Cali Boys (11 page)

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Authors: Kelli London

BOOK: Cali Boys
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“Um ... um ... Yummy just called and asked me to stop by so I could show her some things about motorcycles.”
Kassidy's eyebrows raised and her head tilted. There were two problems with what Romero said. One, Yummy had undoubtedly set her up so Romero could see she was going out with someone else. Two, he couldn't show her things about motorcycles if he didn't have one. “Oh, really? How are you going to do that?” Her tone was dry, and it matched her attitude. No, she didn't like Romero as much as he liked her, but his doing something behind her back had peeved her.
Yummy flounced her heft past Kassidy, then beelined her way to Romero's moped. She grabbed his extra helmet and began putting it on. “He's taking me to see some,” was all her mouth said, but her body told a different story. Her eyes said, “So there!” and her clothes said she had tried to dress up for him.
“Cool. Y'all be easy,” Kassidy said, then gave them her back. She didn't have time for Romero or for Yummy's childish foolishness; she had bigger and more important things to do. Plus, she rationalized, Romero's thinking he'd ticked her off was the excuse she needed to make an exit to avoid further discussion about her date. Hurting people just wasn't on her to-do list. She could be nasty, catty even, but, unlike Yummy, she wasn't a bully or troublemaker. She was an accidental heartbreaker, and it wasn't her fault.
She whipped out her phone to text Carsen that she was just around the corner from where he was picking her up. She'd decided on the meeting place because she didn't give out her address. You couldn't be a real live player if all your pawns knew where you lived. She'd tried that once and found herself face-to-face with two boys at her front door. She'd vowed to never let it happen again.
“You going far?” a male voice asked over the loud rattle of a car that could've used a tune-up.
Kassidy pressed the Send button on her cell, then rolled her eyes out of habit. She just didn't get these Cali boys and the way they were always trying to lay down game when her back was turned. “Uh ... let me see? No!” she began, then turned and swallowed her words. Diggs leaned through the open driver's side window, cruising on the wrong side of the road, commanding all her attention and making her heart drop. She didn't know what to do. The guy she wanted—a candidate who seemed unsure about wanting her—was in front of her, but the one she wanted to hang out with—a more than probable replacement boyfriend with a nice ride (if Brent didn't resurface)—was waiting around the corner. “Sorry, I didn't know it was you.”
Diggs gave her a half smile. He continued driving on the wrong side of the road, which made it easier for them to converse as she walked. “It's cool. I was taught not to talk to strangers, too ... in kindergarten.” He chuckled a little.
Kassidy joined him in laughter, glad that he was showing a lighter side to himself. She was happy that he was talking to her at all, really. “Cute. Very cute. And what else did you learn in kindergarten?” She stopped, pointed her phone at him, and acted as if she were scolding him.
Diggs pulled over and put the car in park. He got out, stepped onto the curb, leaned against the driver's door, and crossed his arms. “I'm not holding you up, am I?” he asked, his tone more serious—more interested.
Kassidy cringed inside and smiled on the outside. She didn't want to make Carsen wait, but she couldn't miss her opportunity with Diggs. There was something about him that captivated her, and she needed to figure out what it was. Yes, he was cute. That went without saying. He was also a bit mysterious, and she was certain she knew him from somewhere. But where? She tilted her head and looked at him so hard she was sure he thought she was trying to see through him.
“How do I know you?” she had to ask, tired of wondering who he was and why he wasn't swayed by her beauty like every other guy she'd met. He grinned confidently, and she was sure that not even a speck of dust marred his confidence.
“You don't, and that bothers you,” he told her, reading her mind. He was cocky, and she liked it.
Kassidy stepped up, pointing her phone at him again. “I've seen you somewhere before. Somewhere other than here. I know I have.”
Diggs shrugged. “Maybe. But seeing me isn't knowing me. Those are two different things.”
She nodded. He was cute and quick. “But I'd like to know you.” There, she'd said it, and now she felt a little better. Just a bit.
Diggs straightened, then reached out and took her phone. “That's possible ...” He started programming something into her phone—his phone number, she assumed—and handed it back to her when he was finished. “... If you don't have a boyfriend.”
Kassidy grew giddy inside. There on the screen was his contact information. She smiled. A high-pitched horn blew and killed her high. Without having to turn around, she could tell it belonged to a motorcycle. By the questioning look on Diggs's face, she knew it had to be a guy, and he wasn't someone Diggs knew. And if it was a dude, it had to be Carsen. She shrugged. Who else on a motorcycle would have a reason to honk at her?
