by Mitzi Miller
“Well if the shoe fits…” Dara said, scratching her hair and rolling her eyes.
“I know you’re not even taking it there. Ain’t nobody over in this direction a tramp,” Lauren shouted. “Besides, you got some nerve, considering your tongue was all down my sister’s boyfriend’s throat!”
“Oh, you know what? I don’t need this!” Dara said, stomping off toward her car.
“Whatever…” Lauren said, pushing her Sidekick into her purse and grabbing her car keys as she stomped off into the direction of her parking space.
And then she remembered—she had no way home.
13
SYDNEY
“Ring the alarm! I been through this too long, but I’ll be damned if I see another chick on your arm…” screeched Beyoncé from the iPod dock as Sydney stood in the middle of her walk-in closet, nodding along in full agreement. “Mmm-hmm, tell it girl,” she muttered to no one in particular as she punched in the numbers to her Aunt Lorraine’s house and pulled out one of the many dresser drawers in search of a top to wear to dinner that night. “Aha! I knew it was in here somewhere,” she exclaimed victoriously, pulling her white Malandrino wrap top with the detailed navy cuffs out from underneath a pile of camis and T-shirts as the phone started to ring. Putting it on over the gray lace tank she was already wearing, Sydney turned to inspect herself from every angle in one of the closet’s full-length mirrors. “I guess…” she said, approving her outfit to herself.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Dad, it’s me,” she answered as a huge grin spread across her face.
“Oh, hey, Ladybug, what’s going on,” he replied with a slight cough.
“I’m just calling to see how you’re feeling, is all,” she continued as she started to play with her hair.
“Oh, I’m so much better today. It’s hard being home and not being able to go nowhere ‘cause I haven’t found work yet. You know I’m not the type of man who can sit around too long. These streets stay calling my name. Soon, I’m just gonna have to make something happen…”
“Don’t get frustrated, Dad,” Sydney encouraged. “Something will open up. I can feel it.”
“I know, I know,” he muttered.
“To be perfectly honest, I haven’t been feeling so great myself lately. But I’m working it out.”
“What’s going on with you, Syd? Everything okay at home? Your mother don’t know…”
“No, nothing like that. Mom doesn’t have the slightest clue. It’s just—” A persistent knock at her bedroom door interrupted her midsentence. “Hey, Dad, someone’s at my door; I gotta go,” she said hurriedly in a much lower voice.
“Okay, sweetie, I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Love you,” Sydney barely squeezed out before ending the call. “Come in,” she instructed as she turned off the light and headed toward the slowly opening door.
“Sorry to bother you, Ms. Sydney,” started Edwina before she even opened the door completely, “but Marcus is here.”
A quick glance at her Tag showed Sydney that it was only 5:40 P.M. Dammit, he was early. That used to be one of the things she loved about Marcus. Now it just translated into five extra minutes that she would have to spend with him…and one less she got to spend talking to her dad. “Is he in the den?” Sydney questioned with a sigh.
“Yes, miss. Do you want me to tell him that you’ll be down shortly?” Edwina offered helpfully.
Sydney paused as she seriously considered letting Marcus sit and stew. As much as she enjoyed the idea, Sydney knew that they needed to break the growing ice between them before it got out of hand or, even worse, got back to her parents. Truth be told, it would take Keisha less than thirty seconds flat to sniff out a problem between the once symbiotic couple. Lord knows Sydney did not want her relationship issues to become the main topic of discussion at the dinner table…especially with Lauren and her fake-ass boyfriend, Donald, sitting there like vultures waiting for the fresh kill. “Actually, can you escort him upstairs?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll be right back,” Edwina replied with a nod and softly closed the door behind her.
Sydney turned back to her desk and lowered the volume on her iPod dock. As much as she fought the feeling, she missed Marcus. Not for nothing, being bitchy all the time was freaking exhausting. It seemed unfathomable for Dice to be home for almost two weeks and yet she hadn’t so much as mentioned it to Marcus. A soft knock announced his arrival. “Oh, well,” she muttered before opening the door.
“Hey,” Marcus said gently in greeting.
“Come in,” Sydney replied, stepping back to allow him to enter. “Have a seat. I’m pretty much dressed…”
“Thanks. These are for you,” he said, shyly offering Sydney a small bouquet of hot-pink Gerber daisies as he stepped in the room and headed over toward the bed. “You look really nice. Isn’t that the top Carmen bought you for your birthday last year?”
