Hold Me Down

by Calvin Slater

  Ms. Scott accelerated at the green light. “Mr. Hunter, what would you have me do then?”

  “I need you to listen to me and don’t judge.”

  The teacher agreed and for the next fifteen minutes, Xavier thoroughly explained his situation, pouring out his heart about everything, but careful to leave out the seedy details about his former gang affiliations with Zulu and the price now riding on his head because of it. He also neglected to tell her about Heather’s unstable behind. Nobody needed to know that his weakness for her had led to a few embarrassing firsts for him. Telling her about his busted relationship with Samantha was pretty hard.

  Ms. Scott drove while processing the information. “Well, we can’t have you flunking out of school because you don’t have clothes to wear. Let me ask you this: Have you and your dad tried to get counseling?”

  Again Xavier looked at her like she’d grown an extra nose. “I can’t even talk to the man without him slinging some type of Scripture my way.”

  “Would you like me to speak with him?”

  Xavier was quick to say, “Uh-uh, don’t do that. It’ll only make matters worse. I’m living with my godfather right now. Don’t need you stirring up any foolishness with my father. My only focus right now is trying to figure out how I can come up with the money to buy some clothes so I can get back in school.”

  Ms. Scott took the Tireman Street on-ramp and headed west on the Jeffries Freeway. “Okay. Since there are no issues of physical abuse in your household, I won’t get in trouble for not reporting this—I’m going to leave this up to you.”

  Xavier looked around the sophisticated interior again. “What, you hit the Powerball or something? Teachers at Coleman barely making it and you—let’s just say they ain’t flossin’ like you.”

  Ms. Scott smiled. “Mr. Hunter, are you trying to get into my business?”

  Xavier laughed. “No, ma’am. I’m just saying, some of the teachers at school be hating on you, that’s all. Got all of these wild theories floating around. The most original one is about your husband or boyfriend being a dope dealer.”

  “Typical. From my experience in dealing with you, I would say that you’re pretty private with your personal business. Is this assessment accurate?”

  “Ms. Scott, that’s not fair, because I just told you about what’s been going on in my house. You’re right about privacy, but only to a certain extent. I’ve just learned that letting somebody in is a good thing.”

  Ms. Scott laughed. “Mr. Hunter, you are quite something, and you are right.” She adjusted her rearview mirror. “But I won’t be letting you in on my finances. Good try, buddy.”

  Xavier hunched his shoulders. “Can’t blame a man for trying.”

  “My colleagues speculate because I don’t freely divulge my business. Regarding my financial matters, let’s just say I’ve invested my money very well and I can afford certain luxuries other folks can’t.”

  Ms. Scott was pretty cool—a little bougie, but cool. Xavier didn’t really understand why he trusted her with his business, but it sure felt good to unload.

  The teacher was now headed south on the interchange for the Jeffries and Southfield freeways. Xavier was clueless as to where she was going. He wasn’t tripping, though. Chatting openly with someone like Ms. Scott was tight. She was smart, beautiful, and in his estimation, financially well-off. Somebody he could aspire to be like.

  Ms. Scott smiled. “I just might be able to give you some advice on your ex-girlfriend.”

  Xavier took his hands and fanned out both ears. “I’m all ears.”

  Ms. Scott laughed as she maneuvered her SUV around a shabby rust-bucket of a Dodge Neon. “Mr. Hunter, you’re funny, no doubt about it. Charming and smart. Now you take all of those attributes and pour them into the truth and tell Samantha who you really are.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. You’re trying to get me killed.” Xavier cracked a smile of uncertainty.

  Ms. Scott came up at the Michigan Avenue exit and took it west. “There is nothing a woman values more than the truth, Mr. Hunter. Don’t ever forget that.”

  Xavier was about to comment but was wondering why they were pulling into the Fairlane Town Center shopping mall. She navigated the SUV down the narrow aisle and parked in the Macy’s lot.

