“Oh,” the snooty girl in their school's letterman jacket says, rolling her well-made-up eyes at me. “Well, can't you just take it from here instead of making me walk all the way back up?” Before I can comment, Sarah steps up front from the kitchen, ready to go off. Marty stuck her in the back as punishment for Sarah sassing her this morning. I'm glad it's almost time to get off. Rah should be here soon and I'm more than ready to leave this place.
“Listen, she already told you that you have to order from the counter. So, either get up or don't eat. Simple as that,” Sarah says. Her deep Kingston accent gives the words more power than if I'd delivered them. I'm glad she's on my side.
“Who was talking to you?” the third friend says, but she sounds scared, like she's trying to save face in front of her girls. These broads are too silly for me to deal with right now and not worth the trouble.
“You know, all of this isn't necessary,” I say, trying to defuse the situation before Marty walks in from the storehouse in the parking lot. “Do you want to order or not?” Sarah, still ready to charge, retreats to the back and leaves me to deal with the shrews.
“We're still deciding,” the lead broad says, symbolically waving her white flag and allowing things to cool down. These pseudo-rich chicks are too much for me. I'm glad I don't have to deal with them on a daily basis. They remind me of that new TV show,
Baldwin Hills
, where I know they are frontin' about having hella cash, unlike in Redondo Beach where the wealth is all real. Before I can begin my clock-out routine, Marty walks in and she's headed my way.
“Jayd, you can go ahead and clean the tables. I'll clock-out your register,” she says. Now she's gotten too used to getting her way around here. I hate that she's up in my money like this. But what can I do? Shahid and Summer are too busy planning their not-so-secret vacation to care about what's going on here. I liked it better when they were on the low with their relationship. It seems like they were more cognizant of what's going on in the store than they are now.
“How many times do I have to remind you that it's my job to clock my own register out?” I say, taking the cloth from the counter and wiping down the juice bar.
“Jayd, it's that type of insubordinate attitude that has resulted in your reduced hours,” Marty says, laying down a heavy blow in an eye blink. This chick is ruthless if she's messing with my moneyâand stupid.
“What are you talking about?” Summer has always made the schedules around here and mine has been steady for well over a year. I get my sixteen hours on the weekends and double that during the holidays. I know Marty doesn't have the power to change that.
“I made the new schedule and, in light of your lackadaisical attitude in the afternoons, decided you were only needed in the morning, through the lunch rush.” Oh hell, no, this broad isn't serious. What was in that tea my mom made again? If I had all of the ingredients here, this chick would be down for the count.
“What? You have no right to change Summer's schedules,” I say, causing the snooty customers and employees alike to stop and pay attention to the scene I'm causing.
“I have every right. She asked me to make changes for the better and I did,” Marty says. And, as usual, Summer and Shahid are not around to help a sistah out these days. What's really going on here?
“Look at it this way, Jayd. Now you can get off earlier and have the rest of the day to yourself,” she says smugly while stepping in front of me at the register and cashing it out.
“I don't need to get off earlier. I need to get a car,” I say, grabbing my things from one of the hooks on the wall and storming out just as Rah pulls up. Thank God for kismet timing. One more minute and they would be calling the police on my ass.
“That's it, I've had it,” I scream as I get in the shiny red Acura and slam the passenger's door. His car feels so comfortable, especially with Sade bumping in the background.
“Well, hello to you, too,” Rah says, pulling out of the circular driveway and heading to my mom's.
“What's wrong, Jayd?” Kamal asks, touching my shoulder from the seat in the back. “Did you have a bad day at work?”
“More like a bad month,” I say, holding Rah's hand, which is already comfortably resting on my thigh. “I have to find a new job, and fast.”
“No, what you need to do is hustle your skills,” Rah says, quoting a line from his own textbook. If anyone could teach a course on hustling, it's him. “But hey, I got something that'll cheer you up,” he says, shining his perfect smile at me. Sometimes I forget how beautiful this man really is.
“Oh really? It's not another song, is it?” I say, teasing him. I love that I inspire him in the studio.
“No, smart-ass, it's not,” Rah says, making Kamal giggle. He touches my hand to his lips and drops the blissful bombshell. “I told Trish I want to see other people. Well, not other people, just you,” he says. Damn, I didn't see that one coming. I can't even think about getting into another relationship right now. I need to put all of my effort into getting my paper straight.
“Wow. How did she take it?” I say, trying to hide my true feelings and ward off the impending argument for as long as possible. From the look on his face, I've hid nothing from Rah and I feel the pressure coming on.
