So, So Hood

by L. Divine

  Mickey looks from her man to Rah, scared of Nigel’s next move. I’m a bit nervous, too. Nigel takes betrayal very seriously.

  “I knocked over the pile of mail from my mom’s house on my way to the bathroom and noticed a strange letter,” Nigel says, taking an envelope from his pocket and unfolding it. The address is written in the same red ink Mickey’s letters are written in. “Imagine my surprise when it was a letter congratulating me and Mickey on moving in together and for Nickey’s birth. My first thought was how did this nigga get my address, but then I remembered his homies and your little brother coming to the baby shower.” Nigel tosses the letter at Mickey who looks shocked by Nigel’s attitude. “My next thought was how did he know about me and you moving to Rah’s?”

  “Nigel, it’s not like that,” Mickey begins, but Nigel’s not having it.

  “He had the nerve to tell me he’s getting out on parole for good behavior. The letter’s dated three days ago, Mickey. When were you going to tell me about him being out?” Nigel’s yelling loudly over the music causing Nellie and David to look up from their deep conversation.

  “I didn’t know the fool was out of jail, Nigel. I swear,” Mickey says, pleading with her man to understand. She stands up in an effort to hug Nigel, but he’s inconsolable.

  “Who’d let a convicted murderer out after only serving a minimal amount of his fifteen years?” Alia asks, innocent to our reality.

  “That’s what happens when a brother kills another brother, especially if they’re gang members,” Rah says, matter-of-factly. “The jails are overcrowded and as the system sees it, their work was done for them without getting their hands dirty. It’s a win-win situation.”

  I know Rah’s thinking about his own dad who’s been locked up in Atlanta for years with no chance of parole anytime soon. The drug laws between crack and pure cocaine are biased, with the latter having less time attached to it because those dealers are usually white, upper-class dudes as opposed to the crack dealers in the hood. If Tre were some preppy white dude from Redondo they’d put Mickey’s ex-man under the jail and forget all about him. He must’ve had one hell of an attorney to get him probation his first time up.

  “Don’t try to clean it up. I know he couldn’t wait to contact you once he got out, ain’t that right, girl?”

  Mickey looks like a deer caught in headlights. Lucky for her Nickey starts screaming right in time to save her mama, but only for a while. Nigel’s no fool. He’s going to find out they’ve been in contact and when he does, the shit’s going to hit the fan. This wasn’t the type of party Mickey and Nellie had in mind at all. Instead of good gifts and a crowd of people, they both received the opposite. It looks like me and my girls are going to be three single black females if shit doesn’t start going our way.

  9

  Single Black Female

  You got spark, you, you got spunk/

  You, you got something all the girls want.

  —NICKI MINAJ

  After yesterday’s party Nigel, Mickey, and Rah are in recovery mode. We haven’t heard from Nellie since she left with David after Nigel’s exposé. Nigel smoked himself to sleep and Rah and Chance accompanied him. Alia and I stayed up talking for a while before we finally passed out. When I woke up on Rah’s couch this morning everyone was still asleep, a luxury I rarely have. I worked all day and finished my English assignment due in the morning.

  Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one of my friends who takes schoolwork seriously. They never talk about doing homework on the weekends. It gets on my nerves I have more to do than them, but I’m trying to check the hater in me. I’ve decided to take my goddaughters to visit Dr. Whitmore with me and give their parents time to recuperate fully from our late night. Then we get to go back to Rah’s and eat leftovers.

  As we exit the car I have a strange feeling someone’s watching me. I look around the quiet street noticing the City of Compton sign in the center divider where the airport is located. I shake off the feeling, put Nickey in her stroller and take Rahima’s hand and head toward the small office. Dr. Whitmore should be there even on Sunday. Holy day or not, the good doctor has work to do.

  My uncle Bryan doesn’t work on Sundays due to his busy deejaying schedule on the weekends. Otherwise I’d walk down to the opposite end of Alondra Boulevard where Miracle Market is located and hit him up for a few free snacks for my babies and me. It’s just as well, the last thing I want to deal with today is fools asking me for some spare change when I know where them and their baby mamas live. A few of my uncles—Kurtis included—could be out there, too, and they’re the last fools I want to run into.

