Hotlanta (7 page)

Marcus walked over and softly fingered Sydney's shirt. “You know I don't like it when you get mad at me.”

Every rational bone in her body told her to march through the door and not look back, but her heart desperately wanted to believe his words. Breathing became physically painful as she remembered Carmen and Rhea's stinging accusations from the other night. Was her strong-black-woman stance nothing but talk? “I just don't like the secrets, Marcus,” she started, struggling for the words to express how she felt without seeming like she was some paranoid, insecure girlfriend.

“I would never purposely keep anything from you, Syd,” he quickly assured her with soft kisses to her lips. “It won't happen again. Promise.”

Even though she heard Marcus's apologetic words and saw the look of remorse on his face, something deep in Sydney's gut told her differently. And Sydney Duke's gut was rarely wrong.

“U-G-L-Y / You ain't got no alibi, you ugly / Yeah, yeah, you ugly!”

Lauren tossed her ponytail extra hard in the direction of the opposing dance team's bench and then put a little twist in her hips for good measure. Their football team was for crap on this warm Monday night—the scoreboard said they were down by fourteen points—but that was no reason to slouch on the field. Halftime was game time, and the hundred-member marching band had just tore up Luda's “Pimpin' All Over the World,” putting the stale-ass St. John's All Saints Catholic High School band, with their wack traditional marching-band ditties, to absolute shame. And since all eyes were on Lauren Duke, she was making every effort to make bitches—and their boyfriends, of course—remember exactly who she was.

“Damn, girl—if you shook it any harder, it might have fallen off,” Marvin Joyce yelled out to Lauren as she passed by him. When she looked him in the face, he winked.

“And you'd be right there to pick it up, wouldn't you, Marvin?” Lauren shot back. “Too bad I read on YRT that Pam says you wouldn't know what to do with it, though.”

Everyone on his bleacher and several more surrounding it fell out in hysterics. “Ooh, she got you,” one guy shouted. “Pick up that lip, bruh,” said another.

Lauren smiled and bounced back to the dance-squad seats. The actual game bored her to tears, but she loved the spirit of it—how everyone dressed in the school colors and chanted alongside the squad when the girls were performing. The dance squad was God at Brookhaven Prep, even if the football team made a point of embarrassing the mess out of them by losing every other game, today's included.

“Well, despite the loss, it's still good to be the queen,” Lauren announced to her squad. “Don't forget, JV is having a bake sale tomorrow to raise money for the senior squad members' homecoming breakfast. Maria, make sure they come correct, right? I will send them steppin' if they're wack, bringing out some bran muffins or something.”

Dara laughed as she tossed up a high five.

“And whose mom was responsible for the snacks today? Um, carrots and dip? What, are we in pre-K? You skinny
things could stand a steak or two to fill out these uniforms properly. And you all should know by now that in order for me to dance at full capacity, I need my sugar and carbs. Don't play. Dismissed.”

“Damn, is that Ebony over there staring all up in fine-ass Cole's face?” Dara interrupted, as she leaned into Lauren and pointed four bleachers back. Lauren squinted her eyes to take in a better view; indeed, that scabby trick was all up on her next conquest. Lauren had thought she'd made her intentions clear to him at the pregame rally, when she'd sized him up and decided he'd be the perfect accessory when she accepted her homecoming-queen crown. Clearly, he needed it spelled out. “Damn sure is.”

Just as Lauren got up from the bleachers to make her next move on Cole, her Sidekick went off. She looked to see who it was but didn't recognize the number. “Hello?” she shouted into the mouthpiece.

“Lauren?” a deep but unsure voice questioned on the other end.

“Who's this?” she said with even more attitude as she detoured from her original mission, rounded the corner of the big brick football field gate, and stepped closer to Sydney's silver Saab, Dara in tow.

“It's Jermaine,” he said, this time with much more confidence.

“Jermaine? Jermaine who?”

“Jermaine from the West End—you know, the brother you crashed into?”

