by Paula Chase
“Oh, that would be you if it was Chris Brown?” JZ said, snickering.
Jacinta’s eyes popped as she confirmed, “Hells to the yes.”
The girls laughed.
“I know I would be too, Cinny,” Mina said.
“The team’s coming,” Michael said.
Mina’s heart raced. She was as nervous as she might be if it were Chris Brown. She stared at the exit. A sliver of light shone from the Comcast Center as the door opened wide. “What now, Jay?” she said.
He put his hand out to quiet her. “I got this. Chill. Mike, check your phone real quick, see who won the game.”
The rumble of squeals grew. The clique’s eyes were riveted on the guys streaming out the door, duffel bags over their shoulders, and the girls clamoring to touch them, holding out pieces of paper, tee shirts, and body parts for autographs.
“They won,” Michael announced, closing his phone.
Mina blew out a breath of relief. She knew whatever JZ had planned wouldn’t go down if the team had lost. She silently thanked God and waited for JZ’s signal, whatever it was.
“Cool. All right, y’all stay right here, but when I hold my hand up, come over. Okay?” JZ waited for head nods. “And, Mina, y’all let Todd ’nem walk on the side closest to the side the guards are on, so they won’t really pay attention to y’all.”
He walked away without waiting on their consent, striding toward the players who were now just a few feet away from the bus. Unbothered by security, who were on alert for approaching females, he blended in with the players, walking beside them.
Mina grinned, her heart bursting, as she realized JZ was walking beside Brian, talking. She’d recognize his head full of curls anywhere.
They exchanged a pound, then JZ pointed in the clique’s direction.
“Was that the signal?” she asked, taking a step.
Jacinta pulled her back. “No. He said he was gonna hold his hand up. Pressed much, Princess?”
Security held the screaming girls back, preventing any from following the players to the bus.
Mina squinted through the darkness. “Oh my God, is JZ talking to Coach K?”
“You know Duke’s recruiting him,” Michael said. “He’s met all the coaches there.”
“He said he was gon’ get you the hookup,” Todd said.
“What? Is he asking Coach K if we can come over?” Lizzie said, eyebrows furrowed.
“Probably not. They’re not allowed to even talk to him right now,” Michael said.
The players milled around the side of the bus taking their time getting their bags loaded, and JZ began talking to a brown-haired guy. JZ’s head bobbed up and down as he talked, then without breaking conversation, his right hand went up, as if he were waving to a passerby.
“Now, that’s the signal,” Jacinta said. She pulled Mina toward the parking lot.
“What if security says something?” Mina whispered.
“Remember, walk in the middle of us,” Todd said, his long stride shortened so the girls could comply.
Mina, Jacinta, Lizzie, and Kelly walked on the far side of the guys, allowing them to “shield” their presence as they reached the parking lot.
“What do we do now?” Mina said, panicking.
“Say ‘hey’ or something,” Brian said, suddenly in front of her.
Mina cheesed into his smiling face, her anxiety on pause. “I would say ‘good game,’ but I only saw like five minutes of it,” she said.
Brian exchanged pounds with the guys, who remained rigidly in place, keeping Brian hidden from the coach, who was speaking to the driver at the back of the bus. The girls said a shy “hey” as they tried to remain out of sight of any coach or security guard.
Players milled by them, loading onto the bus. Others talked in small circles near the luggage areas and the back of the bus, on the down low flirting with the groupies from afar, reveling in the clowning allowed because of the win.
“I guess I can forgive you missing it this time,” Brian said. He bent his head down and kissed Mina firm but quick on the lips. “I was thinking about you as we drove by the exit to Del Rio Bay earlier.”
Mina’s eyes shone. She wasn’t sure what to say. The squealing of the groupies penetrated the air, giving the scene a surreal, dreamlike quality. She felt like screaming to see if it would wake her up, but before she could seriously entertain the thought, Brian pulled her close to him.
The clique did a supreme job of pretending to talk among one another as he spoke to her, his mouth near her ear, his voice low.
“I’m glad you came to see me.”
“I guess I really am your number-one groupie,” she said, unable to suppress a giggle.