“She took it. What I'm concerned with is your response,” he says. The traffic is heavy on La Brea, making me feel trapped in more ways than one. It's times like these that I'm grateful for the bus.
“I'm a little surprised,” I say, only telling half the truth. “I thought you didn't want to give her up right now. What's changed since last week?”
“I changed my mind. I thought you'd be happier,” he says, looking at me and not the cars in front of him.
“Rah, let's talk about this later. I've had a long day and Kamal's in the car,” I whine. The last thing I want is to argue in front of his little brother. I spent my adolescence trying to shield Kamal from all of the fighting between Rah and their mom. I don't want to remind him of those days at all if I can help it.
“Kamal hears everything anyway, and I'm not trying to make your day longer, but damn, girl, you sure are hard to please.” He's right; it takes a hell of a lot more to please me than him opening up his dating options when it's convenient for him.
“And you're hard to figure out,” I say, vexed that I feel more pressure. “One minute you're telling me you're not breaking up with Trish and the next you're telling me you told her. What the hell am I supposed to think?”
“You're supposed to think that I love you and want to see where we can go with this,” he says, putting his arm around my shoulders and trying to pull me into his chest. I don't care how good he smells, I'm not buying it. Something else is up with Rah and I want to know what it is.
“Yeah, well, I need to focus on me right now, not another relationship with a cheating dude,” I say, pulling away from his tight grip.
“Now wait just a minute, Miss Thang,” he says in a slight New York accent. He's been listening to too much Notorious B.I.G. lately. “You don't need to be going off on me like this. I'm not the one you're mad at.” And he's right. I don't want to have this conversation right now and I told him that. Why don't people hear me when I speak?
“I said let's talk about it later,” I say, folding my arms tightly across my chest and staring out of the window. Finally respecting my wishes, he turns up the volume and we ride the rest of the way in complete silence. I want to go home, take a bath, and eat some vanilla almond ice cream to help me forget about this day. And that's exactly what I'm going to do.
6
The Taming of the Shrew
“It doesn't matter what they say or do/ Don't let 'em get to you.”
âMARY J. BLIGE
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“Y
ou don't have the sight, child,” the familiar female voice says, continuously repeating the phrase with a thick Southern drawl. The mantra causes me to fall endlessly through cloud patches, never hitting the ground but instead gaining momentum and heat the longer I'm suspended in midair.
“Jayd, remember what I said about using your sight for good. You never want to be the cause of your own downfall,” my mom says, but this time it's all in my dream, not her invading my thoughts. I keep falling as the woman's voice keeps chanting her mantra, narrating my downfall. I'm falling so fast that I can hardly catch my breath.
“Shut up,” I yell, wishing I could grab a hold of something. Suddenly, Mama's face appears in the clouds, looking at me sympathetically. She extends her right arm as I continue my rapid descent, grabbing my arm which is still sensitive to the touch after my very real dream where I was burned by a fireball.
“Remember Mama Oshune's words: kill it with kindness, Jayd. Kill it with kindness,” she says as she smears honey on my wound and disappears into thin air. I flail my arms and the honey sticks onto one of the clouds, helping me to catch myself.
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“Damn,” I say, smacking my alarm clock as it rings, disturbing my dream just when it was getting good. I was also getting some good sleep for a change. Between Rah and I arguing and my new bitch for a boss, it was a rough weekend. After my mom dropped me off at home yesterday, I did my laundry, made my bed and got in it. Mama was out in the spirit room when I got here and didn't want to be disturbed. I'm surprised she didn't wake me up before the Tasmanian Devil's rude call, especially since it's Monday and usually my hardest day to rise.
“Mama,” I say in the darkness. It's only five-thirty in the morning, well before sunrise. I touch her bed and realize it's still made from the night before. I can't believe she's been outside all night long. I grab my clothes and toiletries from the corner of my bed and head toward the backhouse. I've got to check on Mama before I get ready for my day.
As I approach the spirit room, Lexi is asleep in her usual spot across the threshold. Mama says that her German shepherd is her personal Legba, guarding and opening the crossroads for her whenever she needs to get something done. And I must admit, Lexi is more special than any dog I've ever seen. I swear she's got some powers of her own. Whether Mama gave them to her or not is a whole other matter. But regardless of how she got it, Lexi's got her own game and knows how to use it.
