Biker Chick (2 page)
Authors: Dakota Knight
Chapter Two
I thought my dreams came true . . .
We all turned around and looked at the motorcycles as they roared toward us. “It's the Phantom Cruz,” Dymond said excitedly, her voice just loud enough for me to hear over the noise of the engines.
The Phantom Cruz was a group of about forty guys from the east side. They did more than ride, though. They controlled the drug flow into the city's east side for some kingpin everyone knew as Dennis the Menace. The Meadows was just a part of their territory. If you couldn't tell the Cruz by all the noise they made, then the metallic white ghost face on each of their motorcycles would leave no doubt as to who you were dealing with. They rarely all traveled together, and on that day, there were only seven of the Cruz riding down Allegheny Avenue.
As they rode past us and into the parking lot of Cam's, I stared at their steels. Of course, the Cruz had all of the top of the line modelsâwell-known names like Kawasaki, Honda, Yamaha, and Suzuki. When the last of the Cruz glided past my line of sight, Dymond grabbed my arm. “C'mon girl, let's hurry up and get to Cam's. I wanna talk to some of the Cruz,” she said as she dragged me along. She drove me crazy sometimes, always wanting to ride on the back of one of the Cruz's steels.
“Damn, girl, don't break my arm off,” I said, shaking my arm to loosen her death grip. I turned around. Lala was walking slowly behind us.
“Hey, Lala, join the club,” I yelled. She didn't quicken her pace.
We got to Cam's parking lot just as some of the Cruz were leaving the store. We slowed down, and Dymond turned to look at me. “Do I look okay?” she asked.
I nodded. She turned back around, adding a little switch to her step. “You are such a ho,” I teased.
“Takes one to know one,” Dymond fired back.
As soon as she reached the motorcycles, it was on. I know it was hard for dudes to resist Dymond's charms. They started flocking around her like starved pit bulls. I slowed down and waited for Lala to catch up.
I nudged Lala's arm. “Can you believe she wants to deal with those fools?” I asked jokingly. Some of the Cruz were fine as hell.
“Not really,” Lala responded, trying to sound as playful as me, but I could sense her voice had a serious undertone. “They ain't nothing but dogs anyway.”
“They can't be all bad, right?” I asked.
Lala shrugged her shoulders.
“Lala, if Dymond wants one of the Cruz, I say, âWhatever floats your boat.' More power to her.”
Lala shrugged her shoulders again just as we passed by the first parked motorcycle. Based on the conversation I heard, Dymond had almost convinced one of the Cruz, a dude named Shadow, to give her a ride around the Meadows. My eyes shifted as I noticed Lala walk past me and put a pair of sunglasses on. She lowered her head as she walked into Cam's. I started to follow her, but then something stopped me.
The hairs on the back of my neck were standing up and I felt a chill go through me. Someone was staring me down. I turned around and my heart almost jumped out of my chest. I was looking at one of the finest brothas I'd ever seen. He had smooth chocolate skin with a mustache and goatee. He had thick eyebrows and sleepy, hooded dark brown eyes. His hair was neatly braided and fell just past his shoulders.
As I continued to stare at him, he put his helmet on the back of his steel, a KAW, and began to walk toward me. I felt warm and nervous. I had never reacted to a dude this way, not even when I was going with Lamont, and we were together for over a year.
The stranger walked slowly. He was looking me over hard, and not trying to front about it. Me, on the other hand, I wasn't going to let him know how interested I was in him.
Interested
? And I hadn't even talked to him. When he finally reached my space, I discovered how tall he was. He had to be at least six-three. I looked up at him, admiring his presence silently. But he wasn't looking at my face or my body. He was staring at my hair. I got even more nervous.
Interested
? And I hadn't even talked to him. When he finally reached my space, I discovered how tall he was. He had to be at least six-three. I looked up at him, admiring his presence silently. But he wasn't looking at my face or my body. He was staring at my hair. I got even more nervous.
“Hey, Ma,” he said, his voice deep. He reached up to touch my hair, but stopped. His hand was frozen in front of my face.