“There you are, Kassidy. I was waiting for you. Ready?” Carsen asked, braking in the middle of the street.
Kassidy looked from Diggs to Carsen, Carsen to Diggs. She smiled. It was the only thing she could do.
“Well, I better let you go,” Diggs said, making his way to the car and getting in.
Kassidy gave him an apologetic look. “It's not what you think. Wait a second. I'll be right back,” she said quietly. She needed to work her magic, and if Carsen heard her, her show would be over before it even began.
Diggs just nodded his head. He didn't say a word, but he watched her closely.
“Hey, I didn't think you'd come!” she yelled to Carsen, making her way over to the motorcycle. She winked and puckered her lips, then blew a
shush
at him and mouthed “boyfriend.”
Carsen, being the player that he was, nodded. “What you want me to do?” he asked.
Kassidy raised her brows to the heavens, glad that Carsen was as game as he'd said he was when they met. He'd said he wasn't a hater, and had now proved he wasn't. She held the sides of her phone, her fingers positioned over the screen. “Give me the address for the party. I'll meet you there in one point five,” she said.
Carsen nodded. “Meet me at this address in two. One point five's too soon for the party,” he said, then rattled off some numbers and a street.
Kassidy entered the address at lightning speed, winked at Carsen as he was pulling off, and made her way back to Diggs. “Sorry about that. I had to handle something with him real quick. Now, where were we?” She bent over, leaning on the car.
Diggs laughed and stuck his head out the window. “I forgot to tell you something else about kindergarten.”
She tilted her head. “What?”
“I failed kindergarten,” he said matter-of-factly.
Kassidy laughed. “You failed kindergarten?” She shook her head. “Serious? Why?”
Diggs raised his brows. “I never learned how to share. Still don't and won't. Call me when you get through playing.” He revved his engine and pulled off.
15
JACOBI
J
acobi got off the bus and looked around, pressed for time. She only had four hours until her curfew, and breaking it wasn't an option. Her mother had told her to be home by eight, and not a minute later. They had company coming for dinner, and Jacobi had to be there. She'd made that clear. She'd also made it clear that a punishment was impending if Jacobi broke the rules. But Jacobi hadn't been to her old neighborhood in a while, and needed to absorb everything before she went to Shooby's for their meeting—and to give him the Rate Your Sex questionnaire she'd printed and filled out. Her eyes scanned the area. The broken-down cars next to the curb, which were held up by bricks instead of tires, were eyesores. The loiterers, young and old, took up residence on the block as if street corners, sides of buildings, and house porches were their homes. Jacobi was amazed at how things that never before struck her as different had become so. Before, all of the hood happenings were normal, expected. Now that she'd moved to a clean, quiet neighborhood where most all of the residents were productive, her old stomping ground was unappealing. Like a woman three times her age, she shook her head in disagreement with it all. Why didn't most of her old neighbors work or seem to want to? Why did the guys hang on the corners as if they could better themselves by doing so? She shrugged. She didn't have the answers.
Crossing the street, she made her way to the neighborhood store, owned by a Korean family. Ever since she'd moved, she'd been longing for things she couldn't find in the new neighborhood: stuff like butter crunch and chocolate chip cookies sold in the brown-and-white three-pack, flavored quarter water, and Kool-Aid pickles. All the goodies called to her as soon as she entered. She took a left and picked up the cookies, turned right to get the water, then headed to the counter to select the biggest pickle she could get. She smiled. Here, she knew where everything was and could've walked through the store blindfolded to pick what she wanted. She'd made her way up and down the few aisles too many times to count, and it made her miss where she'd come from.
“Looka here! Uphill girl done made it back downhill to swarm with the lowlifes,” a familiar voice said.
Jacobi took her Kool-Aid pickle from Mr. Hyo, one of the owners of the store, and turned. A huge smile spread across her face. Her bestest friend in the whole world. “Katydid? Oh my God!” She hugged her friend and they rocked side to side. “Where've you been? I've been looking for you.”
Katydid squeezed Jacobi. “I've been right here in the hood, where I'm always going to be. Where else am I gonna go?” she questioned, letting Jacobi go.
Jacobi drew her eyebrows together. She'd tried to reach Katydid a few times. She'd called her right after they'd moved to give Katydid her new home and cell phone numbers, left her a message, but never got a return call. Then she'd called again and again, and it was the same story. Finally, after hearing the automated message about the number she'd reached being no longer in service, she'd waited for what seemed like weeks, then dialed Katydid's cell again, hoping it was back on. But it wasn't. She'd even asked Shooby about her. She was certain he'd told her that Katydid had left the neighborhood, and had assumed something bad had happened or that Katydid had gone to live with her grandmother, who lived in a better neighborhood in a great school district. A good education was something Katydid wanted more than anything. Her plan included a college scholarship. “I heard you moved.”
