Hustlin' (15 page)
Authors: L. Divine
The holiday traffic and after-church crowd make the Sunday cruise more like a crawl as we creep down Crenshaw back to Nigel's side of town. Sandy called again, wanting to know if he could bring Rahima back earlier because Sandy's got plans all of a sudden. Rah offered to keep their daughter for another night rather than rush her back, but Sandy wasn't having it and neither was Rah, who decided not to change his original plans.
I need to make a stronger repellant for him to keep Sandy away. My other one has affected Trish somewhat, but she's taking her time leaving Rah alone, too. But Sandy's a special kind of trick, and it's going to take a special kind of potion to get her off of Rah.
When we finally make it to Nigel's house, his parents aren't home from church yet. After her big lunch, Rahima fell asleep in the car. Rah managed to take her out of her car seat and put her down on Nigel's living room couch without waking her up. For a man with such big hands, Rah's touch is as light as a feather when it comes to his daughter. Rah sits down next to her, covering her with her favorite blanket.
“Jayd, tell them to be quiet before they wake up Rahima,” Rah says, whispering over his daughter.
I stop at the entrance and turn around to face our friends outside. “Nigel, shhh,” I whisper, causing Nigel and Mickey to look at me crazy. I look back at Rah and then out the door. We all smile at the thought of us as parents. It's a crazy picture, but nothing surprises me anymore.
Nigel leaves the front door open while he unloads Mickey's bags out of the car. She wants to look over her booty now instead of waiting until she gets home tonight. Probably because she doesn't want to hear her daddy's mouth. He could care less about the baby's wardrobe. What Mickey's father's concerned with is her marital status and so is Mickey. Her parents are serious about Mickey not being a single mother. All they need is another mouth to feed in her full house. Eyeing the joint like it's her property to scope, Mickey looks around the front yard, inspecting the five steps leading to the grand entrance, which is where I'm standing.
“What's down here?” Mickey asks, walking in and passing me by. She notices the door off to the right of the large living room. She must've seen it through the window from outside. The house has many rooms yet to be discovered. Mickey looks like she's making plans to move in. I know she has to know better than that. She met Nigel's parents and I know she can tell they aren't raising any grandbabies up in here. If she doesn't realize it, then she's in for a rude awakening.
“That's the game room. The construction's almost done. Want to see?” Nigel leads us down the six steps opening up to a large room with a massive pool table in the center. There's an air hockey table to the right, arcade games lining the back walls, and another basketball hoop attached to the to the top of the back door. They love to ball around here, no matter what kind of balling it is. Mr. Esop makes it no secret that he prefers basketball over football because he used to play pro. But as long as Nigel stays in sports, Mr. Esop's happy.
“Can you still shoot pool, Jayd?” Rah asks, leaving a sleeping Rahima on the couch and joining us. My dad has a pool table in his garage, although it's not fancy like this one. I rub my hands across the shiny red wood. It's the smoothest cherry I've ever felt and is accompanied by equally stunning, brand new balls and cues. Nigel's folks are still in the process of remodeling, but this room is pretty close to being finished.
“A little,” I say, dummying down my skills. My daddy always taught me that a true hustler doesn't let his or her opponent know their true talent until they're ready to win. And we've had such a good day I don't want to ruin it by squashing Rah and Nigel's precious egos. However, I wouldn't mind kicking Mickey's ass in a game of pool. “Mickey, you play?”
“Hell nah, girl. What I look like shooting pool with these nails?” Mickey holds up her acrylic claws, showing off her fresh airbrush for me to see. I hope she knows those things will have to be toned down to wipe her baby's ass on the regular. My girl's in for a shock when her baby finally pops out. No more three-inch nails with fancy hoops hanging out of them and shit like that. She may have to settle for home manicures like mine.
“Now Mickey, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you was trying to hustle someone into thinking you're inexperienced at this game,” Mr. Esop says, calling Mickey out without even knowing how true his words are. He enters through the back door of the spacious room, taking us all by surprise. His six-foot-nine frame fills up the room, immediately making my short self feel even smaller. His wife stops outside the back door, looking for something and leaving her husband to greet us first. “Hey kids.”
“Hi, Mr. Esop,” we all chime in unison. Mickey looks uncomfortable, but continues to stand next to Nigel at the opposite end of the table.
“Hey, Dad. How was church?” Nigel asks, picking up one of the two cue sticks lying on the felt table and passing it to Mickey, who's pleased with the attention. From the smile on Mr. Esop's face, he looks pleased with his son's latest girl. Apparently he doesn't know Mickey's about to make him a grandfather. I'm guessing his smile will turn upside down when he does find out.
