Game On (8 page)

11

XAVIER

 

X
avier and Dex were posted up by a set of lockers near some video games. Through the crowd the two had a clear vantage point of Samantha and her little entourage.

Dex was monitoring his boy closely. Xavier wasn't fooling him. He knew that jealousy was coursing through his homeboy's bloodstream. The faces, biting of his lip, and every now and again, pacing in circles—all signs that could lead to an emotional explosion. Dexter just hoped and prayed that Sean Desmond didn't try to step to them with no noise.

“Damn, those are some big bodyguards,” Dexter said to Xavier. “You straight, man?”

Xavier couldn't enjoy the three cats dancing a routine on skates because he was too busy watching Sam and Sean.

Xavier casually replied, “I'm tight, homeboy. And they're not big enough to stop me if Sean tries to style on me up in here.”

“I see Samantha didn't waste any time trying to get you out of her system.”

London rolled around with other skaters on the floor, and when she caught sight of Xavier, she frowned at him.

Xavier pointed to her. “I'm running around with that, so I don't have any room to be pointing fingers.”

“True dat,” said Dex. “But you ain't hittin' that. Can you say that about—”

“Dude, I'm not even trying to go there with you, you feel me?”

Apparently Xavier was feeling some kind of way about seeing Sam out with that clown. But there was nothing he could do about it. She was entitled to date whoever she wanted. He wasn't weak, and he definitely was no sucka. There was no punk in his game, because at the end of the day he understood that it was all about the number of zeros on a check. It seemed like six or seven figures was the only thing that could earn a potential mate Mr. Fox's seal of approval on dating his daughter.

“Okay, my dude, it's cool,” said Dex. “It's a virtual honey oasis up in this piece. And they're all over your socks, playboy, you dig?”

Xavier had been aware of the attention the moment he entered the rink. Chicks were loving his flavor, his swag, the confidence—and the banging fact that he had a dangerous reputation in the school of being the wrong G to step to.

Xavier asked Dexter something totally out of the way. “You ever get the feeling that something bad was about to happen?”

Dexter's eyebrows knitted together in concern. “X, talk to me, guy. Give me the rundown on what's going on through that dome of yours, fam.”

Xavier started to chop it up when he spotted Linus Flip headed toward them, stumbling, bumbling through the crowd and getting heated with anybody who tried to check him.

Dexter just shook his head. “Twenty dollars says he's been drinking, X.”

Flip was wearing a pair of jeans sagging off his ass, a black Adidas shirt with the huge old-school flower, Detroit Tigers baseball cap slightly tilted to the side, and a pair of black on white shell-toe Adidas sneakers.

“My people,” Flip said, clumsily grabbing Dexter around the back of his neck and pulling him so close to his mouth that Dexter made a stink face.

He twisted out of Flip's grasp, waving a hand in front of his nose. “Damn, fool, you smell nasty!” Xavier wasn't holding him up. He was blunt. “You've been drinking, homeboy?”

Linus casually leaned over into Xavier's space, bringing his funky breath closer. “Naw, fam, just a little cough syrup”—he put a fist to his mouth and started fake-coughing—“got a cold.”

Dude's breath was on bump and the scent of alcohol leaked from his pores. The boy smelled worse than a drunken bum sleeping behind an alley Dumpster.

Dexter went hard at Linus. “Didn't know the makers of Patrón made cough syrup.”

Linus pointed an unsteady index finger at Dexter and was about to clock out when drama jumped off on the other side of the rink. The DJ instantly stopped the music, causing an eerie silence before panic erupted, pushing and shoving started, and screams saturated the atmosphere.

Dakota was the cause of the disturbance. The girl was literally running for her life, weaving her way through bodies, with the SNLG girls right behind her.

“Damn . . . Lil' Mama,” was all Xavier could say before jumping over the guardrail and heading in that direction. Xavier had to be quick because up ahead and over by the pro shop, Dakota had run out of real estate. The female gangsters had her cornered and were closing in around her for the beat-down.

