Flipping the Script

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Flipping the Script Page 10

by Paula Chase


  She was enough to keep his mind off Cinny. He just wished Raheem didn’t seem so comfortable on JZ’s turf.

  At the very least, dude should have his guard up, stepping into Blue Devil’s territory by his lonely. Instead, he blended in with Stefan, Brian, and David—laughing, exchanging dap as if they were all old friends.

  Jealousy tightened JZ’s chest. This was his house, the side of Del Rio Bay where he reigned supreme. Kid, better recognize, he thought as a dance hall mix vibrated the ceiling.

  Erica whooped, “That’s my song.”

  “I’ll be back, Shortie,” JZ said, still eyeing Raheem, mind brimming with bravado. He wasn’t going to be ignorant. He and Raheem had mostly been cool. But seeing Raheem so chill tonight juiced him up.

  He nudged Mina and Jacinta. “Come on, let me go speak to your man.”

  Erica pouted. “But this is my jam.”

  “Just start dancing,” Jacinta said, the sarcasm in her voice quilted with sincerity. “Trust, you won’t be by yourself for long.”

  “Jason, don’t leave me hanging,” Erica said, the warning hollow as he walked on without a second glance.

  “Oh my God, Jay, you’re corrupting that poor girl,” Mina said, when they’d cleared the dance floor. “I thought she was ready do you, right there.”

  JZ laughed. “Shoot, if she down she down.”

  “Down, dirty, desperate. She’s all those,” Jacinta said. “Please get your shots before you run up in that.”

  “She’s not that bad, Cinny,” JZ said, amused that Jacinta was so judgmental. If he closed his eyes, he would swear it was Mina talking. His long stride led them through the thick crowd. He spoke over his shoulder, quickly closing the distance to Raheem. “Don’t be mad ’cause she’s eager to please the kid, unless you want take her place.”

  He chuckled to himself as Jacinta started to say something, then cut herself off as they reached the pool table. JZ extended his fist for a pound a full foot before they reached Raheem, deep in conversation with Brian.

  “What’s up, son?” JZ said, laying the buddy-buddy on thick.

  He and Raheem knocked fists softly.

  “Ain’t nothing, kid. I see you bringing in the new year proper-like.” Raheem nodded toward the DJ table. “Vic got it banging up in here.”

  JZ’s head shook up and down. “That’s how I do.”

  Jacinta stood guard between them, feigning disinterest in their conversation but with no one to talk to as Brian and Mina huddled up. JZ felt the unspoken warning her stance gave off—back straight, head cocked slightly toward JZ as if on the ready for him to pop some nonsense she’d have to smooth over.

  “How y’all look this year?” JZ said, playing to the area he and Raheem shared a passion for. They’d battled on the hardwood for the last two years, Raheem’s Trojans besting JZ’s Blue Devils four times out of six—a record JZ was determined to better when they met again in college, eventually.

  Raheem ran his hands over his low cut, then leaned against the wall near the cue stick cupboard, legs splayed. “We looking good, son.You know I’m swinging for Final Four.”

  “Right, that’s how you gotta think,” JZ said. “It’s all about going to the dance.”

  He and Raheem’s hands gripped, slid apart, then gripped again at the finger tips in a quick shake of agreement.

  “I heard y’all whupped on Poly the other night,” Raheem said. “Sam-Well beat Northern Del Rio like ninety to forty-five, son.”

  He nudged Jacinta’s side, an intimate signal she understood. She rested flush against him, facing JZ, Raheem’s hands wrapped around her waist in a light hug.

  JZ’s stomach twisted in a jealous clench. He cleared his throat, forcing his eyes away from Raheem stroking Jacinta’s arm. “Yeah, I heard they tore it up.” He cracked his knuckles, anxious to get back to Erica and her hypnotic butt even as he kept up his end of the discussion. “Poly was light weight. It’s gonna be us and Sam-Well at States this year. We banging for that championship.”

  “Word. But Sam ...” Raheem paused, as Jacinta wriggled free.

  JZ and Raheem stared at her, stamping her left foot on the floor.

  “Sorry, my foot was going to sleep,” she said, stamping a few more times before coming to rest, arms folded, near Raheem but not against him.

