Vexed 3, page 5
God had blessed her to design and create, too. She could sketch and sew any garment for females of all sizes, body shapes, ages, and cultures. And it was a good thing she had such a gift, because there were times when the fashion diva just couldn’t find the right piece to complete a certain look for a specific occasion. Those were the times when she would work her magic with her sketchpad and her fancy, computerized, state-of-art, professional sewing machine that was so damn expensive that it was her only gift from Santa two Christmases ago. Nahima would create the perfect article of clothing to fulfill her fashion fantasy in the blink of an eye.
The interchangeable jumpsuit she’d envisioned for the class project she and Yashia were working on was one of her dreams. Even their design teacher, Mrs. Moran, was impressed with the idea, the sketch, and the mock sample the girls had submitted a few weeks ago. She was so encouraging of Nahima’s efforts and had told her more times than she could count how talented she was. But it was time for lunch, and Mrs. Moran wanted her star student and Yashia out of her classroom so she could lock up and enjoy the remainder of her forty-five minutes of leisure time. She had already warned them twice.
“Just give us five more minutes, Mrs. Moran. I want to finish sewing this beaded appliqué in the sleeve.”
“You asked me for five more minutes ten minutes ago, Nahima. I appreciate your enthusiasm, darling. Believe me, I do. But I’ve got a tuna fish sandwich waiting for me, and I’d like to eat it while I read the final chapters of my Germaine Solomon romance novel. So pack up and get out.”
Nahima and Yashia laughed at their favorite teacher as they placed the unfinished jumpsuit in the leather garment bag and cleaned up their work space. They then headed out the door en route to the locker they shared on the 11B hall of the building. After that, the BFFs would make their way to the cafeteria, where they’d join their clique at their usual table. Of course, Nahima would visit the deli bar to grab a turkey sandwich with two slices of provolone cheese and light mayo on wheat bread, while Yashia would go through the line to check out the special on the hot bar for the day. She knew the Tuesday menu by heart and would more than likely choose the tacos over the meatloaf and mashed potatoes.
When Nahima and Yashia reached their designated table, their girls Kela and Ryan were pigging out while deeply indulging in animated conversation. They took their usual seats.
“Where y’all heifers been?” Ryan asked before she bit into her greasy chili dog.
Yashia rolled her eyes. “We stayed behind a few minutes to work on our design project.”
“Are you talking about the secret masterpiece y’all won’t tell us about?” Ryan laughed. “It must be made of platinum, because not even your classmates know what it is.”
“I ain’t mad with y’all,” Kela chimed in. “I admire the way Nahima handles her fashion grind. She’s gonna make us rich and proud one day.”
“True dat! True dat! The House of Nahima International Inc. is gonna be all that and then some. I’m gonna be paid, and every little girl around the world will be rocking my style, and their mamas too!”
The whole clique cracked up laughing and exchanged fist bumps, all agreeing with their girl’s prediction of her very successful and financially sound future. They always spoke of their dreams and supported each other’s endeavors.
“Oh, snap!” Kela blurted out behind the hand she’d placed in front of her mouth. “Here comes Rashawn again. He done walked past this table three times already looking for you, Nahima. Please give the brother a chance. Damn.”
“I ain’t got nothing for Rashawn, so he needs to keep it moving.”
Yashia’s smirk and sharp eye roll didn’t go unnoticed by her BFF, but Nahima decided to let it slide. The other clique members must’ve noticed the vibe and body language bouncing between the two girls, because they all got quiet seconds before Rashawn reached their table.
Damn, this nigga looks good in them black jeans and red Falcons jersey. But he ain’t Santana.
“What’s up, Miss Lawson-Morris? You good?”
“I’m fine, Rashawn. What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing much. I’m just trying to confirm if Quay is really doing a concert for the home team next month. Have you heard or what?”
“Yeah, he’ll be at State Farm Arena one day next month for two shows,” Ryan, the gossiper of the crew, announced. “My uncle is good friends with a man named Breeze, who is Quay’s manager. He’s Lieutenant Governor Ebony Robinson’s brother, too. Anyway, Breeze told my Uncle Flip that Quay is gonna kick off his world tour right here in the A next month.”