  The teacher reached in the backseat and grabbed a sweet Gucci bag. She opened it and pulled out her checkbook. “I don’t have all day. Take out that cell phone of yours and call Samantha and tell her that you have something important to say. And that it’s too important to discuss on the phone. Politely ask if she can meet you out here at the food court for a bite to eat.”

  Xavier didn’t know what to make of her forwardness. So he did what he was told while she wrote in her checkbook with an expensive-looking pen.

  Xavier conveyed to Samantha all that he’d been directed. And to his surprise she agreed to meet him.

  “I told you,” Ms. Scott said, rubbing it in. She ripped out a check and handed it to him. “Now you have no excuses. Be back in school next week.”

  He wasn’t sure if he should be accepting money from his English teacher. These days, many an inappropriate student-teacher relationship had led to jail time. Xavier just looked at the piece of paper like she was holding a snake.

  Ms. Scott sensed his battle. “Call it a loan. You can pay me back when you graduate from college.”

  Taking money from Billy was bad enough, but taking loot from his teacher made him feel some kind of way.

  “I belong to the bank across the street. Hurry up and stop being so prideful. Samantha will be here in a few. Go cash the check and buy what you need.”

  It was hard, but Xavier slowly took the check. He made an attempt to gather his things—

  “Leave your book bag here. I picked you up and I’ll drop you off at home.” She wrote down her cell phone number on the back of an index card. “Once you take care of all your business, call me and I’ll be back to pick you up.” She handed it to him. “Oh, Mr. Hunter. Nobody needs to know about this conversation and our little currency exchange. It’s strictly between you and me.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m tight-lipped.” Xavier opened the door. Just before he jumped out, he asked, “Why are you doing this again?”

  Ms. Scott’s eyes glazed over, like she was trying hard not to tear up. “Because nobody did it for me.”

  There was pain in his teacher’s eyes. It was almost like looking inside of them and seeing his own suffering.

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t keep the young lady waiting,” she said, dabbing at the corner of her eyes with a Kleenex. “Oh, by the way, I don’t know what you have going with Heather Larkin, but stop it. You’re trying to win back somebody special and you don’t need Ms. Larkin’s crazy drama—What did happen between you and her, anyway?”

  Xavier smiled pleasantly at his teacher and used her line. “I’m pretty private and I don’t divulge that information freely to people.”

  Ms. Scott laughed. “Touché.”

  Xavier closed the door and walked off. The bank was across the street. It was cold out but the warmth his teacher had shared was insulation enough.

  Xavier sat at the far end of the food court. He wanted to see people coming and going, so no one would be able to creep on him. While he waited on Samantha, Ms. Scott’s gesture was still fresh in his mind. Though confused, Xavier had gone and cashed the five-hundred-dollar check at the bank. The mere thought of someone outside of his circle doing something for him like this surpassed all understanding.

  Forty-five minutes had gone by without Samantha showing up, calling, or texting.

  He was about to bounce when he spotted her driver, the black Lurch, coming around a corner with Samantha, like he was Secret Service leading in Michelle Obama or somebody.

  It was evening, and the food court was beginning to get busy, people looking to have a quick meal. Samantha was styling in her waist-length black leather jacket, jeans, a
nd thigh-high black suede boots. As usual, Lurch sat five tables away. The man pulled out his cell phone and busied himself.

  Xavier didn’t know what to expect. Samantha’s facial expression was stoic. Now that he thought about it, there hadn’t been a shred of friendliness in her voice when she agreed to meet him. Samantha walked up to the table and reluctantly took a seat in front of him.

  The silence was awkward at first. Too much had transpired between them to make her believe his greeting was sincere.

  Xavier took a stab at it. “You look nice, Sam.”

  “Thank you, but you told me you wanted to talk, so let’s get to it, Xavier.”

  Xavier almost shivered from Samantha’s coldness. “No pleasantries?”

  Samantha rolled her eyes at him and was about to get up to leave until he gently reached out for her shoulder to keep her seated.

  “Keep your hands to yourself.”