“Thanks. It is,” Sydney replied softly, already feeling her resolve getting weak. Marcus was always so good with the details. “I haven’t had a chance to wear it as much as I probably should, but you know how that goes.” She shut the door and turned to look at Marcus. He was wearing the navy-and-green argyle Ralph Lauren sweater and dark blue Rock & Republic denim outfit she bought him at the start of the school year. Lord, he looked good.
“I hear ya…” Marcus trailed off as he sat down on her bed and looked around the room slowly. “Wasn’t sure I’d ever see this place again,” he said with a slight smile.
“Yeah, well, neither was I,” Sydney countered as she walked over and sat beside him. She inspected the bouquet thoughtfully while Marcus played with the end of a stray dreadlock. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them.
“You know, I really am sorry about not telling you about Dara,” Marcus offered. “Seriously, I had no idea that hanging out with other girls would bother you so much.”
“It doesn’t bother me that you’re hanging out with another girl.” Sydney measured her words carefully. She definitely didn’t want to get into a debate with him right before they sat down to dinner. “It’s the fact that you hid it from me.”
“I did not hide it from you,” Marcus asserted. “I simply did not bring it up.”
Sydney instantly scooted away at the first sign of Marcus’s righteous ego rearing its ugly head. “That’s funny, babe, ’cause somehow you manage to bring up everything else under the sun, like: how long it takes me to answer the phone when you call, or where I’m going with my girls, and, oh, how could I forget, how do I know Jason Danden? You damn sure didn’t forget to bring that one up, Marcus!”
“Sydney, please, it’s hardly the same thing. Dara is your sister’s best friend. Jason is some richie jock who moved here from New York City. There’s no reason for you to be associating that closely with him,” Marcus retaliated defensively.
“I’m curious—since when were you supposed to be the one telling me who I need and don’t need to know?”
“Okay, okay, you’re right. I’m sorry.” Marcus threw his hands up in mock defeat. “I should’ve told you about Dara.”
Sydney stared at Marcus suspiciously. That apology came a little too quickly for her liking. She knew Marcus and how much he hated having to apologize for anything. “It’s not just that…”
“And, yes, I definitely shouldn’t have told you that I don’t have to tell you about all my friends. I was out of line,” Marcus continued as he closed the distance between them on the bed. “But will you please, please, please, stop being mad at me now? ‘Cause I’m not feeling this tension between us. I miss my li’l Syd-Bear,” he mumbled gently into her ear. Sydney half heartedly tried to pull away but the tingly sensations running up and down her neck were too much. He was always so damn good with the details.
Sydney slowly inhaled and exhaled before she stood up and started straightening herself out. “We should head down; I’m pretty sure it’s almost six o’clock by now.”
Marcu
s reached out and grabbed Sydney around the waist. “So we’re cool?”
Sydney just smiled and pulled him up to join her. She had no intention of letting Marcus off the hook, but he didn’t need to know all that just yet. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, let’s go down before my mom catches a fit. You know how she gets about these ridiculous family sit-downs.”
“Anything you say, my dear,” Marcus agreed with a playful squeeze of her butt. “Damn, I missed that,” he said as he opened her door and waited for Sydney to pass by.
“I’m so sure,” Sydney replied as she walked out and they headed downstairs.
As soon as the two entered the Dukes’ massive dining room area, Lauren started in on Sydney. “Well, isn’t it so nice of Bob Marley and Sista Souljah to join us for dinner?” she questioned sarcastically while Donald barely suppressed a giggle with a fake cough.
Sydney wordlessly sucked her teeth in response. She knew Lauren was fixing for a fight with her ever since she’d left that ass stranded in the middle of the Brookhaven parking lot after cheerleading practice. Little did Ms. Thang know, that stunt was just the beginning if she didn’t back off.
“Lauren, that’s enough. Marcus and Sydney, please have a seat,” Altimus gestured at the two empty chairs across the table from Lauren and Donald.
“I apologize for keeping Syd,” Marcus offered as he pulled out Sydney’s seat for her. “I wanted to review some stuff about the next community project I asked Sydney to help me chair. The time just slipped by…” Sydney listened quietly at the ease of Marcus’s lie as she scooted in.
