The back of my head hits the seat. “How’d you know about that?”
“I have my ways,” she says with a one-shoulder shrug.
“Apparently.” I shift in my seat. This big-ass car suddenly seems very cramped. “And she wasn’t really my girlfriend. I mean, she was but she wasn’t.”
Riley gives me a skeptical twist of her mouth and my foot hits her dashboard as I shift again. I take a breath, try to find the right words.
“I think we were together because we both needed something. And sometimes it feels good to be needed.” Okay, that sounded so much better in my head. Still, Riley gives me not one but two nods.
“I get it,” she says. “Still . . . it must feel pretty weird, huh?”
I glance over at Riley. Her tan Converses perfectly offset her caramel complexion, and her ponytail shows just how high her cheekbones are. How long her neck really is.
I finally shrug. “Could be weirder,” I say.
Mr. Boyce wasn’t lying—Kenny’s cousin’s condo is fly as hell. It’s in downtown Richmond, but artsy downtown Richmond. So instead of bumping into blissheads and crinkle clowns, you might be walking side by side with a theater professor with leather elbow patches on his blazer. Only residents of the condo complex get to park in the garage; everyone else has to find parallel parking out on the street. It’s walking distance from a shopping center that has one of those movie theaters with a bar and a bowling alley. Nic wanted to take MiMi to one like that back in Newport News for her birthday, but once we caught wind of how much the food would cost us, we Netflixed and Pizza Hutted instead.
I knock on the door to Kenny’s cousin’s unit, then crack my knuckles while I wait. Riley glances over at me and rests her hand on top of mine.
“It’s okay,” she says. “We’re bringing her home.”
I nod. She’s right. This is it. Over a week with roadblocks and, finally, I get a green light. I look down at Riley’s hand on top of mine still and can’t remember if we’ve touched like this before. Yeah, our hands grazed each other’s when we had to pass out something to the kids at Sunday school, but I always whipped mine away like Riley’s had just come out of the oven. Now, though, her hand doesn’t feel too hot. Just warm and soft.
“Who the hell is it?” a voice booms through the door.
I swallow. This doesn’t sound too inviting. “Jay,” I say. “Jay Murphy,” I add, like that makes any kind of difference.
The door opens and a young dude stands in the doorway. Lighter complexion than Kenny, but close to the same height. He wears a tank top with khaki shorts and socks pulled up to his knees, like one of them wannabe gangstas in some hood movie made in the nineties. But his thick biceps and the grimace on his face make him a little less wannabe and a lot more dangerous.
He glares at me, then at Riley, then back at me. “I ain’t buying shit,” he says.
“Are you Doug?” Riley asks, not even flinching at his menacing appearance.
His glare returns to Riley and my feet move, stand slightly in front of her. Just in case. “Who wants to know?” he asks.
“We’re friends of Kenny,” I say before Riley can get another word out. I really should’ve made her wait in the car. Right next to that swanky shopping center where I’d know she’d be safe.
“Friends of Kenny?” The guy I’m assuming is Doug raises his eyebrows at us. I hear people chuckle in the background. Two separate voices. Could one of them be Nic? “Not sure if Kenny has friends that look like you two.”
“Could you ask him?” I try. “I mean, he’s here, right?”
“I mean, he’s here, right?” This Doug dude tries to imitate me but speaks in a high nasal voice. The hell? Is that how I sound? He turns his head toward the people behind him. The people out of sight. “Yo, y’all should hear this clown out here!” More laughter. If Nic were in there, she’d run to the door if she heard my voice. Then again, she’s been avoiding me all week. She probably wants Doug to get rid of me so she could continue doing whatever she’s been doing these last eight days. I’m not letting her off that easy.
“We’re friends of the family—we know Mr. and Mrs. Boyce,” I say. “They’re worried about Kenny. They knew we were going to be in town so asked if we could stop by and check on him.” I try to peek around him, catch a glimpse of whoever’s tee-hee-hee-ing back there.
Doug shifts his weight to block my view and looks at me through the slits of his eyes, but the cynicism still slips out. We have a stare off. I try not to plead with my eyes too much—all it’s up to you if we come in. No big deal. Doug’s grip on his doorknob gets tighter and tighter. I expect it to close right in my face in about two seconds.
“That was a long ride, though,” Riley adds. “Mind if I come in to pee?”