  Black Lurch heard her and began to rise from his seat. She waved her hand and he sat back.

  Xavier didn’t miss a beat. “You know I wasn’t putting my hands on you like that, but as for Lurch over there”—he pointed at Samantha’s driver—“I ain’t sweatin’ him.”

  “This is what you wanted to tell me, that you’re not a punk, Xavier?”

  “No, Sam, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean any harm. Just been going through a lot.”

  Samantha eased up a bit and folded her arms. “Talk.”

  It was hard for Xavier to open up to her. But he pushed himself and re-created the night he’d made one of the biggest mistakes of his life: smashing with Brenda.

  Samantha said, “I have one word: Why?”

  There was no stopping his flow now. “Dumb.”

  “Do you know how I felt that day Brenda openly admitted to carrying your child?”

  Xavier took a minute to rethink it. “What I did was irresponsible. And I hurt you. Sam, the last thing I wanted to do was bring pain into your world.”

  Samantha tried to fight off the single tear that was now effortlessly leaving a wet, salty trail down her right cheek.

  Xavier ran a hand down his face. “I’ve missed you so much it’s ridiculous. So much has happened. I’m sorry for everything. I feel all alone right now. Not a friend in the world. Sam, I’m not asking you to take me back, but please don’t banish me from your world. It’s hard not talking to you, you feel me?”

  A smile appeared on her face.

  “What’s so funny?”

  Samantha confessed, still smiling, “I’ve missed you saying that.”

  “What? ‘You feel me’?” Xavier said, laughing.

  Samantha’s smile suddenly disappeared. “What are you going to do, Xavier? You still have those people after you.”

  Xavier shook his head in frustration. “Not sure.”

  “We have to do something before you get yourself killed.”

  Xavier perked up when he heard the word we—and the girl wasn’t speaking French either. “Sam, we ain’t doing anything. This is way too dangerous for you to be involved. I could be putting you at risk right now. Don’t need for anything to happen to you. I love you.”

  Samantha said with a smile, “You have a funny way of showing it. Running around with thugs and sexing crazy jump-offs and everything.”

  “You got jokes,” Xavier said. “Well, you’re the one running around with Derek Jeter—you’re not still with that base-running clown, are you?”

  Samantha laughed. “No. Derek Jeter—see what you have me doing?—I mean Sean, has gone back to school. I told you, we’re just friends.”

  Xavier was trying his best to fight off jealousy. “Where’d you meet that jerk at?”

  Samantha giggled. “We grew up together. His family knows mine very well. I guess I should be asking you, where’s your little girlfriend Heather?”

  Xavier almost choked. “That dizzy chick was far from being my girlfriend—you need to quit it.”

  “Her mother sure dropped her on her head. If she keeps staring at me around the building like she’s crazy, I’m going to snatch the heffa out of those rags and beat her down. You sure you’re not still with her?”

  Xavier shivered at the thought. “No, Sam.”

  “Good, because I don’t want to have to push her wig back.”

  Xavier cracked up laughing. “ ‘Push her wig back’? Go ahead, you old suburban gangster.”

  “You don’t think I could? I’m more than just dance moves, you know?”

  “So are we cool, Sam?”

  Samantha didn’t say anything at first. Doing her best to sweat him and not make it easy.

  Xavier smirked like he was up to no good. “So what I gotta do, get down on one knee in front of all these people and beg you?” He spontaneously slid out of his chair and kneeled on the floor in front of her. He said real loud, “I’m sorry for cheating on you with that two-ton woman who wears a beard like Rick Ross and dances around on that popular YouTube clip dressed in a thong and combat boots. Pretty please, with sugar on top—come back to me. I’ll even try to get help for my phone-sex addiction—if you just take me back as your friend. Please!”

  While folks around were cracking up, Samantha was shrinking with embarrassment.

  “Okay!” she said in a muffled tone, turning red. “Get off your knees and stop humiliating me, please!”

  Lurch even seemed like he was cracking a smile at Xavier’s antics.