  “Anyway, son, just wanted to holler at you.” JZ put his hand out. As he and Raheem gripped hands again, he smirked at Jacinta over Raheem’s shoulder. “Thanks for stopping through.”

  “I was supposed to be in DC tonight.” Raheem tickled Jacinta’s side. “But I ain’t want hear wifey’s mouth about leaving her hanging on New Year’s Eve.”

  “Yeah, I hear that,” JZ said, fake smile frozen at the corner of his mouth. “Trust, we don’t want hear her mouth about it either.”

  “Whatever, Jay,” Jacinta said, eyes rolling.

  “Naw, we would have taken care of her,” JZ said. His eyes locked on Jacinta’s. He fed off the caution flashing in them. “I always take care of my girls.” He hollered over to the pool table, “I got next,” as he walked away, grinning.

  He laced Jacinta with the same impish smile when she stepped to him a few hours later, catching him in the back room, a large supply closet, where his parents kept the sodas, juices, and waters for the bar. He fought the laughter rising in his chest at the look on her face. She was hot and chomping at the bit to lay into him. It didn’t take a mind reader to know it.

  He threw his hands up in surrender as she steamrolled into the stockroom, closing the door halfway behind her, finger stabbing him in the chest.

  “You not right, Jay.”

  “What did I do?” He feigned offense. “See how you do me?”

  Jacinta’s lips pursed. “How I do you?”

  “I went out of my way to dap Raheem up for stopping by and look at you bringing drama.”

  “Oh my God, you are so foul,” Jacinta said, the fire already dying in her voice at his silly grin. “For real, why did you have to say that mess about taking care of your girls? All Raheem keep saying now is, what that mean, Cinny? Since when you his girl?”

  “You want me explain to him what I meant?” JZ’s shoulders shook in a silent chuckle as he worked to keep a straight face. “Mina’s my girl too. And Kelly and Lizzie. It’s all swazy.”

  “You’re not even slick.” Jacinta smacked his arm. “I just had to get through one night, one more night with him. We haven’t argued once all break. We—”

  “Woah.” JZ put his hands over his ears. “I don’t want hear about what y’all did over break. My ears too pure for that.”

  Jacinta’s small hands pummeled him, playfully battering his arms and chest. He reached out, caught them, then twisted her around, pinning her up against him so her own arms were a straitjacket.

  “I was just playing,” he said, resting his chin on her head. “For real, for real.”

  “Uh-uh, playing nothing,” Jacinta grumbled.

  “So, what, he mad at you?”

  “No ... I mean, probably. He’s playing like he not mad but he is.... He’ll be all right till we leave, then he’s gonna trip.” She swayed lightly in JZ’s hold to the music surrounding the room, rocking against him, setting his mind racing to places he knew he couldn’t go.

  I’mma let go, he thought to himself, but found himself moving with her to the midtempo mix thumping the walls of the stockroom.

  “Just tell him nothing up between us,” JZ said, unsuccessfully willing his arms to release her.

  Jacinta sighed. “Been there, done that, over it.”

  Okay, now ... now I’mma let go, he said to himself, but aloud asked, “So tell me again why you still with dude if all y’all do is fuss like a ol’ married couple.”

  Jacinta was quiet for a beat. Her answer was matter-of-fact. “It is what it is, Jay. I feel like ... out of sight, out of mind, at this point.” She shrugged. “He probably doing a little sumpun, sumpun at school. But, I’m his girl, for now.”

&
nbsp; JZ snorted. “Yeah, well, you don’t act like you somebody’s girlfriend sometimes.”

  Her arms wiggled under JZ’s grip as she laughed. “Who have who pinned down?”

  “But you not trying get away either.”

  JZ lifted the pressure from her arms as proof. His body melded into Cinny’s when her shoulder and back relaxed into him. She spoke loud enough to be heard over the music, but in a low, uncertain voice that made JZ want to protect her.

  “Me and Raheem’s stuff is on this complicated tip. He—”

  “Ay, you don’t have to explain.” JZ unpinned Cinny but kept his arms draped around her nonchalantly, so his lean, hard stomach rested against her soft curves. “You know what they say, right?”

