The Pact

by Monica McKayhan

  She asked about Gloria, my father’s wife and my stepmother. I was sure she didn’t really care how Gloria was doing but asked out of courtesy.

  “She’s all right,” I said, and pulled one of my bags off the carousel. “She’s just Gloria.”

  “The two of you getting along better, Marcus?”

  “Not really. I just tolerate her,” I said, and thought about our bumpy road, Gloria’s and mine. I didn’t really care for Gloria, and couldn’t stand her cooking. I thought she was only with my father to spend his money and to make my life miserable. Even though I had long ago stopped hoping my parents would get back together, I tolerated Gloria for my pop’s sake.

  “You don’t have to like her, but you have to respect her.” My mom rubbed her hand over the waves in my hair.

  “I know, Ma. I do respect her,” I said, and grabbed my second bag from the carousel.

  “That’s good. Always respect your elders.” She took my carry-on duffel bag from my shoulder and put it on hers. “You ready?”

  “I’m ready.”

  We drove through the streets of Houston’s midtown area in Mom’s silver convertible BMW, the sunshine beaming down on my forehead. I could just picture myself driving this fly car downtown on a Friday or Saturday night or fifty miles to the beach in Galveston—styling and profiling like it belonged to me.

  “You wanna drive?”

  It was like she’d read my mind. She pulled over into a McDonald’s parking lot.

  “I thought you’d never ask.” I grinned and did a pimp walk over to the driver’s side of the car.

  “You know how to drive a stick, Marcus?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I sure do.” I put the car in second gear, and before she could say another word, I breezed out of the parking lot and back onto the main road.

  We cruised the streets, sightseeing, and Mom pointed out what she considered to be all the good restaurants. We drove past the Toyota Center, home of the Houston Rockets basketball team.

  “Turn left up here at the light.”

  I turned and my mother led me into her condominium neighborhood, with multicolored flowers in the front, a huge tennis court and an Olympic-size swimming pool. The pool area was packed, and I couldn’t wait to change into my trunks and go for a swim. I pulled the BMW into an empty parking space and popped the trunk. Grabbed my bags and followed Mom up a flight of stairs and into her unit.

  “Here we are,” she said, unlocking the door.

  The house smelled like fresh flowers and Creole food. I had been hoping that mom had prepared something good to eat, because it had been a long time since I’d tasted a good home-cooked meal. My stepmother, Gloria, didn’t know the first thing about cooking, and eating at Burger King or McDonald’s was getting pretty old. I missed my mother’s New Orleans–style cooking, and I was sure my pop did, too—he just didn’t want to admit it.

  “I made your favorites, baby.” Mom headed toward the kitchen and I followed. “Shrimp étoufée and crawfish corn bread.”

  “You remembered.” My mouth watered at the sight of it.

  I immediately washed my hands, grabbed a plate from the shelf and dug in.

  “Of course I remembered. Boy, you’re my child. I know what you like.” She laughed.

  Mom disappeared into one of the back rooms. I sat at the bar in the kitchen and ate like there was no tomorrow. I grabbed the remote control and turned on the television, flipped the channel to ESPN. I glanced around the room at all the nice art on the walls, lots of photos on the mantel, plants in every corner of the room and candles everywhere. I could just imagine watching a football game on that big-screen television. I almost wished it was still football season.

  Pretty soon, my mother came back into the room dressed in a blue business suit.

  “Where you going?” I asked.

  “I have to go back to the office for a little bit, sweetie. Eat as much as you want. I picked up all your favorites at the store…Twinkies, Cherry Coke, barbecue potato chips,” she said. “I even picked up a few of your silly movies from Blockbuster.”

  “I might go for a swim in a little bit.”

  “That sounds like fun.” She kissed my forehead. “Lots of pretty girls over there at the pool.”

  Suddenly, thoughts of Indigo rushed through my head again, even though I didn’t want her there. I hadn’t thought of her since I’d fallen asleep on the plane, but now she was invading my space again. My mother laid a silver key on the countertop next to my plate.

  “Here’s a key. Make sure you lock the door if you decide to go for a swim,” she said. “I’ll be home around five.”

  “Okay, Ma.”

  “Pick either of the bedrooms you want, Marcus. Just make yourself at home.”