  Xavier was trying hard not to laugh. “So, Ms. Fox, I’m asking you to hold me down. Get a brother’s back. Can you do that? Because I can’t live without you in my life. You’re my best friend and I can’t go any farther without you.”

  Samantha was straight up. “Just a friend.”

  Xavier made it seem like he had to think about it, and then he said, laughing, “Ouch, but I think I can do it.”

  Samantha smiled. “Well . . . yes. I can hold you down then.”

  Xavier joked, “Look at you, trying to sound gangsta again.”

  “Whatever.”

  They talked for a few minutes, with Xavier catching her up on the current events in his life, especially his dad barbecuing his clothes. That was examined in detail, accompanied by a little laughter. They discussed almost everything, except for what happened at Heather’s that night. That little tidbit would remain one of the many skeletons hanging around in his closet.

  “And you’re calling me a gangster. Your dad, now he’s a real gangster. Only a gangster for the Lord would roll the way he did, burning up your clothes to get the devil out. Why not use Tide washing powder?”

  “Why you trying to clown me? I ain’t gonna say nothin’ about when my mother almost slid across the dinner table at that Italian restaurant to kick your father’s hairpiece off. ’Member that?”

  Samantha was laughing so hard she almost started choking. “Stop it. My daddy doesn’t wear a hairpiece.” She giggled like she had a joke of her own to deliver. “Are you sure you weren’t confusing my dad’s so-called hairpiece with your mother’s mustache?”

  “Ooh. You want to go there.”

  “Yep. That thing was so hairy I kept looking at it expecting it to grow eight legs and crawl from underneath her nose.”

  “You got me,” Xavier admitted, shaking his head. “Your jokes are a lot better. I’ve trained you well.”

  “But in all seriousness, Xavier, is that why you haven’t been coming to school?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well, I can’t approve of what your father did. But I can say that those clothes were better off in the fire because you bought them with dirty money. What are you going to do about school clothes?”

  He hadn’t looked at it like that before.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right—matter of fact, I know you are.” Xavier looked down at the gear he’d been wearing since New Year’s Eve. “I will probably get my money game on to buy some more by running some illegal guns to Nicaragua.”

  “Will you get serious?”

  Xavier sighed. “I’ll find s
ome way to get them.” Oh yeah, like he was going to tell her about Ms. Scott tightening him up with a five-hundred-dollar check.

  Samantha looked at Xavier and rolled her eyes.

  “What I meant to say was that legally, legally I will find a way to buy more,” he corrected. “There, are you satisfied, heffa?”

  “To be in my future you have to graduate from high school so that we can attend college together.” With that said she reached inside of her wallet and pulled out her MasterCard. Samantha stood up and held the card out. “Let’s get you back in school.”

  No matter what was going on in his life at the moment, it sure felt good to be back in Samantha’s good graces.

  19

  MONDAY, JANUARY 12

  7:55 A.M.

  Xavier returned to school just as he’d promised Ms. Scott. Before he went to his first-hour calculus class, he made a stop. It was to see her. Xavier handed her a white business envelope containing the money—five hundred in crisp, one-hundred-dollar bills. And he told her that her advice on “keeping it real” helped him out tremendously. Of course, Ms. Scott had questions when he gave back the money while styling in a nice leather jacket, fresh jeans, and sweet sneaks. But she knew the rule about private business. So she didn’t ask. Just was happy to see him back. Xavier had one request, though. To avoid anything from jumping off in her classroom, Xavier asked that his seat be reassigned. Things would probably get real ugly when Heather found out that Samantha and Xavier were back together as friends. And it wouldn’t be in his best interests to be sitting in front of the berserk chick, with his back exposed, when she mentally melted down.

  Ms. Scott laughed, stating that she understood and it would be done.

  After missing quite a few days of school, Xavier hadn’t realized how far behind the other students he was, until he had attended his first three classes. The extra work those teachers had dropped on him was bananas. A lot of his free time would be devoted to catching up.