Boyfriend Season (8 page)

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Authors: Kelli London

BOOK: Boyfriend Season
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Pretty Boy held up his hands, both filled with a caramel macchiato in a venti cup. “Hold up. Hold up. You're going to give me money?”
Patience looked up, saw how shocked he was. She was sure he'd said he was short on buying his mother a gift. “You said you're a little short, right?”
He stepped back, looked her up and down, then tilted his head. “When do I godda pay you back?”
Patience smiled. One thing her parents taught her that she hadn't forgotten today was don't lend, give. Even that was in The Good Book. Never a lender or a borrower be. She shrugged because she didn't know what else to do.
“Never. It's for your mother's gift.”
He took the money she handed him, closed his eyes for seconds, then looked at her. He handed her a cup, whipped out his cell phone, and began texting. Suddenly, his friends and Silky were walking up to them.
“Stay right here. Okay, lil momma,” he said, handing her his cup. He tilted his head toward Tiffany & Co. and his boys followed him inside.
“What did you do?” Silky asked.
“Nothing. I gave him some money to help buy his mother a birthday present.”
Silky's head almost came off, she'd turned it so fast. “You what? What?”
Patience repeated herself.
Silky threw one hand on her hip and leaned into it. “He didn't ask you for no—”
“No! He didn't ask for anything. He just kind of mentioned he was short on the money he needed because today's Sunday and the bank's closed.”
Silky's eyebrows shot toward the heavens.
Like a vampire, Pretty Boy and two of his friends appeared out of nowhere. “Come on, lil momma,” he said, taking his cup from her and lacing his fingers through hers again. He looked at her softly from the corner of his eye, then shook his head in what she assumed to be disbelief.
In seconds, they'd walked into one department store, and made an immediate right into Louis Vuitton, which was housed in a room all its own. And Patience was in heaven. She loved bags. All bags. Ones with names and others without.
“That's hot right there,” Pretty Boy said, pointing to one of the newest ones.
Patience nodded. “It is, but that one—” She pointed to a different one. “I don't know, it may be nicer. If I was your mother, I'd want that one because it's more subtle.”
Pretty Boy looked at her and smiled. “Subtle? I like that.” He turned his attention to an employee, pointed at the bag he'd picked out, then the one Patience had chosen. “We'll take both, and we'll need shoes and sunglasses to match.”
“Okay. And what size would you like?”
Pretty Boy looked at Patience. “Tell him your size, lil momma.”
Patience pointed at her chest. “My size?”
“Excuse me?” a little girl no more than ten walked up to them, tapping Pretty Boy on his arm.
They both turned and looked at her.
“I'm sorry to bother you, but can I please have your autograph and a picture?”
Patience looked at the little girl, then at Pretty Boy.
“Me too, if you don't mind, sir,” the salesman asked.
Patience froze. “I'm sorry.... What's your name?” she finally asked him.
“OMG,” the little girl said. “What tree have you been living in?”
The salesman tilted his head. “Honey, he's only the biggest rapper on the planet, and he's buying you shoes and bags and sunglasses. Are you kidding me?”
Pretty Boy just nodded.
7
DYNASTY
D
ynasty sat under the sorry excuse for a tree, cradling her prized dictionary in her lap, studying her words of the week. “Foment . . .” The sun crept into her eyes, making her shift her position on the flimsy piece of cardboard that separated her from the ground. The red clay was too dry to properly nourish the tree, and the sparse leaves had all but disappeared, allowing light to glare on the pages. But it would have to do; Aunt Maybelline was having a grown-up party, complete with Al Green albums blasting from the old-school record player, cigarette smoke, and loud liquored-up adults who turned up their volume more and more with each drink, so there was nowhere for her to study in her tenement. But she had to get her words in for the week. She had a date—yes, a date—but she couldn't let that deter her from her mission: to get out of the PJs and into an Ivy League college.
“
Foment
. Foh-mehnt. Verb. To incite or arouse . . . like agitate. Used in a sentence: The students tried to
foment
a food fight in the cafeteria with the class president because he was
perfidious
, and had sided against the school offering soda.
Perfidious
. Puhr-
fih
-dee-uhs. Adjective. Willing to betray one's trust . . . like disloyal.” She closed the dictionary.
Leaning to one side, she looked over at her nonexistent butt, making sure she hadn't gotten her one pair of good pants dirty. She'd taken the ten dollars City had given her to the local under-twenty dollars store and bought them after he'd made sure someone had bought Aunt Maybelline's beer and cigarettes. A car engine roared, pulling her attention. City was due to pick her up at any moment, and she wouldn't dare make him wait. He was her temporary escape from the projects and Aunt Maybelline. Rufus too.
Oh, boy,
she thought, seeing him walk her way. She quickly reopened the dictionary and buried her attention back into the book.