“Well, thank you, Gayle King, for that very detailed report. Girl, your nosy ass knows everything and everybody!” Kela teased.
All of the girls started kee-keeing and slapping hands at their girl’s expense, but Ryan didn’t seem the least bit fazed. Everybody at Westwood Park knew she was their one-chick media source, and she had proudly embraced her role.
Rashawn licked his lips coolly and smiled. “Thanks for the tip, Ryan the reporter. Now I know to look out for a pair of front-row tickets so I can take some lucky honey.”
“Oooh, girl, did you see how he was looking at you when he said that, Nahima?” Kela screeched the moment he walked away. “The tall double-fudge cupcake wants you. I could smell the lust slicing though his Polo Red cologne.”
“That’s too bad, because like I said, I ain’t got a damn thing for Rashawn Gibson. Plus he can’t hardly afford no front-row seats to the Quay concert, so he needs to stop trying to flex like he’s ballin’ out like that.”
“Humph, his daddy is a doctor, a pediatrician, and his mom is a housewife who dresses so fly that not even you can style her bougie ass, Nah-Nah,” Ryan reported.
“I don’t care. I ain’t feelin’ Rashawn, so let it go.”
“Fuck all the nonsense. I wanna go to that concert. I hope Dondrae and I can scrape up enough coins to buy two cheap tickets way up high somewhere in the ghetto section of the arena. I don’t care if we have to sit on top of the damn building. I just wanna see Quay with my bae.”
“I ain’t got no bae, but I wanna see Quay too.” Kela looked at Ryan. “Let’s go together. My granddaddy will probably buy us some tickets for a couple of welfare seats close to Yashia and Dondrae if I sneak him some sweets and a pint of gin.”
“Yeah, I’m with it,” Ryan shot back, laughing. “But don’t blame me if your papa falls into a diabetic coma from all that sugar and alcohol.”
Kela giggled and slapped hands with Ryan before the table fell silent.
Three pairs of eyes immediately zoomed in on Nahima. She returned the group’s stare, unblinking. It was just like her girls to try to pressure her to do something they wanted her to do without considering what she wanted. She was cool with Kela and Ryan pushing for her to go to the concert, because they had no clue that she wasn’t feeling the idea because Santana wouldn’t be able to tag along. There was no way in hell that he would want to hang around a group of silly-ass high school kids. He had to check her sometimes for acting like a little girl, so he would go off on Ryan for running her mouth and Kela for giggling about every damn thing all night for sure. And no doubt, Santana would end up slapping Yashia in the mouth for her slick tongue before the concert even kicked off. And he wouldn’t give a damn if Dondrae was there with her, either. Hell, he would throw hands at him too. That’s just how gangsta Santana was.
With her thoughts sorted out, Nahima mentally dismissed her girls, especially Yashia with her shady ass. Pissed, she left her clique and her untouched turkey and cheese sandwich at the table even as her stomach growled loud as hell.
* * *
“Who was that, Zachary?” Jill asked the moment her husband ended his phone conversation.
“It was Nahima. She wants to spend this coming weekend with us. I can’t lie. I’m shocked shitless.”
Jalen giggled and pointed an accusatory finger at Zach. “Daddy, you said a cuss word. Now you gotta put a dollar in the potty-mouth jar.”
Zach reached into the pocket of his green scrubs pants and pulled out a folded stack of cash. “Daddy needs some change. All I have is a five-dollar bill.”
Zion walked over, quickly snatched the crisp bill bearing Abe Lincoln’s somber mug, and ran off with it laughing.
“Girl, get your butt back in here with my money!”
“Why? You’re going to cuss at least four more times before you leave for work. So I’m going to drop it in the potty-mouth jar in advance.” The sassy lone daughter in her sibling group flashed a smile so cute that the only thing her dad could do was shake his head and smile back.
“Zachary, don’t mind the children and their shenanigans. Tell me what Nahima called to say.”
“I told you I invited her to spend the weekend with us when I took her to breakfast before school the other day. Jalen had asked me to invite her over to bake cookies with him. She didn’t answer right away, but she promised to let me know later.”