Hold up! The cute boy from the West End? How'd he get her number? Better yet, who the hell told him he could use it?

“Right, right, the service call…” Lauren said, turning to Dara to mouth a good-bye. “That still doesn't explain how you got this number.”

“Let's just say a brotha got skills.” He laughed. “You told me if I got the digits, I could call. So I got the digits. Don't worry about how. And by the way, baby blue on silver is definitely working for you.”

Lauren looked down at her uniform as if she didn't know what color it was; her heart did a flip when she realized he'd seen her. Here. This evening. But where was he?

“Look up,” he said.

“What?” she said as she fumbled for the keys.

“Look. Up.”

She did. And there he was, on the hill overlooking the parking lot. Cutie from the West End. Live and in the flesh. She took a quick look around to see if anyone was paying attention. Damn, he was fine.

“What are you doing here?” she said into the phone, unsure whether she should smile or hang up and call 911 to report him as a stalker.

“Let's just say I like football and Brookhaven's halftime
show—or, more specifically, a certain cheerleader on the varsity squad who performed in it,” Jermaine said as he walked up to the car.

Lauren didn't say anything. She just blushed.

“Anyway, you made it hard for a fan to concentrate, bouncing all over the field like that in that short skirt,” Jermaine continued. “And seeing as you banged up my ride and all, I think you owe me something.”

“But I've already arranged for you to get it fixed.” Playa found her number and her school, too. She knew it was that damn Hal. If he still worked at Paintless, she would have smacked him upside his head. Of course, she might have to track him down to thank him, depending on what the boy had to say next.

They were standing face-to-face now but still talking into their cell phones.

“I wanted to say thank you like the gentleman you demanded I be when we first met. Why don't you let me take you out for dinner Friday night? I'll pick you up.”

“Awfully cocky of you to drive all the way from the West End to Brookhaven Prep to hook up with the head cheerleader and expect I'll just say yes,” Lauren snapped, closing her cellphone.

“Uh, awfully cocky of you to assume that the only reason someone from the West End would come here is to see you,” Jermaine snapped back, staring into her eyes without so much
as a flinch. He snapped his CRAZR closed. “Look,” he said, taking a breath, “it may sound corny, but I think you hitting my car happened for a reason, and I can't get you off my mind.”

Lauren giggled. She could feel her heart skipping a few beats as she considered, even if for a moment, what it would be like to be wrapped in his arms. But wasn't no way he was coming to the Duke house—at least not while Lauren's parents were home.

After staring into his sexy eyes for a beat, Lauren decided to let him take her out. “Sure. But I'll meet you there,” she said, fiddling with her keys.

The rattle of the keys made Jermaine look at Sydney's car. “Damn, your daddy didn't waste no time getting you a new ride, huh?”

“Actually, that's my sister's car,” Lauren said. She quickly decided she didn't want to get into details with him on the torture Altimus had exacted on her for getting into her last wreck. “Mine is, um, still in the shop. How about you meet me at Lenox Mall? We could grab a bite to eat and maybe check out a movie. Let's say, eight-thirty sharp?”

He leaned in and kissed her cheek ever so softly with those juicy lips. “Don't be late,” he whispered, and then swaggered toward his car. He tugged his hoodie over his head to stave off the early evening chill. Lauren watched him, grinning, until he disappeared into the raw Atlanta sunset.

“Oh, my God, I almost forgot to tell you! So remember that guy I told you about? The one I met the other day while I was in the golf-pro shop looking for my dad's birthday gift? Well he
finally
called me,” Carmen blurted out as soon as the end of period bell sounded. “Do you think it's a bad sign that it took him two days?”