“Well, anything that’s going to put my baby one step closer to a Brown acceptance letter is worth a five-minute wait,” Altimus offered with an approving nod.
“Absolutely,” agreed Mrs. Duke.
“Oh, and before I forget to tell you, my mom sends her best,” he offered with the smile Sydney found so difficult to resist.
“How nice of her; be sure to return the greetings.” Keisha grinned broadly. “I certainly hope that we’ll be seeing the Councilwoman at the anniversary party.”
“I’m sure she’ll do her best, ma’am,” Marcus replied. He seemed to be laying it on extra thick with her parents. Sydney briefly wondered if her friends ever felt he did the same thing when dealing with her.
As soon as Edwina finished pouring Sydney and Marcus their glasses of water, Mrs. Duke set in. “Before Altimus says grace, I just want to thank you boys for coming to dinner tonight,” she said, addressing Donald and Marcus. “With only a few weeks left until my party—”
“Ahem,” Altimus cleared his throat. “Don’t you mean our party, Keish?”
“Yes, yes, our party,” she corrected herself with a playful roll of the eyes. “Like I was saying, with only a few weeks left, there are logistics and responsibilities that I need to go over. As I’m sure you can understand, it’s extremely important that the twins’ escorts make them look as good as possible at all times.”
“Now, Mrs. Duke, you know I loves to make my Lauren look good,” Donald interjected a little too brightly as he planted an unexpected and noticeably moist kiss on Lauren’s left cheek. Sydney recoiled at Donald’s overzealous gesture.
“That’s so gross,” Syd mumbled not so discreetly. Under the table, Marcus put a restraining hand on Sydney’s knee. Lauren turned to look at her sharply.
“Is there a problem, Sydney?” Altimus inquired from his end of the table.
“No, sir, there’s no problem,” Sydney responded and then turned to face her mom. “Mother, I’m quite sure Marcus doesn’t need to be brought up to speed on how to behave at your party. Some of us already understand appropriate social etiquette.” She finished by staring down Donald.
“Yeah, yeah, can we eat before I, oh, I don’t know, throw up in my mouth?” Lauren blurted out to the appalled response of everyone at the dinner table.
“What in the world?” Mrs. Duke gasped, mouth agape.
“Eww, you hateful bitch!” Sydney spat.
“Lauren! Sydney! I don’t know what has gotten into you two this evening but I have had just about enough!” Altimus barked. “You both need to apologize to this entire table immediately!”
“I’m sorry,” Sydney said, immediately apologizing.
“Whatever,” Lauren continued defiantly. “I can’t help being honest.”
“That’s it, young lady.” Keisha jumped up from her seat and pointed at the door. “Carry your little ass upstairs. If you don’t know how to act, then don’t nobody need to be around you!”
“Fine. Feel free to punish me for speaking the truth when Little Miss Perfect sits there hiding things right in front of your faces,” Lauren snapped as she slowly stood up to leave the table.
“Excuse you?” Sydney countered once again, looking directly at Donald, wearing his pink polka-dot Versace fitted shirt. “How am I the one hiding things?”
“Sydney, don’t even get involved,” Marcus whispered beneath his breath.
Lauren paused dramatically as if preparing for the kill. “Oh, no? So you weren’t the one running over to Aunt Lorraine’s house to go see Dice last week?” Not finished yet, Lauren whipped out her cell phone, and with the press of a button played on the speakerphone a recent message from their dad begging Lauren to come with her sister the next time Sydney stopped by. The room went silent enough to hear a pin drop.
“What the hell?” Keisha roared at Sydney. “Did I not tell you that I didn’t want you speaking to that man? Did I not? Seventeen years, you ungrateful little heiffa! I take care of you, I put clothes on your back, and this is what I get in return? Your ass to kiss? That low-budget gun-smuggling convict never did a damn thing for you, and you go behind my back and side with him?”
“Mom, he’s my…” Sydney began as the hot tears started rolling. Lauren stood smiling smugly at the door.
“He’s not shit. You hear me? The man that put a roof over your head for the past twelve years is the only father you have! And I’ll be damned—”
“He’s not some monster,” Sydney exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “You just want me to be as evil and coldhearted as you are, but I won’t! He loves me!”
