They sat across from one another at a small table in the back of the restaurant with sexual tension swirling around them like bees over a pot of sweet honey.
“How many other pretty faces have you looked at this week, though?” Simmy came back at him.
He moved his hand and leaned back in his chair. He swiped his hands over his face and exhaled. “C’mon, Simone. You’re too pretty and got too much going for yourself. Don’t be one of those girls,” Kyan responded.
“One of those girls?”
“Yeah, like them insecure chicks who are always accusing a nigga of something they ain’t doing,” Kyan said, a slight hint of annoyance in his tone.
Simmy lowered her eyes to her coconut shrimp appetizer. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”
“It’s all good. Now, back to you and me. So what was all that mouth you had on the phone about?” Kyan said, flashing his pearly whites and melting Simmy’s heart at the same time.
Simmy balled her toes up in her Gucci booties. Her stomach felt like it was doing flips. They’d had a conversation about sex and Simmy had lied through her teeth about what she could do when, in reality, she had never done it.
“I was just talking. I’m—” Simmy started, her words cut short by a girl storming toward them. Simmy’s eyebrows dipped as she took in the evil scowl on the girl’s face.
“So this is what it is, Kyan?” the girl barked before she could even make it all the way to the table. Kyan’s eyes almost popped out of his head, and he shot up from his chair like it suddenly had a spring on it.
“You out here with another bitch when I’m at home waiting for you?” the girl boomed. She was making a scene.
Simmy also stood up. She wasn’t trying to be sitting if this clearly angry girl tried to swing on her.
“Who is this, Kyan?” The girl pointed at Simmy and spoke about her like she was an irrelevant, inanimate object. “Who the fuck is this?”
“Yo, Ava. Why you playing right now? For real, you know what it is. I been told you it’s over.” Kyan gritted his teeth, his face taking on a dark look that Simmy had never seen before.
Simmy’s eyebrows shot up into arches. She couldn’t believe how much Ava had changed. Her face had dark pockmarks all over it, her hair was thrown back into a ratty ponytail, and she was dressed in a pair of loose-fitting gray sweats and a wrinkled T-shirt like she’d just rolled out of bed. Surely, she was not the gorgeous Nia Long mini me Simmy had seen in the past.
“No. No. What you told me was that you wanted a break and that we would see what it was after the break,” Ava spat, her bottom lip trembling. “I haven’t been eating or sleeping or nothing because I’ve been hearing so many rumors about you being with other chicks. I’ve been in the house waiting for you to tell me we are back together. I can’t even function without you, Kyan. Why are you doing this to me?” Ava burst into sobs.
Kyan sighed and shook his head. “Yo. This is not the time or the place.”
Simmy had seen enough. She grabbed her Louis Vuitton cherries monogram bag from the back of the chair, dug inside, and tossed three twenty dollar bills onto the table. “Fuck this,” she grumbled.
“Simone! Wait!” Kyan grabbed her arm. “It’s not like that. Just let me explain.”
Simmy wrestled her arm away from his grasp and squinted her eyes into dashes. “You’re just like all of the guys out there. Y’all just lie and cheat your way through everything. You ain’t nothing but a fucking liar,” she said through gritted teeth. She stormed away and couldn’t help the tears that involuntarily spilled from her eyes once she was out of his sight.
She took her phone out of her purse and called the only person she felt she could talk to at this time.
“Hey, Jayla,” Simmy said as she sniffled and wiped at her tears.
“Hey, cuz! What’s up?”
“Can you come get me? I’m walking down Flatbush right now.” Simmy wasted no time and got straight to the point.
“Sure thing. I’m on my way.” Jayla could tell that her cousin was upset. Instead of asking twenty-one questions, she decided to pick her up as soon as possible and take things on from there.
* * *
Jayla took a long pull off of her neatly rolled blunt and blew the thick gray smoke cloud out in Simmy’s direction.
“Simmy, I told you already, niggas ain’t shit but hoes and tricks. You wanted to believe this one was different and that’s okay. I was innocent and naïve like you when I was younger. We all learn the hard way. But you see me? I’m good all by myself. You not gonna see me crying over no man. I don’t have faith in none of ’em,” Jayla said, extending the blunt to Simmy.
