10
Max
Friday, I made my way to my Uncle Mo and Aunt Lucy’s home for that dinner they’d promised me. They’d lived in the same two-story house in Carson for more than twenty years. A retired shop foreman, Uncle Mo had the means to move out to the suburbs, but chose to stay where his heart was. He had been through everything from the Watts Riots to the L.A. uprising and wasn’t budging. He had a certain pride about him and refused to let any trends dictate his life.
When I arrived, I saw his new gold Caddy parked beside Jay’s Beamer. The big Deville was Uncle Mo’s treat to himself. With the driveway full, I parked along the curb, careful not to park too close. I was barely out of the car when the wind carried the smell of fresh greens my way. Aunt Lucy was throwing down. My stomach began growling on command at what was in store.
Jay, Uncle Mo, and I sat around getting our grub on, as Aunt Lucy finished up in the kitchen. Fried chicken, mustard greens with salt pork, turnips, potato salad, and buttered rolls.
High blood pressure heaven.
Aunt Lucy was always the last one to the table, but she never wanted a hand with the cooking. If Uncle Mo’s home was his castle, then the kitchen was Aunt Lucy’s own little private tower. A native of Opelousas, Louisiana, my Uncle had met her at a zydeco dance back when he lived in Compton.
“You need to bring your ass here more often, Country. We normally don’t eat this good. They like you,” Jay whispered in my ear as he pulled a roll apart.
“You need to cut that ‘country’ shit out. You have more of a twang than I do, Junior.” He flinched at the “Junior” reference, but I was enjoying the good and free meal too much to put up with Jay’s foolishness.
“F–f–fuck you, country-ass nigga.” No one outside the family knew Jay used to have a stuttering problem as a child. It was under control now, but if you knew what buttons to push, it would come back.
Uncle Mo had just devoured a chicken leg down to the bone and was glancing over at Jay and me. I knew what was coming.
“Maxwell, you call your momma yet, boy? She called here the other day. Her and your Auntie Lucy talked for a little bit. That lady there,” he said, shaking his head, “she miss her boy.”
“No, sir. I haven’t called her yet. I’m gonna call her. I promise.” I was starting to feel bad, but wanted to wait until I had good news to share, and not just my hardships.
“Yeah, baby. You know she already think somethin’ gonna happen to you out here,” Aunt Lucy chimed in as she sat at the table.
“How’s your job search comin’ along, boy? You and your little neighbor still lookin’ for work?” Uncle Mo didn’t particularly care for Smitty. Again, that defensiveness over anyone not family or overly familiar to him.
“Yes, sir. We’re both still looking for decent jobs with benefits and a reasonable starting salary. We’re going downtown next week. The business district, employment office, and all that. I thought it would be a little easier than this, but I’m not giving up.”
“Well, son, nothing good ever comes easy. And there’s so much competition out there in this economy. I’m just glad it ain’t me. You need to convince your cousin Junior to finish school and try to get a good-payin’ job too. That boy there, he spend too much time chasin’ tail when he needs to be takin’ care of business.” Uncle Mo spoiled Jay to some extent, but he wasn’t a pushover. Having put in much effort thus far, he didn’t plan on taking care of Jay his entire life.
“Aw, Pops! I’m tired of you puttin’ me on blast.” Jay excused himself from the table and went upstairs to his room. Aunt Lucy frowned at my uncle, but he ignored it.
Here I was really looking forward to dessert, but the look from Aunt Lucy urged me to go talk to Jay. I guess I could get some dessert with my take-home plate. I excused myself from the table, bounding up the stairs and down the hall to Jay’s door on the left.
“You know I’m missing dessert, right?” I yelled. When Jay didn’t answer, I pushed the door open and entered. Jay was on the computer, pulling up his MySpace page. He wouldn’t even look at me.
Yep, pissed and embarrassed.
“You all right, cuz?”
“Yeah. They don’t need to send you up here. I’m not some fuckin’ kid. Fool’s always on my case.” Despite my love for cuz, Jay was a prime example of what I didn’t want to become.
“You know he loves you, though. They both do. You’re truly blessed, man.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m gonna do them a favor and move the fuck out. Maybe move in with one of them for a while,” he said, referring to his Top Friends on his MySpace page. Nothing but women. That was Jay. Their pictures ranged from classy models to wannabes who left nothing to the imagination, but they all were bangin’. I wondered if any of them had equally impressive personalities.