“Do not say another word,” hissed Altimus as he slowly stood. “Not another word. You will not disrespect your mother or this house. I don’t care what you think or what ridiculous lies that man has filled your head with, but your mother told you not to have anything to do with him. And as long as you live here, what we say goes. From this moment on, consider yourself on indefinite punishment. No more phone, no more car, no more weekend anything! It’s over. Until further notice, I’ll be hiring a driver to take and pick you up from everywhere you need to go.”
“Oh, snap,” Donald said as his eyes widened in glee at the Duke family carnage.
Consumed with rage and embarrassment at being caught out, Sydney stormed toward the door past Lauren. She stopped just outside of the doorway and then turned around to face the room with her final thought: “You shut your closeted ass up, Donald! You don’t get to say shit about me until you figure out how to tell your parents that you like boys!”
14
LAUREN
It was still fall, but the crisp, chilled Atlanta air smelled like winter—like burning oak and cedar and pine. Smoky. Lauren loved the scent; it reminded her of when she was a little girl and Altimus would take her and Sydney into his library and light a fire in the mammoth brick-and-granite structure and let the girls curl up in his huge leather chairs. If Sydney got her way, he’d read book after book after book. But on the days Lauren had his ear, Altimus would let her talk him into taking them out into their expansive backyard to count the stars peeking through the trees. They looked the best on nights like this, when the colorful leaves dropped like rain on manicured lawns, creating wide gaps of midnight-blue sky between the branches. That’s when folks turned to their fireplaces for that warmth, that comfort—that Atlanta winter smell.
But tonight, not even her favorite scent could make Lau
ren feel comfortable. The mess with Sydney, the dinner blowup, the e-mail about her and Dara—all of that had Lauren off-kilter, and there was only one person she could think of to set her right, only one person who wasn’t in the middle of all the drama: Jermaine. And she wanted that consolation in person, because on this particular night, the cell phone wasn’t enough.
“But how you gonna get here?” he’d asked earlier, when Lauren called him to inform him of her big Buckhead escape.
“I don’t know—I’ll take a cab,” she said quickly, mentally kicking herself in the ass for not thinking of grabbing a few cab numbers before she snuck out the sunroom window, the only first-floor exit that didn’t have an alarm sensor. She was already trudging through the leaves in the neighbor’s yard, presumably safe from the prying eyes of Keisha’s security cameras.
“That’s gonna cost you like at least fifty or sixty dollars. You can’t waste that kind of money,” he said.
“Don’t they take debit cards?” Lauren asked as she finally made it to the sidewalk.
Jermaine chuckled. “Babe, taxicabs don’t take debit cards. Cash-only business.”
“Damn,” Lauren said, taking a mental snapshot of the cash contents of her wallet. There might have been about eleven dollars in there. Maybe. “Then come get me. I can meet you on Ponce. I can walk there and—”
“Whoa, whoa. It’s close to eleven at night. You can’t be walking around like that by yourself.”
“Jermaine. I live in Buckhead. Nobody’s outside, and no one is going to do anything to me. Now, are you going to come get me or what?”
“Babe, I can’t. I don’t have my car.” His brother had his car. Again. “I know—get on the MARTA train. I can meet you at the West End Station.”
Lauren really didn’t want to tell Jermaine that though she’d lived in Atlanta all her life, she’d been on MARTA only once—the day Altimus dragged her and Sydney, then about thirteen years old, to an Atlanta Falcons game. None of the Duke women could figure out, even years later, what was going through his mind when he decided his quality Daddy-and-the-twins time should be spent in a massive stadium full of drunken, foul-mouthed, rowdy football fans. But somehow, Altimus thought it was a great way to bond with his girls and give them, as he put it, “a new experience.” It was an experience, all right—a horrifying one that began with oodles of Falcons fans tumbling onto their train, already half-drunk and calling out their “who-hoos” and tossing high fives and trading football stories and stats like they were paid Super Bowl commentators, and ended with Altimus cursing out some big, fat, sweaty white guy (dripping in red and black, literally, from his spray-painted hair to his old-school Converse) for pushing up too close to Lauren and Sydney as the entire trainful of passengers transferred onto another dingy train on the West Line. “You best watch where you puttin’ your hands,” Altimus said with a tone neither of the girls had ever heard him use before. His eyes were narrowed like slits; his spine was so straight that, even though the sweaty guy was about his same height, Altimus seemed to tower over him. Lauren almost felt sorry for the guy. Almost.