I wince at Riley’s bluntness. Riley’s eyebrows shrug at me. She’s thinking on her toes to give me an in, even if it means embarrassing herself. Doug gives a half smile—partially amused, partially confused. Whoever’s behind him speak in hushed voices now and my heart skips a beat. One of those voices seems high-pitched enough to be a girl’s. I strain my ear to make out whether or not it’s Nic.
“Make it quick,” Doug finally says, stepping aside. I push past him and make a beeline for his living room, Riley hot on my heels. I stop in my tracks when I see two black dudes around Doug’s age passing a joint between each other. The one with dreads past his shoulders looks up at me and frowns.
“Damn, nigga. Can I help you?” he asks.
His friend across from him breaks out into snickers, teetering like a bird. The same high-pitched voice I heard outside the front door. The one I had thought—no, hoped—was Nic’s. But once again, my hope crashed to the floor. It was just two clowns smoking bliss with a fit of the giggles.
“Uh . . . bathroom?” Riley asks Doug, who closes the front door and locks it behind him. Not just once—he makes sure to use the deadbolt. The click of it sends shock waves throughout my limbs. Something tells me this wasn’t a good idea.
Doug hitches his head toward the back of his condo. “First door to the left.”
Riley nods then gives me a look. Should I search for clues? No. Definitely not a good idea. I scratch the back of my neck. Give a slight shake of my head: No. But Riley must just think I’m itchy because she takes tentative steps toward the back.
“Now what’s this you said about Kenny?” Doug asks me as I try to follow her. He sits on the barstool in front of his kitchen island. His kitchen bleeds right into his living, all open concept like those fancy homes on HGTV. Homeboy even has a curio cabinet across from his stainless-steel fridge, showcasing all types of shot glasses and crystal bottles of brown liquors.
I glance at his countertops, his couches, his shiny wooden floors. Try to spot anything that might hint that a female’s been up in here. That Nic’s been hiding out. But aside from all his bougie fixtures, I only find bongs and rolling papers and a pair of nunchucks. Random. “He split town over a week ago,” I say. “His parents thought maybe he’s been crashing here with you.”
Doug scratches at the stubble on his chin. “If they thought that, why didn’t they just call and ask me?”
I shrug. “Not sure. You know your people better than me.”
“My people, huh?” Doug stands and I notice a huge, black-and-white framed photo of Bruce Lee hanging on the wall behind his head. Guess that would explain the nunchucks. He gives me the same sneer Bruce Lee wears behind him and suddenly I’m the one that really needs to go the bathroom. “So . . . my people is worried about my cousin. But instead of calling and coming by to see me, they send you two doofy motherfuckers—doofy motherfuckers I never laid eyes on in my life—to follow up?”
I swallow down the fear rising from my gut. Riley really needs to hurry up. “Yep,” I squeeze out. “So . . . you haven’t heard from Kenny?”
“Terrence,” Doug calls out, but keeps his eyes decidedly on me, “you heard from Kenny?”
“Naw, man,” the guy with the d
reads says. He looks over at his friend. “What about you, Ray?”
“Nope,” the guy who I’m assuming is Ray responds. He takes another hit from the joint and studies me as the smoke seeps out of his nose. “Haven’t seen that nigga since forever ago.”
Doug cocks his head at me and shrugs. “There you have it. Did you get the answers you were looking for?”
I try to crack my knuckles, but my hands are too slippery. I don’t even know when I started sweating. “Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks.”
With perfect timing, Riley returns from the back of the condo. She looks at me with her mouth bent downward. She didn’t find anything or anyone. Dammit. Another roadblock. But if I can’t find Nic, I have to make sure I keep Riley.
“Okay, so we’ll let you guys get back to it then,” I say. I reach for Riley’s hand. She blinks at me, startled, then takes it. I lead her toward the front door when Doug steps in our way.
“I don’t know,” he says, shaking his head. “Something’s just not sitting right with me. What did you say your names were again?”
My heart starts pounding in my ears. I think about giving him a fake name, but then I also think about what he might do to us if he found out I gave him a fake name. “Jay and Riley,” I say.
“Jay and Riley?” He shakes his head again. “See, that doesn’t ring a bell to me. Never heard Kenny mention either of you before. Why do you think that is?”