Pandemonium had completely broken loose. People were running and screaming. Xavier had to dodge a couple of skaters who were trying to get out of his way.

Over the rail and spilling out into the carpeted aisle, Xavier pushed his way toward Dakota. When he finally made it, he couldn't see her because they had packed in on her, a vicious cloud of punches and kicks. At this point Xavier didn't care if they were females. He started peeling away girls. Whoever he grabbed went sailing through the air until Dakota was visible—Mouse being the first one bounced.

Once they saw Xavier the other gangsta chicks stood down.

Xavier went to help Dakota up when Mouse recovered and tried to blindside him.

“Where you going?” Dexter said to Mouse, grabbing her and swinging her around.

Xavier pushed Dakota behind Dexter and himself with a set of lockers at their backs.

Bangs had managed to pull herself from the floor. Her eyes were red and swollen. Didn't matter how many times she blinked or rubbed them, tears continued to roll.

She explained to Xavier, “Supermodel there Maced me.”

“Nice work,” Dexter said to Dakota. “Homegirl, Mace is cool, but next time use a Taser. Preferably one that will leave her smelling like bacon when you're done.”

The crowd had thinned, leaving a clear area around Xavier and Dexter as they stood their ground against Bangs and her SNLG mob.

Xavier told Bangs, “Baby girl”—he nodded at Dakota—“what part of ‘cut her loose' didn't you understand that day in the lunchroom?”

Mouse was back on her feet. “We SNLG!” she screamed and went to lunge for Dakota, but Bangs grabbed and restrained her. Mouse was struggling and trying to get loose from her homegirls. “SNLG until we die! Xavier, yo' name ain't stopping nothing. My chest don't beat no fear.”

Xavier ignored the little chick. He focused his attention solely on Bangs.

He said to her, “If you were dudes, you'd be smashed by now. Baby girl, don't go taking my kindness for weakness. Consider this your last warning.” He nodded back at Dakota. “This one here is off-limits. Understand?”

Bangs looked like she wanted to say something cute but thought better of it. “I get it, boss.” She wiped away a few tears. “Anything else, boss? I mean, can we go?”

Dex had had about enough of Bangs trying to be slick, so he checked her. “Quit trying to be cute and stop with the ‘boss' crap.”

Bangs looked Dexter from head to toe, popped her lips, and ordered her soldiers out. Mouse wasn't buying anything. It took their entire crew to drag her tiny butt away, kicking, screaming, and cursing.

“The smallest one in the set seems to have the biggest fight,” said Xavier as he watched them disappear into the crowd.

Dexter said, “Ol' girl is the only one of those cowards that seems like she's about that life. That's the one we might have a problem with.”

A few pathetic-looking security guards finally arrived on the scene and were now directing traffic.

Dexter pointed at them. “Why is it that security always shows up when the drama's over?”

Xavier said, “You can't be mad at 'em, homeboy. I wouldn't put my butt on the line for minimum wage either.” He looked at Dakota. “Lil' Mama, you tight?”

She might've been shaking her head as to indicate that she was straight, but the tears, minor bruising, and cuts on her face suggested that she was pretty freaking far from being okay.

Dakota was trying hard to keep herself together. She asked Xavier, “Can you please take me home?”

“Ain't nothing to talk about,” answered Xavier.

Somehow, amidst the ruckus, London had managed to return her rental skates and emerge from the crowd wearing street shoes.

While Xavier was busy with Dakota, Dexter tapped him on the shoulder and pointed as London was approaching.

“Psycho chick coming up behind you, X,” said Dexter.

London rolled her eyes at Dakota and instantly started in on Xavier. “Thanks a lot, Xavier. Everybody was having a good time until you decided to play Superman and save Lois Lane over there. Now they're closing down the skating rink.”

“Kill all that noise,” Xavier scolded. “Do you have your stuff, because we about to bounce.”

“This night is busted,” said Dex. “X, it's still kind of early. I think I can salvage the evening if you drop me off at the crib before London and Dakota. Maybe I can get over to my girl Marissa's house before she jets with her girlfriends.”

