Niya

by Fabiola Joseph

  “What’s up, June?” Rodney said.

  The air was so fucking thick with guilt that it could almost be seen.

  “I got a call about Niya doing a show and called her over. She’s on her way here now. Yo, let me speak to you for a minute.”

  Damn. We’d been caught. I sat on the couch, on the verge of tears, as Rodney went upstairs with his brother. I was not sure if they thought that I wouldn’t be able to hear their conversation, but every word was heard.

  “What in the fuck are you doing, messing with Jamilla? You know that’s Niya’s girl.”

  “No she’s not. She ain’t even gay,” Rodney answered.

  “Man, this shit you’re doing is going to be bad for business. How do you think Niya is going to feel when she finds out about this?”

  “Man, she won’t have to find out, ’cause I am going to tell her. Jamilla ain’t her girl, so she should be cool about it.”

  Fuck. I wasn’t ready for Niya to know about this.

  “You’re fucking crazy, dude. They may not be together, but you know Niya loves that girl, man. That shit ain’t hard to tell.”

  There was silence before Rodney said, “Look, I like her, and I got a shot at actually getting with her. Niya is gay, and Jamilla ain’t, so . . .”

  With that, Rodney came back downstairs. I wanted to go home right away. He came back over to the couch and sat beside me. He threw his arm around my neck and pulled me close.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  The answer was, “Hell no!” but I nodded my head yes.

  “Relax. I can tell that you aren’t okay. It will be fine. I am going to be straight up with Niya—”

  “No, not yet. Please, don’t tell her. Let me be the one to let her in on things. Plus, we don’t know where this is headed. Let’s just chill and see.”

  I could tell by the look on his face that he didn’t like that I didn’t want to tell Niya that we had decided to talk and get to know each other, but I just wasn’t ready. He tried to respond, but June came down the stairs just then, followed by Niya. When she saw me, I could tell that she was shocked. I had slid to the other side of the couch before she made it down the stairs, but still, she was surprised.

  “What’s up, Rodney? Hey, Jamilla. What are you doing here?”

  The room fell silent as everyone waited for my answer, which never came.

  “Me and Rodney saw her while we were out, so we told her to come with us so she could hear the good news.”

  Thank God for June, ’cause I had gone blank. Niya still looked like she had questions, but June had news to give.

  “Yo, man, I got some fucking great news. I uploaded the new video this morning, and that shit took off faster than the first one. Yo, Rodney. Pull that shit up on the computer. So, anyway, you know I used to do security for that A and R director guy from Gifted Records. Well, I hit him up and told him to check out the two videos. He hit me back and was really feeling your songs. He also said that he liked the amount of views the videos had even more.”

  She stood there as if she was in shock, as if she was trying to split her brain between what June was saying and the video Rodney had pulled up.

  “So, what does this all mean?” Niya asked.

  “You ready for this? He is having an artist showcase tomorrow, and he asked if you would want to join in. He said your set wouldn’t be that long, ’cause you had only two songs out, but he would be willing to give you a twenty-minute set.”

  Everyone was jumping, screaming, and talking, but Niya just went over to the now abandoned computer and played her latest video. She sat there watching it and didn’t say too much. I joined her on the couch, watched the video with her, and started to cry.

  “Niya, this is it. This is the door you have been waiting for. It’s open, boo.”

  She looked flushed with emotion. I was trying to read her, but it was hard. I was behind her, with my chin on her shoulder, as I looked over at the screen. I tried to reach around and take her hand, just to let her know that I had her back, but she quickly jumped up and completely disregarded what I had just said to her.

  “So, how long do I have to prepare?” she asked June.

  “That’s the catch. The showcase is tomorrow night.”

  By that point, we were all shocked.

  “There is no fucking way I am going to be ready for that shit. Are you crazy?”