Simmy shook her head no. Jayla reacted like Simmy had spit on her.
“Oh, you too good to smoke a little weed?” Jayla shot.
“No, it’s . . . it’s just not my thing,” Simmy said, taken aback by Jayla’s sudden mood swing.
“Well, make it your thing,” Jayla said, pushing the blunt farther into Simmy’s face. “You sitting up here in my house all messed up and crying about your dude. I’m only trying to ease that little mind of yours. Shit, at this point you ain’t got nothing to lose.”
Simmy fell in line under Jayla’s pressure, as usual. She took a toke off the blunt and immediately started coughing. Jayla snatched the blunt from Simmy’s hand before she could drop it. Simmy raised her hands to her throat, bent at the waist until her head was almost between her knees, and hacked and hacked. Jayla was laughing like she was in the front row at a comedy show.
“Same thing happened to me when I got my weed-cherry popped,” Jayla said, still laughing. “You’ll get used to it. Stick with me and, just like everything, you’ll be good at all of this shit.”
Simmy finally forced air back into her lungs and caught her breath. Her head felt swimmy, and she couldn’t remember what she’d been crying about. She closed her eyes and relaxed against the plush suede of Jayla’s couch. A lazy grin spread over her lips. She wanted to say something, but she literally couldn’t find the words. Jayla had been right again. The weed had helped her forget all about Ava, Kyan, and her hurt feelings, at least for the moment.
* * *
The next day, Jayla was up bright and early as usual. Simmy still couldn’t figure out how her cousin could smoke, drink, and party all night and still be up all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed the next day.
“Rise and grind,” Jayla sang, snatching open the curtains in her guest bedroom so that the sun beamed right in Simmy’s face.
Simmy groaned, but she knew there was no use in fighting it. Jayla wouldn’t give up.
“We’re making our way upstate today,” Jayla announced. “This will be one of the best licks yet.”
Simmy pulled the covers back over her head. She was starting to think she’d rather have a full-time job than constantly be in stores stealing. This boosting shit was a lot of work.
* * *
“Two stacks for three hours of work,” Jayla said, handing Simmy twenty one-hundred dollar bills. “Now, you tell me you would rather work for somebody doing a fucking nine-to-five? Shit, not me. Ain’t no way a little high school girl like you would be seeing this kind of paper working no regular job right now. There are grown-ass people who don’t see this cake for three measly hours of work.”
“Thanks, Jay. I really always appreciate it,” Simmy said, knowing that Jayla got off on feeling like she had saved her.
Simmy stuffed the cash into her Gucci cross-body bag. The cash didn’t have the same effect on her that it used to when she’d started boosting and making money a few months earlier. And, Jayla’s constant lessons and pressure were getting to be a little overbearing. Simmy wanted to get back to some semblance of her normal life: reading books, writing poetry, and her schoolwork. She wanted to take some time and think about what moves she wanted to make for herself. She’d been so caught up working with Jayla that she felt like she was losing a lot of herself in it. She felt like she needed a break from working for
a little bit. She just had to figure out how to tell Jayla without her getting upset about it.
“I’m heading home,” Simmy announced.
Jayla moved her head back like Simmy had just splashed cold water in her face. “Oh, okay. I thought you were going to stay for the weekend. You don’t like being here with me?” Jayla said, her jaw going square. Simmy could tell she was offended.
“I do. I do. But I miss Mummy Pat,” Simmy replied, cleaning it up real quick. “I want some home-cooked food. Plus, I have a ton of school stuff to do and my library card and my computer are there. Girl, you know I’d much rather be here.” She giggled, trying to lighten the mood that, for some reason, had taken a dark turn.
Jayla wasn’t smiling or laughing. “A’ight, then go. I’ll call you when it’s time to go back to work,” Jayla said dryly, turning her back on Simmy.
Simmy’s stomach clenched. She hated when Jayla was mad at her. She contemplated staying so Jayla wouldn’t be upset with her, but she decided she was going to do what she wanted for a change. She loved Jayla and would never want to get her upset, but she couldn’t keep doing what Jayla wanted all the time. It was the first small stand she’d taken toward thinking and doing for herself.
