Boyfriend Season (4 page)
Authors: Kelli London
Swoosh. Clap. Swoosh. Swoosh. Clap. She was having the hardest time maneuvering in Aunt Maybelline's jelly shoes. Finally, she rounded the corner and the exit was in sight. Suddenly she froze.
Dang
. Reluctantly, she checked her clothes, knowing nothing had changed since she'd practically been chased out the house. A tangerine, aqua, white, and yellow halter top was tied around her neck. Orange booty shorts clung to her rail-thin frame. Bright green jellys housed unpolished toes. She shook her head, then reached up. Sure enough, she still had a purple scarf tied around her head.
Talk about Aunt Maybelline? I must look like a clown, too. At least I didn't plan on going outside.
She tried to make herself feel better. But she was outside and so was he. The same
he
Rufus was mad about. J.R., short for Just Right.
Dang
. Reluctantly, she checked her clothes, knowing nothing had changed since she'd practically been chased out the house. A tangerine, aqua, white, and yellow halter top was tied around her neck. Orange booty shorts clung to her rail-thin frame. Bright green jellys housed unpolished toes. She shook her head, then reached up. Sure enough, she still had a purple scarf tied around her head.
Talk about Aunt Maybelline? I must look like a clown, too. At least I didn't plan on going outside.
She tried to make herself feel better. But she was outside and so was he. The same
he
Rufus was mad about. J.R., short for Just Right.
“ 'Ey!” J.R. yelled to a group of passersby, shaking his hand as if he were shooting dice. “Come see me next time.” He held up two bottles of water. “Stop going to that store. I got what you need right here.” He was on the other side of the street with his homeboy, feet from the guarded gate like he worked for the projects.
Dynasty tried to quicken her step, but the shoes slowed her down and were making too much noise. Wilting her head, she moved with purpose, carefully but surely, trying to act as if she was looking for something while she made tracks. She didn't want J.R. to see her and tried to convince herself that he wouldn't if she turned her attention to the ground or looked the other way. Big mistake.
“'Ey!” he yelled.
She kept sliding forward, squinting in the burning sunlight.
“ 'Ey! Dynasty!”
She stomped and picked up her head.
Dang
. She turned to her right, played it off, and waved.
Dang
. She turned to her right, played it off, and waved.
“I godda go to the store. I'll be right back,” she answered as loud as she could, hoping he'd hear her.
He waved her over. “Come here. Dynasty! Come here.”
Dynasty shook her head in defeat. J.R. had a reputation for messing with pretty girls. Pretty girls who dressed nice. Pretty girls who dressed nice and had banging Coca-Cola-bottle bodies. She didn't fit into any of those categories. She looked down at herself one more time before crossing over, wondering what he'd seen in her last night. Her gaze traveled straight to her feet with no interruptions. She had not a hint of breasts to break up the view, just a case of the flats. Flat chest. Flat butt. Flat feet. And no hips to speak of. That's why it was so easy for her to get wedgies, she reasoned.
'Cause there's no cushion to stop my panties from creeping and crawling.
'Cause there's no cushion to stop my panties from creeping and crawling.
“Hey.” She waved as she crossed. “Don't look at what I got on. My Auntieâ”
“Dang!” J.R.'s homeboy laughed. “You got dressed in the dark, shawty?”
J.R. waved his boy's comment away. “Nah! Don't worry, shawty. It's all good. Maybelline didn't take her medication again?” he asked, flashing her with a smile. “I know. I can tell. Ain't ya fault. So what's up later?”
Dynasty looked at him, then reared back her head a little. How did he know about Aunt Maybelline's condition? She hadn't told him. She shook her head. She was going to hang Rufus when she caught him.
“So . . . s'up later?” he repeated, speeding up his speech until
what's up
turned into one word,
s'up
.
what's up
turned into one word,
s'up
.