  June stepped in front of Niya and looked her straight in the eyes and spoke the truth. “You know, I was you not too long ago. I had the world in the palm of my hand, and I thought that I had more time. I wasn’t ready. I had to get shit right first, thought I needed to perfect shit first, but look at me now. I could have been directing videos with the best of them, but I’m slanging shit with the rest of the ‘normal-ass’ niggas. Fuck being ready, ’cause if you wait for ready, ready will always pass you by. Take life as it comes to you, my nigga, ’cause right now, it’s coming at you lovely, and believe me, shit can turn real ugly real fast.”

  Damn. June had us all thinking.

  June went on. “Fuck being ready, Niya. No matter what you think, just know that you are ready. Plus, you ain’t got no fuckin’ choice. I already told him that you would be there.”

  * * *

  After going over all the details, we were all ready to head out. I knew that I would leave with Niya. I wanted to talk to her and see where her head was at. I wanted to congratulate her and let her know that I was there for her and would help her in any way I could.

  “Where are you going?” she asked as I got up to leave with her.

  “I thought that I would ride home with you. I thought that we should talk.”

  She wasn’t even looking at me. I was taken aback and was slowly getting angry.

  “Nah. I ain’t headed home. I gotta go back to work. Have whoever brought you here take you home.”

  With that, she slipped on her sunglasses and took the steps two at a time. I was pissed ’cause she was so fucking cool with that shit, as if I had never even mattered at all. June followed her up and left me in the basement with Rodney.

  “You okay, Jamilla?” Rodney asked. His voice came crashing down on me, and in that moment, I was so embarrassed.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I just want to go home. And please, don’t tell Niya anything about us.”

  Chapter 52

  Niya

  I couldn’t deal with Jamilla. Honestly, I wasn’t ready even to see her, and I couldn’t understand why she was at Rodney’s house. I made a mental note to let June know that if he saw Jamilla—I didn’t care what news he had—I didn’t want her over there without me. But that was the least of my worries. I spent the rest of that day shopping and making sure my clothes, shoes, and jewels were all on point. I knew that some people felt as if they should be accepted as is, but to me, people always wanted to be around a great persona. People loved beautiful, well-dressed people, and if you added swag to that, you were golden.

  After shopping, I spent the rest of my night at home, getting my mind, body, and soul together. I practiced both of my songs over and over again in my full-length mirror. Hell, I even wrote a few new ones. I was going to throw a new one, just half of one, in for the showcase. I went over the new songs that I had written and settled on “Show Me Your Ugly, Show Me Your Pain, Boo.”

  Show me your ugly. Show me your pain, boo,

  ’Cause I came only to save you,

  Heal the things from your past that haunt you.

  Be a fool for you. Take a bullet for you.

  Never let another mistreat you. I’ll put a nigga six feet deep for you, so . . .

  Show me your ugly. Show me your pain, boo, ’cause I will never hurt you. I came only to save you. I’ll kiss it and make it all better, boo . . . but you gotta let me in.

  When I first saw you,

  I never thought that you would ever love me too.

  See, I had walls up too,

  But just like I fight for you, you fought for me too.

/>   So let me love you. Trust me, my love remains true.

  Show me your ugly. Show me your pain, boo, ’cause I will never hurt you. I came only to save you. I’ll kiss it and make it all better, boo . . . but you gotta let me in.

  In time, Jamilla boo, with me beside you

  All that sadness will no longer reside in you.

  You are strong enough to fix it, boo.

  I am here for you only to lean on and strengthen you.

  Together, we will conquer the world, boo.

  All I ever wanted was for it to just be me and you.

  I will fight for you. I will smile for you. I will love you and make it all better for you.

  The broken heart you harbor, boo, will be the death of you. I am waiting to put it back together boo . . . but you gotta let me in.

  Just let me love you, and that broken heart that we both know is the most hurtful pain in you . . . it will heal. . . and will barely leave a scar, boo, so . . .

  Just show me your ugly. Show me your pain, boo, ’cause I will never hurt you. I came only to save you. I’ll kiss it and make it all better, boo . . . but you gotta let me in.

