First Semester (18 page)

“
Your
man?” someone screamed from one of the windows in Turner Hall. “We're gonna see about that, bitch!”

“Let's get outta here,” Fresh said, stuffing his brush back in his pocket and opening Lawry's back door.

“Who was that?” Chantel asked as she unscrewed the back of one of her earrings.

“Probably just a hater on some ol' bogus kick,” Fresh said as he gave Lawry a look that said,
We need to get outta here right now
. “We ain't even figna be out here long enough to find out.”

No sooner had Lawry stuck his key in the ignition than Alexis was standing outside Fresh's door, knocking on his window, trying to get him to roll it down. Chantel, who was sitting in the middle of the backseat, sandwiched between Fresh and me, was busy unscrewing her other earring. Fresh, obviously out of his element, locked his door and calmly asked Lawry to just pull off. After a few unsuccessful attempts to crank up the engine, it was clear Lawry's bucket was going to need some special attention to get up and running.

“It looks like I'm gonna have to get up under the hood and tap the starter first,” Lawry said with a sigh as he got out of the car, locking the door behind him.

By that time, Fresh was sitting with his hands on his head and a blank stare on his face as his ladies exchanged verbal blows.

“What does that bitch got that I don't?” Alexis asked.

“Lamont Thelbert Mitchell! You'd better start talking quick, or somebody is 'bout to get their ass kicked!” she said. “You know I don't play that!”

“So if that's your girl, what am I?” Alexis asked.

“Well?” Chantel said, nudging Fresh with her elbow. “Who the hell is she?”

“Nobody,” Fresh said.

“Lamont, if she is nobody, why the hell is she standing outside acting all crazy? And why are you just sitting here with your hands on your head? And why won't you let me out?”

“Just chill until Lawry gets the car going,” Lamont said, sinking into his seat, taking a deep breath.

“You know, for you to be so
fresh,
you're full of shit, Lamont!” Alexis said, banging on his window with her fist.

“Hey!” Lawry said, poking his head around his hood. “I don't know what y'all got going on, but this is my car, shawty! You gonna have to be easy on my windows, baby.”

Paying Lawry no mind, Alexis continued her tirade.

“I should've known something was up when you weren't answering the phone the past few days,” she said. “And I'm tired of talking through this window. Why don't you get out of the car and be a man?”

Before I could blink, Chantel had hopped over the front seat and opened Lawry's door. Timothy tried his best to grab her, but once she knocked his glasses off, he was more concerned with finding them than holding her. By the time Fresh unlocked his door, the two girls were already nose to nose.

“So, how is it that you know
my
man?” Chantel said.

“To be honest, woman to woman, I didn't even know you existed,” Alexis said. “I mean, me and Lamont have been fucking since we first met at orientation, and he never even mentioned you.”

“That's strange because he didn't mention you, either,” Chantel said, looking at Fresh.

“Alexis is lying, baby,” Fresh said. “I wouldn't ever do you like that. I know you don't believe her.”

“Well, somebody better believe somebody, because we're running late,” Lawry said as he slammed down his hood. “Let's ride!”

“Wait a minute,” Chantel said. “Alexis? That's your name?”

“Uh-huh,” Alexis said.

“Does your number start with 404-555, something?”

“Yep,” she said.

“Babe, everybody's phone number on this campus starts out like that,” Fresh said.

“I'm in love with you, but I'm not that fucking naive,” Chantel said. “When I was looking through your phone the other day, and saw all of those calls to A Lexus, you told me that your mom was thinking about helping you buy a Lexus next semester. But the whole time, you were really calling her?”

“I was going to get the car, but he wanted too much for it,” Fresh said, stumbling over his words. “Plus, the mileage was too high.”

“Stop lying to me!” Chantel said as she burst out crying. “I've been putting up with this shit since high school. I can't keep going through this with you, over and over again! I just can't.”

“Well, one thing is for sure,” Alexis said, just before she stormed off. “
Your
man can forget about ever hitting
this
pussy again. I don't even have time for trifling-asses like you.”

The ride to the coronation ball was long and quiet. Aside from the fact that Lawry's radio was broken, Chantel hadn't made a peep since we'd left the parking lot. She just sat with her arms folded and lips poked out, making us all uncomfortable. The only thing that broke the silence was the fact that instead of rolling straight to the ball, Lawry made a few questionable pit stops along the way. First, we stopped by an upperclassmen dorm on the other side of campus, where he and Timothy reached in the backseat, grabbed half of the garment bags and ran inside. They returned empty-handed.

“Who do you know up in there?” I asked.

“A couple of niggas I went to high school with,” Lawry said.

“So who were all the suits for?”

“They play in the school orchestra…” Lawry said, seemingly pausing to think up the rest of his sentence. “I mean, somebody I went to school with is having a funeral. I'm the only one with a car, so when I picked up my suit from the cleaner's, I just picked up my homeboys' suits too. Damn, you nosy as hell, shawty!”

“You got us on a bogus mission, though, folk,” Fresh said. “I've never known you to be so friendly. They got you runnin' errands like Jeffrey on
The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air
.”

“I think the shuttle is still running,” Lawry said sarcastically. “It's probably picking people up over in Elman's parking lot right now. If y'all want me to drop you off, I can.”

Fresh and I looked at each other and busted out laughing. I had to keep it going.

“I know you trying to get your boys their suits and all that, but now can we make it to the party, Benson?”