  I finished eating, rinsed my dishes and placed them in the dishwasher. The kitchen was so clean that I wanted to make sure I left it that way. Mom always was extremely tidy. She took cleanliness to a whole new level; used to drive me crazy when I was small, the way she insisted that I keep my room clean. It almost seemed abnormal. Pop was different. His only requirement was that I pick up after myself. He didn’t care if the place was spotless or not.

  I decided to explore the two bedrooms and pick the one that I wanted to make my home in. The first one was sort of girly, with floral curtains and a floral bedspread to match. There were lots of candles around the room and a plant on the dresser. It even smelled like roses. I wasn’t feeling that room at all. I moved on to the second bedroom—this one was a little more masculine, decorated in blue and white abstract designs. Not nearly as many candles and no plants at all. This was definitely the one for me.

  I lifted the miniblinds in the room to let the sunshine in, and to my surprise, the room overlooked the swimming pool. I was able to see everything, from the girl in the yellow bikini about to take a dive into the pool, to the beautiful chocolate girl with long black hair, wearing a tight red T-shirt with LIFEGUARD written across the front of her chest in bold white letters. A girl lifeguard?

  I was mesmerized by her beauty; couldn’t take my eyes off her. She blew her whistle and yelled at a couple of kids who were playing around in the water. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but I could tell that she made them get out and go to the kiddie pool. When she walked back toward her lifeguard chair, I watched as her booty wobbled in the little white shorts she had on. She was sexy, and something inside me wanted to know who she was.

  I rushed into the living room and grabbed my luggage, dragged it into my bedroom. Threw my bag onto the bed, unzipped it and began to search for my swimming trunks. Once I found them, I slipped them on, sprayed a little cologne on and flexed in the mirror. I hadn’t worked out in a couple of weeks, and I could tell as my reflection stared back at me. This was no time to be slacking on my weight lifting. I had to get back into the gym as soon as possible. And I would, just as soon as I got back from my swim. I had already peeped the small gymnasium in the lower level of Mom’s building and noticed that it had a treadmill and a few free weights. I would definitely have to pay a visit.

  I ran a brush across my waves, slipped my flip-flops onto my feet and headed for the water. I walked into the pool area, a towel thrown across my shoulder, and looked around at all the teenagers who were hanging out there. It was a beautiful scene. This might not be a bad summer after all, I thought as I tossed my towel onto a chair and removed my flip-flops. I climbed the stairs that led to the diving board, walked to the edge of the board, bounced a couple of times and then dove into the water. The water was cool and refreshing as I swam to the opposite end of the pool. I lifted my head out of the water, rubbed my eyes and noticed Miss Lifeguard taking a quick peek as she sat in her chair with her legs crossed. She didn’t think I saw her checking me out. I smiled, but she didn’t. Instead, she rolled her eyes and looked the other way. I decided to ignore her for the rest of the afternoon. Ignoring a pretty girl was the surest way of getting her attention. It usually worked like a charm.

  “Hi.
Are you Marcus?”

  As I pulled myself out of the water, a tall, lanky girl with thick glasses stood at the edge of the pool. She wore a one-piece green and white bathing suit, and when she smiled her silver braces sparkled in the sunshine.

  “Yeah, I’m Marcus.”

  “My mom and your mom are friends. We live right across the hall. I’m Michelle.”

  “Oh, that’s cool. Nice to meet you,” I said.

  “You’re visiting here from Atlanta.” It was more a statement than a question.

  “Yep.”

  “That’s where T.I. and Usher are from. You ever see them around—like at the mall and stuff?”

  “Um, I saw Usher a few times at Lenox Square Mall. And I saw T.I. at a Hawks game once. But that’s about it.”

  She was nice, but I really wasn’t in the mood for all the chitchat. My eyes were set on a particular lifeguard.

  “I’ve lived here for three years…not in Houston, but in this condominium subdivision, that is. I’ve lived in Houston since I was three.” She started answering questions that I hadn’t even asked. “Are you thinking of moving here, Marcus?”

  “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

  “Your mom says that you are. She says you might be going to school here,” she said. “The school is pretty cool. Lots of Hispanics and a few white kids—”

  “I’m probably going back to Atlanta at the end of the summer.” I cut her off before she got carried away telling me about a school that didn’t interest me one bit.

