There You Are

by Morais, Mathea

She looked at Bones to make sure she heard him right and back at Octavian. “Holy shit,” she said. “Octavian?”

  “Hey Mina,” he said. A smile took over his face. “It’s been a long time.” Without warning she hugged him fiercely, urgently, and he lifted a nervous hand to her back.

  A look of sentimental confusion crossed over Bones’s face before he said, “Oh, that’s right, y’all know each other, don’t you?”

  Mina released Octavian and blushed deeply. “Yeah, I know this guy,” she said to Bones. “We were friends in fifth grade.” She turned to Octavian. “I can’t believe it’s really you. I haven’t seen you in so long. I thought you moved away or something.”

  Octavian felt the tips of his fingers get hot and he looked at Bones. “This girl is the reason I started drawing,” he said.

  “Is that right?” Bones said. “I seem to remember something about a Chuck Berry record.” He smiled sideways at Mina and walked away toward the cash register.

  Mina and Octavian stood silently for moment in the Classic Rock section feeling like the children they were nearly seven years before. “Seems like you and Bones are old friends,” Octavian said. “Have you known him a long time?”

  “Yeah,” she said, spinning one of the rings on her finger. “I met him around the time we moved out of U. City. I’ve been wanting to work here ever since.”

  “Wait, you’re going to work here?” Octavian said.

  She smiled. “Today’s my first day.”

  For the first few weeks, Bones scheduled them to work the same shifts, and even though Mina smiled at Octavian as soon as he walked in the door, Octavian found himself folding up whenever she came near. He preferred to watch her from a distance. It wasn’t so much that Mina was pretty—which she was—but what made her different was something else. It was how she dressed in Doc Martens and a suede coat with long fringe that swished as she walked, or a short dress with cowboy boots and an army jacket. And it was the way she snapped her fingers when a song she liked came on, how she laughed when she sat in the back talking shit with Ivy. It was those things, but that wasn’t all. She didn’t seem to care who other people expected her to be and, at least from what Octavian could tell, she had no intention of being anyone else. Just like when they were kids, he thought, she was still free.

  Octavian wished that when she turned her gray eyes on just him, that his mouth wouldn’t get dry and he wouldn’t forget the things he wanted to say to her. But usually he wound up turning quickly to some mundane task he pretended was much more important. He saw that this confused her because when everyone else was around, he had plenty of things to say. He cracked jokes with her, teased her, even made a point of letting her know he respected what she knew about music, but when they were alone, he always walked away.

  On a fall day when the wind was blowing so hard they had to wedge the front door of Rahsaan’s so that it wouldn’t keep slamming open and closed, Bones sent Octavian and Mina to the back to unload a shipment of CDs. Octavian pretended to focus on the CDs and was still trying to think of something to say when she asked, “So, do you still draw?”

  A sandy feeling coated his mouth and he scolded himself and swallowed. “I do,” he said. “But I’ve been doing more painting these days than drawing. And doing some pottery.”

  “That’s really cool,” she said. “Think I could see your work sometime?”

  Octavian imagined that they were not alone, that the room was full of his friends. “Maybe,” he said. “When I get to know you better.”

  She laughed. “Shit, Tave, I’d like to think I’ve changed a lot since the fifth grade, but other than wearing jeans that fit, I think I’m pretty much the same.” She slid a CD out of the box. “You know it’s because of you that I found Rahsaan’s?”

  “It was?”

  She nodded. “I came down to the Loop not long after I left Delmar Harvard. I was trying to find you, but I found Bones instead. That was the day he sold me my first Prince record.”

  “That’s crazy,” Octavian said. “It was around that time Frankie took me to see Prince live at the Arena.”

  “You got to go to that show? God, I wanted to go so bad.” She was quiet for a minute. “Funny how things work out. I was all about lace and clowns and drawing teardrops on my face after that.”

  Thinking about the way she’d been in her high-water jeans made Octavian less nervous. “I would have done anything to see that.”

  “Why? So you could have teased me?”

  He remembered that back then she was the one who could make him feel better whenever he felt bad. The fact that she had gone to look for him made feel brave. “Nah, Mina girl,” he said. “We could have hung out, listened to ‘Controversy’ or something.”