“I got two more stops to make,” he said as we pulled into an apartment complex right around the corner from campus. Again, he reached in his backseat, and grabbed a couple of garment bags, and Timothy helped him take them inside. At that point, I was so faded I didn't even ask any questions.

The last apartment we pulled up to was in the projects right across the street from Lighthouse. Again, Lawry and Timothy reached in the backseat, grabbed the last two garment bags and took them inside. Even though I was so tipsy I could no longer feel my face, I'll never forget the expression on Lawry's face when he came running out of the apartment toward the car, without Timothy. He looked like he'd seen a ghost.

“Man, shawty,” he said, nervously rubbing his hands together, looking away from the car to avoid making eye contact with us. “We ain't even gonna be able to make it tonight. We're just gonna post up here over my boy's crib.”

“What you mean, y'all can't make it, blood?” I asked.

“I can't really explain it right now, shawty,” he said. “But look, y'all take my keys and roll down there. J.D., you done had way too much to drink already, so you just stay your ass right there in the backseat. Fresh, just follow this street all the way to Peachtree and hang a left. If you go down about three blocks, you'll see the spot on your left. You can't miss it.”

“You sure you all right, folk?” Fresh asked.

“I'm straight. Y'all boys just make sure you put the pimpin' down for me. I'll holla at y'all tomorrow,” Lawry said as he turned and ran back toward the apartment.

“Your boy Lawry and your roommate are on some 'ole other bullshit, G,” Fresh said, before hopping out of the backseat to get behind the wheel. “I don't know what's up with them.”

“Me neither,” I said, taking another swig.

By the time we made it to the Convention Center where the coronation ball was being held, I'd already taken three cups of Armadale to the head. But I believe it was the fourth cup that really put me over the edge. At that point, I was liable to say or do anything to anybody.

After being patted down by security at the door, we walked down a red carpet into a huge ballroom of beautiful women dressed to kill. I smiled from ear to ear as I looked at females shake their bodies on the dance floor as if they were in street clothes instead of expensive gowns. I felt like I was at prom all over again. I was just about to take a walk around the dance floor, when I saw Katrina standing near the bar with a few of her girlfriends. She looked so good in her tight black dress from far away, I couldn't tell if she was wearing it, or it was wearing her. Without saying anything to Fresh, I staggered over toward her for a closer look.

“What's crackin', baby?” I asked, extending my hand toward hers. “Aren't you looking bootylicious this evening?”

“Well, thank you, sir,” she said, looking me in my eye and flashing her Colgate-commercial-perfect smile. “You're looking quite suave yourself. J.D., let me introduce you to my—”

Kat's sentence was cut off by a voice with a Southern twang, coming from behind me.

“Damn, you didn't even tell me I looked good tonight,” he said.

When I turned around and looked up, it was none other than Downtown-D, hulking over me.

“You are looking very handsome this evening, Deiondre,” she said.

“You really think I'm looking fly in my suit?” he asked.

“Yes, Deiondre,” she said. “I think you're looking fly in your suit.”

“It's funny, but when I was looking in my mirror before I left the house, I was thinking the same thing,” he said. “You look good too, baby.”

“Thanks, Dre,” she said.

“Well, now, that's more like it,” he said, stepping around me, leaning on the bar. “As much as Downtown-D hates to interrupt your little small talk, he's trying to get some drinks flowing over here. You drinking tonight?” he asked.

No, he didn't just play me to the left like a sucka, I thought.

“I guess I could have a drink,” she said.

He quickly motioned toward the bartender. By this time, Downtown-D had officially stolen my shine. At that point, I was just standing there, looking like a wanksta.

“What you drinking on?” he asked, smoothly grasping her by the waist with one hand and pulling her closer. “Moët? Patron? Gray Goose and pineapple?”

“Moët is fine,” Katrina said.

“I'll have a glass of Moët for this beautiful young lady,” Downtown-D said, gently stroking Katrina's elbow.

I couldn't just sit there and watch anymore. I figured if I wanted to prove to Katrina that I was worthy of just as much of her attention as Downtown-D, I couldn't be outdone. Since I didn't have my own place, or a car, I figured my pride was all I had left. Once the bartender came over to pop the cork on the bottle, I stepped up.

“As good as she's looking tonight,” I said, thumbing toward Katrina, “she deserves at least two glasses of Moët. Put that on my tab.”

The bartender took out an extra glass, looked at me, and said, “That will be twenty-two dollars.”

“No problem,” I said, pulling out my fat wad of refund check cash.

“Hold up,” Downtown-D said. “Make that
three
glasses of Moët.”

“That will be thirty-three dollars,” the bartender said, whipping out an extra glass.

“Make that
four
glasses of Moët,” I said, whipping out a crisp fifty-dollar bill.

Katrina looked back and forth as Downtown-D and I went head to head, each of us trying to order more drinks for her than the other. In a matter of seconds we had worked our way up to ordering bottles of Moët instead of glasses. The more we ordered, the wider Katrina's friends' eyes got.

“I think each one of these ladies deserves their own bottle of Mo Mo,” I said. “Just go ahead and put six bottles on my tab.”

“Sir, that's going to be three hundred and sixty dollars,” the bartender said. “Are you sure about that?”

“It's a small thing to a giant.”

“Is that right?” Downtown-D asked. “In that case throw a couple more bottles on there, and throw it on my tab.”

“That will be four-eighty,” the bartender said, shaking her head as she bent down to get a few more bottles from the fridge.

As I stood there, contemplating whether or not my pride was worth upping the ante, Katrina chimed in with some encouraging words of wisdom.