. My girls are looking at me, waiting for me to get off the phone so we can talk about the news.
“The impression that we are something that we're not yet,” I say, restating the obvious. Why can't he understand my apprehension? I'm sure he's not ready to meet Mama yet, no matter what he says.
“Look, Jayd. It's just dinner. Please come. Besides, I have you to thank for my victory too. The cupcakes and the kiss gave me all the good luck I needed to win.” If he only knew how true that statement really is.
“Well, it's just dinner. And, I am a little curious to see if your mom can cook as well as my mama,” I say, surrendering. Mama's always telling me to be sweeter, so here goes one of those times when I try with compromise.
“Thank you, Miss Difficult,” he says, laughing. “I thought I was going to have to kidnap you from your mom's house,” he says, remembering it's Friday and therefore my night to go to Inglewood. “Speaking of which, do you have a ride? I can ask Chance to give you one,” he offers, forgetting Chance is my friend too.
“I can ask Chance myself, but no thank you. My mom's coming to get me after she gets off work.”
“All right, Ms. J. Call me tonight after you're done with your hair,” he says.
“Sure thing, baby. And I'm looking forward to tomorrow, no matter how hard of a time I just gave you.”
“So am I. And don't worry. It'll be fun. My family will love you,” he says, and I'm reassured. Truth be told, I'm really looking forward to seeing where this dude lives. I know it's a fly-ass crib if it's in the Palos Verdes Estates. It's basically Bel Air by the beach. What am I going to wear?
“I'll talk to you later and see you tomorrow, Mr. Weiner,” I say, now a little nervous about my gear. I'm sure I'll find something to wear by tomorrow evening.
Before I can fully squeeze in next to Nellie on the bench, she's already on my case. “Hey, was that your lucky man?” she says sarcastically. She's been throwing salt since yesterday, and it's getting on my nerves.
“What's your problem, Nellie? You were all for me and Jeremy getting together before. What's all this hatin' I'm feeling?” I say, dusting the dirt off my shoulders like I'm Jay Z.
“That was before I knew the fool was Scarface,” Nellie retorts, as melodramatically as ever.
“Nellie, you need to calm your ass down,” Mickey says. “Her man ain't done nothing that my man don't do on a daily basis. Do you all of a sudden have a problem with my man too?” she asks.
“You both need to readjust the company you keep, with men, that is,” she says, turning her head away from us, like she's our moral superior.
“Screw that, Nellie,” I say, feeling myself get hot. I didn't mean to start no shit, but enough's enough. “You can't stand up here and judge us because of what our men do. And, it's not your place to tell us about the company we keep, either.”
“Hell, yeah, Nellie. You're tripping, girl, and it ain't even cool. You sound like you need to be in the office, sulking with the principal,” Mickey says, getting up from her seat on the quad bench to go to the vending machines. I need a snack too.
“Mickey, I'll come with you. I need something to shake off this negativity,” I say, rolling my eyes at Nellie. “You want something?” I ask Nellie because I just can't help it. Even when she pisses me off, she's still my girl. I know she means well, but sometimes you'd think she doesn't live in the same city we all do. Compton ain't that big, but man, is she sheltered.
“Nah, I'm cool. And I'm not trying to discourage your relationships. I'm just saying, be careful,” Nellie says, sounding a bit remorseful, but still judgmental.
“Nellie, everybody's got skeletons,” I say, trying to cool the vibe. I don't want to fight with my girl, especially not now. I want to celebrate Jeremy's victory, not feel bad about it. But speaking of skeletons, KJ and his crew walk up right on cue.
“Well, well, well, the White boy wins again,” KJ says, drawing laughter from his crew and mine too. Misty, Tony, and Shae have come along to taunt me as well. I turn and give KJ the evil eye.
“I didn't know it was a competition,” I say, stepping toward the vending machines.
“It's always a competition, baby. Or didn't you know?” KJ says, stroking the tip of my chin just like a pimp.
“Whatever, KJ. I've got to get something to eat before the bell rings,” I say, realizing I've wasted the entire break dealing with bull.
“You know, Jayd, you don't have to do this. You've made your point. You can get another man. But, a drug dealer? Really, Jayd? You'd rather be with him than me?” KJ asks, rubbing his chest like he's the man, with his crew smiling and nodding their heads, cheering on his supersized ego.
“KJ, I'd rather him over you any day. And, in case you missed Misty's announcement,” I say, glaring at Misty, who's also rolling her eyes at me, “he was found not guilty. So, stop hatin',” I say, pushing him aside as I head for the vending machines, then on to third period. “I'll see y'all later,” I call to Nellie and Mickey as they make themselves comfortable to flirt with KJ, Del, and C Money before the bell rings. I guess Mickey forgot about her munchies. As I walk away, KJ continues his tirade.