  “Well, if you decide to stay, I’ll show you around, okay?”

  “Cool.”

  “You see the girl over there in the yellow bikini?” she asked.

  I nodded.

  “That’s Veronica. Everyone calls her Ronni. Her father’s a doctor, and she thinks she’s all that…drives a drop-top Pontiac Sunfire.” She scanned the pool area. “Don’t tell her anything that you don’t want repeated.”

  “I’ll remember that.” I plopped down onto a lawn chair. Michelle took one beside me.

  “You see that guy over there in the red trunks, tall guy with the fresh haircut? That’s Aaron. His mother is a counselor at our school. He had to drop out last year because he got arrested for possession of marijuana. Now he goes to an alternative school….”

  Michelle continued to tell me the life stories of all the kids at the pool. Made me wonder what her story was—she wasn’t so quick to share that information.

  “What about the lifeguard over there?” I finally asked the burning question of the day. “Who is she?”

  She glared as she looked in the direction of the lifeguard chair, propped her hands behind her head and made herself comfortable before answering.

  “Oh, that’s Rena.” She frowned. “You think she’s pretty?”

  That was a dumb question. It was as if she was testing me to see what my response would be, sort of like the trick questions that teachers put on tests. Anyone with eyes could see that she was pretty. Even Michelle.

  “Yeah, she’s pretty.”

  “Everyone thinks that about her. She’s not all that, though,” Michelle said, and then dismissed the conversation altogether, moved on with her introductions.

  I stole another glance at Rena while she wasn’t looking, took in her beauty. As hard as she tried not to look my way, her eyes finally met mine. I smiled, and she actually smiled back. It might not be that hard to get her attention after all.

  Chapter 3

  Indigo

  I could see the Navy Pier from the highway as my father’s pickup made its way into Chi-town. Chi-town is what we called Daddy’s hometown of Chicago. Whenever he brought me into the city, he felt obligated to give me a grand tour, pointing out the landmarks like Grant Park and the Art Institute. He always took me for a drive through the Ida B. Wells projects, the place where he grew up as a kid. Even though the projects had been rehabbed—and he almost didn’t recognize them anymore—he had to give me the grand tour anyway. He took the scenic route through downtown Chicago just so I could take in the Magnificent Mile, a place where thousands of people spent their money shopping.

  I was so happy when we finally made our way toward Forty-seventh Street, on the south side, where Nana had lived in a two-story brick house since before I was born. As we drove through the neighborhood, a group of boys shot hoops on an old rusty basketball goal. I quickly scanned the crowd, just to see if there were any cute ones in the bunch. There was only one, and when his eyes met mine, I smiled. He smiled back, and Daddy frowned. I pulled down the visor and checked my reflection in the mirror; wanted to make sure I didn’t have any drool in the corner of my mouth. After all, I’d been asleep since the moment we reached the mountains in Tennessee. I vaguely remembered waking up for just a moment as we passed by the Tennessee Titans stadium in Nashville. And I could’ve sworn that Daddy woke me up when we reached Paducah, Kentucky, just to ask me if I wanted a burger from Steak ’n Shake. I remembered being more sleepy than hungry.

  When the wheels of Daddy’s truck brushed the curb in front of Nana’s house, there were tons of people on the porch laughing, partying and having a good time. An old James Brown song was playing loudly. Daddy started singing the lyrics, something about making it funky. My uncles, aunts and cousins were having the time of their lives, everyone engaged in conversations trying to be heard over the music. It wasn’t as if the neighbors cared, because some of them were on Nana’s porch, too. I hopped out of the front seat of Daddy’s truck and stood at the curb for a moment, took a quick glance at the porch to see who was there. When my cousin Little Keith spotted me, he leaped from the porch and rushed toward the truck. He had a Blow Pop in his mouth and held a package of Skittles tightly in his fist.

  “Indi!” He hugged me around the waist. “I thought you’d never get here!”

  He’d probably been waiting all day.

  “What’s up, knucklehead?” I asked, and knew he would get on my nerves before the night was over. He always did. “Gimme some of those Skittles.”

  He loosened his grip on the candy and I emptied them into my palm.

  “God, don’t take all of ’em!” he said.