  “I guess we were more alike than we thought,” she said.

  “We still are,” Octavian said without looking at her.

  The next day she came in to Rahsaan’s even though she wasn’t on the schedule and handed Octavian a cassette.

  “What’s this?”

  Mina blushed a little. “I belong to this mail-order Prince fan-club thing that’s run out of Minneapolis,” she said. “They send me tapes of local radio station interviews and bootleg live recordings, some unreleased songs. I put a few of my favorites on here.”

  Octavian turned the tape over in his hands, saw where she’d handwritten the names of all the songs. Goddamn, he thought. She’d made him a present, a Prince mix tape. Used a Maxell XLII-S 90 and everything.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  She did that thing where she looked into his eyes and made everything else disappear. But this time, he didn’t look away. He saw the edges of her cheeks turn pink. “Let me know if you like it,” she said and cleared her throat. “I got a whole lot more where that came from.”

  TRACK 3

  Follow the

  Leader

  MINA HAD ONLY BEEN working at Rahsaan’s for a month before she convinced Bones to hire Clarissa. After that Bones liked to say that he didn’t need to come to work anymore. He was right. The collective knowledge of his staff was more than he could ever hope to know himself. Ivy knew everything about hip hop from the Fat Boyz to Scarface, and Brendon was a soul music genius who also had a hidden passion for women folk singers—something he and Mina talked about whenever they weren’t discussing books. Clarissa knew about R&B and a whole host of obscure bands from hanging out with her dad. Mina knew what she knew about folk music, but what she loved most was funk and any band with a powerful drummer.

  And then there was Octavian. Coming from Cordelia, who was a gospel, soul loving poet, and Cyrus, who’d been born with a jazz record playing in his ear, and having an older brother like Francis, who went to sleep for a year straight listening to “Shine on You Crazy Diamond,” meant that as much as everyone else knew, Octavian knew more. Octavian had a selective taste that no one could mess with. He knew what songs were going to be the biggest hits and which were the ones people slept on. Secretly, everyone who worked in Rahsaan’s waited for Octavian before they decided whether or not to really like a song. They went to him to find out what hip hop album to buy next, or what jazz song to put on to impress a date. And they deferred to him in the ongoing debate about who was the better MC—Rakim or KRS-One—to which he always said, “You know, Rakim’s a dope lyricist, but can’t no one fuck with Kris Parker.”

  They became a crew, going out weekends to play darts at Blueberry Hill or getting slingers at Eat-Rite Diner. They piled into Mina’s mother’s ancient Volvo station wagon, the floor of the back seat littered with cassettes, and went downtown, to Forest Park, to parties out in Kirkwood. Octavian always called shotgun and DJ’d, his insides getting tied up in knots when Mina rapped along with every word of “Sucker MCs.”

  Most nights they ended up in the back room at Rahsaan’s playing cards, listening to music with weed smoke hanging low in the air. That was how Octavian wound up across the table from Mina, forced to
meet those dark gray eyes he’d managed to avoid looking too deeply into since she gave him the Prince tape. They were playing spades against Brendon and Ivy, and since they were on the same team, Octavian couldn’t look away as she tried to let him know, without saying a word, that she had a good hand.

  He nodded. “Let’s go blind six,” he said.

  Evan always lost at cards, so he sat behind the turntable with both a bong and a forty in his lap. He played the I-threes and Elvis Costello and DJ Quick and when he put on Bronski Beat, Brendon bobbed his head and said, “This shit is dope. What is this, E?”

  Octavian laughed. “I love you, Brendon man,” he said and threw the three of hearts.

  “Why’s that?” Brendon asked throwing the king.

  “Because you’re the most militant motherfucker I know, over there in your beret, looking like a big ass Professor Griff from Public Enemy and shit, and then here you are getting your groove on to some very white British pop.”

  “Hey, I don’t discriminate,” Brendon said. “Plus, I can’t be that militant now that I live with this cracker motherfucker,” he said, pointing his hand of cards at Ivy.