“Whenever you're ready to come back to Black, baby, I'm right here for you,” KJ shouts. What is it with him? Has he completely lost his humility? “And, you're working that skirt, girl. But the jacket's covering up the most important assets,” KJ adds as I finally leave the quad area. I look back to make an ugly face at KJ, and Misty again rolls her eyes at me, obviously irritated by KJ's last comment and my man's freedom. Oh, well. Like Mama says, it never pays to be evil, especially not to a Williams woman.
I hope I run into Chance before the bell for third period rings. It's starting to heat up, so this jacket is becoming a bit annoying. And, I just need a hug from someone who's happy about Jeremy too. I can't wait until tomorrow night, now that I'm all excited. I was going to ask Nellie if I could borrow something of hers to wear, but never mind now. She'll probably sabotage the outfit on purpose. And Mickey would be no help, since she wears a size one. So, me as myself with my own clothes will have to do for the Weiner family dinner.
When my mom and I arrive at her apartment, it's still early evening, which leaves me plenty of time to do both my hair and nails tonight. I wish I didn't have to work tomorrow. I hardly ever wear any polish other than clear on my fingernails because my hands are in water or food all day at work and during the week at Mama's house. So, there's no point in painting my nails when they'll be chipped by the end of the first day. But I try to keep my toes polished at all times. Noticing my preoccupation with my hands and feet, my mom walks over from where she's seated in the dining room to where I'm sitting on the couch.
“Jayd, you want me to do your nails tonight after I finish with mine? Boys like pretty hands and feet,” she says, taking my hands into hers and examining my long fingers and nails, which are identical to hers and Mama's. She's never offered to do my nails before.
“Honey,” she says, making herself comfortable on the couch next to me. “Something tells me Jeremy's special to you. Am I right?” Feeling like I've just been read, I nod my head in agreement. “Well, if that's the case, I want to help you be at your best. From what you told me about your last date he seems like a keeper, especially if he treats you like a queen. So, I'll help you pamper yourself tonight, and I'll pick you up and help you get ready tomorrow after work.” She's never offered to do that either.
10
All in the Business
“Why you all in my business?”
—WHITNEY HOUSTON
 
 
I
could barely concentrate on work today, I'm so excited about tonight's dinner. Since my Mom gave me a ride home after work, I have more time to look my most fly for Jeremy.
“You're not nervous about tonight, are you?” my mom asks while inspecting the outfits she laid out on the couch when I was at work. She picked out outfits that make me look respectable and cute at the same time. It's nice when we bond, although it's not often enough. She can be hella cool sometimes, like a big sister. And, she knows all about looking fly for her man. “Believe me, Jayd, they'll like you. And wearing one of these ensembles, they'll love you.” I didn't tell her about his little run-in with the law, or that this dinner is in celebration of his stroke of good fortune, courtesy of my special touch.
“I'm a little nervous. But, I think I'll look good enough to hide any issues I may have.” I approve of her choice in outfits. She's narrowed it down to two favorites: a cognac, shoulder V-neck tee and some flood-length jeans from Baby Phat with some gold heels, or my black, high-heeled boots, with her yellow Akademiks silk tee and some low-rise jeans. “Both outfits are just right, Mom. How do you do it?” I say, giving her mad props.
“It's a gift. Now, just pick an outfit and you're good to go. I've got to go meet Ras Joe at the Bar and Grill for the game. So, have fun and tell Jeremy dinner's here next time. It's time I meet this new man in your life. Tell him we like White boys too,” she says, switching her thin frame through the hallway to her bedroom to dress. I look over at the clothing options and decide the boots and tank might be a little too much for these conservative White folks. So, I'll go with the cognac tee and heels. Sexy yet sophisticated—just what I'm going for.
Jeremy already called and told me he's on his way, so I better get in the shower now. Luckily, my mom's just changing clothes and heading out the door, leaving me time to get myself together in peace. I'm lucky I have my mom's apartment to escape to on the weekends. Here I almost feel like a normal girl.
“Jayd, I'm out. You know how to reach me if you need me. And don't be out all night, either. I know them White folks let their kids stay out until sunrise, but not here,” she shouts from the front door. My mom probably won't be home before sunrise herself, so she's really got her nerve. But it's not her I have to worry about. If I should ever come home after my mom, all she'd have to do is tell Mama, who would have me on lockdown for years to come.
“Have fun, Mom, and I'll be home before you,” I yell to the closing door.
“Okay, baby, and have fun. I want to hear all about it in the morning.” And she's out.