A weird expression registered on Katydid's face. “Well, as you can see, you heard wrong. I'm not leaving Lancaster.”
Jacobi cringed inside. Katydid didn't sound like her old, positive, I'm-going-to-make-it-out-of-the-hood-no-matter-what self. Instead of ruining their moment, she decided to let it go. She was still stuck on why Shooby would lie to her, especially about Katydid. They'd all been so cool once, and he knew how she felt about her best friend. “Okay, it is what it is,” she said, lacing her arm through Katydid's and walking out of the store.
“So you never said why you're down here slumming it with all us common people,” Katydid said. “Because it can't be because of me—you didn't even know I was still here. Gotta be Shooby.”
They crossed the street and walked toward Jacobi's old place. “Of course. You know that. I'm always around for Shooby,” she said, laughing. “No—okay, yes. But this time I'm here for the meeting ... you know, the
meeting
?” Jacobi emphasized, reminding Katydid about the flash-mob meeting she was sure Katydid was going to attend. Katydid was one of the founding members of the flash-mob crew, and was always so psyched about their mission—to have fun and make a difference—that Jacobi was sure she was going to be at the meeting, too. Because she didn't want Katydid to be disappointed in her, she didn't mention the Rate Your Sex questionnaire.
Katydid stopped and drew her eyebrows together. “Oh.” She paused. “I'm not going. I have to meet my mom somewhere,” she said, then gave Jacobi a hug. “I'll call you, okay? The bus should be here any second, and I can't miss it.” She patted Jacobi on the back, then speed-walked away.
Disappointment moved through Jacobi as she watched her friend make haste to get to the bus stop across the street. She assumed Katydid's appointment must be important for her to flee so quickly. “Katydid!” Jacobi yelled, trying to stop her. “Katydid! Come back!” she called out again, but Katydid didn't stop. Jacobi grimaced. In the midst of her happiness about seeing her friend, Jacobi had forgotten to get Katydid's new number. Katydid turned sideways as if she were turning around to come back, and a glimmer of hope lightened Jacobi's heart, only to be replaced by disappointment and sympathy. Her jaw dropped. There, in the middle of Katydid's body, was a rounded hump.
A baby bump?
“No way ...” Jacobi said, gathering herself and her store-bought treats. In seconds, she'd crossed the street, running to the bus stop.
“Katydid!” she yelled, catching up to her bestest friend in the whole world. Her good friend who was fifteen, like her. Her pretend sister who was also going into the tenth grade and was supposed to be a virgin, like her. She caught her by the arm. “Katydid! Really? Pregnant?”
Katydid's eyes answered Jacobi's question as the bus pulled up. “I'm so sorry, Jacobi,” she said, then pulled away from her friend and boarded the bus without ever turning around.
 
Jacobi sat on the sofa in Shooby's hideaway, thinking about Katydid and snacking on butter crunch cookies. She knew there was a reason Shooby had lied to her about Katydid moving. He must not have wanted her worrying about her best friend, and probably didn't want Katydid to be a bad influence, she told herself. She and Katydid had been so positive once, especially Katydid. She'd been so set on going to college and making it. She'd always talked of getting out of the hood, making a career for herself, and owning a big house. “That was then,” Jacobi said, wondering how Katydid could do something so stupid when she knew Katydid was so smart. Then she thought about how hypocritical and judgmental she was being. She was almost no better than Katydid, she reminded herself, remembering the questionnaire. She shook her head, deciding not to give Shooby the paper.
“I'll be in there in a second. You cool?” Shooby asked from outside the door.
Jacobi straightened up and inspected herself. She'd made sure she didn't half step on her outfit, making sure to dress as cute as possible to get Shooby's attention. She looked down at her chest, wishing it had blossomed more. “I'm good,” she answered, grabbing the camera strap and pulling it taut. She gripped it with both hands and mentally recited the boob mantra:
To the east, to the west, to increase your breasts. To the east, to the west
... She pulled tighter each time, flexing her chest muscles as much as possible, and watching them expand and contract with each tug. By now, she was sure, she had to have the strongest chest around. If only the rest of her maturity would catch up, she'd be happier. It seemed everyone was bypassing her. Alissa had had her rite of passage, and with Katydid being preggo, her physical maturity wasn't in question. She shook her head. Kassidy, with her long legs and perfect body, was probably the definition of womanhood and had had her cycle months ago, she assumed. “Dear God, why me?” she questioned aloud.