* * *
“Simone. I’m so glad to see you,” Mummy Pat sang after Simmy came up and kissed her on the cheek. “C’mere and taste my stew chicken gravy. Tell me if it is missing something,” Mummy Pat said, lifting her metal spoon out of the pot and pushing it out toward Simmy.
Simmy inhaled the rich aroma of the chicken gravy and slurped it up from the spoon. “Mmm. Perfect. I need a plate of that like right now,” she said, licking her lips.
Her grandmother laughed. “Same way your father used to tell me he liked my food, by eating it up. I’m glad you’re home.”
“Me too.” Simmy smiled and got a plate.
Simmy ate her belly full and went to her room. As soon as she walked in, she felt claustrophobic. Her mood took an instant dive. The small, cramped space, with the tiny twin bed in the center and the cracked mirror hanging on the wall with chipped paint, was a far cry from Jayla’s beautifully painted, expensively furnished, spacious apartment. Simmy rushed over and picked up the picture of her parents. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she flopped down on her bed.
“I miss you, Mommy,” Simmy whispered. “I am lost out here without you to tell me things about guys and about life and stuff. I like a boy, but I’m not sure he’s a good guy. He got a lot going on. Jayla is bossy, but I love her. I don’t know what to do. I’m doing all right out there working with Jalya and making money, but not the right way. I just feel . . .” Simmy’s lips trembled as she whispered to the picture as if her mother could somehow hear her cries.
“Simone?”
Simmy jumped and quickly put her picture under her pillow. She swiped away the tears from her cheeks and backhanded the snot threatening to leak from her nose. She cleared her throat. “Yeah, come in.”
Jalissa, her uncle Marcus’s stepdaughter, walked into Simmy’s room. Simmy moved to the edge of her bed, immediately guarded. Jalissa was five months older than her and had never tried to bond with Simmy before. In fact, in the streets and in school, when Jalissa was with her friends, she would act like she and Simmy didn’t even live in the same house. Jalissa had dark skin and coarse hair, which Simmy always thought was beautiful, but Jalissa always had an attitude and would take jabs at Simmy any chance she got. She often gave Simmy a hard time for having lighter skin and long hair. Simmy couldn’t tell if Jalissa was jealous, hating on her, or she was just a mean person in general. Simmy couldn’t say that Jalissa was one of her favorite people in the house.
“Hey, girl,” Jalissa sang, a fake smile curving her lips.
“What’s up?” Simmy replied dryly, one of her eyebrows raised.
“How you doing? I missed you around here,” Jalissa said.
Simmy breathed out heavily. “You surely didn’t come up here to tell me you miss me, Jalissa. I know better. What do you want?”
“I had . . . um, wanted to . . . I, um, need a favor,” Jalissa stumbled over her words.
Simmy tilted her head. “Yeah?”
Jalissa made a goofy face. “My friend Tora is having a party and I can’t find nothing to wear, girl. I was wondering if I could borrow—”
Simmy threw her hands up. “I don’t loan out my clothes, Jalissa. Definitely not. No need to go any further. The answer is no,” Simmy said plainly, cutting her off before she could finish.
Jalissa’s facial expression flattened. “Okay, well, can you hook me up with your plug then? Maybe I can get some money from my mother and buy stuff.”
“My plug?” Simmy froze. “What are you talking about?”
“Everybody knows you got a plug hooking you up with clothes, shoes, and bags. People been seeing you hop in and out of big-time cars after school. People talking, Simone. You ain’t just start wearing Gucci and Chanel overnight like that if you don’t have a hookup,” Jalissa said, her hands on her hips.
Simmy’s heart started beating fast. “I don’t care what they’re saying. I ain’t got no plug, and it’s nobody’s business what cars I get in and out of. I work and I buy my own stuff. Case in point, why I don’t loan my stuff out.”