  I spent the next day with my granny. When I told her about the showcase, she cried. She knew how much music meant to me, and she had always felt that it was the only thing that linked me to my father. He was a music lover too, and when he used to come around, he always made her play music, and we all would dance.

  “Niya, mi amor, I must bless you.”

  Oh God, here she went with her blessings. My granny was a Catholic, but with Dominican roots. She still lit her candles, prayed to her saints, and from time to time went and saw the “healer.” He would give her oils and candles for her to light for herself and her family. I had always thought all that stuff was bullshit.

  “The curandero say to me . . . he say something big will happen, and my Niya will need blessing. He say you will have problem. He say it will stop you from big things, so he give me to bless you. See, this save you, mi amor.”

  I looked at that shit in her hand and took it from her. I opened the bottle, and damn, that shit was strong.

  “Granny, I can’t put this on. People are going to smell it on me.”

  She twisted up her face, and I knew that she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “You wash already?”

  “Yes, Granny.”

  “Okay, come. I put on you. No wash off. You keep on for whole day and night. You no wash until morning, okay? Now, me put on you, and I do prayer.”

  My grandmother wrapped her head in the scarf that the man had blessed for her. She lit her candles, lit her cigar, and shook her maraca to awaken the spirits that were believed to protect not only me but my family for generations. After that, she went to work. She prayed in Spanish as she rubbed the concoction all over me. When she was done, she made me blow the candle out as she dipped her finger in the liquid and made a cross on my forehead.

  “You now blessed, mi amor. No one will stop you dream. You leave this house with protection.”

  * * *

  It was going on seven o’clock as I finished getting dressed. The showcase was starting at ten, but I’d been told that I wouldn’t go on until close to midnight, and that was cool with me. The closer it got to showtime, the more nervous I became. I had been to only one showcase, and that was because of June. If they weren’t feeling you, you would know it. We were in the toughest city when it came to rap, so if you didn’t come right, your career would be ruined. I texted Smiley and asked her for the millionth time if she was sure that she was going to be there, and again she said yes.

  So I was pacing my room, going over my raps and how I would deliver them, when my phone started to go off. I picked it up, and the name that flashed across my screen turned my stomach. I took the call but wasn’t too happy about doing so.

  “Yeah?” was all that I said.

  “Why so cold, nigga? You ain’t a fan of White Boy no more?”

  I didn’t answer him and waited for him to say what he needed to say.

  “All right, straight to the business, I see. Well, I was thinking about going to see Maggie, you know, the bitch that got three kids? She’s a fine white bitch, but them kids drive me crazy. What you think?”

  “I say go see the bitch. Where she live?”

  He told me where she lived, and I mentally took down the address. Then I was ready to end the call.

  “All right. We’ll go see the bitch tomorrow. Have fun,” I told him.

  “Nah, nigga. I’m going to go see that bitch tonight. Around nine sounds right to me. Also, I know you be rollin’ with that bitch nigga Rodney sometimes, but I wanted to let you know that if you go see a bitch of your own tonight . . . leave that nigga at home.”

  With that, he hung up. I sat on my bed and rolled a blunt that was so fat that it almost wouldn’t seal. Fuck. The last thing I needed was to deal with White Boy . . . and by myself. What was he up to? His coded conversation was easy to decipher, but something just didn’t feel right.

  * * *

  I had kissed my granny good night as she prayed me out the door. I was going to pick up what I needed and bring a couple of guns for insurance. I knew that White Boy would check for one gun, but on that night, I would rock with two. As I made it to my car, I heard her voice.

  “Niya, Niya, you were just going to leave without me?”

  I turned around and was floored by her beauty. Jamilla was dressed in all black, with tight pants and a sexy top to match. She was coming out of her shell as far as fashion was concerned, and I would have been proud to have her with me that night.

  She went on. “I mean, damn, what in the hell is going on with you? I been texting you all day, and you don’t answer. I called, and you still don’t answer. Is this where we are right now?”

  Half of me felt bad, but the other half of me didn’t need this shit.

