Culture Clash (13 page)

“That’s Red Bull for the engine, baby,” Chance says, smiling at my surprised expression. “Go ahead, she won’t bite.” I press on the gas, immediately enticed by the jump in the car’s force. Damn, what a rush.

“I don’t feel like this when I drive my mom’s car,” I say, flying down the road like cops don’t exist on this block. Right now I couldn’t care less about the law. This good feeling is worth the ticket.

“That’s because this ain’t your mama’s car.” Chance turns up the OutKast CD and we quickly cruise down the block, impressing the onlookers and waking up sleeping babies as we roll. I used to be annoyed by the sounds hot rods make when they fly down the block but now I understand the allure. This car feels alive, and it feels good to be behind the wheel of such a beast.

When we make it back to the basketball court, Nigel and Rah laugh at my small head poking up from behind the wheel.

“Laugh all y’all want too, but you know I look good,” I say out the window as I return the car to its spot. My boys nod in agreement but my girls look mad as hell. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m not taking this shower shit seriously or because I took all the attention away from them. The one thing a dude likes more than a fast car is a pretty girl driving it.

“Be careful, Jayd. This type of speed can be very addictive,” Chance says, pulling on his Newport. Talk about dangerous addictions. “But I know you can handle it,” he adds, impressed by my handling of the car. Nellie looks jealous as all get-out. But if she’d learn how to drive, I’m sure she’d fall in love with the classic vehicle, too. Besides, I need to burn off some steam and this is the safest way to do it. With all that happened this week between me and Jeremy and Emilio, driving that car made it all disappear. But from the way Rah’s looking at me, I can tell my good feeling is about to end soon.

A
fter the game we all walk back to Nigel’s house. Living in a nice neighborhood like Lafayette Square affords Nigel the ability to walk down the street to his community park without fear of getting shot by rival gang members and other haters. He can’t get too complacent though. Even if they’ve named their little area, his house is still adjacent to the hood.

When we get back to Nigel’s house, Mrs. Esop is outside working in her rose garden. She keeps their yard immaculate. Her roses are as beautiful as the ones Mama grows, but Mrs. Esop’s garden is about three times the size of Mama’s, making the flowers look more spectacular.

“Jayd, since you know Nigel’s mom, it’s your job to ask her to come to the shower,” Mickey says as we stroll. I’m enjoying our quiet evening, but her idea is ruining my good mood. “My mom’s handling the games. Maybe she’ll want to help out, too.” I look at Mickey and laugh at first, thinking she’s joking—but she’s not. Doesn’t Mickey realize that her dreams of being accepted into the Esop clan are futile?

“Have you completely lost your mind?” I ask, following the boys up the long driveway toward the front door. Nellie looks at us and then back at the catalogue she’s studying. You’d think she was the one having the baby, the way she’s picking out the baby’s clothes and other necessities.

“No, and you owe it to my soon-to-be-born child Nickey, as her godmother, to make sure that her other grandmother shows up.” I know that message is more from my goddaughter than her mother, and neither one of them will be ignored.

“
One
of her godmothers,” Nellie says without looking up from her studies. I roll my eyes at both of my girls. Mrs. Esop has been more cordial to me these days, but I still get the feeling she’s mad at me for introducing her son to Mickey. I don’t know why. It’s not like I forced them to sleep together, and that’s how they got into this mess.

“Hey, Mom,” Nigel says, kissing his mom on the cheek before walking up the front-porch steps. Rah bends down and kisses her other cheek. Chance is new to Nigel’s inside crew and simply waves at Mrs. Esop, who returns the gesture.

“Hello, Mrs. Esop,” Nellie says, the first of us girls to speak. She looks up from her kneeling position in the grass and smiles at us.

“Hello, ladies,” she replies. Mickey looks at me, silently urging me to invite Nigel’s mom to the shower. I guess there’s no time like the present to attempt the impossible for my girl and her unborn daughter. Nellie and Mickey follow the boys into the house while I stay behind and make small talk with Mrs. Esop.

“I like your roses. The yellow ones are especially nice,” I say, smelling the fresh flowers. Mrs. Esop clips one of the full buds and hands it to me. I accept the thoughtful gift, stroking the soft petals against my cheek. My father used to clip roses from his garden and remove the thorns for me when I was a little girl. With the flower tucked behind my ear, I would smile all day long, feeling like I was the prettiest girl in the world.

“Next time you’ll have to help me prune them,” she says, returning to her gardening. I hate to ruin this bonding moment, but I am here for a purpose.

“Mickey wants to invite you to her baby shower,” I blurt out. The sooner I get it over with the quicker I can get back to chilling. The sun is setting and I don’t want to be out too late because I have to wake up early in the morning for work. Rah and I haven’t had a moment to talk and I want to keep it like that. The last time we were all here together was when I found out about his good—but stupid—deed. I don’t want to reenact that dreadful day, nor do I want to talk about it tonight.

