Crazy Summer (8 page)

She stood up beside him. “You neva did answer me.”

“I’m jus’ glad it’s straight, dat’s all,” he said, then quickly changed the subject. “I know Rodney gonna trip out,” he added.

 Summer didn’t respond. She knew her brother Rodney was close to Danté; they were both three years older than her. Danté respected Rodney and knew he had to respect his little sister.

Since they were finished at the doctor’s office, she grabbed his hand, and they left together. When they got inside Danté’s Cutlass, he started the engine and turned the volume down on his system.

“You ain’t stayin’ at Red Bone’s crib either,” he simply said.

The Christmas tree stood six feet tall and was neatly decorated with multi-colored lights that blinked from the top to the bottom. Underneath it were several presents in green and red wrapping paper. The house they were now living in was located in a quiet subdivision called Farrington. Danté figured if he was going to be a father, he didn’t want to be living in the same neighborhood where he handled his business. He knew Barton Village had gotten out of control, and he’d help contribute to the cause. This was the end of 1990, and he’d had a good summer there almost profiting five thousand a night. He’d done well for himself. The three bedrooms cost almost seventy thousand, which he put seven grand down on, and the house was in Summer’s name. They lived together; she was happy and so was he. Their relationship just kind of developed. In our terminology, they clicked.

Upstairs, their master bedroom was decorated with expensive wood furniture from Rhodes. The bed was king-sized with hand-carved bedposts that almost touched the ceiling. Polo pillowcases and sheets lined the bed. A Sony forty-inch TV with an attached VCR faced them. The dresser sat against the right wall, polished to a beautiful shine with shiny brass handles. The mirror was nearly five feet wide and just as high.

Summer lay on her side. This was a very comfortable position for her considering she was already six months into her pregnancy. She snuggled up against Danté, who was asleep, but he drew her closer and held on to her. The baby kicked. He didn’t feel it, but she asked him if he had anyway. After telling her no in his half asleep state, he found her lips and kissed her softly. She forced her tongue inside his mouth, causing him to fully wake, and his hands traced every curve of her body from her firm, dark brown breasts down to her ass. He touched between her legs where she was already wet and warm. She moaned at the touch of his long fingers and gently bit the corner of her lip. He was hard when she grabbed him. She climbed on top, positioning herself on his penis and slowly working him inside. There was no sex like pregnant sex. It was the best in the world to any man. Danté came in less than five minutes. She humped him softly; she wasn’t about to let him get off that easy.

“It’s over, baby,” he said, smiling.

“Don’t play wit’ me, Danté.”

He laughed. “You caught me off guard.”

Still, she continued rotating her hips, moving faster now. Her heart was racing just as fast. When she finally climaxed, she smirked and punched his chest. He laughed again.

“You crazy as hell,” he said, then added, “Let’s go open some Christmas presents.”

She smiled, got up slowly, and wobbled into the bathroom. It didn’t take her long to wash. She came back into their room with a hot, soapy washcloth in her hand. Without warning, she went to Danté and gently cleaned his private parts for him. He lay there grinning with his hands underneath his head. The hot rag felt good to him, made his toes curl.

“You must know I got you somethin’ good fo’ Christmas.”

She smiled, leaned up, and kissed him. “I’ma go check on da twins,” she whispered.

Danté got up and slipped on a pair of shorts. After Summer covered herself in a robe, they walked to the twin’s room together. Their room was average size; the walls were painted blue and trimmed in white. Huge posters of Michael Jordan hung on one wall and Jerry Rice on the other. More toys than the both of them could play with were scattered throughout the room. Each of them slept in separate twin beds. Jermaine had Spiderman sheets. Jeremy had the Hulk. When they entered the room, neither of them was in their bed.

“Them lil’ niggas are already downstairs,” Danté said.

When they got to the bottom of the stairs, Summer smiled when she saw her two boys trying to pass a Nurf football to each other. Jeremy was left-handed and Jermaine was right. They stood about three feet apart from each other, and neither one of them had caught the ball yet.

“Throw it ova’ here,” Danté said.

Both twins looked in his direction, smiling. Jeremy, who had the ball, cocked his left arm and took two running steps forward. Before he could get the ball off, Jermaine had tackled him. Laughing, Danté ran and tackled both of them. Summer stood against the wall with her arms folded across her breasts. She shook her head and thought about how grateful she was to actually have a father figure in her kids’ lives. She knew how Danté was in the streets, but at home, he was totally different. He loved the kids and treated them like they were his own, and in Summer’s eyes, they were.

Nearly two hours passed, and they had opened gifts. The kids received a Nintendo game system and over ten games, clothes, and jewelry. Danté had purchased Summer a two-carat cluster and a herringbone necklace that was almost three inches thick. It laid flat around her neck. Even though she was expecting something like a small car so she could get around, she wouldn’t push the issue at the moment, but if he hadn’t done anything by the time the baby was born, she would put her foot down.

