His tone made Mina's stomach flip. She heard it anytime she tried talking in-depth about Michael's Bay Draâda work to JZ. His favorite words, “Mi, I don't feel like talking no yang about costumes and fashion design.”
She'd only heard JZ use the tone around Michael once and it had ended badly. She typed back quickly,
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o I forgot. Still have practice @ 5?
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and focused on the live conversation.
“I changed my mind. I'm gonna apply,” Michael said. His voice was firm, his dark chocolate face subtly blank as he looked JZ in the eye, silently challenging his obvious disapproval.
Good for you, Mike
, Mina thought, happy that Michael stood his ground. She knew better than anyone how hard Michael worked to avoid outright discussing his Bay Dra-da work with JZ. Though Sunday was the closest Michael had ever come to admitting how much he cared about JZ's opinion when it came to his designs and the world costuming introduced him to, Mina always suspected hurt feelings lingered because JZ never uttered a word of praise or acknowledgment that Michael's skills were as special as JZ's athleticism.
JZ and Michael had been her friends since kindergarten and still she didn't totally get their bromance. She'd take JZ's constant teasing over the bizarre golden rule of silence that seemed to be the guy code, any day.
Over the years she worked to break the code and force JZ into a more active supporting role of Mike. Once, she asked JZ how he would feel if Michael suddenly was like, “Son, don't talk football or basketball around me. I'm sick of hearing it.” But JZ's answer had been a typical shrug and one-liner avoidance.
“Why would he do that? Mike loves football and basketball ... it's not like it's just about me.”
And that had been that.When he didn't want to talk about something, he was king at cutting a topic short.
As usual, he was unabashedly one-sided about his support. But Michael's dull-eyed stare spoke volumes. He wasn't going to let JZ's low-key taunting stand in his way, this time. The hairs on Mina's arm stood straight up as the tension between the guys mounted.
She forced herself to mediate. “Jay, what's the big deal? Just record the outfits.” Her high-pitched chuckle sounded fake even to her. “Not like you don't owe Mike for all the basketball and football games he came to watch you play in.”
She hushed her phone as it sang, a momentary burst of sun in the gloom settling over the room, and quickly read the message.
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Jus walked in the gym. L8r Toughie. Luv u.
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Smiling, she closed the phone. The small flash of defiance in Michael's eyes made her throat dry.
She looked at Lizzie, frozen beside her. They were human replicas of Michael's costume mannequins. They shared a furtive glance before returning their attention straight ahead to the guys, neither of them sure what to say.
JZ inhaled slow and long, as if needing a full lung capacity to speak. He swiveled his chair, facing Michael head-on. Only inches separated them at the tiny round table.
“Son ... all right, I'm not trying dog out your little design game.” He flashed an impish grin usually reserved for his “aw shucks” boy next-door flirting moments, then grew serious so quickly, the grin could have been an illusion. “I'm saying, why are you gonna do your last year at a different school? I don't get that.”
“Jay, the Carter is the best school in the state for people majoring in the arts,” Lizzie said. “I wish I could go.”
JZ scowled. “Yeah, Liz, but you all into that arsty stuff. Iâ”
“Why my design game got be âlittle'?” Michael said, tone still even, defiance glittering madly in his brown eyes.
“Man, I ain't mean it like that.” JZ frowned. His chin stiffened in challenge as he leaned as far back as the tiny-backed stool allowed. “I'm sayingâ”
“Then why you say it like that?” Michael said. His chin jutted, mirroring JZ's insolence with an added touch of defiance.
Mina shot off the riser, closing the few feet to the table in record seconds, pulled toward it by the guys' posturing. She stood between them, as if her presence could stem the tension. She towered a full foot over the table but was nearly dwarfed by Michael and JZ.
“Mike, you know how JZ always tripping.” She gave JZ a look, hoped he got the message, then wrapped her arm around Michael's arm. “I don't want you to go either butâ”
She jumped as Michael pulled his arm away, nearly smacking her in the jaw.
“See, this is what pisses me off.” He looked from Mina to JZ, hurt making his eyes glossy.“We supposed to be down for each other. But it's only swazy when I'm the one in the backseat. When have I ever told one of y'all not to do something just 'cause it's gonna cut into how much time we get to chill?” His lip turned up, as if he smelled something bad. “Shoot, for that matter, when was the last time one of y'all cut back on something you had to do to chill with me instead?”
At the collective silence he snorted, satisfied he'd made his point.
“Mike, you didn't let me finish,” Mina said, frustrated that Michael had lumped her with JZ. Her sorrowful brown eyes sent him an apology as she explained. “I was going to say, âBut I'm glad you're getting a chance to do what you like.' ”
Lizzie came over, placing herself between Michael and JZ on the opposite side of the tiny table, completing the small huddle. The four of them stood there silent for a second, elbow to elbow.