 
When Jeremy arrives, I barely have time to get my mascara and lip gloss on before he kisses me like he hasn't seen me in years.
“Slow down, baby. We've got all night,” I say, pushing him off me and into the living room to wait while I make the finishing touches.
“I'm glad because I want to look at you all night. Damn, girl, you're fine,” he says. I blush. “I feel underdressed, and it's my damn dinner party,” he says, looking over his tie-dyed Rip Curl T-shirt and some blue boardshorts with the brown suede Birkenstocks to match.
“So, this is your mom's house? Very nice,” he says. He looks like a giant sitting on my mom's couch.
“Yeah, it's all her. Let's go before we get caught in traffic on Crenshaw. You know the lowriders will be out tonight,” I say, realizing maybe he doesn't know. When my mom was growing up, Sundays were the night to cruise down the Shaw. But the police put a stop to that. And now, everybody just rolls out on Saturday after the sun sets.
“That's cool. I've always wanted to see what Tupac was talking about.” This boy is too much. He has no problem with his naiveté in my world, and that's what I like about him the most.
“I'm going to let that one slide because I'm feeling too good, but remind me to bring it back up at a later time,” I say, grabbing my beige corduroy jacket from its hook and heading for the door. “I'm ready. Let's go,” I command, like I'm his boss.
“Yes, ma'am,” he says, rising from the sofa to follow me out the front door. “I like it when you're bossy,” he says, kissing me on the lips.
“Good, because you need some direction, Eminem,” I tease, pushing him out the door and down the stairs.
“I'll just take my time getting to the car while you lock the fifty bolts,” he teases back.
“How many locks do you have on your front door?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“You'll soon find out,” he says as we walk hand in hand down the long walkway to his Mustang. It's a peaceful evening, and no one's outside. We should have a good view of the setting sun if we go down PCH to Palos Verdes Boulevard. I've never been, but from what I've heard, that's the only way to get in and out of the estates.
As we approach PCH from Aviation Boulevard, the scenery quickly changes from airport cargo and industrial businesses to beach condos and strip malls. Jeremy speeds down PCH, passing South Bay High on the left.
“Do you want to stop at the school?” he asks sarcastically. I've heard of students hanging out on campus during the weekend, but never witnessed it. And I know Jeremy isn't part of that clique.
“No, that's okay. I get more than my share of this place during the week,” I say, enjoying the cool, salty air blowing against my face. The sun's quickly setting, and the beach folks are ready for the night life to begin. It's pretty live around here. There are plenty of coffee shops and clubs to keep it crackin' all night. As we approach the estates, I lose track of the unfamiliar street names because of all the twists and turns to get up the hill. The view is breathtaking. All I can see for miles is water and mountains.
“Is that Santa Monica?” I ask, pointing to bright lights far in the distance.
“Yeah. And that's Malibu further to the left,” he says, releasing my left hand and pointing out of my window.
“Watch the road, man. Watch the road,” I say, only half joking. These curvy roads up here scare me a little. Bike riders and rollerbladers fly by, also making me nervous.
“Don't worry. You're safe with me,” he says, taking my hand again, making me feel instantly protected.
After another mile or so, we arrive at a two-story brick home with an enormous front lawn. There are four cars parked in the crescent driveway: a black CL 55 Benz, a silver Range Rover, a red convertible BMW Z 4 Roadster, and a classic red Corvette.
“My grandfather would go absolutely crazy if he saw this car,” I say, referring to the Corvette as we walk up the driveway toward the massive front porch. “Well damn, you only need one lock for this huge door,” I say, a bit taken aback by the solid oak and stained-glass door with a brass hook and one lock above the antique door handle.
“Yeah, it would be kind of hard to break through this thing,” he says, opening the door and leading me into his home. As we walk into the foyer, his mother comes in from the living room to greet us.
“Come on in, darling. You must be the Jayd we've all been hearing so much about. I'm Julie, the mom of the household,” Jeremy's mother says, looping her right arm through my left and leading me into the dining room, where everyone's already seated and waiting to devour the ten-course meal filling the table. It's a Martha Stewart kind of moment. Jeremy's right behind us, getting a kick out of this, I'm sure.
“Hey, what took you two so long?” Jeremy's father asks. “We almost started without the man of the hour,” he says, picking up a bottle of Moet and pouring himself another glass before pouring one for Jeremy, and then one for me. Julie seats us next to each other, with Jeremy at the opposite head from his father. I wonder if they eat like this all the time.
“Inglewood isn't down the street, Dad,” Jeremy says, placing his right hand on my left thigh under the table.