I couldn't speak. The words were caught in my throat. I gave him a half-wave and smiled. Curiosity got the better of him. His hand reached for my hair. I shivered as his fingers ran down the length of my tresses.
“Interesting choice of hair color,” he said.
His comment felt like an insult. Any barrier between my throat and my mouth was broken. “Excuse me.” I reached up and grabbed his hand, yanking it away from my hair. “Don't you know it's rude to touch people's hair? You don't even know me.” I mustered up as much attitude as I could.
He smiled. He had perfect pearly whites. “You will,” he said, his voice filled with confidence.
I was starting to get angry. “Okay, what if I just walked up to you and said, âHey, Papi and grabbed one of your braids?” I reached up and took one of his braids in my hands. It was soft and silky to the touch.
“Yo, I wasn't trying to be rude, Ma. Please forgive a brotha for being interested. I ain't never seen hair like yours.”
“My name ain't Ma. It's Crystal.” My voice was rising. I looked around and saw other members of the Cruz staring at us. I had to check myself.
I wasn't particularly sensitive about my hair and, over the years, I had gotten used to the stares and comments about my hair. See, when I was about ten years old, my hair started going gray. It started out as a couple of strands, but by the time I went to Park Meadow Middle School, my hair was salt and pepper. Momma thought I had some kind of fatal disease, and all the doctors could ever say was that premature graying “happens sometimes,” even with kids as young as I was. But I knew why it turned.
As my hair continued to turn, Momma tried to dye my hair and it got real damaged. It almost all fell out. I sported a short do for most of my sixth grade year, but God blessed me with hair that grew thick and long. My friends and classmates got used to it after a while, even though people who didn't know me stared sometimes. People rarely teased me, they were more curious, and I had to understand that so I wouldn't be all messed up in the head worrying about my hair.
At seventeen, I had more gray hair than black, and I was fine with that. But on that day, the day I met him, he struck a nerve. Maybe because I thought my hair would make him not want to get to know me. I had to remind myself that it would be his loss.
He held his hands up in front of me. “I didn't mean to strike a nerve, Crystal.” He said my name slowly, so it came up sounding more like
Cristal
with the last syllable accented, like the champagne. “I'm sure you know how fine you are, silver hair and all.”
Cristal
with the last syllable accented, like the champagne. “I'm sure you know how fine you are, silver hair and all.”
He thought I was fine. And Lord knows, I thought he was extra-delicious. And I knew he knew he looked good. He probably had chicks throwing panties in his face. But not me. He was going to have to work for this.
I looked him up and down with a playful smirk on my face. “And now you know how fine I am too.” I winked at him so he would know I wasn't being conceited, but confident. I turned around and headed for Cam's. I put an extra switch in my step because I knew he was checking out my ass.
“Yo, Cristal,” he yelled.
I turned around. “Just so you know, I'm Ray.” He smiled again. “I'm sure I'll be seeing you around.”
I turned around and kept walking into the store, feeling a bit of relief as a cool blast of air hit my face when I entered Cam's. I was excited, but also a bit confused. I mean, did he like me or what? I thought Ray would ask for my number or something. I frowned, feeling like I had been dismissed. I waved at Jimmy, who was working the cash register. He pointed to the back of the store, where the cold drinks were located. Jimmy was reading my mind, as usual. He knew I was looking for Lala.
I walked briskly to the back of the store, and found Lala staring at the bottles of Old English, coolers, and cases and cans of Bud. “Girl, get the Bud. Do they have any of those wine coolers we like? 'Cause I'm gonna need something to knock this edge off,” I said, walking beside her.
Lala shook her head. “No, they're out again,” she said softly, placing her hand on the refrigerator glass. “I guess we're going to have to get the cheap stuff. Cam's needs more selection.”
I opened the refrigerator door in front of me and pulled out a case. “All I know is that need a buzz, and soon.” I rubbed a can across my brow. “I need a popsicle or something, cause I'm feeling the heat from meeting one of the finest guys ever. And he had the nerve to act like he didn't want to give me the time of day.”