“Is that so…” Sydney replied simply as she stood and gathered her English Lit books from her desk. Although Sydney normally enjoyed hearing all the juicy details of her best friends' boy escapades, she was still way too stressed out from the whole Marcus and Dara situation to serve up meaningful relationship advice at the moment. Add to the equation that she was now being forced to chauffeur around the same trifling-ass twin that essentially conspired to sabotage her
relationship and Sydney felt on the verge of a straightjacket-worthy meltdown. The only thing stopping her from checking into the nearest rehab facility was the anticipation of seeing Dice again. When he called on Sunday night, they made plans for her to try to swing by after school that week if she could get out of debate-team practice.

“Sydney! Did you not hear a word I just said?” Carmen questioned a little too sharply for Sydney's taste as she stopped dead in her tracks. “You're not still mad about what happened after the last committee meeting? ‘Cause I mean seriously, you know Rhea didn't mean—”

“Carmen, please. I am not even thinking about Rhea's over-the-top theatrics.”

“So then, what's wrong with you? You didn't return any of my calls all weekend, yesterday you weren't in school, and you've been like, absolutely mute all day today,” Carmen insisted, obviously unwilling to budge until Sydney came clean about her funny attitude.

Sighing, Sydney readjusted her new gold-mirrored Louis Vuitton doctor's bag on her forearm while making a mental note not to forget to follow up with her guidance counselor about scheduling an advanced SAT tutorial into her schedule for next semester. “Girl, it was just like, the longest weekend ever. I needed a day to get my life together. Lauren crashed her car AGAIN.”

“Again! What is this, her third accident this week?”

“Seems like it, right? But wait, that's just the beginning. Apparently Einstein tried to cover up the accident by replacing her car with an identical loaner while it was being repaired in the shop. Except Altimus totally found out—like he always does.

“Shut. Up. I know he was so pissed…” Carmen's eyes widened like saucers.

“Can I just tell you? Altimus is worse than freaking CSI; nothing gets past that man. He hit the roof when we got home from choir practice. Lauren was hemmed up in his study for at least two hours straight. I swear, she was Kunta Kinte and he was the slave master. Which, honestly, didn't bother me at all until the part where he decided to revoke Lauren's car privileges for the next month.”

“A month? What is she going to do without a car for a month?”

“According to Altimus, learn how to share.”

“Huh? I'm confused.”

“It just occurred to my stepfather that the reason Lauren continues to crash her car is because she's been spoiled into believing that the world revolves around her. So to teach her a lesson, she will have to share a car with the rest of us in the house. Since Lauren no longer has her own car and neither of my parents are even about to let her come within fifty feet of theirs, I have to share my car with Lauren. Which is why I took a mental health day yesterday.”

“And with Homecoming around the corner, too? Whew, your stepfather was too thorough with Lauren.” Carmen shook her head in disbelief.

“So basically, it's about to be all about ‘Driving Ms. Lauren' unless I want her behind the wheel of my car.”

“Humph, no wonder you're having a moment,” Carmen mused as the two finally joined the procession of students headed toward the cafeteria. “And your mom didn't say anything in your defense?”

“Oh, please, if you think my mom is about to get into an argument with Altimus over
my
car situation, you're very mistaken. Now then, if she was the one who had to drive Lauren around, it might be a different story.”

Before Carmen could further sympathize, Rhea rushed over from the opposite end of the hall. “My God, Mr. Hicks is a total maniac,” she complained animatedly, oblivious to Sydney and Carmen's somber demeanors. “I just took my fifth pop quiz since the school year started what, two months ago? Jesus H. Christ!”

“Really? I guess that means we'll be getting one from him after lunch, huh?” Carmen questioned.

“Pretty much,” Rhea replied as the three girls stopped at Rhea's locker just shy of the entrance to the cafeteria. All three put their textbooks inside and quickly straightened out their respective outfits in her locker mirror. Finally noticing
Sydney's silence, Rhea turned to face her. “What's wrong with you?

“Nothing worth talking about,” Sydney answered. “The regular Lauren dramatics ruining my life.”

“Okay…” Rhea hesitated.

“You know, Syd, I meant to tell you earlier how cute your skirt is today. BCBG?” Carmen immediately attempted to steer the conversation in a more neutral direction.