“Is that so?” she says, continuing her clipping. “That girl is something else, isn’t she?” Mrs. Esop inhales deeply and then exhales, never ceasing her task.

“Yes, she is.” I can’t help but agree with the truth. Mickey knows she’s a lot to handle and wouldn’t change her ways for the world. That attitude alone deserves some respect.

“My sorority hosts a cotillion every year. I’m sure Nigel has told you the fun he’s had participating as an escort,” she says, looking into my eyes. Did she just change the subject on a sistah? What the hell does this have to do with Mickey’s shower?

“He has,” I say, leaving out the fact that Nigel hates going to the annual debutante ball. And from the way he describes spending an evening with a bunch of bougie, rich black folks, I’m glad I’ve never had the pleasure of participating in one.

“I think you’d make an excellent candidate for the ball this year, Jayd. Have you ever considered becoming a debutante?” Is she serious?

“No, ma’am, I haven’t.” I look through the front door at my friends in the foyer, drinking water and snacking on chips while they wait for me to head upstairs, where this evening’s session will be held. Now that Sandy’s at Rah’s crib, I have a feeling we won’t be chilling there much as a group—mostly because Nigel can’t stand her ass. It’s also a given that if I have beef with a chick, then my girls automatically have beef with her, too. And Sandy and I have an entire cattle ranch between the two of us.

Mrs. Esop follows my eyes up the front steps and then returns her focus to her project and to me.

“You’re more than what you’ve become, Jayd,” Mrs. Esop says. She again looks toward Rah, Mickey, and the rest of our small crew before returning her gaze to me. “Having babies can wait until after your education.”

“I fully agree. I’m not planning on having any kids until well after college,” I say. I know I want children, but not anytime soon. Parenting is more than a notion, and an expensive responsibility I don’t want on my shoulders right now. That’s why I’ve kept my legs closed, unlike the rest of my friends.

“So you are thinking about college? Good. I’m glad to hear that.” She stands up straight, brushing the dirt from her pants and removing her gardening gloves. She’s a tall, athletic woman shaped a lot like Michelle Obama. And the way she walks around her home like it’s the White House, Mrs. Esop acts like the first lady, too. “I’ll make you a deal, Jayd.” Uh-oh. I don’t like the sound of this.

“Okay,” I say, unsure I want to hear her offer, but what the hell? I’m already here. And she did give me a rose, which I’ll put in water as soon as I get back to my mom’s apartment.

“If you come to one of our informational meet and greets, I’ll consider making an appearance at Mickey’s shower. How does that sound?”

“I’m flattered, Mrs. Esop. Really, I am. But between school, work, and my family life I already have a lot on my plate,” I say, trying to get out of it. But judging from the way both she and Mickey are staring at me, I don’t think I can get out of it.

“I’m sure you’ll think about it and get back to me with the right answer,” Mrs. Esop says, picking up her tools and placing them in the straw basket on the ground next to her feet. She looks up into the foyer and shakes her head at the sight of my friends heading up the stairs without me. I guess they’re tired of waiting.

“Live your life, Jayd, not someone else’s,” she says. “Enjoy the rose.”

“Thank you, and I’ll definitely think about your suggestion.” Satisfied, Mrs. Esop walks across her yard, heading to the garage to put her gardening supplies away before going in for the evening.

Me, a debutante? I can’t even think about that right now. I don’t think Mickey will be too happy to know that Mrs. Esop will only agree to come to the shower if I attend one of her sorority meetings. I’ll leave out the details of the deal and just tell her that Mrs. Esop did agree to consider making an appearance. That should be enough to make her and Nickey Shantae happy for the time being. Maybe now I can enjoy the rest of the evening with my friends before it’s time to call it a night.

“Drivers, start your engines,” the male voice announces through the bullhorn. The crowd goes wild as we rev our engines. The spinning tires cause smoke to rise, making it hard to stay cool. I look straight ahead, ignoring the opponents on either side of me. I check out the leather interior and notice this car is familiar to me: I’m driving Jeremy’s Mustang.

“Remember what I told you about the boost button, Jayd,” Jeremy yells to me from the sidelines. “Push it when you take her at the bend.” Take who where? And why am I the one racing the hot rod? This is Jeremy’s territory, not mine.

“You’re going to lose,” a girl’s voice shouts from the car to my left. It’s Sandy, with Rahima in the backseat. I’m grateful the baby’s in her car seat, but her mama’s still a fool for driving fast with her child in the car. Even in my dreams Sandy’s actions are irrational.

“So are you,” Trish, Rah’s most recent ex-girlfriend, shouts to Sandy from the car on my right. “The prize is mine to take home.”