“I . . . I don’t know,” I say. I keep gripping onto Riley’s hand as I take a step back away from Doug’s accusatory glare. We bump into someone. I look over my shoulder and both Terrence and Ray stand behind us, shoulders side to side. Almost forming a wall. Shit. This is definitely not good.
“I think I know why that is. I think maybe, just maybe, you two are . . . narcs.” Doug’s hand stretches out to his side and gets dangerously close to his nunchucks. I thought those things were just for show, but his fingers seem to be itching to do damage with them.
“Whoa, chill out, man,” I say, panic rising in my throat. “We’re not narcs. Far from it. We don’t stick our nose in anyone’s business.”
“But you over here looking for Kenny.” He grabs a nunchucks and lets them dangle behind his neck. “I’d say that’s pretty nosy.”
“We’re just worried,” I try again. “He left with my sister and—”
“Oh, now he magically has a sister?” Terrence says, breath hot on my neck.
Okay, this is not going well. At all. My eyes dart around the room, looking for any other kind of exit aside from the front door. I spot a window behind one of the couches. But Doug lives on the fourth floor. A leap out of there is bound to leave us with a few fractured ribs, if not more.
“Jay . . .” Riley says under her breath, enveloping my hand with her free one. She doesn’t need to say anything else. She’s scared, just like me—and I’m the one that dragged her into this mess. What the hell was I thinking?
“Don’t be scared, darling,” Doug says, in a scary-ass tone. “As a matter of fact, let me help you relax. Take a hit.”
Riley blinks at him. “A hit?”
The fact that she even has to ask sends Doug and his friends cackling, and only makes me squeeze her hand tighter. I wish my whole hand could blanket her until whatever this is was over.
“A hit from our joint,” Doug explains. “Ray, puff and pass, bruh.”
Riley sucks in a breath and a noise escapes her. Something tiny and innocent. That’s it. I pull away from her and step to Doug. “That’s enough.”
“Come again?” Doug quirks up an eyebrow.
“She’s not smoking shiz, okay? So let us dip. We’re not bothering y’all.”
Doug shakes his head. “See, that’s where you wrong. You come to my place after dark, tapping on my door like a goddamn narc? That’s not going to fly, homey. Only way you’re stepping foot out of here is if she sucks on this joint.”
“Let me do it,” I say. I demand. The smell of bliss always scratches my throat, and even the thought of tasting it almost sends me into a hacking frenzy—but I’d eat three whole joints if that means Riley walks out of here clearheaded and in one piece.
Doug scoffs at me. “You probably smoke five of these bad boys a day. The fuck out of here.”
Ray and Terrence snicker again and my jaw clenches. It’s one thing to have cops look down on me, but to be pigeonholed by actual blissheads? Smoke trickles out of my ears and I haven’t taken a hit of anything yet.
“It’s okay, Jay,” Riley says in a small voice behind me. “I’ll do it.”
My head snaps back at her. “The hell you will.”
“It’s our only way out of here, right?” She walks up closer to Doug. “Just one puff, right?”
Doug raises his eyebrows at her, amused, then nods his head to Ray. Ray passes Riley the joint but I grab her arm.
“You don’t have to do this,” I hiss to her. “I can’t let you do this.”
She pats my hand before pulling away. “What else are we going to do?” She turns to Ray. “Is this just bliss?”
Ray snickers. “You tell me, little mama.”
Riley nods and takes the joint from his hand. I move to swat it away from her, but Doug steps in my way. She places it to her lips and starts making tiny kissing noises on the tip. Doug and his friends fall out, laughing.
“Nah, sis,” Doug says. “If you want the full effect, you have to inhale deep. Let the smoke get down in the rib cage.”
Riley looks over at me and I mouth no to her. She looks back down at the joint and then does exactly what Doug says—inhales so deep that her whole chest swells.
“Now hold it,” Doug instructs.
Riley’s eyes get wide as she holds her breath. We all watch her on pins and needles, and the seconds drip by. Suddenly, a blast of smoke escapes Riley’s mouth and she starts gagging. Doug and his boys laugh it up again. I push past Doug and pat Riley on her back.
“You okay?” I ask her.
She lets out a few more coughs and rubs her chest. “Is that all?” she asks through her phlegm.