“Mike, I can video the outfits,” Lizzie said. Her eyes skated nervously around the table, looking at each one of her friends, silently pleading that they let this be the solution to end the escalating argument. “When Mina's modeling an outfit, I'll video. And then she can do it for me.”
“Look, if this is what you wanna do, son, cool,” JZ said angrily. “All I was doing was making you see the other side. But sound like your boy Rob already convinced you.” He shrugged so hard, the table tilted with the motion. “We been boys for a long time. How you gon' get mad at me for speaking my peace, but not at him?”
“Rob don't have anything to do with me deciding to apply,” Michael said, abruptly stepping down off the chair. He whisked over to the workroom and cleaned up the scattered supplies with a robotic energy.
“Yeah, all right,” JZ said. Sarcasm dripped from every word. “Dude popping all that yang about how this the same, like if an NBA scout stepped to me and offered me a contract right out of high school.” He snorted. “Man, that shit ain't the same.”
“But it is, Jay,” Lizzie said.
“Don't even waste your breath, Lizzie,” Michael said. He stooped and swept all the stray fabric into a pile with his hand.
“How is that the same?” JZ said, grilling Lizzie with a skeptical eyebrow raise.
Lizzie looked from JZ's cynical stare to Michael, his head bowed as he grabbed the pile of fabric, dumping it in a plastic bin. She cleared her throat and her cheeks burned crimson as she explained.
“Graduating from the Carter would look good to fashion schools,” Lizzie said weakly, as if unable or unwilling to argue further.
“Mike already said he not trying go to college. He's said it a million times,” JZ said, barely holding back a grunt of satisfaction.
“Well, the Carter might hook him up with some contacts for a job,” Mina said. Her elbow shot out and connected with JZ's arm hard enough for him to frown at her. She rolled her eyes at him, hard, and shook her head. She wanted to shake him senseless for not simply letting it go.
All he had to do was say he'd video the stupid outfits and this whole conversation could have been prevented. She sighed silently between her teeth, relieved when JZ dialed his tone back to casual conversation levels.
“All right, I hear y'all. But like I said, that's nothing like going from high school to the pros. I could see if they were like, do this and somebody gon' straight offer Mike a big money deal designing ... but they're not.” He plucked a peanut from a silver bowl at Mina, grinning as if to ask if she were satisfied. “Mike, if going not gonna get you where you somewhere, then why bother, man? That's all I'm saying. Y'all acting like I'm hating. I'm not ... for real.”
Mina peered over her shoulder at Michael, methodically placing everything on shelves. She thought maybe he hadn't heard JZ, but his voice, devoid of any emotion and just loud enough for them to hear, assured her he had.
“It's swazy, son. I know you not hating.”
JZ grinned. “See, that's my boy. He know I got his back.” JZ reached out and shoved first Mina's, then Lizzie's elbow off the table. “Y'all birds trying to start drama. It ain't even that kind of party.”
Mina swung and missed smacking JZ's hand. He stuck his tongue out at her and she returned it, hotter with him than the childish act relayed. Angry that it was easier for JZ to focus on Michael's last words, totally ignoring that the boy couldn't even turn and face them right now.
But she dare not point it out.
JZ was already joking and laughing, teasing Lizzie, thanking her for Todd's latest thirty-point-game winning performance. JZ had moved on. The tension had ebbed, just enough.
But it wasn't over. Mina knew it.
It was like knowing something bad was going to happen but not knowing when, where, or who it was going to happen to.
Shoot, maybe she was psychic after all.
“Say it, girl!”
“She give a new definition to the word curve.”
âAkon, “Dangerous”
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J
acinta's butt wriggled against JZ as she attempted to wrestle her way free from his crushing, but painless, bear hold. They were a tangled statue, his arms tightened, pinning her crossed arms around her waist. He laughed at her futile attempts to unlock herself.
“All you gotta do is say it and I'll let you go,” he said, calm and pleasant as if he were asking if he could take her order. He enjoyed the friction their bodies made, as she struggled, but not enough to alert Jacinta that his motives to bear-hug her were anything more than his usual teasing.
“I'm not saying nothing.” Jacinta stopped fidgeting and went limp. “So I guess we gon' stand here just like this forever.”
“Is that a challenge?” JZ adjusted his grip to take up her dead weight. “ 'Cause you know I can.”
“So can I.” Jacinta snorted.
“You just like having me all up on you,” JZ teased, bumping her from behind.
“Whatever, Mo.”
He gripped her elbows and easily lifted Jacinta straight up until her feet dangled a few inches from the ground, as he fussed. “Now, see, why I always gotta be a mo?”
Jacinta laughed. “I don't know.You tell me ...
M
o.”