“Ready, set, drive!” the announcer yells, and we’re off. Sandy takes the lead and Trish is right behind her. We fly around the first leg of the lap, one car behind the other. I focus on the road ahead, letting them both think they’ve already got me beat. But slow and steady wins the race, and I’m secure in my pace.

“Jayd, catch up!” Rah yells from the finish line. He’s seated up high on a pedestal, with a crown on his head like he’s Mr. America. Is he the prize we’re racing for?

After the first lap is complete the crowd’s energy reaches an all-time high. Now I feel ready to show off what this car can really do. I glance to the right side of the speedometer, checking for the boost button just in case I need it. But I don’t think it’ll be necessary. These girls can’t drive like I can.

I ease the car into fifth gear, pressing on the clutch so smoothly the car doesn’t even jerk when the shift is complete. Then I put my foot to the floor, leaving both of my competitors in the dust.

“Yeah, Lady J. That’s what I’m talking about, baby,” Jeremy says, jumping up and down in the stands, he’s so hyped. I love driving this car. I easily take the lead in the second lap as Trish and Sandy lag behind.

“All I have to do is finish this last lap and I can claim my prize,” I say out loud. I continue driving, feeling the rush through my body as the night air hits me in the face through the open windows. I could drive at this speed all the time. There’s something about the energy of controlling a fast car that makes me feel invincible. Feeling as indestructible as I do, Sandy gets right behind me, bumping my car with her bumper. What the hell?

“Get off my ass,” I say into my rearview mirror. I know she can’t hear me, but she can read my lips. “Back off now, Sandy, before someone gets hurt.” Ignoring my warning, she bumps me again, this time causing me to slightly lose my grip on the steering wheel.

“I’m not going anywhere, Jayd. Rah’s mine,” she mouths back to me with a determined look in her eyes. Rahima looks scared to death in the backseat of her mother’s car. If Sandy doesn’t quit, she’s liable to cause a spinout and that could kill us all.

“Push the button, Jayd,” Jeremy shouts, reminding me that I have a secret weapon. I look at Sandy revving her engine, ready to hit me again. As she makes contact I push the button, propelling me full-throttle to the finish line. As I cross the line, I look in my rearview mirror and see Sandy’s car spin out of control, causing Trish to run into her. When they finally stop spinning, both cars burst into flames.

“Rahima!” I yell, bringing my car to a full stop and running toward the flames. Rah jumps off his pedestal, hurting his leg as he hits the ground. In pain, he runs over to the car, freeing Rahima, but she’s badly burned. Sandy and Trish also make it out but are both badly hurt.

“I told you to stop, Sandy, but as usual you don’t listen,” I say while checking on Rahima in her daddy’s arms. Poor baby. Jeremy runs over to the tragic scene and hugs me tightly. I look at Rah and his girls. They look at the fire, unfazed by their wounds. Am I the only one who thinks it’s time to stop this insanity? Rah is not a prize to be won, and none of this is worth our lives—especially not Rahima’s.

“You’re not her mama, Jayd. I am and always will be,” Sandy says, stating the obvious.

“
I’m a diva
.” Beyoncé snaps me out of my disturbing dream and I am now wide-awake. I feel around the couch for my phone. I was sleeping so wild that it’s no longer in its customary place underneath my pillow.

“Hello,” I say into my cell without checking the caller ID.

“Jayd, what’s up with you?” Shawntrese’s boyfriend, Leroy, says. “You braiding today?” I prop myself up on my elbows and rub the sleep from my eyes. What time is it, anyway?

“Yeah, after I get off work this afternoon.” I’m leaving the shop early today so I can catch up on my own clients’ heads.

After last night’s session was over, I came home and crashed hard. My dream last night has been bothering me all day. I texted Rah just to make sure they were okay. Usually my premonitions come true in one way or another, and if it has anything to do with Rahima, I have to check it out.

Mama, Netta, and I really didn’t have a chance to catch up this afternoon. When I left a couple of hours ago, there were still six clients in the shop. I made sure they were all out of the washbowl and either under a dryer or in a chair before I left. Netta has it under control, even if she likes to playfully make me feel guilty for leaving early. I’m glad she’s grown accustomed to having me around instead of handling all of her clients alone, since Mama only works in the back of the shop. I don’t know how she did it, nor do I want to. Netta and Mama let me into their prosperous world and I’m here to stay.

My own business is also doing well. My clientele has doubled in the past couple of months, and with summer around the corner, I know boys and girls alike are going to be sporting braids in some form or fashion. Not only is that good for my bank account, the variety will force me to up my game, and I’m looking forward to the challenge.

Speaking of challenges, Shawntrese’s oily scalp is getting on my last nerve. I always schedule her appointments either first or last so I can spend as much time on her as possible. My neighbor’s abused crown needs the most attention.