Doug snickers. “Oh, you’ll be feeling it soon enough. I only mess with the Grade A stuff. But if you want to try it again . . .”
“We’re good,” I spit out, pull Riley into the crook of my arm. “So, can we go now, or what?”
Doug looks us over then takes the joint from Riley’s hand. “Your girl got bigger balls than you, homey.” He unlocks his front door and hitches his head out to the corridor. “Don’t bring your punk ass back here.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I pull Riley through the front door, Doug and his crew’s laughter floating above us right along with Riley’s head.
Fourteen
I CAN’T GET TO RILEY’S CAR FAST ENOUGH. MAINLY because I practically have to carry Riley in my arm. She only took one hit, but damn if it wasn’t a long one. Her being a lightweight makes for a weighty getaway. I wait for the elevator to open to lead me and Riley to the ground floor. Peek over my shoulder to make sure Doug didn’t change his mind about us kissing his nunchucks.
“What kind of car is this?” Riley asks, poking at the elevator door. “One of them foreign, sporty things?”
I grab Riley’s hand just as the doors open to make her stop assaulting the elevator.
“Whoa, voice command, much?” she asks.
“Something like that. Come on.” We hobble into the elevator with her arm wrapped around my neck. I press the button to make the doors close behind us and the elevator chimes each time we pass a floor.
“Ay, this my jam,” Riley says, pulling away from me to pump her arms up and down. She shimmies like an old cat at a cookout, doing a dance my dad used to call “raising the roof.” I place my hand near her lower back, ready to swoop in just in case she loses her balance. I can’t believe she’d do something this crazy. That joint could’ve been laced with anything. She didn’t even flinch, though. She did what she had to do to get us out of there. In fact, that’s w
hat she’s been doing since I told her about Nic. Sticking her neck out much farther than she needed to. Doug was right—her balls were huger than mine. I’ve underestimated Riley all this time.
The elevator door opens and we’re on the ground floor. I put Riley’s arm back around me and we trek toward her car.
“I see what you’re doing,” Riley says, poking her finger into my chest. Her and that finger, though. “You’re just trying to find an excuse to touch me.”
I stifle a laugh. “Come again?” I ask.
“I can walk just fine, Jay Murphy. Matter of fact, I can walk better than fine. I’m floating in air.”
“On air,” I correct.
“That’s what I said. On air.” She pauses then cracks up laughing. “You ever notice how weird that word is? AY-ERRR. Is that one or two syllables? You try.”
“I’m good,” I say. Thankfully, we’re less than a block away from her car. Riley gets quiet and I glance at her, make sure she’s still with me. I find her studying my face. “Are you, though? Good?”
She keeps looking at me. “Your lips,” she says.
“What about them?”
“They’re really . . . kissable.”
Okay, I can’t stifle my laughter anymore. This time it comes out. “Okay, you need to sleep it off.”
“I’m not even tired,” Riley insists as I dig into her pocket, pull out her car keys. I don’t have my license, but I have my permit. No point in going through with the deed when you have no car to drive. I unlock the door and gently place Riley into the passenger seat, buckle her in real cozy. I glance across the street once more at Doug’s complex. Thankfully, neither he nor his boys decided to follow us. Guess he figured we really were just harmless, doofy kids.
“Let’s get you home,” I say to Riley once I climb into the driver’s seat. Riley doesn’t answer. I look her way and her head is resting against the window, lightly snoring through her nose. I smile at her and pull out away from the curb. Drive slowly over all the speed bumps so I won’t wake her.
I feel empty once I spot the sign on the interstate that tells me we’re back in Newport News. I mean, on the one hand, I’m glad I’m getting us back home in one piece. Not bad for a guy driving in the dark with no license. But on the other hand, I have the same amount of info that I had when I left Newport News: Nic and Kenny blew town together and Javon was far from happy about it. It doesn’t make sense, though. Even if Nic suddenly fell hard for Kenny, she wouldn’t just leave me and MiMi in the dust like that. Yeah, she and MiMi got into it a few times, but Nic was the one who rubbed lotion over MiMi’s feet after a long day at work. The one who washed MiMi’s hair in the kitchen sink, then took her time detangling it, and greased her scalp to make sure it glistened the next day. The one who added too much pepper in Deacon Irving’s mac and cheese during the Easter brunch because he stared a little too long at Sister Gladys in her new dress.
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