A Love Like This (Book 1) (15 page)

“
No we don
’
t,
”
 
I say.
 
 
“
Nickie
 
is gorgeous.
”

“
All three of you girls have the exact same face in different shades of brown,
”
 
Pookie
 
says.
 
 
“
When Keisha,
 
Nickie
 
and you are together it
’
s like looking at a small medium and large version of the same person.

I look at
 
Nickie
 
thoughtfully.
 
I guess I don
’
t pay much attention to my own face.

“
And
 
Pookie
 
looks more like your brother than your uncle,
”
 
Sarah adds.

“
I
’
m pretty sure my mom never had a son,
”
 
I say thinking she
’
s right.
 
My father Xavier is the oldest boy in a family of six.
 
Xavier and his other siblings look similar but none as similar as he and
Pookie.
 
 
Pookie
 
looks exactly like my sisters and I, practically a clone of my father.
 
My grandmother Bess and grandpa Jo raised two boys and three girls before
 
Pookie
 
was born.
 
According to my mom Bess had all of her kids young so by the time she was in her forties they were all grown and out of the house.
 
Grandpa Jo died of a heart attack a little before his fiftieth birthday.
 
Bess was heartbroken so much so that she couldn
’
t get out of bed for days.
 
After feeling sick for weeks she went to the doctor thinking that her missed period and listlessness was the early start of menopause or maybe a result of her grief.
 
The doctor told her she was in fact pregnant. She was so distraught that she spent the next six weeks in bed crying.
 
Once Bess got over the initial shock she went back into mommy mode only this time was different.
 
She decided that
 
Pookie
 
was going to be more of a mini companion than a son. They explored things together, Jermaine being treated as an equal rather than a little boy.
 
They went to museums and plays.
 
She took him to art and dance classes.
 
 
Pookie
 
was
 
seven
 
when I was born and since all of his brothers and sisters were grown
 
Nickie, Keisha and I were more like his sisters than his nieces.

Pookie
 
changes into jeans, a white button down shirt with a blazer and a green Harames pocket square.
 
 
Sarah slips into the black dress with the asymmetric bottom that
 
Pookie
 
sent in the mail a few months ago.

Nickie
 
poses,
 
“
I
’
m going to pretend to be someone else this weekend,
”
 
she says adjusting her boobs.
 
Her long glossy locks are pulled into a messy bun
 
at the top of her head which brings her height to nearly six feet.

Pookie
 
and I look at each other.
 
 
“
Alright Ms. somebody else, let
’
s get
 
outta
 
here,
”
 
He says.
 
Sarah and I pick up our purses and link arms with
 
Pookie.
 
 
Nickie
 
put
’
s on Jackie O glasses, picks up a neutral colored coach satchel then leads the way out of the dorms.
 
I tug at the top of my dress that
’
s showing way too much cleavage and run my fingers through my hair.
 
I feel self conscious without the safety of my bun.
 
 
We watch
 
Nickie
 
strut ahead of us with more confidence than I
’
ve ever seen.

“
I bet I know who else will be using their inner whore for good this weekend,
”
 
Sarah says motioning to
 
Nickie.

_______

Sarah spots Tucker talking to the debutant in front of the administration building. He see
’
s Leila walking by and his eyes widen but she
’
s so busy adjusting her clothes that she doesn
’
t notice him watching.

“
I
’
ll catch up in a minute.
”
 
Sarah says breaking away from the group and walking over to Tucker.
 
She steps in front of the girl he
’
s talking to, takes hold of his arm and pulls him away.

“
Bitch the girl mumbles.
”

“
Ho
 
don
’
t
 
make me peal
 
yo
ur
 
cap,
”
 
Sarah says pointing at the girl with two fingers and a thumb in the shape of a gun. The debutant scoffs and walks away.
 
 
“
I heard someone say that in a movie,
”
Sarah says,
 
“
was I believable?
”

“
I suppose you were believable since she walked away.
 

“
Why are you talking to her anyway?
”
 

“
She
’
s in one of my classes,
”
 
He says,
 
“
and you were a bit rude.
”
 

“
Whatever, we
’
re going to be at Tyler
’
s party tonight.
”
 

“
You know Amy keeps popping up everywhere I go and I
’
m sure Leila doesn
’
t
’
 
want anything to do with me after what happened with Mike.
”
 

Sarah yawns and moves her fist back and forth as if she
’
s jacking off.
 
 
“
Amy
’
s a troll. I see the way you look at Leila so stop acting like a woman and come to the party.
 
This is the last time I
’
m going to intervene on your behalf.
”
 

He folds his muscular arms and looks down at Sarah.
 
 
”
I would give you a
 
noogy
 
and a
 
wedgie
 
if you weren
’
t wearing that flimsy dress.
”
 
Leila is almost out of sight and still fidgeting with the dress.
 
 
“
Who
’
s that guy she
’
s with and why is she dressed like that?
”

“
I guess you
’
re going to have to come find out.
”

Chapter 7

 
 
 
 
 
At night San Francisco becomes a different world
.
 
When the tourists are all tucked away in their respective hotels the natives go wild.
 
We forgo our plans to see the sights of the city opting to hit nearly every bar, party and club in town instead.
 
Our first stop is a Latin bar called
 
Alegria
’
s
 
in the Outer Mission area.
 
The minute we walk through the front door Sarah spots someone she knows.
 
The guys name is Topper.
 
He
’
s lanky, wiry and unkempt with greasy brown hair that stands straight up on his head.
 

Sarah
 
looks apprehensive as she approaches him.
 
 
“
Everything alright Topper,
”
 
she says as she slowly walks towards
 
the place near the front door where he
’
s standing.
 
Topper is jiggling change in his pockets and looking from side to side as if he expects to be abducted at any moment.
 
He has wild
 
tweaker
 
eyes that freak me out.

Nickie
 
whispers in my ear,
 
“
He
’
s on something.
”

“
No shit,
”
 
I say
 
“
How does she meet these people.
”

“
What are you two saying back there,
”
 
Topper says moving towards us.

Pookie
 
steps in front of Topper and places a hand on his chest.
 
 
“
Everything
’
s cool
 
man stand
 
down.
”
 

“
Oh yeah, ok its cool,
”
 
He says scratching his filthy hair.

Pookie
 
wraps his arm around
 
Sarah
’
s waist
 
and leads her away.
 
 
Nickie
 
follows closely behind.

I
’
m drawn to a tiny stage in the very back of the bar where a woman in a red dress stands with her hands by her side and her head lowered.
 
 
A slow guitar solo begins to play and the woman
’
s arms start to move like a scene from The Matrix. I am awestricken by the strength of her dance.
 
Her movements change with the tempo of the music.
 
She stomps out an emotional tale that I don
’
t quite understand but I
’
m mesmerized by.
 
The dance ends and I find myself slightly out of breath.
 
I travel through the crowd trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.
 
I find a seat on the patio and order a soda.
 
 
“
The
 
Flamaco
 
dance was amazing right,
”
 
Kira
 
the black Russian says pulling up a chair.

“
Where did you come from,
”
 
I ask reaching over to hug her.