  He waited until Jacinta looked upside down at him, then grinned.

  “You do you, I’mma do me.”

  She grinned back, teeth shining. “Yeah, but you wish I would do you.”

  He snorted. “Girl, please.”

  “My bad. I got you all wrong?”

  “Yup, dead wrong.”

  “Then you better tell that to him,” Jacinta said, bouncing her butt, one good time against JZ’s groin.

  “Man, whatever.” He thrust against her, once, mocking her gesture, playing down the embarrassment heating his face. “Your ass is phat, most definitely, and you are all up on me. And, real talk, it’s not like I’m gay.” He put his arms up, surrendering her once and for all. “You know how me and you roll.... I know your game and you know mine.”

  Jacinta stepped away and turned to face him. A smile played at the corner of her mouth, as if she were reading JZ’s mind and knew he was lying.

  “Exactly. I wouldn’t want cramp your game since so many girls trying to be with Jason Zimms.” She flicked imaginary dust off his collar on each side, then folded her arms against her chest, teasing him with the things she wasn’t saying, like whether she was down with being one of those girls. He leaned his head back, so he was looking down at her in his best “whatever” nod, as she said, “Go ’head back to your little sophomore freak, now that you’ve made sure the rest of my night is busted.”

  “My bad.” JZ chuckled. “For real, tell Raheem I was just clowning. I don’t want to be the cause of you ringing in a new year with your boy all pissed.”

  “Uh-huh.” A smirk played behind Jacinta’s exaggerated eye roll. JZ stared at her lips, unable to take his eyes off how lush they were as she fussed good-naturedly. “So foul, blocking my game on New—”

  Before she could finish, he pulled her to him. His lips went over hers and when she responded, kissing back, he eased his arms around her, pressing her against him so hard they rocked back, thumping against a shelf of straws and cups.

  His fingers wandered over her curves, probing under her tee shirt, creeping toward her bra, caressing it until he stopped, as quickly as he started.

  Jacinta stepped back, dazed, her eyes darting to the half-open door of the stockroom, then back to him, silently questioning what had just happened.

  Chest heaving, JZ pushed against the shelf to stand upright. Straws and red plastic cups rained down to the floor. He swallowed hard, savoring the lingering taste on his tongue of whatever mint Jacinta had recently eaten.

  “Alrighty then,” Jacinta said. Chuckling nervously, she ran her hands through her hair as if to cleanse herself of any evidence of the intense interlude.

  JZ squatted, taking his time picking up the mess from the floor. With his back turned to Jacinta, he exhaled soft and deep through his mouth to get his heart back into his chest.

  Jacinta was as high as he was, he could tell. From the corner of his eye he saw her hands trembling. Her breath was heavy and shaky beside him, calming him.

  Now that’s how players ride, he thought, purposely easing a few straws into the cup at a time until he felt steady enough to stand. He finally slid a large handful of straws inside the cup, stood up, then placed them on the shelf, feeling the blood work its way up his body, giving him some control back in the brain tower.

  He bent over, picked up one last stray cup, sat it aside, then grabbed the case of soda he’d come in for.

  “Can you bring those waters for me, please?” he said, pointing with the soda case.

  Jacinta obliged and followed him to the door. He heard her suck in a deep breath. It streamed from her nose, hissing behind him like an inner tube with a pinhole. He stopped just inside the doorway and turned to her.

  She looked up at him expectantly, eyes wary and curious at the same time.

  “Ay, make sure you tell Raheem he can thank me for whatever go down between y’all tonight.” He winked, slow and seductive. “I know you gon’ wild out on him. Just try not to call my name when you do.”

  He stepped out of the stockroom into a thirsty crowd clamoring for liquid, his laugh swallowed by the music’s blaring.

  Lost in Place

  “Baby to be number one, you’ve got to raise the bar.”

  —High School Musical, “Bop to the Top”

  Michael opened the door a crack and peeked into the Players’ auditorium. A rush of cool air gushed from the crack, assaulting his face as if reprimanding him for breaking the serenity of the cavernous hall. His eyes adjusted to the gloom within seconds and instantly roamed forward to the well-lit stage, where a lone dancer swirled and leapt across the floor. He opened the door another few inches and slipped inside, tiptoeing lightly to the last row, his footsteps silenced by the lush carpet as much as from the whirling crash of strings and percussion echoing from the speakers.

