Authors: Rae
Stefan strutted in the kitchen and slapped a sandwich bag full of cocaine on the table beside Simone. “Girl, I swear, ain't a hoe on Harrison Street that's more tired than me.”
Simone looked down at the sandwich bag of cocaine. “Now what would Grandma say about you slapping that shit on her table like that if she was here?”
“The same thing she'd say if she saw this pretty-ass eyeshadow.” Stefan rubbed his index fingers across his eyes. “Boy, where you get that from? Let me hold some of that.”
Simone laughed. “You're a mess.”
“Naw, you're a fool if you think Grandma ain't sit 'round with them things she called friends and get her nose wet.”
“Damn, I ain't seen you since this time yesterday. Where the hell you been?”
“Chillin' with Paris and Crystal.”
“What y'all do?”
“Nothing; same old shit,” Stefan said. “Oh, we made reservations to go to Southern Decadence in September. I heard it's gonna be off the meter this year.”
“Sounds fun. Who else is going besides y'all?”
“Nobody; just the three of us.”
“You mean to tell me y'all not taking y'all men,” Simone said. “And what about y'all friend, Jewel? Y'all not taking him neither?”
“Jewel ain't want to go and as far as our men are concerned, you know what they say, don't take sand to the beach.”
Simone laughed and continued sketching her design.
Stefan paused and focused on the movement of Simone's hand. “I see you're still adding to those sketches.”
Simone nodded. “Yeah, I am.”
“Can't nobody say you don't keep hope alive.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“It means, any sane person would've swept that shit under the rug and grown up by now,” Stefan said.
“I was told if you want something, you should work hard to get it. Besides, Paris thinks I'm talented. Why else would he ask me to make an outfit for him to wear to the pageant?”
Stefan removed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with cold water from the refrigerator. “Well, I was told dreams and thrills don't pay the bills and it's not about talent the majority of the time; it's about who you know, and you don't know anybody.” Stefan gulped down his water and placed his glass in the sink. “You really need to find something better to do with your time, like a part-time job or something.”
“Been there, done that.”
Stefan smirked. “Oh yeah, that's right; you did have a job. Why did you say they fired you?”
Simone sighed. “'Cause they said I had a hard time comprehending instructions and I couldn't multitask.”
“I bet.” Stefan tapped his finger on Simone's sketchpad. “That's 'cause you were too busy thinking about this shit.”
Simone rolled her eyes. “It doesn't matter since I don't work there no more, do I?”
“It does matter. It's something you need to handle before you start working again.”
“Me? Work again?” Simone chuckled. “Yeah right; I need a job like I need an STD.”
“You better stock up on business suits and penicillin 'cause if any of them places we applied at last week calls and offers you a job, you're taking it.”
Simone stopped sketching and looked up at Stefan. “The hell if I am.”
“The hell if you ain't.”
Simone sucked her teeth. “Go ahead with that. The only reason I applied was 'cause you kept nagging me about it. I ain't doing a damn thing.”
Stefan took a seat in the chair across from Simone and began to fumble with the bag of cocaine. “I don't know if you ever thought about this but we can't be running 'round town turning tricks for the rest of our lives.”
“Says who?”
“Your body; that shit doesn't appreciate, it depreciates. So you better get your money's worth now 'cause when your ass starts dragging the ground, your clients gonna be looking to upgrade.” Stefan sprinkled the cocaine in a line on the table. “We need to start saving a lot more money than we have been, too.”
“I've been saving my money. What about you?”
“I'll tell you what; you blew damn near half of it in the last couple of months buying your car.”
Simone put her hands on her hips. “And I've been pulling like two sessions every other day to make up for it, so what the fuck? What about that shit you're sniffing? You blow a lot of money on that, don't you?”
Stefan slapped his hands against the table. “Pump the brakes. First of all, don't compare the two. That car outside cost a hell of a lot more than this shit right here,” Stefan said, holding up the bag of cocaine. “Secondly, don't act like you don't be sniffing this shit with me.”