“Actually it's Theory, but thanks. I picked it up a couple of weeks ago at Nordstrom. I was worried that it made my thighs look a little big, but it was marked down almost half off so I couldn't pass it up. What do you guys think?” Sydney turned slightly so her friends could scrutinize the knee-length brown A-line skirt with pink-ribbon detail that complemented her cream top.

“Absolutely not. You look adorable,” Carmen assured.

“You're so good,” Rhea confirmed as she slammed the locker door and twisted the purple-faced Master Lock one last time for good measure.

Sydney allowed a small smile to cross her face. Her friends always knew the right things to say to make her feel better. If only Carmen or Rhea had been born her sister, there was no way either of the two would've cosigned on some skanky loser trying to come on to Marcus. Sydney struggled to keep her mouth shut about the cryptic messages from Dara on Marcus's
computer. As much as she trusted her girls, there was no way Sydney was about to let on to anyone that her boyfriend might be cheating on her. Like Dice always asserted, if you don't want it to be, don't even speak it into being. “You guys ready? I'm totally starving to death.”

As usual, the activity in the cafeteria bordered on organized pandemonium. Out of the three separate lunch periods during the school day, third period was always rowdiest. In one corner the jocks horsed around loudly and entertained the giggling dance-squad members with antics that occasionally included harassing the tech geeks who sat huddled together discussing the latest high-speed gadget they planned to use their allowances to purchase. In the opposite corner, the future Black Republicans of America pretended that they were a “different kind of black people” from the tight-knit circle of young men wearing baggy jeans and the latest Billionaire Boys Club T-shirts engaged in a particularly heated rhyme battle. Drama club members predictably rocked their uniform head-to-toe black attire like a badge of honor as they shared a table beside the large-windowed wall with the members of the band. The distinct smell of weed and days-old smoke assaulted Sydney's nostrils as she made her way past the table of sleepy-looking stoners. A heavyset lunch monitor with a tacky auburn weave and serious attitude problem named Miz Bea wandered slowly between the various tables throwing dirty looks and threats of after-school
detention toward any individual who seemed on the verge of cutting up.

“I already know Sydney is having her usual extra-large, strawberry, banana, and wheat-germ smoothie, but what about you, Rhea?” Carmen asked as the girls made their way toward the tower of food trays.

“Depends. My bathroom scale says a chicken-salad wrap, but I must say those Tater Tots are calling my name…”

“You are so damn ghetto, talking about the Tater Tots calling your name,” Carmen giggled. “You know you need to back away from the deep fryer.”

“I know, I know,” Rhea answered remorsefully. “I just can't help myself.”

“Please try,” Sydney said playfully as she passed trays to Rhea and then Carmen. “Next thing, you'll be requesting smothered chicken, red Kool-Aid, and a side of watermelon.”

“Hey! I happen to love smothered chicken and watermelon,” Carmen asserted as they reached the serving area.

“And yet, we love you anyway, Carm,” said Sydney.

“Whatever.” Carmen laughed good-naturedly as she examined the expiration dates on the various flavors of yogurt.

When the three finally finished collecting their respective lunches—a health shake for Sydney; yogurt, turkey sandwich, and Perrier for Carmen; and a wrap with Vitamin Water for Rhea—the girls headed over to their table in the very center
of the cafeteria.

“So I was telling Sydney that the boy from the golf-pro shop finally called me,” Carmen told Rhea.

“Sweet,” Rhea responded as she stopped to grab napkins and straws.

“We shall see. He wants to hang out on Saturday afternoon. I was kinda hoping that we could all swing by the mall after school so I can try to find something to wear…”

“I'm in. What about you Sydney?” Rhea chirped. “Syd? Hello, Earth to Sydney…”

Once again, Sydney was completely distracted from the conversation around her. But this time she was far from spacing out. In fact, her attention was completely focused on what appeared to the uninformed eye to be a casual conversation between Sydney's boyfriend and her sister's best friend. “Um, sure. I'm down. You guys ready to sit?” Rhea and Carmen barely had time to reply before Sydney was halfway across the cafeteria and all the way up in Dara's face.