  I step onto the sidewalk pushing the stroller ahead of me and again feel all eyes are on me, but whose?

  “I’m bugging, huh, girls?” I say to my goddaughters who both look up at me like I’m speaking German, but I know what I feel. And unlike my crew, I haven’t been smoking or drinking a thing to get my senses way off like this.

  “Auntie Jayd, doggy,” Rahima says, pointing toward the building where Dr. Whitmore’s office sits.

  I notice the brown pit bull in front of the office door. Two more dogs join him to form a pack. What the hell?

  “Pet doggy?” Rahima asks, unaware of the impending danger we’re in. I would scream, but that’ll only make it worse. I haven’t had to fight off dogs in a while but it’s an experience I’ll never forget. If I were by myself I’d simply run back to the car, but I can’t move that fast with two babies to care for.

  “No, baby,” I say, protectively shielding Rahima with my left arm while moving the stroller behind me. “These are not nice dogs.”

  Rahima, sensing my fear, moves behind me without another word. The dogs snarl at me as I slowly walk backward, looking down the entire time. Then, without warning, the lead pit barks at us loudly while the others growl in unison.

  “Shit,” I say under my breath. I would be caught out here alone with Nickey and Rahima. Where’s my backup when I need it? I look at the dogs slowly walking toward us, scared for my girls. Rahima begins to cry and I don’t blame her. I would, too, if I weren’t busy plotting our next move.

  I spot a brick on the curb next to us and pick it up ready to defend my girls. The first one looks me dead in the eye and I notice his cold blue stare has a familiar feeling—Esmeralda. I know she’s a bitch, but I didn’t know she could literally become one.

  “You know what you have to do, Jayd. Use my powers to take control of hers,” my mom says, on cue as always. “Don’t let your fear overcome you. You can do this.”

  “Okay,” I say aloud, unable to speak to her telepathically at the moment. The only things I can focus on are the angry dogs coming at us and how to cool their thoughts before they move in for the kill.

  “Auntie Jayd,” Rahima whines, tugging on my pant leg. Poor baby. Even Nickey begins to moan in the midst of the moment. I’ll be damned if I let Esmeralda intimidate us. I don’t care what shape she takes on. I whipped her ass when she decided to come at me in the form of a crow the night of my initiation and I’m going to fix her ass good now, too.

  “Stay here, baby. Auntie’s got this,” I say, patting Rahima’s hand and placing it beside her. I take three steps closer to the dogs holding their ground in front of Dr. Whitmore’s office. They’re obviously attempting to keep us from going inside, but they’re the ones who need to surrender. I might be by myself with two dependents, but I’m never alone.

  “Your tricks don’t scare me, Esmeralda,” I say, staring the largest canine in the eye, feeling the blank stare move from its head to mine. It’s definitely under Esmeralda’s influence. I can feel the pounding in the dog’s head as it tries to grapple with it’s own thoughts.

  All three dogs begin barking loudly, causing my girls to scream in horror. Then, they approach. I have no choice but to fling the brick as hard as I can. It hits the smallest dog and he’s down. The others, unphased by the assault on their companion, continue to charge across the small street separat
ing us from them. I continue to stare down the alpha dog, causing her to stop and squirm from the pain I’m redirecting toward her thanks to Maman’s power present in my own. I hate to hurt an animal, but I’ll be damned if they get any closer.

  “Jayd,” Dr. Whitmore calls from his front door.

  The third dog halts noticing he’s not only alone, but outnumbered. With his two mates down he runs away, which saves me from having to mentally cripple his ass, too.

  I turn around and run toward my goddaughters who are no longer crying, but still stunned at what just happened. I hug them both tightly reassuring them that everything’s okay.

  “The mean doggies went bye-bye.” Rahima wipes her wet eyes and looks over her shoulder to make sure they’re gone.

  “What happened?” Dr. Whitmore says, coming to my aid. If he hadn’t come out when he did who knows how it would’ve ended.

  “Esmeralda and more of her tricks, that’s what,” I say, following Dr. Whitmore into his office.