  “Shut up. They’re bad for your teeth, anyway.” I popped Little Keith upside his head. “That’s why your teeth are rotten as it is.”

  “Indi!” Daddy gave me a look that said to behave.

  “Nana’s been waiting forever for you. She made your favorite…macaroni and cheese.”

  “Little Keith, how you doing?” Daddy asked as he pulled my suitcase from the back of the truck. I had everything I could think of, packed into one suitcase and an overnight bag. I had all my CDs stuffed into my Louis Vuitton backpack: Chris Brown, Ne-Yo, Kanye West and my favorite, Soulja Boy. I fell in love with Soulja Boy when I saw him at the For Sisters Only expo in the fall. That was when I realized that he was much cuter in person than he was on 106 & Park. Girls were screaming and chasing him all over the Georgia World Congress Center that day at the expo, and I was right there in the midst of the crowd. I could do the Superman Dance better than anybody.

  “I’m doing fine, Uncle Harold. Did you bring me something?” Little Keith bounced around. Way too much energy for a Saturday afternoon.

  Daddy pretended to pull a silver dollar from behind his ear and then handed it to him. “Something like this?”

  “Whoa! This is tight. I gotta go show Nana.” He took off running up the stairs into the house.

  It didn’t take much to impress him, I thought as I made my way up the stairs. I was wearing my Baby Phat jeans, a pink halter top and pink flip-flops to match. I had lip gloss smeared on my lips—the kind Lil Mama sang about in her video. My little Baby Phat purse was stuffed with perfume, eyeliner, a small container of Victoria’s Secret lotion, my big hoop earrings, a mood ring that Jade had given me for my sixteenth birthday and a package of peanut M&M’s.

  Before I could even step onto the porch, I was greeted by my father’s cousin Benny, who leaned against
the railing with a Budweiser in his hand. His alcohol-scented breath caught me off guard when he got too close.

  “Well, if it isn’t Indi Bindi Boo.” He smiled, revealing spaces in his mouth where teeth should’ve been. “Loan me twenty dollars, girl.”

  Everyone on the porch laughed when he said that. His favorite line for everyone he greeted was “Loan me twenty dollars,” even though he knew that you were broke. I was definitely broke. The only money I had was the twenty-one dollars that Mama gave me before I left, and hopes of an extra ten Daddy had promised me.

  “What you know good, Harold?” Cousin Benny shook my father’s hand and passed him a can of beer all in one motion.

  “Not a whole lot, Benny. What’s going on with you?”

  “Just trying to stay above water.” He smiled. “Loan me twenty dollars, Harold.”

  Everyone on the porch roared with laughter again. No doubt, Cousin Benny was the comedian in the family. His wife, Doreen, rocked in a chair on the porch and smiled as I approached. She seemed much prettier when I was smaller. Now she looked as if she had aged, and not gracefully. I remembered spending weekends at their house and sleeping over with their daughter, Sabrina. We would swim in Sabrina’s blue and pink plastic pool in their backyard and eat peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches for lunch.

  “Hey there, Indi. You sure are getting big,” Doreen said. “What grade you in now, seventh or eighth?”

  “I’m in the tenth grade now.” I smiled politely.

  “Tenth grade, wow! You’re still as pretty as can be,” she said. “You and Sabrina used to be so close when you were little. You two are still about the same height….”

  “And the same size,” Cousin Benny added, “except Sabrina got a little more hips. But you…you built just like a light pole, Indi.”

  He laughed heartily again, and everyone else did, too. I was embarrassed about my weight being discussed like that—and in front of everyone on the porch as they sat around playing dominoes and drinking Budweisers. Uncle Keith must’ve recognized the look on my face and rescued me as he swung the front screen door open, grabbed my hand and pulled me inside. Uncle Keith was my favorite relative in the whole family next to Nana. He always made me laugh, and he always had something nice for me, like a silver necklace or a crisp twenty-dollar bill. He was my daddy’s younger brother, and they looked almost identical, except Uncle Keith was a little taller—and way cooler. He knew just the right things to say, and he always took me to the coolest places when I was little, like to the lake, to a concert in Washington Park or for a slice of Chicago pizza. He was a lot like Nana—easy to talk to and very wise.