“And don't act like my car doesn't take you back and forth where you need to go.”
Stefan paused for a moment and gathered himself. “I'm simply
saying you need to cut out your little Internet shopping sprees. They're unnecessary.”
“Shopping sprees?” Simone asked. “What are you talking about?”
“You'll find out the next time I find one of them bags stuck in the door and slap the return label on it and send it back where it came from.”
Simone huffed. “Why you always trying to regulate my shit?”
“'Cause obviously you can't.”
Simone hated getting into those discussions with Stefan. She was the only one of his cousins who'd stuck by him when everyone else figured out that he was gay. She was the one who'd stood by him and endured his shame along with him when the kids in the neighborhood mocked him. When Stefan's mother dropped him off at their grandmother's house to stay, it was her that had kept him company.
Stefan's father ran out on him and his mother; he blamed Stefan's mother for the homosexual tendencies that Stefan had displayed and refused to have any part in rearing a homosexual. Stefan's mother had promised Stefan that he would only have to stay at his grandmother's house for two weeks. She told him that she needed some time to get herself together. A week later, his mother committed suicide. Stefan was heartbroken. When he stayed up all night crying, asking why his mother didn't take him with her, it was Simone who'd sat up with him and comforted him. She'd never blamed him for his mother's suicide. She'd never rubbed his shortcomings in his face, but every time he got a chance, he rubbed her face in hers.
“Look, Simone, we're not gonna be able to live in this house and run up all these bills in Grandma's name forever. It's been eight years. Sooner or later, these people are gonna realize she's dead.”
Simone nodded her head in agreement; what Stefan said was
true. They couldn't run up bills in their grandmother's name forever. Sooner or later, her mother would get locked up and make it into rehab and that's when the house would gain her interest. She would discover that their grandmother had never gotten a chance to revise her will and that the house belonged to her.
Simone didn't plan on living out the rest of her days there. Although she cherished the good memories that had taken place within those walls, there were a lot of bad ones that she wanted to leave behind.
The house reminded Simone of the day, after her fourth birthday, when her mother had had a revelation. Her mother had stormed through her grandmother's door, dragging Simone behind her and had tossed Simone in her grandmother's lap. Her mother delivered a speech about how she didn't need Simone's nappy headed ass holding her down, how she could do so much more with her life if she didn't have Simone following behind her begging for shit, and how if she'd never given birth to Simone, she would've still been with Simone's father. It's odd for a child to take delight in their mother's misery but eight years later, when Simone's mother showed up at the door with more tracks in her arms than Stefan had rollers, sobbing and hollering about how her boyfriend was trying to kill her, it had brought Simone much joy. She was glad to see her mother eat her words. Her mother had blamed her for her misfortune with men and once she'd cut ties with her, her misfortune had become worse. Her mother had run the streets in search of a baller who'd take care of her. She'd wanted a man she could have the liberty of bragging about and showing off to her friends but she'd been pimped instead. There she was, running into Simone's grandmother's arms for help; the same place she'd left Simone.
There was also all the ridicule that Simone and Stefan had endured
from their neighbors and peers. None of the children in the neighborhood had wanted to interact with them and the parents of those who did had forbidden them from doing so.
When Simone and Stefan were in fourth grade, a neighborhood kid named Anthony had befriended them on the school bus. The three of them had joked and laughed the entire ride home. When they'd gotten off the bus, Anthony had walked in the middle of the two and accompanied them across the street. When Anthony's mother spotted him with Simone and Stefan, she'd run off of the porch to get him. Anthony's mother had snatched him from between Simone and Stefan and slapped him across his head. She'd yanked up Anthony's jeans that hung low on his hips.
“You'll pull your pants up when that punk and his cousin run you down and take your bummy yummy,” Anthony's mother had said as she'd dragged him up the street.