“Hey, girl. Is Mama still in there?” I say, stepping over the large canine as I open the door to the quaint house. All the lamps are on, creating a warm, bright atmosphere in the dim morning light.
“Jayd, shouldn't you be getting ready for school?” Mama says, standing by the stove, which is where she was when I checked on her last night. For a woman in her fifties, Mama looks like she could be my mother's sister. Ever since her hair started growing back after her short cutâwhich it never takes long to doâpeople have been talking about her more than ever, saying she got a weave. Mama, as always, ignores the neighborhood gossip. She and Netta alone know the secrets of doing hair, and it doesn't include weaves.
“Yeah, but I had to check on you real quick,” I say, eyeing the tasty treats on the table. “Can I sample your batch?” I ask before reaching for the cupcakes. Mama promptly smacks my hand with a towel. “I guess that's a no.”
“They're not for you,” she says, returning to her hot pot of milk on the stove. “They're for Esmeralda's cats.”
“Please tell me you haven't been up all night making something to kill those cats,” I say, disappointed I can't try the poisonous delights. I bet they still taste good.
“Girl, no,” Mama says, turning off the steaming pot and facing me. “Haven't I taught you anything about character, girl?”
“Yes ma'am,” I say, still disappointed I can't take part in the morning snack. “You even teach in my dreams,” I say, recalling my falling sensation as I slip off the bench where I'm seated at the table.
“A dream? Do tell,” Mama says as she directs my attention to the clock hanging on the wall. “Make it quick. I don't want you to be late and I also want you to write down your dream in your spirit notebook before you forget.” I brought home my mom's to study, with her explicit instructions not to show it to Mama. It's funny that my mom's still afraid of her mother, even though she is grown and out of the house.
“I dreamt I was falling and you appeared, slapped some honey on my arm and told me to kill it with kindness, and then I woke up,” I say, quickly summarizing it for her. Knowing Mama, that was enough to give me the lesson out of it.
“Watch out for traps, Jayd,” Mama says, probing directly to the meaning. Mama's got vision skills like no other. I feel sorry for Esmeralda trying to mess with Mama and for all the other haters she has. But no matter what, Mama's always victorious, like the queen she is. “The ground can give away from under you at any time, most of all when you least expect it.”
“You got all that from what I told you?” I say, ready to get in the shower and start my day.
Macbeth
tryouts start today at lunch and I want to get there early. I already know Matt and Seth, being the stage and sound managers, hooked up Chance and me with a good slot, but I don't find out exactly when until the rest of the crowd does. They'll only bend the rules so much for me.
“I've been doing this for a long time. Now go on and get while I feed the kitties breakfast,” Mama says, loading her picnic basket with the cupcakes and small bowls of milk. She takes a teaspoon and splashes a minute amount of honey in each cup. “Sweet is always the way to go,” she says, following me out the door. I'll have to get the scoop on the mystic treats later. Right now, Mama's got to get on her job and me on mine.
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It's weird seeing Misty on the bus this year. Up until recently she's been getting a ride with her new man, KJ. Something must've happened and she looks whipped, like she's been crying for days. I wonder if they broke up. I doubt it, because I'm sure the news would've spread through the campus by now. But why else would she be condemned to riding the bus like me?
By the time we get to campus, people are buzzing around in a frenzy for one reason or another. All I can think about is the tryouts. I'm so anxious about playing Lady Macbeth. I know I can rock the part like no other lady ever has.
“How's my wife doing?” Chance says, catching me off guard with a bear hug. I used to love his hugs. But ever since he and Nellie started dating, they make me uncomfortable and I hate that feeling.
“Chance, you have to chill with all of the PDA now that you're dating my girl,” I say, closing my locker door. Reid and Laura look amused as they watch us from across the hall. That wench better not be trying out for my part. I heard she used to be in drama class back in the day, but all of the rehearsals interfered with her social schedule. Not to mention that once she became Reid's girl last year, her identity is no longer her own.
“What are you talking about? Nellie knows we're cool like that,” he says, walking me to my class. Speaking of my girls, I wonder where they are this morning. I wouldn't be surprised if they were running late. That's another reason I don't ride with them in the morning: I hate being late.
“Alaska ain't cool like that, Chance,” I say as I playfully smack him in the arm. “Girls get territorial with their men, just like dudes. Don't you know anything about the opposite sex?”
“Just that y'all are paranoid. You are way off with this one, Lady J,” Chance says, flicking the gold bangle on my wrist before opening the door. I know I shouldn't be wearing this since Jeremy gave it to me, but it's too pretty to sit in my jewelry box.