The human cloud loomed over her now, shading her and the dictionary from the sun. She pretended she didn't know he was there, and ignored his heavy breathing and the shuffling of the biggest feet she'd ever seen. He'd worn a size fourteen last year, so he had to be at least a fifteen or better now. Rufus plopped down next to her, his heaviness causing a thin film of dirt to jump and hover. He'd reminded her of Pig-Pen, the Charlie Brown character who always had a puff of dirt around him. But she decided against saying so and swallowed her words. It was hard not to tell him how clumsy and rude he was for interrupting her because he deserved it, and she knew he wanted her to, just so he'd have some fuel to start an argument. But she ignored him. He just wasn't worth her time, and as much as he got on her nerves, she knew deep down that he wasn't so bad. Not all the time. He just wanted attention.
He picked up a stick from the ground, started drawing figures in the dirt, and waited for her to acknowledge him. “So Die Nasty, whatchu reading? That dumb dictionary that you think gonna get you out of here?” He laughed.
Dynasty cut her eyes at Rufus, then slammed shut her dictionary. “See that's your problem, Rufus. This is why you don't have any friends, besides me, and on most days you push me away with your attitude. You always have to start trouble for no reason.” She got up from the ground, dusted her behind, and put the book under her arm. She didn't leave though, because where would she go? She'd already been chased out of the house to make room for Aunt Maybelline's old-biddy friends and the ever-present Pork Chop, who she was starting to suspect was her aunt's boyfriend. “Why don't you go somewhere, Rufus? I just want to study.” She put her hand on her hip bone, glaring at him.
Rufus looked up, still swirling the stick around in the red dirt. He shrugged. “Why don't you? Why don't you go find J.R. and see if he'll give you the ten dollars he took? I heard you paid him to kiss you, and he didn't. I don't see you all up in his face—you too ashamed. Huh? He kissed you, ripped you, and ditched you, Die Nasty. I know you was with him, so you might as well admit it. You let him feel on you . . . didn't you?”
She shook her head, then noticed a shiny black car with sparkling rims rolling in the parking lot. A smile spread on her face, and any bad feeling Rufus had caused disappeared. Then she noticed something else, and her grin faded. City and J.R. were riding together.
Rufus noticed too, then fell back laughing. “Wow! I see both of your men—oops, I meant both of the ones you want and can't have—are together! I would love to know what they're talking about. Die Nasty did this to me. Well, she let me do that to her in the back of the building,” he mused, making up his lies as he went along. “They don't want you, like I do. They just gonna use you up.”
She ignored Rufus, and stood there in semi-amazement and full-fledged disappointment. She couldn't believe City was with J.R. The other day when she'd shown him around she'd confided in him, told him about her unlucky life and how she planned to snag a full scholarship to escape, and told him that J.R. had taken off with her aunt's money, which is why she couldn't go home. He'd listened intently, pep-talking her through it all, then admitted to knowing who J.R. was, and called him a punk. And now they were together? She didn't get it.
Rufus rolled over on his side, laughing and holding his belly. She looked back at him and wondered when he was going to be fitted with a bra. He was so big that his breasts were bigger than hers.
The car pulled up, and both doors opened. City stepped out first. He was a vision in contrast to the dusty surroundings. Rocking all white and some sort of shoes she'd never seen, but guessed were pricey, he adjusted the fitted hat on his head, then wiped nonexistent perspiration from his brow. His skin, even before he'd “dried” it, was dry and smooth as usual. Dynasty wondered if he'd ever broken a sweat. He nodded at her, then leaned on the car, looking toward the passenger side. J.R. emerged as if on cue. He wasn't as rowdy, secure, or loud as he usually was. In fact, she noticed, he was quiet. Without making eye contact with her, he strutted over to her, reached in his pocket, and pulled out a ten-dollar bill, then handed it to her.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
City cleared his throat.
J.R. reached back in his pocket again, retrieving more money. He handed her a twenty. “Interest . . .”
City cleared his throat again. “Yo, son! Don't forget the rest.”
J.R. looked up, focusing on the tree limbs. “Rufus, I lied. I didn't hit her.”
Rufus struggled, but managed to get up. “Huh?”
J.R. put his hands in his pockets. “I said, me and Dynasty didn't cut.” He turned around to City. “We good now? Can I go?”
City threw up his hands and shrugged. “I don't know, kid. Something else that I don't know about that you need to fix? You stole from her. Lied on her. What else?” He waved his hand. “Yo son, disappear.” He looked at Rufus, and gave him a head nod, then turned to Dynasty. “Are you ready for your life to change, Dynasty?”
Rufus snapped his fingers. “Yo, City! Them Louis boat shoes? 'Ey, Jigga rapped about those. They must've cost a grip.”
City nodded, then went to hold open the passenger door for Dynasty as she took the first step of her new journey.
 
City was swift, she discovered. He talked fast and made major moves, had all the energy and pizzazz she'd heard New Yorkers had.