Dynasty snapped out of her daze and stared. J.R. was cute at night, but he was finer in the daytime. Definitely out of her league. He was a come-up for her. Wife beater, saggy shorts, and a pair of brand-new white tennis shoes, were only outdone by the fresh braids he had hanging down his back. For a millisecond she felt a tinge of jealousy wondering whose legs he'd sat between to get his cornrows tightened. They weren't like that last night.
“I'm outside like this 'cause my aunt sent me on a wild mission to get her some cigarettes and beer.” She shook her head. “They're not gonna let me buy that at the store.”
J.R. waved his hand. “Ain't nuthin' to it, shawty. I can get that for ya.”
Dynasty's eyes stretched into saucers. “Really?”
He nodded. “What's my name, shawty?”
“J.R.”
“Naw. My name?”
“Just Right,” she sang, admiring him.
“That's right. I'm just right about mine, and you mine, right? I mean after last night . . . can't be no other way.” He nodded while he spoke and moved his hands a thousand miles an hour.
Dynasty grinned. She didn't know what else to do. She officially had a boyfriend. Just Right.
Me and Just Right.
She couldn't wait for Rufus to see them together so he wouldn't tease her anymore. She wouldn't need to threaten him with her brother who wasn't ever coming home anymore, and he'd finally believe that someone besides him was interested in her. Yes, he'd stop. Just Right had a reputation, too. Suddenly, something in her clicked that she didn't like.
Me and Just Right.
She couldn't wait for Rufus to see them together so he wouldn't tease her anymore. She wouldn't need to threaten him with her brother who wasn't ever coming home anymore, and he'd finally believe that someone besides him was interested in her. Yes, he'd stop. Just Right had a reputation, too. Suddenly, something in her clicked that she didn't like.
“What do you mean by âafter last night'? What happened last night?”
J.R. smiled. “Come on, Dynasty. I don't put my business out there.”
“Okay!” His boy held his fist up to his mouth and coughed the word into his hand. “ 'Ey. Just Right. We godda go. Now! P-Down's pulling in too.”
Just Right looked past Dynasty, then back at her. “Give me the money and meet me at the store. By the time you get there, I'll be walking out with your stuff. A'ight?”
Dynasty saw P-Down pull up on the left, then turned and saw a group of pretty girls walking up behind her. Pretty girls who dressed nice. Pretty girls who dressed nice and had banging bodies.
“Why can't I just go with you?” she asked, wondering if he'd lied on her like Rufus said. His boy seemed to know something she didn't.
“You don't wanna ride with P-Down. The car may be a lil hot or something. You know?”
She nodded and handed him the money, appreciating his help. She knew Aunt Maybelline was serious about putting her out if she didn't come home with the goods.
I have a boyfriend
.
A real boyfriend who helps me
, she thought as she slid out of the project, made a right, and proceeded to the corner store happier than she'd been in a long time.
I have a boyfriend
.
A real boyfriend who helps me
, she thought as she slid out of the project, made a right, and proceeded to the corner store happier than she'd been in a long time.
Leaning against the barred window, she looked toward the street, waiting for J.R. and his boys to show, wondering how she'd beat them there. She was sure she'd been at the store at least ten minutes. The heat on her face and the sweat raining down her back told her so. She turned around, pushed herself up on tippy toes, and cupped her hands on either side of her eyes, then pressed them to the glass and looked inside the store at the clock on the wall. She'd been there fifteen minutes. She was just starting to worry when she turned and saw Just Right and his boys turn the corner in the car. A smile spread on her face and any doubts she carried disappeared. Her boyfriend wasn't going to let her down. She raised her hand to wave, then her smile faded. Just Right and his boys sped down the street with a car full of the pretty girls she'd just seen walking her way and Aunt Maybelline's ten dollars. Never once did Just Right look her way, but his boy blew the horn and waved.
“What am I gonna do now?”