“You know you’re welcome to move in with me, cuz,” I offered.
“Thanks, man. I’ll think about it. Get back to ya. Think I’m gonna crash now, if you don’t mind.”
“Nah. Not at all. Talk to you later, cuz.”
“Yeah. I’ll probably stop by your place tomorrow.”
And with that, I was dismissed from Wonderland, a place where a grown man refused to do just that—grow up.
11
Glover
Saturday night was our time to hit the town. We’d been hearing about this new club on the Strip called Drama. The name was appropriate for this town, where everyone is either an actor or aspiring to be one. We just hoped there would be no drama when we arrived there.
Charmaine rode her motorcycle from the Valley and met up with Mona first, their plan being to pick me up in Mona’s ride. Charmaine grew up around Crenshaw, but had moved out to the Valley with her family during high school. Despite that, she was still L.A. to her heart.
I was drying myself off when I heard the cackling outside the door. It was time for the sisters to get rowdy. I wrapped myself up in the towel and let them in.
“Hey now! It’s time to partay,” Charmaine yelled as she danced past me. I could tell she’d begun her celebration on the way here.
Mona sauntered in next with a simple “Hey.” “Make yourselves comfortable, ladies. I’ll be ready in a minute.”
“Bitch, please. Your ass is gonna take more than a minute,”
Charmaine said with a ditzy laugh at her own remark. She always had a lovely way of putting things. Sometimes she was right.
I looked back over my shoulder and gave Charmaine the evil eye. I smiled just before yanking the wet towel off me and throwing it dead in her face. As I slowly carried my naked ass into the bedroom, I could hear Charmaine spitting.
“You’re lucky I didn’t have a drink in my hand,” she scolded.
“You’ve had one too many already,” I replied as I closed my bedroom door.
While admiring myself in the mirror, I made a mental note to get my highlights redone soon. I put my hair up and went with simple femme fatale wear: black silk halter top and designer jeans, topped off with my black Jones New York jacket.
“What do you think?” I asked of the chicas. Mona was sitting on my sofa and looking through my photo album, while Charmaine was thumbing through my magazines.
“Brilliant,” Mona said matter-of-factly. She was going with some china-doll shit that only she could pull off: a form-fitting, collared dark blue sleeveless dress with wild splotches of red in it. Mona accessorized it with gold bangles on both arms.
“What she said,” Charmaine mimicked. “Can we go now?” With her reddish-brown hair teased, she went with black as I did. A short black skirt, which I’m sure she wasn’t wearing on her motorcycle, was topped off with a black sleeveless blouse.
It was ladies’ night at Drama, so we got in free. The men were paying that night, so they were out to recoup their thirty dollars in either phone numbers or something a little more immediate and physical. Charmaine would probably refer to that something as “ass.” Typical as most establishments, Drama used to be a techno club that I had visited once before, but it had changed with the wind. It was interesting to see how different management would come in and put its stamp on the same spot.
Drama promised to deliver a hip hop/dance feel, but for a mature set, and it was living up to it. Charmaine and I nodded our heads as we worked the crowd, exchanging furtive looks and giving consent to future dances with certain ones. Mona was in diva mode, so her head-nodding and conversation was limited this night to only the rare few she deemed worthy of her time.
There were such good-looking men in the place trying their damndest to get that holler. I was involved, so I politely smiled while deflecting their requests for the digits. Some of them I regretted denying, but I wasn’t into games, despite the temptation.
Charmaine got out on the floor and began causing a scene with this brother who wore a blonde fauxhawk atop his head. Must have been an athlete.
While Ms. Charmaine was content to be at the center of all things Drama, Mona preferred to work the edges in a more subtle fashion. This was Mona: all eyes on her as she glided around. A fantasy in their midst, men turned away from their dates to sneak a peek when Ms. Thang came around. It was a bold confidence Mona possessed in this environment that made even the most secure women call her a bitch. I have to admit, I would probably be right there with them if I didn’t really know Mona or was insecure about myself.
Which I wasn’t.
“Oooo, your eyes.” I was snapped out of my club-gazing and self-adoration by this light-skinned brother in an expensive pinstripe suit. He stood at my side, smiling.