“Pay attention to the hustle, Dynasty. All of them aren't bad. But in this world there are two ways to live. You either make it happen, or watch it happen. I make things happen and, now, so do you because you're a part of my team. And we all have to eat. Nah'mean?” he'd said, before they'd entered the modern library that she'd never been to. In five minutes, with no ID of her own, City had dropped game on some unsuspecting teen girl behind the customer-service desk, and secured Dynasty a library card. He'd sat back with the proud face of a father while she perused the shelves, stacking book on top of book, eager to lose herself between the pages.
“Slow down, Dynasty. You can come back whenever.”
She discovered why he'd slowed her down in the library when they'd made their next stop. He'd cruised up GA 400 highway to the prestigious town of Alpharetta, exited on 8, then turned right and navigated to North Point Parkway, where he made a sharp left and cruised to a parking lot. They passed a movie theater and parked in front of a Starbucks. Again, he rounded the car and opened her door. Stepping out, she looked at the sign, the tables outside, and the people sitting there drinking coffee while holding conversations and tapping away on their laptops.
“Thirsty?” she asked him, following him to the entrance.
He opened the door for her, then entered behind her. “Follow me,” he said, then walked past the counter, the patrons standing in line for the caffeinated fixes, and the glass enclosure that housed brownies, Rice Krispies treats, and different kinds of cakes and muffins.
Dynasty drew her eyebrows together. If they weren't here to get coffee or a treat, what was the point in coming to Starbucks? In only three more steps, she had her answer. Through the coffee shop was an opening. A welcoming room full of wonderment, awe, and words. A bookstore. A huge chain store with rows and rows of books that tickled her mind and made her mouth water. Never mind the sweets that were housed in the glass enclosure only ten steps behind. Here were the real treats that could help her get where she wanted to be. Yes, they'd gone to the library, and she'd appreciated that. But those books she'd have to return. These books could belong to her.
City fished in his pocket and pulled out a plastic card. He handed it to her. “Since you like dictionaries so much, I was thinking you could get a new, updated one, and one of the books you mentioned the other day while we were riding.”
Her eyes were stretched wide, and she was sure her smile was the same. She couldn't remember what book she'd told him about, but she could use the dictionary. An unabridged one with the complete list of current English words was something she'd wanted for a long time. She just hoped the card had enough money on it.
“There's about ninety dollars left on the card,” said City.
Before she knew it, she'd stood on tiptoe and had her arms wrapped around him. She kissed him on his cheek. “Thank you so much, City. Because of you and all you've done for me today, I may have a chance of getting into my dream school, Winchester Hills Prep.” Her eyes teared. No one had ever done something so fantastic for her before. Then a thought occurred, and she tried to make it disappear, but it wouldn't. The project girl instincts she'd tried to hone since middle school said there might be a catch. What did he want in return? She'd only shown him around, and he'd paid her for that, so why wouldn't he want some sort of payment now? She handed him back the card. “I can't take this—I don't have anything to offer you for it.”
City pushed it back at her. “You have a lot to offer, Dynasty.” He put his finger to her temple. “This. Your brain and what you want to do in life is payment enough . . . and maybe showing me around from time to time. I get lost in this country place. I'm from the city. I need a grid to maneuver—streets in numerical order.” He smiled. “Now get your dictionary and . . . oh, that's right, the book to help you get into college.”
“The SAT book.”
“Yeah, that book. Then one more surprise.”
North Point Mall was located across the street and up the block from the bookstore. Dynasty sat back in her seat, flipping through the new dictionary. She guessed it had to weigh close to ten pounds, and she couldn't wait to devour the words until her mind felt just as heavy. The car came to a stop, and she looked up. They were parked in front of the food court entrance, and she could see a merry-go-round spinning through the glass.
“She should be here in just a second,” said City, as he scrolled through his cell phone, then looked out the driver's window.
Who
is
she?
Dynasty wondered, but not for long.
A bump caused her to jump and look behind her. A pretty girl with short hair styled to perfection knocked on the trunk, and walked to City's door. Another beautiful girl with an expertly spiked Mohawk trailed behind her. Both had huge Gucci bags and were dressed to the hilt. City opened his door, then asked Dynasty to get out.
“Meka, baby!” he said to the girl with the short hair. “Whatcha got for me?”
Meka smiled. “Whatever you need . . . and if not today, then later. Just let me know the size, and you know I got you. Oh,” she said turning to the girl with the Mohawk, “this is my BFF, Santana. Whatever I don't have, she does.”
City nodded. “Family business? You know I like that. Speaking of family—” He nodded his head toward the other side of the car where Dynasty stood. “This here is my fam, Dynasty. I need some things for her—a lot, so look out on the price. Dynasty, this is my people, Meka.” He tilted his head, then winked at Dynasty. “Forgot to tell you, we got a barbecue to go to. There's some people you need to meet.”

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