Flipping the Script (5 page)

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Authors: Paula Chase

BOOK: Flipping the Script
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“Naw, he'd just call me and
we'd
end up chilling,” Rob said.
“Well, come meet everyone and see exactly why he needs a break from us,” Mina said. Seeing Rob's eyebrow pop, she elbowed him playfully. “Don't trip, I know he be putting us on blast for canoodling.”
“Okay, but you didn't hear it from me,” Rob said, chuckling.
Mina and Sara laughed so loud that Cheryl looked over.
“We better be quiet,” Sara whispered. “I don't think we can convince Cheryl he's buying one of these minis.”
They giggled quietly for another second.
Rob stuck his hands in his back pocket and rocked back on his heels. His smile was wide as he cocked his head, giving Mina an easy once over with his eyes. “Well, thanks for the invite, Mina. I think I might dip by.”
“Remember, if you miss us at Rio's, go to Folger's and just tell the dude at the gate you're a guest of Kellita Lopez. They'll buzz her.”
Rob nodded politely. “All right. Well, later,” he said before turning heel and walking out as confident as he'd come in.
Mina and Sara watched Rob until he disappeared around the corner. Kelly, Lizzie, and Jacinta were by their sides immediately.
“You can tell he's a dancer,” Mina said.
“Lizzie said that's Mike's friend, Rob,” Kelly said.
“That's right, Liz, you're the only one who's met him before,” Mina said. “I invited him to hang out tomorrow.”
“I've only met him once,” Lizzie said, shifting her gaze to Mina. “Are you sure Mike's going to be cool with that? I mean he's never invited Rob over himself.”
“Lizzie, I swear, you worry about anything,” Jacinta said. “You need to start worrying about the clock ticking on your little virginity pact. Todd is counting down to May like a mug.”
Lizzie's green eyes flashed annoyance, but she kept quiet and stared, with the others, at the corridor where Rob had gone.
“He was cute,” Kelly said.
“Nice guns,” Sara said.
“Nice chest,” Mina said.
“He's gay,” Jessica said from behind, startling them.
Mina's eyes rolled. “Just because he's a dancer?”
“No.” Jessica snorted. “I didn't even know he was a dancer.”
“Then why'd you say he was gay?” Sara asked.
“Because he's always out here with your friend ... the dark-skinned one,” Jess said, pointing at Mina.
Mina sucked her teeth. “You mean Michael?”
She'd known Jessica since sixth grade and Jess always acted as if she didn't know Michael's name. It was her way of saying he wasn't important enough to remember. She certainly knew JZ's name just fine.
“Yeah, him,” Jess said. She ran her hand over the hangers, ensuring they all went in the same direction. “I've seen them at the food court together and at Abercrombie a few times. They're always out here together. They look like a couple.”
“Because they're together in the
mall
?” Mina said, frowning.
Jessica shrugged her shoulder up and down. “Look, I'm only saying they seem more like a couple than two dudes just hanging out. Besides,
isn't
Michael gay?”
“No,” Mina said too quickly. She frowned and changed her tone. “No, Mike's not gay. You're stereotyping just because he does the costuming for Bay Dra-da.”
Jessica laugh was short and harsh. “Okay, you're giving me way more credit than I deserve. Do you seriously think I knew whatshisname was with Bay Dra-da?” Her right eyebrow raised in question. “I just thought he was gay because I never heard about him dating anyone and ... I don't know. I just thought he was.”
“Well, he's not,” Mina said evenly, working to keep her face blank. If Jess knew she had gotten under her skin, she'd only burrow deeper.
“Well, if he's not, somebody better tell his boyfriend,” Jess said, walking away.
Shaken Not Stirred
“I gotta ask myself, what's it gon' be.”
—Robin Thicke, “Ask Myself”
 
 
“S
o wait ... you told Madame Jessamay you'd do it but you didn't mean it?” Rob said, his lip jutted in disapproval. A dark cloud passed over his handsome chocolate face in understanding. “Mike, man, why are you putting your friends before yourself? That's crazy.”