“I wish you were right for both our sakes, Chance. But you're the one who's wrong on this one.” As I enter the crisp classroom, leaving Chance and his idealistic mind outside, I notice our Spanish teacher's absent and there's a cute sub in his place. What a nice surprise to see a young brotha with dreads doing his thang.
“Good morning,” I say as I take my seat. I see half the class has gotten wind of the sub and decided not to show up. Normally I might skip out on first period too, if the opportunity presented itself. But I'm sitting in on this class. The new girl looks like she's about to fall asleep at her desk across the room. I wonder what's her story.
“Good morning,” the well-dressed teacher says. He rises from his seat at the teacher's desk to write his name on the board, just like a good substitute. Mr. Adewale. Now I've got to get to know this man. With a name like that, he's got to have a story and I bet it's more fascinating than the new girl's, which I'll catch up on another time.
“Hey Jayd, I need to talk to you,” Nigel says, dropping into my class right before the bell rings.
“What is it? Class is about to start and I've got a lot of work to do.” I've only got fifty-five minutes with Mr. Adewale and I don't want to waste a single moment.
“Rah's been trying to call you since Saturday night. Girl, you know you're tripping, not getting back at a brotha,” he says, snapping me back into the reality that I'm not talking to Rah. I'm not impressed with the way he's handling his relationship with Trish. Besides, I was comfortable with the way things were, to a certain degree. Him wanting to jump into a relationship after he was just cheating on his last girlfriend doesn't really turn me on.
“Tripping or not, I need some space,” I say. Mr. Adewale gives Nigel a stern look as the bell rings above his head, unlike Mr. Donald, who lets his football players get away with just about anything. I like this new guy already.
“Well, you better get all the space you need by lunch because your boy's coming up here and it's not to see me.” Damn, doesn't he ever have classes for an entire day? I swear that boy gets more passes than Nigel catches on the field.
“What the hell? Doesn't he have to stay at school or there's no such thing as detention at Westingle?”
“You should've thought about the consequences for y'all before you pissed him off. You know my boy can't be ignored.”
“It's more like won't, and I don't have time for this today. I have auditions with Chance during lunch, so all of the drama will have to wait.”
“Jayd, how can you be mad at him for opening up his relationship to fit you in?” Now, that's about the stupidest thing I've ever heard come out of his mouth, and Nigel has said some stupid shit in the years I've known him. And most of it has been in defense of Rah.
“You see, that's just the type of BS I'm talking about. You can send this message to your little homeboy,” I say, escorting Nigel out of my classroom as everyone watches us, the substitute included. I'm glad I wore my Apple Bottoms today because I can feel his eyes on me. “I didn't ask him to make space for me in his little twisted ménage-a-trois. And not only is this little threesome tiring, it's also insulting. I don't need a man so desperately in my life that I'm willing to settle for less than I deserve. So, take that to your little lunch date with your boy and tell him this one's on me.”
“You go, girl,” my classmate China says from her cannabis-induced haze. I didn't even realize my homegirl was back there, sleeping as usual. I close the door and get back to my desk where I'm ready to study our temporary teacher and forget about the boys in my life for now. It'll be nice to be in the presence of a real man. I need more of these encounters in my life.
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“Jayd, do you have your outline for your report?” Mrs. Peterson says, not even letting me get in the door before she starts grilling me. All these people up in this room and she chooses me to start with today. Granted, the class is more bearable with Tania gone, but not that much. If Mrs. Peterson would retire, that would be heaven.
“Yes, Mrs. Peterson, I do.” She wishes she could trip me up, but she can't. If nothing else, I get my schoolwork done, even if I have a bad attitude when I deliver it.
“Good. Then we'll start with yours to read aloud to the rest of the class,” she says, taking a sip of her coffee without looking up. She's just a shrew through and through, as Netta would say. Just then, Mr. Adewale walks into the classroom with Mrs. Bennett, shrew number two.
“Good morning, class,” Mrs. Bennett says, as Jeremy slides in right under the ringing bell. I saw him walking around at break but had to catch up with my girls and couldn't speak to him. As usual, he sits next to me. But today my sights are on someone else. “This is Mr. Adewale and he's a student teacher from UCLA,” Mrs. Bennett says, like she has a sour taste in her mouth. Something tells me he's doing more than visiting. I wonder if this was the cause of Ms. Toni's argument with Mrs. Bennett about hiring a new teacher a couple of weeks ago.