3
PATIENCE BLACKMAN
P
atience speed walked to the front of the church amidst the seventy or so parishioners who paraded toward the Bishop's outstretched hands. They all needed prayer, but not as much as she did. Not in her mind. But the difference between her and the churchgoers was she needed him to pray for her to save
her
from
him
âher father, and his strict rules. In one move, her hands clasped together and her knees bent as she dropped to them, closing her eyes.
atience speed walked to the front of the church amidst the seventy or so parishioners who paraded toward the Bishop's outstretched hands. They all needed prayer, but not as much as she did. Not in her mind. But the difference between her and the churchgoers was she needed him to pray for her to save
her
from
him
âher father, and his strict rules. In one move, her hands clasped together and her knees bent as she dropped to them, closing her eyes.
“Dear God, please get me out of here!” Patience begged with bowed head. “No VH1. MTV. BET. Hip-hop. R & B. Fiction. Love Stories.
True Blood
. Boys. Facebook. Skype. Social networking of any kind. Not even my first cousin, Meka, or sister-girl friends of any kind outside of these walls. I can't do or have anything worldly, not even sing a tuneâthat's what he said, God. Nothing worldly . . . and I think everything should be considered worldly because you made everything in this world. Maybe I'm too literal, but I don't get it,” she whispered her prayers into her clasped fingers alongside other members who'd come to the front for special prayer, then looked up and saw her dad on the pulpit holding out his splayed fingers toward the few members upfront, then the thousands of parishioners in the stadium seats while he prayed over them like he was the shepherd and they the sheep.
True Blood
. Boys. Facebook. Skype. Social networking of any kind. Not even my first cousin, Meka, or sister-girl friends of any kind outside of these walls. I can't do or have anything worldly, not even sing a tuneâthat's what he said, God. Nothing worldly . . . and I think everything should be considered worldly because you made everything in this world. Maybe I'm too literal, but I don't get it,” she whispered her prayers into her clasped fingers alongside other members who'd come to the front for special prayer, then looked up and saw her dad on the pulpit holding out his splayed fingers toward the few members upfront, then the thousands of parishioners in the stadium seats while he prayed over them like he was the shepherd and they the sheep.
He was crazy, Patience believed. How could he not want her to partake of anything of this world when the expensive suit he wore was of this world and not . . . say . . . the world of Jupiter? Or was she supposed to parade around naked? she wondered. That was, after all, how God had intended her to be. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been born that way. And what about all that “casting the first stone” stuff? Wasn't her father indirectly teaching her to judge others by telling her to keep away from anyone who wasn't saved or was of a different faith or had strayed from the straight and narrow?
Patience unfolded her body from its position in front of the pulpit and surveyed her surroundings. People and cameras and lights and microphones and speakers and more people, cameras, lights, and microphones and speakers filled the stadium-sized church while music played. Thousands upon thousands of people hung on to her father's every word, as if he only spoke heaven's law and he wasn't human. He wasn't viewed as just a man. He was a messenger and worshipped.
“Psst. Psst, “ someone hissed for her attention.
Patience followed the “Psst” to where her mother was sitting. “Get back down and pray. Look like you're praying. The cameras. The cameras!” her mother whispered.
You're Bishop's daughter. What will the world think if you're not paying attention at serviceâand on camera, at that!
What, you want to be a worldly girl like your cousin, Meka? Always hanging in the street? Patience knew that's what her mother would've said if she could, like so many times before.
What, you want to be a worldly girl like your cousin, Meka? Always hanging in the street? Patience knew that's what her mother would've said if she could, like so many times before.
Patience almost rolled her eyes. And she would have if it weren't for the nationally televised service, her respect for other church members, and the fact that, despite her resentment for her parents' twisted way of non-parenting, she still honored them as her elders and providers and was a true believer herselfâin God, not religion. If she could, she was sure she'd have twisted her eyes in their sockets until she looked like something from a sci-fi movie trying to hypnotize someone. After that, she definitely would have stood up in front of the pulpit, hiked up her dress, bent over, and then patted her behindâinviting all the hypocrites to kiss where her father was doing any and everything he could to prevent the sun from shining. She glanced back over her shoulder one last time, wondering if she should just go for it. After all, she was going to hell anyway. That's what he'd told her this morning before church when he caught her singing a “worldly” song about love, but Patience knew better. Her father was just mad because he felt the song's artist had abandoned religious musicâand his churchâfor an R & B music career.