It was as if she’d won some crazy contest—win five minutes with your favorite Duke player. She swallowed the urge to giggle like mad and yell, “I won. I won.”
Brian’s voice, husky in her ear, kept her grounded in reality. “I don’t want no groupie.” He lifted his head up, looking her in the eye for a fleeting second before leaning back down to her ear. “But you can be my number-one girl. Is that cool?”
She nodded, too giddy to respond.
Brian lifted his head and looked in JZ’s direction.
“All right, Coach ready head this way,” Brian said. “Holler at me later, all right?”
“Aren’t you gonna be tired?” Mina said, finding her voice.
“Nah, I’m gon’ sleep on the bus.”
Before she could respond, his lips were over hers. She savored their warmth, falling into the familiar rhythm of his kiss. Forgetting her shyness in front of her friends and anyone who happened to walk by and notice, she kissed back, pressing her body into his. His arms wrapped around her, squeezing tight. She would have stayed that way until security forced her off, but Brian pulled away first.
“Damn, brother got a long trip ahead of him.” He grinned as he palmed her butt. “Umph, let me go before I get myself in trouble ... and I ain’t talking about Coach K.”
Mina reached up and pecked him on the lips. “See you.”
He kissed back, letting the passion overtake him again but only momentarily.
“All right, Toughie. Love you.” He reached over her and smacked hands with the guys before backing up toward the bus’s door. He threw up the peace sign. “Check y’all. Deuces.”
“Deuces, B,” Todd said, returning the peace.
Mina’s throat constricted. She waved as Brian disappeared, and managed a weak smile.
Seconds later, JZ was beside her. He waved at Coach K, then ushered the clique away.
When they were on the path heading back to the truck, Greg whistled, high and loud. “Okay, can somebody say violation of NCAA rules? Man, that was walking the line.”
“Naw, it’s all good. I only said hello, that’s allowed,” JZ said. “Plus, I did it for my girl.” He chucked the back of Mina’s neck. “I don’t get a thank you for getting you some boo time?”
Jacinta pushed him in the small of his back and gave him a look.
“What?” JZ frowned.
Jacinta sped past him and walked by Mina, protectively close. “On behalf of Mina, thanks, JZ,” Lizzie sang.
“Why she can’t thank me herself?” JZ tickled Mina’s neck, oblivious to her silence.
“Thanks, Jay,” Mina said, sniffing and swiping at tears.
“Aw man, you crying?” JZ said, louder than he intended. His voice rang in the cold, dark night, echoing between the campus buildings. He lowered it, grumbling. “Man, y’all chicks rummin. I thought seeing Brian was gon’ cheer you up, Mouthy Mi.”
“It did,” she said, unsuccessfully working to stunt the tears.
“That’s love for you,” Michael said. He put his arm around Mina and squeezed.
JZ snorted. “And that’s why I ain’t messing with it.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Jacinta waved JZ off. “That only means you’re gonna fall hardest of all, one day.”
“Man, please,”
JZ said. He outpaced the group, steering them in the right direction, to the truck. He shouted over his shoulder, “It’s gon’ take a bad chick to make me all to pieces like that.”
Eyes still leaking, Mina chuckled. “JZ meet Jacinta. Jacinta meet JZ.”
The entire clique burst into a chorus of laughter.
“Aw man, forget y’all,” JZ said. He jogged backward to the car. “Just for that, walk back to Del Rio Bay, punks.”
His laughter pierced the night as the clique ran to the car, racing not to be left behind.
“I’m not that gay.”
“I know you love to show off.”
—Kanye West, “Flashing Lights”
Up.
Down.
Up.
Down.
Mina’s emotions were all over the place.
She had endured JZ’s teasing of her constant mood swings all the way home on Sunday until finally giving in and cracking wise back. Dissing him had made her feel better—a little of the old, stable Mina at work—and also filled her with such a surge of love for him, for helping her see Brian, that she’d reached over the second-row seat and hugged him while he was driving. She nearly caused him to plow the truck into her parents’ mailbox.