Lala raised her eyebrows and looked toward the front of the store. “For real. One of the Cruz? Girl, I know you don't want to mess with one of them dudes. I thought you said you would never give one of them the time of day.”
“When did I say that?” I asked, feigning ignorance. There was a time when we had all said we wouldn't mess with drug dealers. We had tried to convince each other that we didn't want our boyfriends in jail or dead. But it wasn't like there were many choices in our neighborhood or at our school. And there definitely weren't as many dudes out there as fine as Ray. “Never say never, right? I thought I had seen all of the Cruz, but this guy must be new. I ain't seen him before. His name is Ray. Or should I say, Ray-sexy.”
We started laughing. Lala stared at the selection again before grabbing a six pack of coolers to add to my case. “These are for later,” she said, smiling.
“Our own personal selection,” I said as we headed to the front of the store. As we walked through an aisle featuring dusty cans of soup and vegetables, and diapers and baby formula, Dymond ran toward us, breathing heavily.
“Y'all will never believe . . . Shadow, we gonna go riding later today. I've been wanting this.” Dymond said as she gasped for breath.
Me and Lala looked at each other. “I thought we were going chill after the party. You know: eat, drink, and be merry,” I said, pointing the case of beer in Lala's direction for emphasis. She was holding the coolers.
Dymond nodded her head. “You know I wouldn't leave the Trio a twosome. Let's hurry up so we can get our party started. Shadow said he gotta take care of some business with the Cruz and then he's coming back for me. I want to have a buzz before Shadow picks me up. I think we're gonna do that do tonight.”
Me and Lala gasped. “For real?” we asked in unison.
“I've wanted him for months, ever since we saw him up on Maryland Ave. Remember?”
I nodded.
“After he gives me a ride, I'm gonna give him one he won't forget.”
“I can't believe you,” I said. “How do you know he wants to do it? He just may want to give you a ride.”
Dymond put her hand up and began moving her fingers. “Did you hear the words coming out of my mouth? We gonna be doing a whole lot of ridin' if I have anything to do with it. I mean, he a dude with a dick, ain't he? And after tonight, that dick's gonna be mine.” Dymond was right, she usually got what she wanted.
“TMI, Dymond,” Lala said, wrinkling her nose. I nodded in agreement. I wasn't trying to get the intimate details of her plans with Shadow. I decided to change the subject.
“Girl, did you see that guy trying to step to me?” I asked, hoping maybe Ray had said something to her.
Dymond nodded her head. “Yeah, the Tupac-looking dude with the blue and gold bike?”
“You need to get your vocab right if you gonna be riding with the Cruz,” I said sternly. “Call them steels or motorcycles. The Cruz say they don't ride bikes.”
Dymond rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Let's go.”
We walked to the counter with our drinks. Dymond grabbed some chips. Jimmy looked at us, shaking his head. “Your mom, she call here, say she only want a case and a soft pack,” he said with his deep, accented voice.
Damn
, I thought as I stared at Dymond and Lala, trying to think of a good lie to explain the extra wine coolers. “Jimmy, I got all kinds of chicks up in my place. They don't all drink beer, you know? I don't feel like walking back here if I don't have to.”
, I thought as I stared at Dymond and Lala, trying to think of a good lie to explain the extra wine coolers. “Jimmy, I got all kinds of chicks up in my place. They don't all drink beer, you know? I don't feel like walking back here if I don't have to.”
Jimmy knew I was lying through my teeth. “She say you would try this. Only beer and Newports,” he said, tapping on the green pack of cigarettes on the counter.
“C'mon, Mr. Jim. You know how it is. Do I look like someone who would try to get one over on you?”
Dymond coughed. I turned around and glared at her.
“You try to get me in trouble,” Jimmy said, his eyes shifting to the selection of the movies I supplied him with. The latest titles, all on display.
“Ahh,” I said, finally understanding. Jimmy was a hustler, too, and I couldn't knock his game. “Okay, I know you're taking a bit of a risk. So, let's talk business.”
Jimmy nodded, the frown still plastered on his face.
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