Michael pretended to be too focused on the baby-doll dress to answer, double checking for hidden pins even though he knew Rob was waiting for a response. Rob worked under Madame Zora, both as a member of the Players and a student at the Carter. Madame Zora was Madame Jessamay times ten, so dude knew a little bit about commanding answers and patiently waiting for them.
Michael busied himself searching for pins he knew weren't there, doing anything to avoid the questioning expression in Rob's eyes. His basement bedroom was huge, the full length of the house, but Rob's inquisition made the room feel like the troupe's tiny sewing room. Stumbling over the small raised platform, Michael muttered to himself more about being on the hot seat than his stumped toe.
Pretending to check the dress's fold, he slyly checked his watch. It was six-thirty. He needed to wrap this up, get Rob on his way and meet the clique at Rio's. But Rob remained stoic, on the other side of the platform, his dissatisfaction radiating from his crossed arms to the upturned scowl.
“For real,” Rob said, his eyebrow inching ever higher. He crossed the short distance between them and stood shoulder to shoulder with Michael, invading his space, boldly asserting his point. “Do you know how many people would be, like, creaming themselves if Zora had started a program based on
their
talent?”
“Don't hate 'cause your jealous,” Michael said, attempting to lighten the mood.
Rob rolled his eyes. “Hells yes I'm jealous.” He folded his arms, making his well-sculpted biceps pop. “I have to try out for my spot this year and Zora's practically handing you a scholarship.”
Michael frowned. “Hardly. I still have to apply.”
“Dude, she went to the school's board of trustees and asked them to start a fashion program 'cause of your designs.” He shook his head, as if the whole idea were too outrageous to comprehend. “For real, what are the odds they'd turn you down?”
Refusing to look up, Michael shrugged. His neck burned from a mix of embarrassment and excitement. The way Rob framed it, he was the world's biggest idiot for even uttering he wasn't down for applying. Michael had already explained to Rob that it wasn't that easy, but Rob wouldn't let it go.
Michael envied how openly passionate Rob was about theatre. Michael loved fashion as much, but he couldn't go around rhapsodizing about it 24/7 in the halls of DRB High or even around the clique ... especially not around the clique, JZ specifically.
It wasn't a big deal, really. Michael had a life outside of Bay Dra-da. He couldn't help it if Rob couldn't say the same.
Still, his seesawing doubts forced his hands to move faster for the phantom pins.
“When your peeps at college, what are you gonna do?” Rob pretended to flip through the pages of a huge book. His eyes mocked wistful reflection. “Reminisce over your portfolio in between your shifts at Subway?”
Michael sidestepped Rob and squatted, checking the dress's hem for the fifth time. The haughty hitch in Rob's voice grated like nails on chalkboard.
Normally, Michael was equally as balls-to-the-walls honest with people. He just wasn't in the mood for it tonight, even though Rob was his boy.
It was his job to be straight with Michael. And dude never slept on that job, not once in the three years they'd been friends. They'd been tight ever since Michael ran his very first errand for Madame, dropping a package of patterns to Madame Zora, just a few weeks after getting the gig with Bay Dra-da. He'd been wandering the Player's cavernous auditorium for ten minutes when Rob took mercy on him and walked him to Zora's office.
It was the first time Michael had met another African American dude, his age, in Del Rio Bay into theatre. It had been like discovering a long-lost family member, and they'd clicked immediately. They didn't disagree often, but when they did Michael received a good, old-fashioned heap of his own medicine in Rob's practical scolding.
Unable to stall any longer, Michael stood up. He scowled, snapping his answer to hide the fear clouding his mind.
“Trust, I'm not putting anybody else first.” He elbowed Rob not so gently in the chest and smiled weakly.“And you'll be the first person trying to get the hookup during my Subway shift. So don't trip.” He shrugged with a nonchalance he didn't feel. “I told you I don't want to spend my summer running back and forth to DC.” He took a deep breath and found the courage to face Rob's angry disdain, infusing commanding annoyance into his words. “And I don't want to spend my senior year at another high school. That's wack.”