“Let me introduce you to everyone, Jayd,” Julie says, ever the Southern belle. “This is Michael, our eldest son, and his wife, Christi, Justin, our middle son, and his girlfriend, Tammy, and this handsome man is my husband, Gary.” Jeremy seems to be the most relaxed person in his family. Michael looks like he's suffocating, and Justin looks ready to go. “Everybody, this is Jeremy's Jayd,” she says, obviously amused at my embarrassment. As if sensing my need to be rescued, Christi jumps in.
“Inglewood? That's where my dad is from, originally, that is. Now if you say he's from anywhere but Palos Verdes, he's liable to put a hit out on you.” I can see why. He must be passing for pure-bred rich Negro, because her mom's obviously White. And, she looks like one of those sorority kind of girls. Real prissy and well-mannered. Nellie would love to be friends with this broad.
“Yeah, your dad is pretty high strung about being from here,” Michael says, agreeing with his wife. I hate to admit it, but maybe Mrs. Bennett was on to something here. Tammy's a cool-looking surfer chick, and she looks like she's mixed too.
“So, are all the stories we hear about Inglewood true?” Justin asks, passing the first dish around the table. There are three empty bottles of Moet on the table, so everybody has obviously started drinking.
“Hey, back off, everyone. There'll be time for twenty questions later. Pace yourselves. She'll be here all night,” Jeremy says, trying to protect me. I'm sure I'm an interesting anthropological study to these folks. But I'll play the game to eat this food right about now. I haven't eaten anything all day because work was so busy, and I didn't really get a break today. And besides, I think Jeremy was telling the truth about his mom's cooking. This spread looks like it could go toe-to-toe with Mama's Christmas dinner.
“I hope you like Cajun cooking, Jayd. I hear your family's originally from Louisiana,” Julie says, sounding a lot like Mama, but her accent's a little more proper.
“Yes, ma'am, that's right. My mom's family,” I say, remembering Mama's warning about talking too much and telling all our business. She always has to remind me about running my mouth.
“Well, I'm sure you can appreciate all this food, then. We have crawfish étouffée, black-eyed peas, glazed sweet potatoes, sweet potato rolls, green bean casserole, barbecued shrimp, crab salad, and for dessert we have chocolate fondue, caramel pralines, pineapple cake, and peach cobbler. My boys can eat.” I'm impressed. If this dinner tastes as good as it looks, I might have to get some private lessons for myself.
“So, can you cook, Jayd?” Christi asks, again drawing attention away from Julie, who seems annoyed. I sense some drama between these two women.
“Hell, yeah, she can,” Jeremy answers in between bites. “She made me the best cupcakes before the hearing. I think they had something to do with my good luck,” he says, winking at me.
“Is that right?” Julie asks suspiciously. “So, you're the one who made those cute little cupcakes Jeremy brought home on Thursday,” she says while ever so carefully picking up the tail of the jumbo shrimp from her pristine china plate. Before placing it in her mouth, she pauses and asks, “What part of Louisiana did you say your family's from, Jayd?” I know better than to answer this woman truthfully. She gives me the chills, like our neighbor, Esmeralda.
“I didn't,” I say, realizing how defensive I must sound, quickly rethinking my answer. “I mean, I don't know exactly. My mom never talks about her life down South. And my grandmother didn't really know her family. So, she actually ended up in Texas with my grandfather's family. And that's where our history begins, as I know it,” I say, carefully leaving out all of the vital information about Mama's legacy, but giving enough of an answer to satisfy her, I hope.
“Oh, that's a shame. There's so much power in knowing one's family heritage,” Gary says while pouring more étouffée into his bowl. “I can trace my ancestors all through the Diaspora back to Poland, before the Holocaust,” he says proudly.
“When's the last time you went to temple, Gary?” Julie says, touching on a seemingly ongoing argument.
“As I've been telling you for the last thirty years, my love, I'm not Jewish by religion, but by heritage,” he says, making a good point. If they weren't drunk, I think this could quite possibly be an interesting debate. Is it possible to get a contact high from alcohol? I haven't had a sip of my champagne at all, although I will partake in a toast if there is one. But everyone here seems to be high off something. Maybe it's the food. I haven't touched my plate because I've been too busy answering autobiographical questions, but I'm eager to taste everything.
“I love your outfit,” a soft-spoken Tammy says to me from the other end of the table. She has a perfect beach tan, which the white and pink puka shells hanging around her bare neck set off well. She looks like a pretty troll doll. She could be Pacific Islander, or maybe Latina. I'm sure she's sick of people asking her about her race, so I'm not going to let my curiosity get the best of me.
BOOK: Second Chance
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