  “I curse the day that woman was born,” Dr. Whitmore says, slamming the door behind us. “She’ll never give up on this revenge endeavor against your grandmother and her lineage. It’s unfortunate some people don’t know when to quit.”

  “I hear you, Dr. Whitmore.”

  I take Nickey out of her stroller and hug her, also checking her diaper. She doesn’t need changing yet, but I like to keep an eye on her diaper rash, which is all but gone thanks to Mama’s special balm. It was so bad a month ago looking at her red skin brought tears to my eyes. But Mickey seems to be on top of her new mommy duties now, thanks in large part to Dr. Whitmore.

  “How are you doing since your initiation, little Jayd?” he says, shining a light in my eyes and forcing my tongue out. “From the looks of the way you handled that situation, you’re getting the hang of your developing powers, or so it would seem.”

  “I’m sleeping well, if that’s what you mean.” The girls watch quietly while the good doc does his job.

  “Good sleep is essential, but how are you handling stress? Even at your young age it can be crippling.” Dr. Whitmore looks in my ears and up my nose. This invasive visit is causing me to feel stress. “Did you finish the herbs I prescribed?”

  “Yes sir, I did. Every last bit.” And they were horrible but I’ll keep that part to myself.

  “Good. Now on to round two,” he says, opening the large cabinet full of numerous concoctions from God knows where. I looked in one of the bags Mama had to boil before I could take them and could’ve sworn I saw a spider’s carcass.

  “Seriously? Now what’s wrong with me?” I don’t know how much more of this alternative medicine I can stomach.

  “On the contrary, Jayd. Everything’s going well.” That’s good to know, but little consolation when he’s putting more horse pills in a bag for me to take home. “We just want to keep it that way, don’t you agree?”

  “Yes, I guess so.” Nickey looks around at all of the Chinese writing on the walls. I feel as confused by the visit as she looks by the black characters.

  “Well, you need to know it. You’ve got a lot riding on your spiritual, mental, and physical success, little lady, and the stronger you are the better you’ll be able to handle it. You must continue to fortify your blood no matter how strong it may be.” Dr. Whitmore looks down at the brass heart and cross emblem hanging at the end of my eleke.

  “I got you, doc,” I say, making him smile, but not laugh. I’ve never heard anything close to laughter come from him. Maybe Mama knows how to get a chuckle out of the stoic medicine man.

  “It seems like a lot today, but tomorrow it will be a thing of the past,” Dr. Whitmore says, passing me the white paper bag filled with bitter treats. “Trust me, you won’t have to take herbs forever if you do it correctly the first time around.”

  “Will do.”

  “And there’s a tincture for the baby’s runny nose,” he says, reminding me of the real reason I wanted to bring Nickey with me today. “You can tell her mother to give it to her three times a day before her meals. The mucus should disappear in a couple of days.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Whitmore, for everything.” He always knows what to do even when I don’t ask the question. In another time and place, Mama and him would have made a powerful couple. Maybe they did make one back in the day. It’s just a feeling, but I think they had a relationship before Daddy came into the picture. Who knows how their destinies would have unfolded if things were different. I’m glad Dr. Whitmore’s around when we need him. He’s literally a lifesaver.

  Dr. Whitmore’s capsules are becoming easier to swallow making me grateful for the small things in life. After the day I’ve had I need a good night’s sleep and for me that includes active dreaming. I hope Nickey and Rahima have sweet dreams and forget about the dog attack earlier this afternoon. Hopefully my dreams are peaceful and my sleep, solid. Monday morning will be here before I know it.

  “Look at that beautiful neck—I mean skin. The gold chain against your copper skin is glowing, Queen Califia. Absolutely magnificent.”

  At first, my great ancestor is flattered by Cortes’ compliment, knowing she is indeed one of the most beautiful women he’s ever seen. But she also can see something else in his intentions: The foreigner wants her gold and her blood.

  “Muchas gracias,” she says, speaking Cortes’ native tongue much to his surprise and pleasure. She can read him like a book, but not soon enough to see how this confrontation will end. Vanity was always the queen’s Achilles’ heel.