London went off. “You're taking her home too? It's not enough that you had to go and spoil it for everybody by taking on”—she pointed at Dakota—“her battle, now you're offering cab services. Let her troublemaking behind get back home the same way she got here!”

Xavier said, “I got a better idea. Why don't you take out your cell, scroll through your contacts, and find somebody who could stand to be in the same car with you for more than two seconds, to take
you
home.”

“So now you're picking this little skank freshman over me?”

Dexter couldn't resist a chance at a cheap shot. “Knowing what I know about your little naughty secrets, Ms. I'm a Virgin, I probably wouldn't be calling somebody else a skank.”

London quickly crossed her arms and raised her right brow. “So tell me what you
think
you might know.”

“You don't want to go down that road with me,” Dexter said, smiling devilishly. “Because I personally know a line of brothers longer than the one on Air Jordan shoe release date that you told that same lie to before giving up the cookie to 'em.”

“Ouch,” was all Xavier could say, playing it off by looking down at the floor and scratching the back of his head.

Dexter's right jab of the truth had even managed to put a smile on Dakota's face.

London calmly rolled her neck in Xavier's direction, choosing to ignore Dexter's scalding-hot snap.

“So what's it going to be, Xavier?” asked London.

Xavier had made up his mind a long time ago. He looked at Dex and Dakota. “Y'all ready to bounce?”

The two fell in behind Xavier as the three of them started making their way through the crowd toward the exit. London was heated, and she wasn't the type to get rejected and go someplace quietly to cry. Instead, she trailed them, screaming, cursing, and yelling hot-mouth insults at the top of her lungs.

Xavier and crew had finally made it outside into the night air and were walking past the Rolls-Royce Phantom when London yelled, “The great Xavier, reduced to putting hands on females. Ain't enough that you got all the dudes in school shaking at the sound of your name, now you're trying to send a message to the girls at Coleman by throwing around a bunch of young girl thug wannabes?”

“What do you expect from an insecure little gangsta wannabe?” said a familiar male voice rising from a crowd of people standing to the rear of the Phantom, beside the highly polished chrome grill of a black Yukon Denali with the headlights on.

Just what Xavier needed right now, another punk looking to style in front of his homeboys. When the crowd of people suddenly opened up, standing there in the middle, was Samantha, her two girlfriends, four monstrous-looking fools dressed in black, that MLB-playing, multimillion-dollar jerk Sean Desmond, with two of his goons standing behind him.

Dexter quickly assessed the threat. “Fam, these fools rolling heavy. This could get ugly, X.” He desperately scanned the crowd for any trace of an ally, somebody from Coleman flexing the moxie to stand united in the pocket with fellow classmates and bang out against outsiders. “Looks like Linus dipped on us again.”

Xavier looked at Dexter. “Keep cool, my dude. This clown stands to lose a lot more than we do if he starts tripping, you feel me?” He glanced back at Dakota and instructed her, “Beat it if this thing breaks down.”

Girlfriend nodded. The terror in her eyes had taken on a life of its own as she witnessed the entourage of muscle and swag approaching them.

London was playing the part of the cheerleading instigator. “Uh-oh, Xavier. Your woman-beating behind isn't messing with ponytails and cornrows this time. These cats are real men and they're about to take you on.”

With his entourage at his back, Sean Desmond walked up on Xavier. “If it isn't the police department's favorite criminal,” Sean arrogantly joked. “I thought you'd be dead or in jail by now. Black folks, I tell you—don't know how to go anywhere without starting trouble. We all were having such a good time too, until you and your little ghetto friend decided to smack up a bunch of girls. Now look at where we're at.”

Xavier wasn't falling for the okey-doke. This fool was just speaking his mind—and even though he was worth a few million, there was no way junk was about to pop off.

Geesh,
Xavier thought. Even with the look of concern on her face Samantha was still gorgeous.

“Is there a point to all of this?” Xavier asked Sean.

“You got the whole city open, playboy,” Dexter added. “Why don't you go somewhere and celebrate your millions by buying a brand-new personality.”