In the garage, Danté had his Cutlass parked and had told himself that he wouldn’t bring it back out to the streets until the paint was fresh, the interior redone, and with wire Dayton rims. At least that’s what he said before he bought his 1990 Cadillac Brougham two weeks prior. It was glossy black with the gold emblems and the shiny gold doghouse grill trimmed in chrome. Eighty-fours and Vogues were his choice of shoes. No one knew he had it, not even his crew in his neighborhood. He was determined to outdo the other major players who so-called had Barton Village on lock.

Danté always played the underdog. He never geared up in flashy clothes or jewelry, and a majority of everybody looked past him as far as money. No one called him weak or referred to him as a sucker or lame. He was just the quiet type who had a good eye for things.

Twenty months ago, he and Rodney had started their petty robbery spree. They’d only hit one lick, and then with the second one, they got greedy and tried to rob two guys who kept driving around in a new BMW after a Glen Hills basketball game. The robbery turned into a shootout, leaving one guy dead and the other seriously wounded. Witnesses pointed out Rodney, but no one knew Danté was his co-defendant. When it was time for Rodney to go to court, Danté had already started his grind with the crack. The first four thousand he made he got Rodney a lawyer. Even though that move left him flat broke, it earned him a reputation in the hood of being a good nigga. And with that, the other players in his hood chipped in to help Rodney, who came out good with the manslaughter charge that resulted in him serving four years out of a ten-year sentence.

When Danté opened the driver side door, the interior lights illuminated the hog and most of the dark garage. He sat on the leather seat with his feet still on the concrete. He turned the key switch backwards and pressed a button on his new car system. Eric B & Rakim thumped from the Kenwood twelve’s. The garage door rattled, and the car thumped so hard that the bass vibrated his entire body. He bobbed his head with a grin on his face. This was no more than motivation, a stepping stone that made the adrenaline rush through his body. He was lost in thought again, when Summer suddenly appeared next to him holding the cordless house phone.

He looked up at her and asked, “Who is it?”

She moved her lips and mouthed,
Rodney.

He took the phone without hesitation. “Wuzzup, my nigga?”

“Same ol’ shit on my end,” Rodney said. “How everything goin’ on yo’ end?”

“I’m holdin’ shit down here,” he responded with a smile. “You got da’ package and money?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Rodney shot back. “I heard you got a new ‘Lac, nigga. You must be touchin’ some major bread.”

“I will be when you come home. And you know I gotcha, dawg.”

There was a short pause.

“Man, please don’t let anything happen to my lil’ sista,” Rodney told him.

“You know she’s in good hands, man.”

“And you know I believe you…”

“And I believe I’ma set you straight when you touch.”

“I’m feelin’ dat’ shit.” Rodney paused before asking, “Can you make a three-way fo’ me?”

“What’s da’ number?”

“Call my mama’s house.”

 Back inside the house, Summer had the twins dressed alike in denim Guess jeans and jackets and tiny Air Jordan’s. They each wore a fine gold chain with their names on them. She brushed their long, wavy hair toward the back and bunched it together in a ponytail. They were ready to go visit their grandmamma.

Danté pushed the Caddy like he’d been born behind the steering wheel. Summer played the passenger side like no other lady could. Even though she was pregnant, it didn’t stop her from sporting a bright red leather blazer, a white turtleneck, jeans, and leather riding boots the same color of her jacket. Her shoulder-length hair was wavy. She looked extremely good, with her thinly arched eyebrows and fluffed lashes. Not only was Danté showing off his new ride, he had the woman to go with it.

 The Caddy pulled up to the rear of a line of cars. The family was here today. Her aunt and two uncle’s cars were amongst the rest. Summer scanned the yard and the driveway for her brother’s car, but didn’t see it. She looked relieved because she didn’t want to see him anyway. Danté turned off the car and looked at Summer.

“We at Gran’ma’s house,” one of the twins said from the backseat.

Summer, who was already gripping the door handle, replied, “Yeah, we at Grandmama’s house.” 

She got out as if she was stepping onto a red carpet. She went to the back door on her side and removed one of the twins from the car seat. Danté did the same on the other side. She waited for them to come around, and the twins raced to the front door. Danté grabbed a mall shopping bag from the trunk that was loaded down with Christmas gifts for Mrs. Diane. When they got to the front door, one of her uncles had already opened it. His name was Willie James; he stood 6’1”, had wide shoulders, and a shiny baldhead with a salt-and-pepper beard and goatee. Willie James, who was in his mid-forties, was delighted to see his niece.

“Hey, baby,” he said, wrapping his massive arms around her. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” she told him, smiling.

 When he released her, his eyes went to Danté. He extended his hand, and Danté shook it.

“How ya’ doin’?” he said to Danté.

“I’m alright.”

“You my niece’s boyfriend, right?”

“Yeah.”

Willie James looked him over from head to toe. He cocked his head to one side and then to the other side. He curled his lips as if he approved of Danté being with his niece.