  Cortes’ men encircle Queen Califia and her female warriors, causing them to draw their swords ready to fight. The all male army looks at the women soldiers excited by their passion. Cortes and his men don’t even have the good sense to feel threatened; pride was always their weakness.

  “Por favor, senora. Put away your weapons and leave the bloodshed for another day and more even battle, shall we?”

  “I don’t see anything uneven about this battle, senor.” Califia’s warriors yell in agreement ready to throw down. Now I know where my fighting spirit comes from. Williams women never retreat in battle. “And it’s senorita. Califia belongs to no man.”

  “Not for long,” Cortes says, smiling cunningly. “If you’ll agree to become my wife I will spare the lives of these women and your own.”

  My great-grandmother—several times over—looks at this white man like he’s lost his mind. She could step on him if she wanted to. Califia stands about six feet tall while Cortes looks a good foot shorter.

  “I’d rather die a single woman than live as your wife.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Cortes says. He looks Califia in the eyes, smiling wide so she can’t miss the fangs prevalent on either side of his mouth. “I’ll see to it that your deaths are not without merit.”

  “Adios, mio,” Califia says, not believing her eyes and our sight is rarely wrong.

  “Your God can’t help you now.” Cortes gives his men the signal to charge, his entire army displaying their vampirish roots. Without preparation or warning Califia and her army is defenseless against the supernatural beings.

  “ You can’t have my blood or my love, Cortes.”

  “Fine then. I’ll just take your gold.” Cortes advances toward Califia, reaching for her jewelry but he can’t resist the pulsating veins in her neck. In one quick movement he’s got his teeth in her flesh, causing the armies to go to war. With the chaos ensuing around them, Califia and Cortes are suspended in time while he drains the life out of my ancestor.

  “No!” I scream out of my sleep. I smack the alarm clock on the coffee table next to my mom’s couch silencing the loud beeping.

  It’s time to get up for school, but that’s not what pulled me out of my sleep. It can’t be a coincidence seeing vampires in my dreams and dealing with Misty’s changes in reality. I touch my neck checking for bite marks. It wouldn’t be the first time I woke up from one of my dreams with a souvenir. I’ll talk to Mama about my dream later. We have w
ork to do in the spirit room today after our clients leave. Vampires and ancient mothers in our bloodline isn’t appropriate shoptalk for a busy Monday afternoon.

  Today wasn’t a bad day as far as Mondays go. I turned in my homework, talked to Mr. Adewale about the agenda for the ASU meeting later this week, and managed to make a decent week’s worth of tips in a few hours. The only thing lingering is my ill dream from this morning. I beat Mama here from the shop. She refuses to ride in the car with me unless she has no choice. Once the shop is locked up Netta will drop her off. It’s too late for her to walk home by herself.

  Gunlock Avenue’s quiet tonight. There are a few neighbors hanging, like Mr. Gatlin across the street outside watering his lawn, and the Webb brothers playing dominoes on their front porch, but mostly everyone else is in for the evening. I might as well make my way to the back house. I’m tired and need to get started on my homework or risk not doing it all. Hopefully Mama won’t have me back here all night.

  “Russell, get your ass in this house and stop snooping around outside,” Esmeralda says from her front door, yelling at her new houseguest like he’s a pet instead of her boyfriend. Mr. Gatlin looks across the street into Esmeralda’s yard, longing for his former companion. I guess now that she’s got a new man the old one’s out.

  Esmeralda’s man is wearing a black hoodie and sweats reminding me of a bank robber. He looks real thuggish for an old dude. Noticing me in the driveway, Russell comes closer to my side of the split grassy area separating the two properties and sniffs my way. I don’t need dog senses to smell the stale weed and beer stench he’s sporting. I can’t make out his eyes but his bushy, red beard and mustache and long yellow nails are impossible to miss.

  “Russell, do as you’re told.” Esmeralda repeats the command, but Russell’s infatuated with his latest prey—me.

  Netta’s reggae music gets here before she pulls into the driveway behind me, but Russell doesn’t move an inch and neither do I for fear he loves to chase.