  Although he’d been to the auditorium many times, he still couldn’t get used to its size. He felt like a tiny, solitary boat bobbing among the vast sea of luxe, burgundy faux-velvet seats. The rows flowed endlessly. Three rooms the size of Del Rio Bay’s auditorium, which was a one-thousand-seat theatre, could fit inside the huge hall. The stage felt miles away, yet offered a perfect view of Rob dancing from one end of it to another, lost in a rhythmic frenzy.

  Michael nudged a seat down with his thigh and sat, eyes never leaving the stage. Even from the very last row, Rob’s energy grabbed hold of him. His heart, a willing passenger on the wild ride, leapt and swayed in time to Rob’s movement.

  He flinched as the music thundered, shaking the walls. The sound system was so pristine it seemed as if a live band were playing. Suddenly, the beat transitioned from a traditional ballet tune to classical smothered within a contemporary bass line, and Rob, possessed by the music, went from a dizzying round of pirouettes to a funky krump, his arms and legs contorting, fighting off an invisible army of attackers.

  A ballet remix, Michael thought, nodding his head along in time to both the music and Rob’s angry gyrations. By the time Rob finished serving his imaginary foes, Michael’s chest heaved as if he’d been the one dancing. He breathed slowly through his nose, calming himself from the raucous performance, stood up and made his way to the stage where Rob paced back and forth, silently analyzing his recital.

  Rob’s right eyebrow shot up when Michael, standing at the bottom of the stairs, stage left, called his name.

  “Ay, what’s up, man?” Rob said, chest heaving a mile a minute. He padded to the back of the stage and grabbed a hand towel and bottled water off the floor. His face disappeared behind the towel, as he mopped away the sweat.

  “Nothing.” Michael proceeded up the stairs and stood at the stage’s edge as if needing an invitation to go further. “I had to drop off a costume Madame Zora asked me to tailor. Upstairs is crazy packed. Auditions?”

  “Yeah,” Rob said, dejected. He plopped down on the edge of the stage, his feet dangling dangerously over the ledge leading to the orchestra pit.

  “Oh, was that the piece you auditioning with?”

  “Nope.” Rob sipped from the water bottle. “I’m not trying out.”

  “Word?” Michael’s eyebrows rose. He eased beside Rob onto the stage floor, his back against the stair’s railing. “You’re missing a production? That�
��s gotta be a first. How long you been with the Players?”

  “Six years.” The pride in Rob’s voice rang out into the empty auditorium. “Never missed an audition and never missed a production. . . until now.”

  “Why now?”

  “Going through masters review at the Carter.” Rob arched his back and peered toward the darkened ceiling. He rolled his neck, then stretched his arms as he continued. “It’s mandatory for all second-semester fourth-year students. I could probably still do the Players’ production. I’d just have to give up something” He smirked. “Yanno, like sleep and eating.”

  Michael laughed, lowering his voice when the echo sounded back boastfully. “Oh, just not sleeping or eating? That ain’t no big.”

  Rob smiled. “Yeah. But masters ain’t no joke. It’s an eight-week review and the final week is all auditions so they know what level classes to place you in for the fifth year.” He stood abruptly. “I need to be at the top of my game. The spring production’s just the sacrifice I gotta make, so I don’t slip and end up in the special ed dance classes.”

  He and Michael’s low-key laughter rang back softly. There was an awkward silence when the echo died. Rob draped the hand towel around his neck and sat, poised.

  Michael cleared his throat. He glanced about the vast stage, hesitant to go on. It was the first time he’d spoken to Rob since their awkward ride to his house Friday night. He teetered between apologizing and simply acting as if nothing were wrong.

  Chickening out, he chose the latter. “Your dance piece is tight, son.You gonna rip master’s auditions.”

  A ripple of doubt waved across Rob’s face. “Thanks. I hope so.” He swiped at the sweat dripping from his arm, glancing at Michael sideways. “So how was the party Monday night?”

 

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