He placed her back down and she laughed harder when his right hand tickled her side. Anticipating her attempt to escape, as she tugged away, he twirled her toward him like an amateur ballroom dancer, scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder. He walked over to the sofa, lecturing the whole way.
“Don't hate. How whack would it be if I didn't share myself with the chicks who appreciate me?” He let her body slip over his shoulder until he held only her calves.
Jacinta's feet kicked, uselessly. “Come on, Jay. Put me down.”
“Just say it. Come on, it's not like I'm gon' snitch on you for truthing up.”
He waited as Jacinta's body quieted, grinning as she considered it.
He let her body dip a few inches deeper, chuckling at her flailing arms.
“You gonna drop me on my head,” she said, poking JZ in the back of his legs to no avail. His grip on her was solid.
“The sofa will break your fall.” He smacked her on the butt. “I'm waiting.”
“Oh my God, you're so foul.”
“Say it.”
“Just 'cause I say it don't mean I'm gonna mean it.”
JZ laughed at the petulance in her voice.
“Say it, girl.”
After sucking her teeth for good measure and sighing so hard JZ wondered how she had enough breath to say anything, she sang in a testy chirp, “I like spending time with you more than with Raheem.”
She yelped as JZ dropped her abruptly, face first on the sofa.
He laughed. “My B.You all right?”
Jacinta kicked at him. “Lucky for you.”
She pushed herself upright and sat cross-legged on the couch. JZ sat beside her with just enough space between them to claim innocence if any of the clique burst in.
He and Jacinta had started off playing the arcade games. But as usual, he'd come around to taunting her about Raheemâsomething he swore he'd stop doing. He didn't want her thinking she had him sprung or anything. But he couldn't help it. One minute they were chilling, enjoying just kicking it, and then a deep, warm sense of satisfaction would spread across his chest and next thing he knew he was teasing her. Making Jacinta admit that she liked being with him more than either of them admitted was like scoring a much-needed three-pointer at the buzzer.
Sweet.
He batted his eyelashes at her. “Now was that hard?”
Jacinta rolled her eyes, but JZ saw the smile in them. He picked the TV's remote from the floor and pointed it at the screen. Jacinta snatched it from his grasp.
“Uh-uh. For torturing me, I get to watch what I want.”
He put his hands up, in surrender. “All right. All right.” He slouched down on the cushion, scowling. “No girlie ish, though.”
Jacinta laughed. “And what's girlie shhh?”
“The crazy stuff you and Mina be watching.
The Hills Have Eyes on the Runway
or whatever.”
Jacinta cracked up and surfed channels. Five minutes into the search, she sighed and turned to music videos.
“TV is booty,” she said.
“Shoot, I got plenty of things we could do besides watch TV.” JZ raised his eyebrow at her, grinning when she pushed his face away, playfully.
“You wish.”
JZ straightened himself up just enough to put another inch between them. “Naw, I just like you to
think
I wish it.”
“Really?” she said, in a conversational tone as if she were asking him to confirm some curious trivia. In answer to his “now what you think?” scowl, she uncrossed her legs and knelt on his cushion. The leather sank under her weight, pulling her toward him. Her breast brushed his shoulder before she steadied herself, leaving a breath of space between them.
She lurked inches from JZ's face.
“What's up?” JZ said, keeping his voice steady, even as his body grew warm. He hoped his face was as icy neutral as he intended.
She knelt closer on his cushion, closing the sliver of space. Her chest and stomach pressed against his arm, her lips near his ear. “You tell me, what's up,” she said in a low flirty whisper.
He cleared his throat and grimaced when it came out as a strangled choke. “Girl, go 'head.” His hands went to her waist and caressed lightly before pushing her away. “You gon' mess around and get tapped.”
Jacinta popped right back in position, pressing against him. Her smooth cotton tee shirt was cool against JZ's arm. He resisted the urge to pull her onto his lap.
She moved JZ's hand back to her waist as she talked into his ear. “I thought this was what was up.”
Her warm breath sent JZ's body into autopilot. His hand kneaded her waist. In a few seconds he was going to willingly give his brain a fifteen-minute break and let his hands and mouth take over. He closed his eyes, briefly, savoring the pressure of her body.
It took a second for his brain and body to reconcile Jacinta's voice, still hot and flirty, taunting him, “Now
which
one of us is wishing something was up?” She laughed as realization dawned on JZ's face.
His face burned, a mix of wanting Jacinta and embarrassment. He pushed her away, snatching his hand as if it were on fire. “Girl, get out my ear.”
She poked at his neck, jabbing and tickling at the same time.
“I played you.” She clapped. “You was totally ready to do me.”
JZ rolled his eyes. “Trust. If I wanted to do you, it would have been done. For real.”
“Yeah, okay,” Jacinta said. She plopped back down, cross-legged on her cushion, laughing her head off. She taunted in the new way they had of torturing one another, a sick game of hard-to-get, giving him grief for almost falling for her seduction.