“I'm sorry, I'm not interrupting anything here am I?” Sydney questioned innocently as she inserted herself between Marcus and Dara on the table bench by discreetly elbowing Dara in her side.

“Oh, hey, Sydney! I didn't even see you come in the café,” Marcus explained uneasily as he scooted farther away
than necessary from Dara and turned toward the still-standing Rhea and Carmen. “Hey, ladies.”

“Hey, y'all,” Dara offered lamely as she now teetered precariously on the edge of the short bench for two.

“Hey,” Carmen and Rhea replied in unison as they walked around to the empty side of the table and assumed their regular seats.

“Well, it's no wonder you didn't see us, what with Dara all up in your face like that, sweetie,” Sydney continued in a deceptively cheerful tone as she picked up one of the many straws on Rhea's tray and pulled it out of the paper wrapper. Rhea's eyes bulged as Carmen gasped audibly.

“Well, then, on that note I think I'll head back over to my table…” Dara said, as she quickly stood up to leave the table.

“Yes, why don't you?” Sydney finished with a sneer. “Unless, of course, there's something that you'd like to share with
all
of us?” She looked at Dara expectantly.

“Have a nice lunch, Marcus,” Dara huffed as she retreated back across the room to the dance squad's table.

Carmen, Rhea, and Marcus sat in shocked silence as Sydney took a long pull from her shake and looked across the table innocently. “What's wrong with you guys?”

“Nothing,
nada,
” Carmen and Rhea replied, starting to eat their respective lunches as if their very lives depended on it.

Marcus cleared his throat, “So, yeah, me and Dara were just talking about the exam that we have next week.”

“Is that so?” Sydney questioned as she stared Marcus down. In between bites, Carmen and Rhea discreetly exchanged looks of disbelief. In four years, they had never once seen Sydney so much as disagree with Marcus, let alone talk smack to him in the middle of the café.

“Uh, yeah. And I was just telling her that because of a conflict in my schedule she was probably gonna have to find someone else to study with from now on.”

“Hmm, that's unfortunate for her. We all know Dara's not really the brightest,” Sydney said without breaking her steely gaze.

In response, Marcus tugged at the French cuffs of his white-and-blue-striped Brooks Brothers button-up. “I'm sure she'll be all right,” he mumbled.

Just then, Jason and a couple of teammates strolled past en route to the jocks' table. Jason slowed down as he reached Sydney's back. “Hey, Syd, what's good?” Jason said with a smile as he lightly brushed Sydney's shoulders to get her attention.

“Oh, hey, Jason. How you doing?” Sydney turned from Marcus and stood up to offer Jason a hug and a smile. She barely suppressed a laugh as she imagined the look on Marcus's face.

“You know, ‘bout to get my grub on,” he continued easily, as if unaware of the three sets of eyes blazing holes in his face.

“Well, let me not get in your way then,” Sydney retorted playfully, stepping back.

“True, true. I'll holler at you later,” he said, and with a quick general head nod at the entire table, Jason was gone.

As soon as Sydney could sit back down, Rhea jumped all over her. “Well, excuse me. I didn't know you knew Jason,” she teased good-naturedly as Carmen raised her eyebrows suggestively at his retreating back. “You holding out on us now?”

“Yeah, Syd. Since when are you and Jason Darden so tight?” Marcus seethed.

“What can I say? You'd be surprised at the things that I know,” Sydney hinted slyly.

“Is that so?” Marcus struggled to keep his voice even as he noticed Carmen and Rhea watching the couple go back and forth, like Venus and Serena at the final round of the US Open. “'Cause this one's news to me, too.”

Sydney pretended not to hear Marcus's last comment and instead focused on her girls. “So anyway, Rhea, you were saying that Mr. Hicks was giving out pop quizzes?”