“Huh?” I said, bewildered.
“Your eyes,” he stressed over the pounding beat. “I just noticed them. What are they? Hazel?” He had apparently been staring at me for a while.
“Yep, hazel. You got it. What’s your name?” I figured it was best to take control of this situation. It usually caught them off guard, made them less aggressive.
“Terry. I’m from Cleveland,” he said over the music.
“Hi, Terry from Cleveland,” I teased. He was cute, but I was only being nice at this moment.
“Have you ever been there?”
“Nope. Never been there, Terry. What brings you here?”
“In town for a television producer conference. Staying at the W in Westwood, but I’m flying out tomorrow. You never did tell me your name.” He was so busy trying to remember his lines that he’d almost forgotten to ask. I felt some guilt for giving him this much time, but like I said, he was cute.
“Glover,” I answered honestly, noticing my drink was getting all watery on me. Time for another one.
“That’s an interesting name. May I buy you another drink, Glover?”
“Nah, I’m not drinking anymore,” I replied, lying through my pretty teeth.
Terry continued talking, but something else had my attention. With his height, he stood out.
Craig was in the club.
He had somehow spotted Mona and skirted the edge of the dance floor, past a still-dancing Charmaine, to get to where Mona was standing. Of course, Mona was in the company of someone else just then. Craig didn’t look too happy, and interrupted her conversation. With Craig towering over both of them, Mona excused the startled young gentleman as she and Craig proceeded to get into a heated discussion. The heat appeared to be one-sided, though.
Craig pointed and flailed his arms, while Mona stood there, unemotional, arms folded, with one of her eyebrows raised.
Charmaine noticed Mona’s situation from the dance floor and was walking toward me.
“Hey, are you listening to me?” Terry asked, breaking my concentration by grabbing my arm. “I’m trying to give you a moment of my time and buy you a drink, and you’re just blowing me off. Both my time and my money are important.”
“Um, Terry? First, don’t ever presume to touch me. Second, I’m seeing someone, so you might want to try those stale-ass lines on someone else. Okay? Oh, and your suit is too big for your build. Makes you look like a little boy trying on his dad’s clothes.”
Terry stood there dumbfounded for a second, flashing a fake smile then storming off. I’m sure I heard the word “ho” as he disappeared into the crowd.
“Who was that, G-love?” Charmaine asked, catching the end of my encounter.
“Some loser,” I replied. “What’s up with Mona?”
“You see that shit too, huh? Craig’s going off.”
“Let’s get over there before something stupid happens,” I urged.
Charmaine and I hastily moved through the crowd toward their location. As we got closer, the music was still too loud to hear what was being said. Just as we closed in on them, Craig raised his hand as if to hit Mona, then suddenly dropped his massive arm and stormed off.
“You okay, Mona?” Charmaine asked with a look of relief on her face.
“Yes. I am fine. It’s Craig that’s not. I guess he finally understands what ‘over’ means.” Mona had her ice queen face on. The entire incident really didn’t seem to faze her.
I asked, “I guess you’re ready to go, huh?”
Then Mona surprised me.
“No. Why? The night is still young. Craig is the least of my concerns.” Mona said it in her most dry manner. The diva rolled on ... for a little while longer.
Mona began walking off to continue her rounds when Craig returned. His little walk hadn’t cooled him off, as he still looked pissed.
Roid rage.
In the middle of the club, with everybody now watching, Craig stood dead in front of her. Security began rushing toward him, but he paused them with a wave of his outstretched hand. I guess spending the night in a jail cell wouldn’t be good for his career. Instead of hitting her, he snatched a beer from somebody’s hand and poured it on her head.
“You stupid bitch!” he uttered before exiting quickly in the direction away from security. A hush fell over the ground level of the club. I could almost hear the DJ breathing.
Now it was time to leave.
On the drive home, Mona didn’t say a word. I’d offered to drive, but she’d declined. Craig had actually succeeded in embarrassing her, I guess. She would be over it by tomorrow, though. Charmaine was pissed off because she couldn’t find her dance partner after Mona’s scene and wouldn’t be getting the digits. And I was just left with the unsettled feeling that other than Mona’s incident, I had been enjoying myself just a little too much.
So much for there not being drama at Drama.