JZ half listened, pretending to suddenly have a great appreciation for the wonders of MTV Jams. His mind raced back and forth over the last few seconds. Already the memory of Jacinta pressed against him, her voice convincingly beckoning him to touch her, and her breath streaming in his ear, were breaking up like wisps of a dream. Only her laugh rang clear in his mind.
Either Cinny was a pro at playing their game or she was an A-1 actress. He didn't believe she would reject him if he came at her the right way.
She ain't that good of an actress,
he thought, shaking his head clear.
Two could play that game.
The stakes had just gotten higher in their hand of catch me if you can.
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But the next evening he had another game on his mind and it was whipping him better than Cinny. Coach Ewing had been on his back the entire practice.
“Jason, stop hotdogging. I thought you outgrew that bullshit last season.”
“Jason, pass the ball. Ain't no scouts here tallying up your statsâpass the ball!”
“Aww, Jesus, what is this? A SportsCenter highlight?”
Sweat poured down JZ's face. Coach Ewing had a real bug up his ass tonight. But JZ dared not show his frustration. It would only rile his coach more, make him nastier. The way Coach was on him, nobody would ever guess that three years ago, the man had literally begged JZ's father to let him play Varsity when JZ's father had been adamant that his son remain on JV for a year.
The three years felt like an eternity away, tonight.
JZ was the star of the team, but Coach Ewing wouldn't let him enjoy it even for a minute. He felt his legs ready to go rubbery and willed them steady as he passed Coach Ewing, whistle clamped between his lips, ready to blow it at the slightest hint that JZ was slowing down. Several players ran past JZ, forcing him to dig in and catch up.
He was the captain of the team; if any of the players reached the foul line before him, he'd have to run an extra lap at the end of practice.
JZ would sprint-crawl before stopping. He had mad respect for Coach. Besides his father, Coach Ewing was the only other man JZ feared. Tall, lean, and broad across the chest, the thirty-something history teacher had an easygoing demeanor that could turn into mouth-frothing anger at mediocrity in a heartbeat.
JZ was no psychologist, but he didn't have to be to know Coach's disdain for weakness had something to do with his own unfulfilled dreams. A former McDonald's All-American player, he'd been a top college prospect until he blew out his knee, junior year. No knee meant no scholarship, and once the big-name schools stopped calling, he ended up at a small HBCU in Tennessee. He reminded his players often that they should take basketball seriously, but be just as serious about a backup plan.
JZ feared Coach Ewing's wrath, but he feared the prospect of becoming Coach Ewing more.
Talent down the drain. That would never be him.
JZ pushed harder, outpacing Todd, sprinting past Dave B., and easily overtaking Carlos to reach the foul line on the last sprint. He put his arms over his head and walked off the lightning bolt piercing his sides and chest, until his breath steadied from panting to just plain heavy.
“Well, ladies, look like your captain doesn't wanna run extra laps today,” Coach Ewing said, the smile in his voice genuine.
JZ's heart steadied. He'd done good. Coach was happy ... finally.
Coach waved the team over. They huddled around him, the heat steaming off their bodies as he lectured. “That's the kind of effort I need to see when we play Sam-Well. Not five of you on the court, but one team handling the ball like they're connected at the hip. One picking up the slack when another struggles.” He leveled a look at JZ. “We got an understanding, Jason?”
JZ nodded. He greedily reached for the water bottle Todd handed over and squirted the cool liquid down his throat, never tasting it.
“I hope so.You try stacking your stats over doing what's right to getaWin the column, I'll bench your ass,” Coach said, refusing to look away until JZ nodded again. Once he did, Coach put his hand in the huddle, palm down, and waited patiently while the players followed suit, placing their hands on top.
“Blue Devils go, on three,” he said. “One, two, three ...”
“Blue Devils go,” the team chanted.
The huddle broke up immediately. The team scrambled to run their mandatory laps, forcing their way through it like a sick child taking medicine. Afterward, the losers of the sprint drill gathered the equipment, while the rest of the team beat it to the locker room.
Todd walked beside JZ. He glanced at the back of JZ's soaked practice jersey, tugging at it slightly, “Dude, did you have a bull's-eye on your back or something? Coach was just like ... man, on you.”
Not like it was the first time,
JZ thought bitterly. He pulled the jersey over his head, wincing at the soreness in his arms, and wiped his face with it.
“You know how he gets,” he said, not really wanting to dwell on it. Coach didn't play favoritesâhe was an equal opportunity bitcherâbut JZ would be lying if he didn't admit to himself that the closer they got to senior year, the harder Coach was on him. If JZ didn't know better, he'd swear Coach Ewing was jealous because so many Division I schools were actively recruiting him. They were calling Coach Ewing's office daily and flooding him with letters requesting to come out and see JZ play.