Nellie’s done some stupid shit in her day but this tops them all. How could she watch my boyfriend and I suffer at the hands of the very bitch she wants so desperately to be friends with? Loyalty means absolutely nothing to Nellie when she has her eyes set on a goal. I haven’t been this mad at anyone for a long time and to make it worse, I don’t know who I’m more angry with: Jeremy, Nellie or Cameron. Why does love have to hurt every single time I find myself in the middle of it?
No one had better say another thing to me while I make my plates and escape this scene. If the wrong person steps up I’m liable to go off and that’ll only do more harm than good.
“Evil! All of you, just no good hussies.”
-Church Lady
Drama High, volume 11: Cold As Ice
* * *
CHAPTER NINE: LETHAL WEAPON
The past few days have been a blur to me and not just because I’ve been on my grind. Rather than face Jeremy, Cameron, Nellie or Misty and risk a fight, I’ve chosen to immerse myself in my schoolwork and my spirit studies much to my grandmother’s delight. Mama and Netta even eased up on asking me to join them at the county jail with the other supporters, which has given me more time to think about my next moves.
So far the only decision I’ve made about anything is that the African Student Union needs to branch out if it’s going to be a viable club. Half of the members have dropped out and the numbers continue to decline. I decided to reach out to El Barrio for new members and a few of them were happy to sign up, including Maggie. Besides, it’ll be nice to hang out with her more often. Out of all of my school associates, Maggie’s the most consistent with her swag making her a perfect new member.
Every time I close my eyes the picture of Jeremy and Cameron’s infamous kiss comes to the front of my mind. Why did Nellie have to send me that photo? I hate it when I get jealous. It’s such a dangerous and useless emotion, but that’s what I’m feeling. As Newton said, every action has an equal and opposite reaction, and I need to be careful when making my next move. The odu I read last night about Oshune being madly in love with Shango and tricking his first wife, Oba into cutting her ear off and putting it into his soup showed me that for sure. Like the veve on my shoulder represents, we can choose any direction we want to go in according to our heart’s truest desires. Possessing a cool head when making the choice is the challenge.
Violence is not becoming of Oshune and the daughters in her lineage have paid for her jealous actions ever since. Like Oshune, when my head gets hot I can make foolish mistakes with serious repercussions. My tongue can be a lethal weapon at times and Nellie’s the first target on my list.
“Jayd, what are you doing sleeping in the middle of the afternoon?” my mom asks, opening the front door. “Your aunties are going to be here any minute to help me plan for the wedding festivities. I need you to have this place spotless by then.” My mom gathers my bedding off of the couch, balls it up and tosses it into the already stuffed living room closet.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, reluctantly rising from the couch. So much for taking a quick nap before getting my study on later this evening.
I was looking forward to a Saturday night chilling by myself. If I had my own room it wouldn’t be such an issue, but I know that’s not happening anytime soon. My mom and Karl will probably move to his apartment when they get married this summer and I’ll be in a dorm room somewhere unless I get my own place. Just the thought of being completely responsible for an apartment gives me a headache.
“Why so glum, chum?” My mom used to say that to me all the time when I was a little girl. If only things could be that simple again.
“Dudes, chicks, money—you name it, I’m dealing with it,” I say, watching my mom switch from one expensive pair of shoes into another, perfectly complimenting her nude, strapless jumpsuit.
I wish I had the wardrobe and the girlfriends my mom has. She’s been friends with the same four women since junior high school. Mama says that was the only blessing that came from her eldest daughter losing her powers—she could maintain her friendships with women from all walks of life without inciting fear in any of her true friends. All of my aunties, as I’ve called them since I can remember, know my mom’s story and love her just the same. I’d love to have those kinds of homegirls. Instead, I’ve got Nellie and Mickey’s selfish asses to deal with.
“Uh oh,” my mom says. She passes me the glass cleaner and a roll of paper towels from the dining room table where I’ve left my hair mess from last night and today’s appointments. My mom looks less than thrilled with my negligence but is sympathetic with my mood. “What happened now?”