But that had been eight days ago.
The warm and fuzzies of last week’s “boo time” with Brian evaporated as the days wore on. When it took five of the eight days to catch up with him again via text messages, the old insecure jitters filtered in, slowly at first, seeping into her mood like rainwater into a flower bed, then flooding her with a raging impatience even she didn’t recognize.
Everything annoyed her. Her mother’s request to “for the hundredth time, move your summer clothes downstairs before there’s no point.” Her coach’s threat that if she didn’t perfect her tuck, it was being taken out of the routine, and the wretched crystal heel sandals that refused to go on her feet, no matter how hard she dug her foot into them.
Exasperated with last year’s prom shoes, which apparently no longer fit, she smacked the shoe down on her lap and pouted, using the time to take in the circus atmosphere of the Carter portfolio reviews.
If she’d ever had any hidden desires to be a model, they were gone now. The room full of Carter fashion hopefuls, abuzz with wannabe fashionistas and their models, was overwhelming. The room spun with activity. What was a large dance studio by day, was now a perfect replica of backstage runway drama—half-dressed models, harried designers, and last minute fashion fixes.
Annoyance with the shoe was replaced by awe, and some anxiety, about what she and Lizzie were about to do. Neither of them were models, by any stretch of the imagination, but they were about to get up and walk a pseudo runway for a panel of six judges who would then determine if Mike would get into the Carter.
Her stomach rolled with the burden of showing Mike’s design well.
She grabbed the shoe and crammed her foot into it to no avail. The top of her foot, swollen like a sausage, refused to move past the blinged-out arc of the sandal.
Michael smacked her hand and repositioned the shoe. It locked into place on her foot.
“Ow, they hurt,” she said, reaching to remove it until she saw his evil eye.
“Look, Deev, pain is beauty,” Michael hissed. He sighed and sat down in the chair beside her. He leaned his elbow on the ballet bar, smiled and shrugged his eyebrows. “I’m sorry. I know I’m rummin. As soon as you finish, you can kick ’em off, throw ’em in the trash can, do whatever. Just rock ’em fierce for a few minutes, please.”
Seeing the worry in his eyes, Mina put on a happy face, determined not to give in to her tumultuous emotions ... at least until she’d rocked the runway.
“Sorry.” She wriggled her toes. “Umm ... can’t feel my toes. But it’s swazy.”
Michael pinched her toe. “Must be nerves. They fit yesterday.”
Mina nodded, resisting the urge to kick the shoe off and rub her foot.
Lizzie, decked out in the yellow pin-striped zoot suit, came up behind Michael and massaged his shoulders.
“Calm down, Mike.” She looked up, scanned the room, and whispered, so only he and Mina could hear, “You totally have this.”
Michael’s eyes followed each corner, appraising the designs quickly.
“A lot of these are really good,” he admitted matter-of-factly.
“Yeah, but your stuff is more intricate,” Mina said, absently rubbing her foot against her leg to soothe the pinching. She nodded toward a little black dress. “I could have made that in Family Life class.” She laughed. “Okay maybe I couldn’t. But I’m saying, there’s nothing that interesting about it.”
Michael chuckled. “Good point.”
“You’ll fit into the Carter easy,” Mina said.
“I don’t know about fitting in,” Michael said, rolling his eyes at one of the candidates passing by, a thin white guy with brown hair so neatly coiffed that it fell perfectly over his right eye. Too perfectly, in Michael’s opinion. He wondered if it had been spritzed in place.
The guy was skater chic with skinny jeans, a black leather vest covered in zippers over a pink tee shirt that said “I was breast fed,” and a pair of black and pink Chucks. The guy clapped his hand at his model, a prissy gesture, reprimanding her for sitting.
Mina and Lizzie giggled.
“I see a few designs in here I’ll admit come close to mine... .” Michael shook his head, as he once again eagle-eyed every designer in the room, a handful of them girly acting guys. “But fitting in?” He snorted. “I’m not that gay.”