  Evan changed the song to Slick Rick and Mina threw the Ace of hearts. Ivy shrugged and threw the King. Brendon let out an exasperated sigh. He didn’t like losing at spades and he kicked Ivy under the table.

  “What?” Ivy said. “It’s the only heart I’ve got.”

  “Great,” Brendon said, “good thing they know that now.”

  “You better not have just messed up my Nikes, B,” Ivy said and he examined his latest pair of shoes. He turned to Octavian. “Yo Tave,” he said. “You shoulda seen this girl I was talking to last night at the bowling alley, Tave. Fat booty and light skinned. Cute as hell.”

  Brendon shook his head and licked his lips. “You seen Frankie lately, Tave?” He asked.

  “Don’t try to be slick, y’all,” Octavian said. “You think you can distract me from beating your asses by talking about fat booties and Francis, but you can’t.”

  “Ain’t nobody trying to distract you. Brother can’t ask about his boy?”

  “You can ask,” Octavian said. “But you better watch yourself. You know Francis is like the candy man. Say his name three times and the motherfucker will appear.”

  Octavian dropped the two of spades on the last hand and Brendon cursed, pushed himself away from the table. “You got a cigarette, Ivy?”

  Ivy nodded and they went outside. Bones didn’t care too much about them smoking weed or drinking in the back, but recently, he’d decided that smoking cigarettes was forbidden. Mina and Octavian sat alone at the table. Mina took a sip of her drink and said, “I have to tell you something.”

  “What? You cheat at spades?”

  She laughed and said, “No, I don’t cheat at spades.”

  “Okay, what?”

  “You know, that day a long time ago when you came into Rahsaan’s and bought that Chuck Berry record, with your dad and your brother?”

  Octavian nodded slowly. “I remember.”

  “I was here.”

  “What do you mean you were here? In Rahsaan’s? Did I see you?”

  Mina shook her head. “I hid behind the counter. I didn’t want you to see me.”

  Octavian could only stare her.

  “You remember how I told you that I used to look for you sometimes, how I thought that maybe I’d find you here?”

  Octavian nodded.

  “Well when you did finally walk in, I was so petrified, I hid. Bones thought I was crazy.” She stopped talking and smiled. “I remember it was the first time I ever heard of Miles Davis. I bought myself the same record your dad bought a few weeks later.”

  Octavian’s stomach flipped a little. “+19?”

  “+19.”

  Mina swallowed and looked away. “I don’t know why I just told you that.”

  It was the first time Octavian ever saw her look uncomfortable, and he was about to tell her it was cool when Brendon called his name from across the room. Octavian turned from Mina. “What’s up?”

  Brendon jerked his head toward the back door where Evan stood talking to Crazy Opal and Clarissa. He shot a worried look at Octavian. A look Octavian knew meant only one thing. Francis. He ignored them and turned back to Mina. “Is Crazy Opal officially crazy?”

  “I don’t know,” Mina said. “Sometimes she walks past me like I’m a stranger. Other times she hits on me, tells me how much she loves white girls.”

  Octavian tried to laugh. Clarissa walked over and leaned her hip against Mina’s chair. “Hey girl,” she said.

  Mina reached up to hold Clarissa’s hand. “Hey Riss,” she said.

  Clarissa looked at Octavian. “I hate to do this to you, Tave,” she said. “But your brother’s over at Cicero’s starting all types of shit. He flipped on Opal and got her shook. Y’all probably need to go see what’s up.”

  Evan lifted the needle off the Digital Underground’s “Freaks of the Industry” and the room filled with massive silence. Everyone looked at Octavian, who looked at Ivy.

  “Let’s go,” Ivy said.

  Cicero’s Restaurant was across the street from Rahsaan’s. It specialized in cold pitchers of beer, St. Louis-style pizza, and lasagna baked in individual blue and red pans. There was a dining room with a long bar and a basement that featured local rock and reggae bands. Upstairs was a jukebox that hadn’t been updated since the early ’80s.

  When they walked in, Johnny, who worked the takeout booth said, “It’s about fucking time.”

  “Where is he?” Octavian asked.