“The top three?” I ask, cleaning. “Cameron’s blackmailing Jeremy into being her call boy, Nellie can keep it from happening by telling the truth and having my back but she won’t, and Rah’s back with Trish.”
“Rah’s what?” my mom asks, nearly shrieking she’s so shocked. “What the hell is that boy thinking?”
My mom doesn’t really concern herself with my school friends but she’s known Rah since we were twelve-years old. Much like the rest of my family she’ll always give him the benefit of the doubt no matter what.
“Rah chose Trish—again,” I say, wiping the coffee table harder than necessary. I’ll be able to see through it to the apartment downstairs if I keep this up. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. Dudes never pick girls like me. I’m too strong, independent, blah, blah, blah. Mean frail bitches are the only ones who win.”
“Watch your mouth, little girl,” my mom says.
I rarely slip up like that. I really need to take a cleansing bath like the one I read about last night. I don’t have all of the ingredients nor can I imagine driving back to Compton this evening. It’ll have to wait but not for too long—my head can’t take much more heat.
“Mom, I’m sorry about the language and for not straightening up after my last client,” I say, moving into the dining room. I always clean up right after I’m done but all I wanted to do an hour ago was pull the covers over my head and sleep. “You know I’m doing my best to keep the place clean. It seems like people are losing a lot more hair these days than they used to.” One girl alone left enough hair for me to make a track out of.
“Jayd, it’s not just the hair on the floor. The water and electric bills have also been very high lately. I’m not spending much time here anymore and it’s honestly getting to be a drain.”
“I know, mom. I’ll chip in some more for the utilities.” It already feels like I have my own place with the way my mom leaves me here by myself every night. I buy my own groceries and pay a small portion of the bills. All that’s left is for me to pay is rent and I’ll be official.
“All right, girl. But I think you should consider going to cosmetology school for your license so you can work full time in a shop.” My mom’s mentioned this plan before as if she doesn’t know who her own mother is.
“You know Mama would never allow me to work anywhere besides Netta’s shop. She’d have your head on a platter for suggesting it and I couldn’t live with your death on my conscience.”
My mom playfully hits me with her dust rag as I wipe the chairs free of hair, dandruff and other particles. It would be nice to have my own shop one day.
“No one’s saying you should leave Netta’s shop—never that,” my mom says, her bright green eyes glistening as she looks around half expecting Mama to appear. “But we all have to think about your best interest, and leaving your clients on this side of town is definitely not a good idea.”
“No, it’s not on so many levels,” I say, thinking about the sister’s head I hooked up this afternoon.
I could tell she’s worn extensions all of her life. Her hair was so stressed out it almost made me cry just touching it, not to mention the fact that she fell asleep while I braided her natural hair. I love what I do and I especially love it when new clients feel the difference between how I do hair and the rest of these so-called stylists out here. A lot of them could care less about their client’s needs and will use anything in their hair. Mama and Netta taught me better than that.
“You should seriously consider it, Jayd,” my mom says, glancing at my hair tools spread across the dining room table. “What’s wrong with seeking out a license? Besides, that way you might even be able to become a partner in Netta and Mama’s shop one of these days if they let you.”
“Yeah, right.” I sweep up the last of the synthetic hair from the kitchen floor before vacuuming the dining room carpet. I know that’ll never happen.
“I’m serious, Jayd. Set yourself up for success, baby, and accept nothing less. If you present yourself as a formidable candidate I’m sure Mama and Netta will happily take you seriously.”
“Mama doesn’t want me doing anything but focusing on my spirit work; school, hair and friends be damned.”
“I know it seems like that at the moment, Jayd, but Mama’s only got your best interests at heart. Just prove to her that you can do it all and she’ll have no choice but to let you do just that.” My mom checks her reflection in the mirror above the dining room table one more time before her friends arrive.
“I’ll take your word for it,” I say, starting the vacuum cleaner.