Jalissa folded her arms across her chest. “Oh, okay, it’s like that. I see you been buying everybody else in here sneakers, jeans, watches, colognes, but never once did you come to my brother or me and offer anything. Why is that? Because your uncle ain’t our blood father? Or because you’re jealous we still have our mother and she ain’t locked up like yours?”
Simmy felt the gut punch of Jalissa’s last statement, but she remained cool. She chuckled, although the chuckle contradicted her raging insides.
“No. I don’t give y’all anything because when I ain’t have nothing, you would walk around with your fancy clothes shitting on me when you was with your little East New York crew. Did you ever once say, ‘Here, Simone, here’s a dollar or a pair of jeans’? Anything? You knew I was getting teased at school and all of that. You were down with some of the chicks teasing me, too. I don’t forget shit, Jalissa. Now, if you don’t mind, I want to lie down. I have a headache.” Simmy pointed to her door.
“A’ight. I hear you,” Jalissa said, rolling her head. “I hear you loud and clear. You think you all that and your shit don’t stink just because you cleaned up and finally learned how to dress and look decent. Just remember, what goes up must come back down.”
“Okay, good. Since you heard me, then you heard the part where I said I have a headache and want to lie down. Get out of my room.” Simmy pointed to her door again.
Jalissa turned on her heels so hard she almost stumbled over. She stomped out of Simmy’s room and slammed the door.
“Some damn nerve,” Simmy grumbled. She got up from her bed, grabbed her book from the floor, and took her seat on the long platform in front of her windowsill. Escaping into a book was probably the only thing that could calm her down.
“Finally,” she murmured, turning to the dog-eared page in her book.
* * *
Simmy fell asleep reading. She was snatched out of her sleep by her name being called out from downstairs.
“Coming,” she mumbled, her voice gruff with sleep. She wiped sleep from her eyes and headed toward Mummy Pat’s voice.
When Simmy got to the middle of the steps, she paused. Her heartbeat sped up, and her hands curled into fists at her side.
No, he didn’t. What is he doing here? This dude is bold. Oh, my God! Simmy shook her head in disbelief. Her face immediately flushed. She folded her arms over her chest, embarrassed that she had on a pair of ratty sweatpants, a T-shirt, and old sneakers. Her hair wasn’t exactly perfect, either, since she had just gotten up from a nap.
“Simone, this nice boy ring the bell for you. He bring flowers and all,” Mummy Pat said, looking up the stairs at Simmy; then she turned and smiled at Kyan.
Kyan bowed and exten
ded the huge bouquet of roses in front of him. Simmy rolled her eyes and continued to shake her head side to side, but inside she jumped for joy. Kyan smiled coyly. Simmy felt something melt in her core. He was so damn cute!
“Come down here, girl. You nah have nothing to lose with this one here,” Mummy Pat said, her accent shining through her words in her excitement.
Simmy squinted and pursed her lips at Kyan. He kept smiling as if to say, “I got you now.”
“Boys these days don’t come to the house with flowers and ask for permission to date girls like this nice one here did. No more of that. They did that back in my day, but not these days. Ya lucky, Simone. Stop making the young man wait. Come down nuh,” Mummy Pat said, waving for Simmy to come all the way down the steps. She patted Kyan on the arm. “What a nice one you are. I’ll let you kids talk. I’m going to take these beautiful flowers into the kitchen and put them in fresh water.”
“Okay,” Simmy said, still giving Kyan the stank eye.
When Mummy Pat disappeared back down the hallway into the kitchen, Simmy stepped close to Kyan. “Why did you come to my house?” she whispered harshly.
“I wanted to apologize about the other day. I tried calling you and left a few messages.”
“I know.” Simmy rolled her eyes a bit. “I mean, what is there to say? You lied to me and that’s that.”
“No, but it’s not like that at all,” Kyan tried to reason with her. “It’s not what you think. At least hear me out so I can tell you the whole story, the truth.” Kyan looked at Simmy with hope in his eyes.
“Really? Who said I cared enough to want to know the truth. Looks like you had unfinished business with her that had nothing to do with me. That’s all I needed to know. At the end of the day, you’re not my man and I’m not your girl, so you really don’t need to explain anything.” Simmy played tough.
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