  “Look, I am going to hit up Rodney and have him pick you up. I have something I need to do before I go there.”

  She twisted her nose up and threw her hands on her hips. “You have something to do? Like what?”

  I rolled my eyes and attempted to turn my back on her, but she turned me back around.

  “Answer me. What in the hell would you have to do that’s so important that it can’t wait?”

  “Look, I don’t need this shit right now. Just go back inside and wait for Rodney.”

  “Who in the hell are you yelling at? I don’t understand you at all, Niya.”

  I heard my name being called, but it wasn’t by Jamilla. When I looked up, my granny was hanging out the window, yelling my name.

  “You no do this, Niya. So be nice. You no do this now.”

  With that, I unlocked the car doors. Jamilla jumped into the passenger seat as I got behind the wheel.

  “Get out of the car, Jamilla.”

  “Where are you going?” That was all she kept saying for a few minutes. She just wouldn’t let up and kept asking me about where I was heading.

  “I got to make a fucking drop, okay? White boy on some new shit, and I have to see him tonight.”

  I waited for the long, drawn-out lecture that was about to come my way, but instead, all I got was a stern answer.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “What? Hell no. I am not taking you with me as I go and sell drugs. White Boy has been acting crazy, and there’s no telling what may happen.”

  Jamilla didn’t answer. She just sat back, put on her seat belt, and stared ahead.

  “Jamilla, come on. I don’t have time for this.”

  “Well, I guess that means that you should start driving, then.”

  * * *

  I got to my stash house, got everything that I needed, and as soon as I stepped back in the car, Jamilla started in with her questions.

  “Can you at least tell me why you are treating me like this?”

  I had reached my breaking point. That night was supposed to be my night, but no one around me understood that.r />
  “Look, how about you use your fucking brain.” I tried to keep calm, but she was bugging the shit out of me.

  “Use my fucking brain? Use my fucking brain? How about you use your fucking heart?”

  I took in a deep breath and realized that my yelling would never penetrate that thick skull of hers, so I said what I had to say calmly as I sped through the streets of the city I held close to my heart.

  “Jamilla, honestly, I just needed a damn break from you. Our relationship . . . that shit was becoming—is becoming—unhealthy for me. I live, sleep, and dream of you. My whole life is wrapped around you, and you being unsure of who you are, that shit drives me crazy.”

  “But, Niya, is it fair? Is it fair that what took you almost seventeen years to do, you want me to do in just a few short months? How long did it take you to come out? How did you feel when you were forced out of that closet, and even still, you were fighting not to come out?”

  Sure, she had a point, but it still didn’t change how I felt.

  “I understand, but look how I treated Smiley. That was for you. Everything is always for you, and for a change, I want it to be all about me. When will I come first? When will people think of making me happy? When will anyone ever run to save Niya? My parents ain’t do that shit, only my granny.”

  “Niya, that’s not true. I love you, I am here for you, and it hurts that you don’t know that.”

  I looked over at her, and I could see the pain on her face. My heart was begging me to stop the car and do what I had always done and cater to her, but my mind was in overdrive.

  “I know you love me, Jamilla, but you come first when it comes to you. It’s not a bad thing, but I would have loved for you to put me first a few times. We will always be us. What we have, that will always be. But . . . but . . . I just need more. In the time that we didn’t speak, it was hard, but not as hard as I thought it would be. You know why?”

  I waited for her to answer me. What I was saying wasn’t easy at all. I felt a little messed up about it, but it needed to be said.

  “Why is that, Niya?”

  Her question was low and full of pain, but still, I told the truth.

  “It’s because even after playing all that we have been through in my mind, even after thinking about how much we love each other, I still was left with nothing. I was so busy being the savior that I didn’t notice that I needed saving too. When I fall, I know that you will be there to catch me. You proved that to me when that shit went down with my mom. You proved yourself to me that morning. You proved your love. But even with all that, I still go to bed thinking about possibly never having you, while constantly, you play on my emotions.”