“It's easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than a rich man . . .” her father's melodic voice began preaching Matthew's gospel.
Patience rose up on her knees then, grinning and clapping, looking as if she were participating in the service.
Well, at least I'm not going to hell alone. Daddy, you're coming too. You're filthy rich, filthy, and rich. Three different things, Daddy. Three.
She looked out into the congregation, searching for her older sisters, Hope and Faith, hoping they hadn't left yet. They had driven a separate car and were her ticket to leaving early. She didn't want to stay for six or seven hours more, then have dinner with a bunch of hangers-on who probably wouldn't give their family the time of day if her father wasn't famous.
Well, at least I'm not going to hell alone. Daddy, you're coming too. You're filthy rich, filthy, and rich. Three different things, Daddy. Three.
She looked out into the congregation, searching for her older sisters, Hope and Faith, hoping they hadn't left yet. They had driven a separate car and were her ticket to leaving early. She didn't want to stay for six or seven hours more, then have dinner with a bunch of hangers-on who probably wouldn't give their family the time of day if her father wasn't famous.
Her eyes scanned the crowd before landing on a familiar face. A person she'd been warned to stay away fromâthe daughter of the singer with the beautiful voice she'd been chastised for listening to this morning. Her one and only best friend in the whole world, Silky.
Silky cut her eyes at Patience and motioned her head toward an exit, then pointed ever so slightly. She shrugged.
Patience took the hint, faintly nodded and held up her hand. She splayed her fingers and rocked side to side to the rhythm of the soft music wafting from the speakers. To anyone else it would've appeared that she was just feeling the spirit and the beautiful music, but she was signaling to Silky that she'd meet her by the exit in five minutes.
Pushing through the heavy door as quietly and inconspicuously as she could, Patience almost screamed when she saw her best friend standing on the other side. When the door closed behind her and she was sure no one was watching, she grabbed Silky and wrapped her in a bear hug.
“Where've you been?” Patience asked, near squealing.
Silky jumped up and down, her voice rising like a stuck pig. “Oh God!” She grabbed Patience's cheeks in her hands. “I missed you, girl. Why haven't you returned my calls?” She slapped her thigh when she asked her question, an indication that she was serious.
“I didn't know you called.” No one told her Silky had phoned, but it didn't surprise her. Her sisters had their respective cells and she didn't. Anyone who called her would have to get past her parents or the house staff. And if the bishop said not to put Silky through, the staff wasn't going to risk their jobs.
“What you mean? Never mind. Girl, I've been calling and calling and calling. I've been on the road with my mom since it's summertime. I even tried to Skype you. Bishop still won't let you sign up for it, huh? No Facebook or nothing?” She shrugged. “Anyway, I got you lots of things from the road. You wouldn't believe how cheap things are overseas.”
Patience dropped her chin. She was embarrassed and ashamed and felt like a huge liar and backstabber. Silky didn't know Patience wasn't allowed to hang with her anymore, and Patience didn't have the heart to tell her. It was all her father's doing, and that was one of the reasons she couldn't stand him.
“Did you? Thank you, Silky. I'm so excited for you and your mom! I heard her on the radio this morning,” Patience whispered loudly. “Girl, I almost passed out. I was sooo happy, she sounds sooo good.”
Silky tossed her hair over her shoulder and pursed her heavily glossed lipsâtwo things she didn't have before her mom became a star. Made up or not, she was beautiful inside and out, and that's what Patience loved about her. Weave or no weave. Makeup or none, Silky was genuine.