Mina laughed abruptly, then put her hand over her mouth. “Sorry.” She muffled a giggle, embarrassed when a few people stared their way, disapprovingly. She lowered her voice. “You’re a trip. I didn’t mean you’d fit in that way. I know you’re not—”
The chuckle in her chest and the last word on her tongue died when she caught a look between Michael and Lizzie.
“Wait ... are ...” She frowned.
Lizzie shifted. She stood upright and brushed imaginary lint from her jacket.
Mina’s gaze moved to Michael. His eyes, unflinching, bore into hers despite his neutral expression. His shoulders relaxed as he reached out and laid his hand on her thigh.
“Deev, don’t be mad. I didn’t want to make it a big deal when I told you.” His chest heaved as he took a deep internal sigh. “But I needed to tell you ... even though I figured you probably assumed.” He smiled, weakly, at her wrinkled brow. “You’re saying you didn’t?”
Mina swallowed. She looked at Lizzie’s plastered, pained expression and knew.
“You told Lizzie already, didn’t you? Like way before today.” Mina said, her eyes ping-ponged between her friends, reading the answer. Feeling it before either of them shook their heads yes. Her hands trembled as she smoothed out the blue satin prom dress that was suddenly making her sweat.
Michael was gay.
Lizzie knew. She hadn’t.
It was hot.
Her head felt like it weighed a ton.
Her stomach pitched and she instinctively steadied it with her hand.
Michael shook a finger at her. “Don’t you throw up on that dress, Diva.”
Mina fought tears. “Why? I mean ...” She pressed her hands to her cheeks, needing to feel the cool on her hot face. It calmed her racing thoughts.
This isn’t about me, she chanted softly in her head.
She willed her thoughts to slow down. Forced her mind to focus.
Michael’s hand patted her thigh. Lizzie’s eyes sent apologetic waves.
The rest of the room probably thought she was having serious pre-runway jitters.
She closed her eyes for a second, steadying her mind, then looked Michael in the eye.
“It sucks that you didn’t tell me.” Her eyes welled and she held back the tears with the tightest blink ever. “I’m saying, if you couldn’t trust me after twelve years of friendship, I’m seriously the world’s worst friend. And—�
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“Not about trust, Deev,” Michael said softly. “It’s about me needing to work through my own before getting everybody else in my mix. I told Lizzie ’cause me and her ...” He considered it for a second before finally concluding, “We saw each other a lot because of Bay Dra-da.And when I got around you, it was nice just not dwelling on it.” His smile was apologetic. “I guess telling Lizzie was enough ... for a while.”
Mina processed it, understanding but still stung by the secret. “Am I the last one to know?” she asked.
“Hardly.” His eyebrow rose. “Does that make you feel better?”
Mina chuckled. “No. I was just wondering.”
“Look, I have a lot going on right now,” Michael said. He stood up, held out his hand, and helped Mina from the chair. He steadied her arm when her sausage feet made her wobble in the one-inch heels, and stepped closer to her. Lizzie closed in the circle. “There were a million and one ways I could have told you. A million times I could have picked besides today.” He shrugged. “But I figured it like this... .” He leveled her with a classic Michael look, raised eyebrow, lips pressed in a fussy tight line. “No matter how much you trip over when and where I told you or in what order, in the end you’re still my girl.” He cocked his head and winked. “Is that what’s up?”
Mina nodded. She gave Michael a gentle shove.
“Yeah, that’s what’s up. But don’t think I’m not gon’ bless you and Lizzie for keeping this from me.” She gave Lizzie a look. “You know I hate being out of the loop.”
Michael laughed. “Of course, ’cause it’s all about you, Deev.”
“And you know this,” Mina said.
She wrapped her arms around Michael. He hugged her back, tight, and her emotions flared again. She cleared her throat as she stepped back, waving at her eyes to dry up any threatening tears.
“Real talk. I’m glad you told me, but you know it doesn’t matter.... I mean, you didn’t have to tell me.” She winced. “Do you know what I mean?”
“Yup. I do.” He nodded, opening his arms, and Lizzie and Mina walked into the group hug, their heads together. “Okay, now that our The Hills moment is over, can y’all please rock these outfits so I can get this over with?”