  Johnny nodded toward the bar. Francis sat, long arms folded on the shining Formica. His head hung deep between his shoulders and he moved to a beat much slower than the Hall and Oates song coming from the speakers. The rest of the customers had given him a wide berth.

  Clarissa said something about calling her mom and walked over to the payphone. Mina gave Octavian a smile. “I’m going to get cigarettes,” she said.

  Octavian watched her walk to the back, where she dropped quarters into the cigarette machine and pulled the lever. He heard Francis call his name and he turned to see him gesturing wildly for Octavian to sit down. Octavian shook his head and smiled, and went to join Francis at the bar.

  Evan, Brendon and Ivy were still talking to Johnny, but Mina walked over to where they were sitting. Francis gave her a crooked smile. “Hey Mina,” he said, swaying a bit on his stool. “Wanna go do some blow with me in the men’s room?”

  Before Mina could answer, Octavian said, “Fuck off, Francis.”

  Francis turned from Mina to Octavian and back again. “Aww, shit, this your girl now, Tave? That’s cool. I don’t know though, she might be too cute for your ugly ass. I been trying to tap that for a minute. Haven’t I, Mina?”

  “What are you talking about?” Mina said.

  “Oh, that’s right, it wasn’t you. It was your friend, the big girl, Clarissa. Now, she’s cute, Tave. Where she at? She was just in here with that bitch, Opal.” Francis turned toward the bartender. “Hey, Doug, lemme get another Stoli.”

  Doug glanced at Octavian and put a highball of ice on the bar, but he filled it with water, not vodka. “It’s been a long night, Francis,” he said. “Think it’s time to go home.”

  Francis stared hard at the glass of water for a second. “Oh, so my bitch-ass little brother comes up in here and now you wanna cut me off?” he said to Doug, but he was looking at Octavian.

  “Chill, Frankie,” Octavian said.

  Francis stood and pressed his body up against Octavian. “What, you up in here with this, this bitch, who everyone knows gives the best damn head in St. Louis, and now you better than me or something?”

  Mina took a step back, and from the other side of the room, she saw Evan, Brendon, and Ivy pushing toward them, but not before Octavian swung wide and caught Francis across the chin. Francis fell backward, and as he fell, he
threw the glass of water at Octavian, catching him hard on the face. The room vibrated like a deep base line and Francis went down, taking tables and chairs with him.

  It was silent until Doug hollered, “Get the fuck out. Get out, get out!”

  Brendon offered Francis a hand, but Francis slapped it away and scrambled to his feet. He didn’t look at any of them, just pushed his way out the door.

  Octavian picked up a fallen chair, and Ivy and Evan righted the table. An angry cut opened up underneath Octavian’s left eye, and he touched the tip of his fingers to the thin line of dark-red blood. “Tell your brother he’s not coming in here no more, okay?” Doug said handing Octavian a napkin. “No more fucking chances.”

  Octavian held the napkin to his face and nodded as he walked toward the door. Mina grabbed onto Clarissa’s hand and they all followed Octavian silently outside where the early October wind had picked up. They hugged themselves inside their jackets and looked down Delmar to where Francis’s tall frame, head down, hands in his pockets, was walking fast.

  “You think he’s gonna be alright?” Evan asked.

  “Someone should prolly go make sure,” Ivy said. “Want to come with me?”

  Evan shrugged. “Not really.”

  “Fuck him,” Octavian said. The streetlights of passing cars blurred. Francis was already in front of the Tivoli.

  “Well, I know it’s not my turn to look after Frankie’s ass,” Brendon said and gave Ivy a look. “I was with him three nights ago.”

  Ivy shook his head. “Y’all suck,” he said and started jogging in Francis’s direction.

  “Yo, Ivy,” Octavian called.

  Ivy turned around.

  “Hit me up later. Let me know what’s up.”

  “Roger Dodger,” Ivy said.

  They watched until Ivy caught up and wrapped a thin arm around Francis’s back.

  “You need a ride home, Clarissa?” Brendon said.

  Clarissa looked at Mina. “You good?”

  “I’m good.”

  “You should put a Band-Aid or some shit on that cut, Tave,” Evan said.