That's when the problems with the kids in the neighborhood had started. Every day, when Simone and Stefan had gotten off of the school bus, all the boys would race past them. “Last one home is a dummy 'cause Simone and Stefan gonna take his bummy yummy!” they'd shouted as they ran across the street. Simone and Stefan had listened to them blurt out the same stale insult all school year.
The kids they rode the bus with would bring eggs from home and save their milk cartons from lunch so they could toss them at the back of their heads during the bus ride home. Simone and Stefan got off of the bus every day covered with milk and egg yolk. They would fight back their tears until they reached the living room of their home where their grandmother sat waiting for them. Their grandmother would fly off of the handle when she saw them. Once they told her what happened and she realized they didn't do anything to defend themselves, she had a fit.
“Next time y'all bring y'all asses up in here looking like y'all came from a bake shop, I'm gonna put my foot in both y'all asses,” their grandmother threatened.
In spite of their grandmother's threat, Simone and Stefan came home the exact same way their grandmother warned them not to at least three times a week and she never followed through with her threat.
On the last day of school that year everything went well. The kids on the bus were as rowdy as usual but were too excited about summer break to engage in their usual pastime of egg and milk tossing. Simone and Stefan were refreshed when the bus let them off at their stop, knowing they wouldn't step foot on another school bus for damn near three months.
When they got home, their grandmother gave them money so they could go to the store and buy some goodies to snack on that evening while they sat in front the television, out of the way of her card game. They raced around the corner to the store and came back with two bags filled with goodies. Simone carried the bags while Stefan ate a Popsicle. They passed Anthony and his father as they walked up the block home.
“Hey, Anthony,” Stefan said, as he waved.
“What's up?” Anthony asked.
Anthony's father yanked Anthony by his collar. “Who the fuck is that?”
“This boy I know from school,” Anthony said.
Simone and Stefan walked slowly toward their house as they listened to Anthony's father scold him.
“What the fuck you speak to him for?” Anthony's father asked.
Anthony's lips quivered as he tried to explain. “He spoke toâ”
Anthony's father placed his hands on Anthony's chest and shoved him. “Oh, so you a fucking faggot?”
Anthony shook his head.
“Well, you better go over there and straighten that shit,” Anthony's father demanded.
Simone and Stefan heard Anthony and his father's footsteps behind them and picked up their pace.
“Stefan!” Anthony called out as Simone and Stefan made it in front of their house.
Simone and Stefan turned around to face Anthony.
Anthony stood there with his face twisted up and his father stood behind him with his arms folded, egging him on. “Don't be walking past me, speaking like you know me and shit.” Anthony turned around to his father for approval and once his father nodded his head, Anthony continued, “You lucky I don't whip your ass for that shit.”
Simone and Stefan stood there like totem poles, hoping that Anthony had appeased his father and the four of them could go their separate ways. They heard a screen door slam and turned around and saw their grandmother standing on the porch.
“Little Mama, grab that Popsicle,” their grandmother said as she walked off of the porch into the yard. She looked at Anthony. “You so fucking bad, beat his ass and make him unlucky.”
“Whip that nigga's ass!” Anthony's father shouted as he pushed Anthony toward Stefan.
Simone grabbed Stefan's Popsicle and Anthony swung his arms wildly, landing a punch on Stefan's shoulder. Stefan rushed Anthony, tackling him onto the sidewalk, and spate punches to his face. Simone stood there in amazement, watching Stefan do what neither one of them had had the guts to do up until then. Anthony's father became infuriated at the sight of Anthony struggling to get from underneath Stefan. He drew his leg back to kick Stefan but froze when he heard a gun cock. Simone and
Stefan's grandmother gazed down at Anthony's father and pulled her Glock 18 out of the pocket on the side of her robe.
“That's right, muthafucka. Don't fuck with my kids; fuck with me,” their grandmother said.
Anthony's father gritted his teeth. Simone felt sorry for poor Anthony and pulled Stefan off of him.