“So she called to say she’s coming over tomorrow for a weekend visit, eh?”
“Yeah, and I’m excited.”
“Me too, Daddy,” Jalen said in his tiny, raspy voice as he eased up next to Zach from out of nowhere and wrapped his arm around his long legs. “I love my big, big sister.”
“Since Nahima is coming over, I need to go grocery shopping because she’ll want jerk chicken and spicy beef patties.”
“And don’t forget about the plantains and ginger roots for the ginger beer.”
“I won’t. I’ll get all of her favorite things. We’re going to have fun this weekend like we used to before life changed.”
“Yeah,” Zach agreed, smiling. “It’ll be like old times.”
Chapter Nine
“I’m only going over there so I can get some money from my uncle since he’s feeling all guilty and shit for how he treated me the other day.”
“How the fuck you know that nigga’s gonna just throw money at you all willy-nilly?”
“I know my uncle, bae. I saw that special look in his eyes he used to have for me when I was a little girl while he was getting all mushy and humble at IHOP. He still loves me, and I believe he’s sorry for putting his hands on me and talking all that shit about killing me for acting like Jay. Trust me, Uncle Zach is about to make all the right moves with me this weekend.”
Santana looked over at Yashia sitting in her car after she blew the horn and gestured for Nahima to come on. Clearly, she didn’t appreciate him eyeballing her, so she leaned on the horn and stuck her head out the window with a smirk on her face. Santana flipped her off before taking a long drag on the Black & Mild he’d lit a few minutes ago.
“I can’t stand that high-yella bitch. You need to axe her ass. Ain’t you got some other friends with their own rides?”
“Nah. Me and Yashia are the only two in our crew whose families got money. Kela and Ryan don’t even have fathers, and they live in Section 8 housing in the same crime-infested neighborhood. Ryan’s mama is a hairstylist, and she makes good money because she’s got mega clients. But she’s raising six kids by herself with no money from either one of her baby daddies. At least Kela can depend on her granddaddy sometimes to help her mama with her and her two little sisters.”
“Damn. So you stuck ridin’ with a bougie-ass, high-yella bitch with no respect for your man?”
“Yashia ain’t that bad. We’ve been riding for each other since we were little kids at church. Her parents have always been cool with my parents and my uncle, so we’ve been tight forever. Yashia’s cool, and she’s always got my back.”
“Well, I don’t like her.”
Nahima moved in closer to Santana, pressing her breasts into his chest before she kissed his lips. “She’s the only person in my life who I can depend on to help me see you, bae.”
“Whatever. Anyway, all I’m worryin’ ’bout right now is you gettin’ money from your uncle so I can get my burner outta the pawn shop. Sarge let me hold some old piece-of-shit .45 to do a few jobs. But that shit is old as fuck. It’s a good thing I didn’t run into no trouble. That nigga got me workin’ with heat the cowboys used to fight the Indians back in the Old West. That’s some bullshit. I need my Glock outta hock, so you better get me some money from your uncle.”
“I got you, bae, but I got to go now so I can beat my mom home. She’ll start trippin’ if I ain’t at the house when she gets there. I’ll call you.”
“Bet.”
Nahima power walked across the Church’s Chicken and got into Yashia’s car. “You didn’t have to keep blowing your horn like that.”
“Look, I did you a favor by bringing you here to see that nigga in the first place, so don’t say shit to me about me blowing the horn in my car. This sneaking-around shit is getting old. If that nigga loves you so much, maybe he needs to start picking you up and taking you to his house so y’all can hang out.”
“Did I clown you when you were dragging me around everywhere to throw your parents off so they wouldn’t know you were fucking Dondrae?”
“No. But I didn’t have you in the hood in gang territory sitting in no damn car, either, did I? We were either at Dondrae’s house or at his cousin’s spot where you were comfortable in front of a TV with food.”
“My situation with Santana is different from yours and Dondrae’s, and you know it.”