“So you wanna see our house? It's way better than the apartment. You've got to come, Patience. Got to.” She jumped up and down in place. “We can't be friends thirteen out of fourteen years and you flake on meânot you of all people. We're like sisters.... Mom got you your own bed and everything.” Silky rotated her neck, flashed her teeth, and stuck out her tongue. “So what you say? Huh? Please! Please! It's not too far from you, maybe thirty minutes away. I got a surprise for you.”
Patience looked around the hallway. Her parents and grandparents were inside the sanctuary. Hope and Faith were nowhere to be seen, probably had left long ago. She shrugged. Why not? If no one in her family saw her with Silky could they ever say she was really with her? No.
“Of course I'm coming!”
“That's my girl!” Silky took a cell phone from her purse and began texting.
“Is that a BlackBerry?” Patience asked.
Silky twisted her face and started laughing. She continued texting. Her fingers moving faster and faster. “Girl, yeah. You don't have one?”
Patience shook her head.
Silky looked up. “I'm surprised. Everybody has one.”
Patience winced. Silky's words stung. She was sure her friend hadn't meant to rub it in her face, but, still, it hurt because her not having a BlackBerry like everybody else made her feel like she wasn't downâlike she was an outcast who couldn't fit in. She was always treated like an outsider who the inner circle wouldn't allow inside, all because she was Bishop Blackman's daughter. It was hard being a famous preacher's child, especially when a lot of your schoolmates attended your church, and many were scared that their wrongdoings would get back to their parents. So by defaultâher dadâshe'd been misjudged a possible snitch.
Silky stuck her arm through Patience's and walked her out the door. “Come on!”
Patience dug her feet in the carpet. “Shouldn't we wait for your mom?”
“Girl, puh-leez. No. We'll see her soon. You just worry about your surprise,” Silky answered, still walking and pulling.
Patience took one last look around and saw that all was clear. She grabbed Silky's wrist. “Follow me then. This is the best way out over here. No cameras.”
By the time they made it to the parking lot, Patience doubled over to catch her breath. Panting, she stood up straight and speed walked toward a parked van. She couldn't just stand on the sidewalk and wait for Silky's mom to exit the church. She couldn't take a chance on getting caught.
“Why we hiding back here?” Silky asked, careful not to lean on the dirty van.
Patience just looked at her. “You haven't been on tour that long. Two, three months tops. You know Bishop doesn't play. Service isn't over yet.”
“Right. Right. It's been two months,” Silky said, then grabbed Patience's hand again. “Run low. . . . I can't wait for you to see your surprise!” she squealed and directed as she pulled Patience through the parking lot, past dozens of cars. “I seen our ride just pull in.”
Patience zigzagged behind Silky, still crouching. She never realized that Silky referred to her mother as their ride. She just followed suit like she always did.
“Here we go.” Silky ran up to a black SUV with tinted windows and opened the door. “Jump in before somebody sees!”
Without thinking or looking, Patience hopped into the backseat of the SUV. Still crouching for fear of being seen, she tucked her head between her knees and directed her stare to the floor. The sound of Silky slamming the door shut made her relax a little until a pungent smoke assaulted her nose.
Her mom doesn't smoke.
Stiffening, Patience sat up and her eyes bulged. One seat faced another, drawing her attention to two things she'd missed; they were in a stretch SUV and they weren't alone. Four guys were in the truck too, and they had bottles of alcohol, gold teeth, tons of jewelry, and what she assumed to be a bag of an illegal drug that looked like sage.
Her mom doesn't smoke.
Stiffening, Patience sat up and her eyes bulged. One seat faced another, drawing her attention to two things she'd missed; they were in a stretch SUV and they weren't alone. Four guys were in the truck too, and they had bottles of alcohol, gold teeth, tons of jewelry, and what she assumed to be a bag of an illegal drug that looked like sage.
Silky just smiled, wrapped her arm around some dude who sat in the middle of two others, and said, “Surprise! This one's for you, Patience.”
The SUV almost took flight as the driver laid his foot on the accelerator.
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