“Why? You'd already know me, Maribel and Ferdinand.” Rob's face hardened waiting for Michael to challenge. When Mike kept silent, Rob traced the shape of the finished baby-doll dress, barely touching it. His voice was all awe and respect. “Even if you didn't know anybody, you got mad talent. It's straight madness to waste it. You turning this down is like ... it's like a model being discovered on the streets and telling Tyra Banks, no thanks, I don't want be on your show because I don't wanna miss my prom.”
Michael snickered and Rob joined in. There was a moment of comfortable silence as Michael basked in Rob's subtle compliment until the indignation returned in Rob's voice.
“You worrying about leaving DRB High, but let you tell it, your friends wouldn't put off their life for you. That's for sure.”
Michael had no response for that. What could he say? Yes, they would? He knew better. Obviously he'd complained to Rob about being the odd man out one time too many. It was a truth he didn't want to hear, not like that would shut up Rob.
He was caught off-guard when Rob's voice took on a light paternal lilt. “Mike, it's your decision but I bet if you get all your designs together in a portfolio and see just how tight your work is, you'll change your mind and want to apply to the Carter.”
“Maybe,” Michael said, playing down the excitement the thought of his arsenal of designs brought on.
Rob's shoulders hitched. “So just do that. If you still ain't down once you see 'em all laid out, then you ain't down.You know?”
As if assured the decision had been made, Rob stretched his lean, muscular body to the ceiling, then leaned to the right, stretching his left arm in a graceful arc.
“Oh, I met Mina the other day.”
“Word?” Michael said.
“Yup. She cool peoples,” Rob said. He did a deep knee bend, lowering and raising his body fluidly as if rhythmic movement was the only way he knew to move. “She invited me to hang with y'all tonight.”
“Oh yeah?” Michael said, working to keep his tone neutral. “Thought you had studio time booked tonight?” He darted over to the table holding his material, unwilling to let Rob see the mixture of surprise and anxiety on his face. He wasn't ready for Rob to meet JZ. Truth be told, never was too soon.
“I do,” Rob said. He hesitated a moment before going on, his voice probing. “I don't know, I still might stop through.... I mean, 'cause Mina might take offense if I didn't.” He chuckled. “I might be breaking one of her friend rules you always talking about, right?”
Michael's mouth provided an answer—“Yeah, she's a little loopy when it comes to rules of engagement”—even as his mind scrambled for a way to prevent Rob from stopping by.
His hands automatically went through the motions of straightening pins, scraps of material, cushions, and miscellaneous sewing supplies. His constant talk about the clique to Rob was finally coming back to haunt him. Although Rob teased him, questioning if the clique actually existed outside of Michael's mind, tonight was the closest he'd ever come to confirming Michael's suspicion that he wanted to meet the friends Michael spent as much time boasting about as venting.
Rob didn't have a single friend in Del Rio Bay not associated with the Players. He brushed it off when the topic arose, but Michael suspected Rob was still plenty bitter about growing up friendless in a neighborhood overrun with other guys his age.
“I can see why she's your girl, though,” Rob said, grabbing his jacket off a nearby mannequin. “Cute. Nice. Just like I figured she'd be.”
There was no mistaking the longing in his voice, but Michael kept his answer neutrally witty. “I'll let her know you approve.” He stood woodenly by the table, nothing else to put away.
“You do that,” Rob said, his usual pragmatic tone back. He put his fist out for a pound. “Deuces, brother. I gotta get back over the bridge and burn this studio time.”
Saved by the dance, Michael thought, tapping his fist against Rob's, his grin a mile wide. “All right. Later, kid.”
Rob paused at the stairway. “Hey, where does that girl Kelly live again?”
“Folger's Way,” Michael said cautiously, his grin faltering.
Rob's eyebrows scrunched in concentration, then eased with recognition. “Oh, right.” He shrugged his jacket to his ears. “See you.”

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