“Yeah, I do. Our situations are different as hell. One is a regular teenage, high school sweetheart deal, and the other one is a toxic relationship involving a grown-ass man with a record making a fool out of a fifteen-year-old girl who ain’t got a clue. Now I’ll let you figure out which one is which.”
Nahima shut down mentally as she always did whenever she and Yashia argued about her relationship with Santana. She turned her entire body to the right to stare out the window to see old, abandoned houses, buildings covered with gang art, and children balancing backpacks on their bodies as they walked past dope boys on the corners with the bass of rap music booming in the background.
Yashia didn’t understand what it felt like to be in love with a man. What she and Dondrae shared was puppy love. That’s why she was always hating and talking shit about her and Santana. She was just clueless. And so were Nahima’s parents, especially her mom. Instead of asking her only child if she was having sex and discussing it with her, Venus had made her a doctor’s appointment for next week to get on birth control. That was cool, though. Now she and Santana wouldn’t have to worry about finding money to buy condoms anymore. Nahima smiled at the thought, because she had been wondering how it would feel to have unprotected sex with Santana. She would find out as soon as the birth control kicked in in her system.
* * *
Jay couldn’t keep her mind on the monthly expenditure report she had been working on all day. Usually, she would knock it out in two or three hours, but not today. A million thoughts about the meeting she’d had with Amanda, the law school student, were distracting her from the simple task. Jay kind of hated that she had let Gracie talk her into sitting down and telling her story to the young girl. She had come to grips with her plight a few years ago, realizing she would never leave Leesworth alive. But since the meeting with Amanda, a tiny spark of hope had been ignited. What if she could actually get an emergency medical release? Should she even try?
Jay was still mentally weighing the pros and cons of even putting forth the effort. It wouldn’t be easy for sure, because Jay didn’t have anyone on the outside who would be willing to grind for her. Aunt Jackie was too holy and righteous to sign on to her scheme to use Jalen as a pawn to spring her out of prison. She, more than anyone else alive, knew the truth about her son’s conception, birth, brief stay in foster care, and adoption. Aunt Jackie also had knowledge about Jay refusing to see Jalen even after Zach and Jill had adopted him, because she had volunteered to bring the child to the prison for visitation many times. All offers had been rejected.
Jay leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling, recalling how Amanda had told her she wouldn’t be penalized by the organization for any of her past decisions. The girl had even cried after hearing her story. That had to be a good sign. All Jay needed was one person on the outside to sign on to help her, but the truth was she didn’t have anyone. Besides Aunt Jackie, she only maintained contact with Nahima. Jay had cut ties with everyone else, including her father. When she was wallowing in self-pity after Gavin’s death, she’d stopped calling Wallace and had allowed his letters to be returned to him by her corrections counselor.
Jay opened her desk drawer and found Amanda’s card. As the official inmate accountant and business manager, she had certain privileges. She didn’t have to stand in line to use one of the few computers in the library like all of the other women. She could check her email in her office anytime she wanted Monday through Friday between the hours of eight in the morning and five in the evening. Her phone privileges were on point, too, since she had one in her office. However, Jay’s call reach was limited and subjected to preapproval by the warden’s office. So she couldn’t just pick up the phone on any given day and hit up her family members and friends whenever she wanted to. It didn’t work like that.
As luck would have it, Sheftall had been kind and lenient toward Jay when it came to her phone privileges ever since she’d learned that her trusted numbers cruncher and her daughter were now in constant contact. Obviously, the warden realized that a happy inmate made a happy worker. So to keep Jay content, Sheftall had given her the green light to make all of her allotted fifteen-minute personal calls on the phone in her small office on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and most Saturdays, as well as on holidays and family birthdays. That way, she could avoid the long lines and fights with the other inmates over the ten phones in the communal area.
Today was Thursday, so Jay wasn’t allowed to make a personal call without facing the consequences of a demerit on her behavior report. But she could shoot Amanda an email. Without a second thought, she logged on to her Leesworth email account. After typing the email address from the card on the addressee’s line, she inhaled a long, deep breath and exhaled it slowly. With a clear head and her heart filled with emotions of all kinds, she placed her fingers on the keyboard and began to type.