“They’re here, Jayd,” my mom yells over the loud noise. I quickly finish my last task, satisfied with my work. I’ll give the place a thorough cleaning another day. I can tell by the brown bags in my aunties’ hands that they’re ready to get their party on.
“Girls, we better be careful,” my Aunt Frankie says loudly, leading the pack. “You know Lynn Marie probably got her man hidden in the closet somewhere.”
“We ain’t seen her in so long they’re probably joined at the hip by now,” Shannon says, the oldest and wealthiest of the crew. “We can’t have him coming to the strip club with us tonight. I’ve got a purse full of singles and intend on spending them all.” She married well, even if her husband’s older than she’d like him to be. Hanging out with her friends is her only release.
“Turn around and let me see if he’s in her back pocket,” my Aunt Vivica says. She’s my mom’s best friend and matron of honor. My Aunt Anne—Mama’s youngest daughter and Jay’s mother—will probably be the maid of honor. I haven’t heard my mom talk about it but I know that’s what she’s hoping for.
“After her lunch rendezvous last week I think we all need to spray some holy water in this space,” my Aunt Paulette says, closing the door behind her. She’s carrying a large bag of food from my favorite Chinese restaurant in downtown LA where they all work. My mom’s the only one who left the company they all worked at a few years ago for a change of pace.
“What are you talking about? My mom never comes home for lunch,” I say, walking over to give them each a hug.
“You don’t know what I do when you’re not here,” my mom says, bringing all sorts of unwanted visuals to mind. “This is still my place and I’m grown, in case you forgot.”
My mom pats me on the hip and heads toward the dining room to move the chairs into the living room so they can all relax. That’s my cue to get out so they can be as grown as they want without me eavesdropping like I usually do. I learned how to cuss, what an orgasm was, and how to use a tampon from their conversations.
My Aunt Frankie’s smoke is killing me and she just lit the first cigarette of a train to come. I’d be better off chilling at the coffee house. Hopefully Keenan is working tonight and I can explain why I’ve been avoiding him since our kiss a couple of weeks ago. The last thing I want to do is unload my high school bull onto him but he needs to know why I can’t entertain getting involved with him.
“Jayd, is that a tattoo on your arm?” my Aunt Shannon asks, pulling my shirtsleeve down to get a closer look. That’s the last time I’ll give her a hug.
“Looks like fresh ink to me, scab and all,” my aunt Frankie says, puffing on her long, brown cigarette. I can’t believe my own aunties are busting me. Now ain’t this some shit?
“Tattoo,” my mom says, carrying two chairs. “Who got a new one?” My Aunt Paulette takes one chair and Shannon the other. Vivica and Frankie sit on the couch across from them.
“Your daughter,” my Aunt Paulette says, puffing on her own cigarette. My Aunt Vivica looks at her best friends and laughs at my unnecessary trial. I knew I should’ve escaped when I had the chance.
“Jayd, when did you get a tattoo? And where?” my mom asks, walking over to where I’m standing. “Come on, let me see it.”
I’m not ashamed. Why should I be afraid of the consequences? It’s not like I got my boyfriend’s name tatted on my neck. That would deserve a beat down, but not this.
“It’s our family veve, a spiritual tattoo representing the Williams’ women lineage.” I turn around and reveal my art for them to see.
My aunts stand to get a closer look. I’m falling more in love with it each day. I also can’t help thinking about Rah every time I look at it.
“I think it’s pretty, but you know Mama’s going to have a fit when she sees what you did.”
“I know,” I say, looking down at my red heart with a cross through it. I touch the charm on my neck and pray for protection from Mama’s impending wrath. I hope she understands why I did it. “If a broken heart isn’t permanent I don’t know what is.”
“Oh Lawd, Lynn Marie,” My Aunt Vivica says, reclaiming her seat on the edge of the couch. “Where’s the wine. I can’t handle this heavy teenager shit tonight.”
My mom and aunts burst into laughter, officially beginning their girl’s night out.
“Bye, y’all,” I say, laughing at my crazy aunts and mother. I need to take a quick shower and get dressed for my solo night out on the town.