“Why you, what?” Shooby asked, surprising her.
Jacobi jumped, shaking her head. “Nothing, just questioning. . . questioning ...” She searched for a lie, but couldn't come up with one. She looked in her lap, twiddling her thumbs.
“Questioning what?” Shooby asked, sitting next to her, taking her attention from her thumbs. He moved close enough for their thighs to touch. “What's wrong?”
Jacobi warmed. She was embarrassed and ashamed. She couldn't tell him that her breasts weren't big enough or that Mother Nature was calling everyone but her. She couldn't make her mouth form the words she wanted to say to him. How was she supposed to say
I like you and I want you to like me
? “Nothing,” she lied.
Unconvinced, Shooby grabbed her hand and kissed it. “You can tell me, Jacobi. I'm here for you. You know that, right? I'm here ...”
Heat traveled from where his lips met her hand to her heart. She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat and begged her palms to stop sweating. She nodded. “I know.” She'd become the nervous wreck that she'd seen girls become in movies, and she didn't know what to do.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked.
Jacobi almost nodded again, but then something struck her. “I saw Katydid on my way over here,” she said.
Shooby let go of her hand and stiffened. “Oh God. What lie did she tell this time? She's turned into a habitual liar. What did she say now?”
Jacobi reared back her head. “Why didn't you tell me that she is ... ya know?”
“Pregnant and stupid and don't know who her baby daddy is?” Shooby asked. “Stay away from her, Jacobi. I know that's your girl, but she's become a trip since you moved. A straight sack-chasing trip.”
Jacobi's eyes widened. Shooby calling Katydid a sack chaser threw her. She'd never known Katydid to chase guys for money, and couldn't believe her friend had turned into a gold digger. “Don't say that ...”
Shooby nodded. “Now back to me and you, Jacobi. What's up with us?”
Us
hit Jacobi like a Mack truck. “I didn't think you liked me like I like you.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and she prayed for death. If she died she wouldn't have to suffer the embarrassment of the rejection she was sure was coming, but then she thought about it. If Shooby didn't like her, he wouldn't have wanted to kiss her. A door slammed somewhere in the house, and Jacobi relaxed a little.
Shooby rolled his eyes in a masculine way, and she could see disappointment on his face. “Dang,” he whispered, looking at his watch. “She wasn't supposed to be home for hours,” he said, then got up. “Let's go. I don't want my moms to think we were ... ya know?”
Jacobi looked at him sideways. “Stop playing. You know I don't get down like that.”
Shooby shrugged. “Yeah. But you know how parents are ...” He looked at his watch. “About six-thirty ... Yeah. We gotta run. I'm—I mean we. You, me, and the crew are doing this huge thing, and I need you to film it. And we gotta figure out how you can flip us some money on the market. I know you agreed to do a documentary, but the flash mob really needs to make money to fund our operation. Maybe you can do both?”
She didn't know what to do. Her mom said she had to be home by eight. If it was already six-thirty, she had to go. The bus ride alone was going to take almost forever, and if she waited five minutes longer, she'd be late—and on punishment. Being confined to the house wasn't an option. She couldn't film her documentary if she was home. She pressed her lips together in thought, and shook her head.
“Please ... for me?” Shooby said, then reached out, pulled her face to his, and gently pressed his lips on hers. “How can you say no to your man?” he asked, making her forget her mother, the dinner party, and her upcoming punishment.
 
Jacobi's lungs almost burst as she crept back into the house holding her breath. She'd somehow slipped past everyone gathered in the family room and made it to her bedroom. She set her camera on her dresser, her purse on a chair, and threw herself onto the bed. She had to invent the excuse of all excuses to talk her way out of being late. But what could she say? she wondered as a soft knock rapped on her door.
“Open up. It's me—Alissa. I saw you ...”
Jacobi rolled off the bed and quickly walked to the door. “Did anyone else?” she asked as soon as she saw Alissa's smile.
Alissa shook her head. “I don't think so, but I can't be sure.” She handed Jacobi a package. “I saw Kassidy, and she asked me to give this to you since she doesn't know where you live. She said it's some stuff for our trip.”
Jacobi took the package and opened it. Inside there were all kinds of beachwear, mostly bikinis, and what looked like panties. “Oh. She doesn't?”

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