“It was fine, but you'd know that if you'd come with us. You should come too, Mickey. Our church has one of the largest congregation in the entire county and we love getting visitors.” The Esops belong to one of those large Black churches that come on television Sunday nights begging for more money. I never understand why those churches need so much cheddar. The Esops' church not only has a main sanctuary, but it also has a dome for their televised services, as well as an amphitheater for concerts, and other smaller buildings around the property, too. They're founding members and never miss a Sunday service.
“Thank you, Mr. Esop. I'll consider it,” she says, shocking the hell out of us all, Nigel included. Mickey's really trying to get in good with his family, even pretending to be interested in the Lord when we all know she's more closely related to his nemesisâand most of the time, she's proud of it. Mickey's about as Christian as bin Laden. But if going to church means being in the family, Mickey will probably be singing in the choir before it's all said and done.
“You've got a good one here, son. You better hold on to her,” Mr. Esop says, picking up a cue of his own and shooting three solid balls into a corner pocket, just for the fun of it.
“I plan on it, Dad.”
Rah and I roll our eyes at each other, sick of the gushy love between our friends. I miss having Nellie and Chance around to add some comic relief to our crew. Although if she were here now, Nellie would be so jealous she wouldn't be able to contain her hating for one second, which wouldn't be funny at all. I feel Nellie's beef with the way Nigel and Mickey are handling their baby business, but there's no use in worrying about what I can't control. Nellie needs to learn that lesson, and fast, or else she's going to lose Mickey's friendship permanently.
“Yeah, son. It's better to get a good girl and hold on to her now, before you get famous. The real hussies start to come out when they can smell money on you, ain't that right, Rah?”
Rah looks around the room, trying to pretend like he didn't hear the question. He doesn't want to give an answer he might regret once Nigel's parents find out about the baby.
But Mr. Esop doesn't let him off so easy, continuing to shoot the remaining balls on the table and bait Rah into a response at the same time. “Cat got your tongue, son?”
“No, sir,” Rah says, clearing his throat and standing up straight against the wall where we're posted. “You're right, sir.”
“You're damned right I'm right,” Mr. Esop says. “These hot-ass hussies out here these days, boy I tell you. They'll pretend like they're all innocent and what not and then, bam, they've got you right in the pocket, claiming they're carrying your baby or whatever. That's how the real hustling hussies get you, sons. And they're usually the finest onesâno offense, ladies.”
Mickey looks ill and I don't think it's from her morning sickness. That phase of her pregnancy's almost over anyway.
“Not all fine girls are out to get us,” Nigel says, holding on to Mickey tight, reassuring her that he's got this one. Mickey still looks ill, but more secure than ever.
“Not all, but most. That's why I'm saying keep these girls around, both of you. Learn from my mistakes, boys. Before I met your mother, there were a couple of hotties that tried to catch me up, but I'm too sharp to get hustled.” Mr. Esop shoots the eight ball into another corner pocket, which he calls beforehand, like a professional. “Why do you think I learned how to play pool so well? Some people think chess teaches you about life, but not out here in this game.”
“Is your father boring you with his pool philosophy again, Nigel?” Mrs. Esop asks as she seemingly floats into the room, holding freshly cut flowers from her garden. I was wondering what was taking her so long to come in from outside. She removes the large yellow hat from her head, placing it on the arm of the couch before heading into the living room. Mrs. Esop's always dressed to the nines, especially on a church day.
“Nah, he's just schooling us on the street game,” Nigel says, looking relieved to see his mom. Mickey looks like she's feeling better, too, now that the conversation has been interrupted, or so we think.
“Whose little precious is this?” Mrs. Esop says, leaning back into the open doorway connecting the game room and living room.
“That's my little precious,” Rah says, proudly eyeing his sleeping angel with Mrs. Esop and me. We've all heard about this little girl, but none of us have ever met. “Her name's Rahima.”
“Oh Rah, she's perfect, even if you are way too young to be someone's daddy.” Before we can adjust to the low blow, Mrs. Esop spots Mickey's bags by the front door. At first glance, she doesn't seem to connect all of the dots. But the shadow slowly moving across her caramel complexion and erasing her smile says that Mrs. Esop's processing all of the information.
Noticing the vibe, Mickey tries to do damage control before it all clicks for Nigel's mom. “Nigel, we'd better get going. Let me get my stuff out of your doorway,” Mickey says, walking across the room toward the front door, ready to claim her goods and get going.
But not before we all have to face Mrs. Esop's interrogation.
“I can understand the baby clothes because there's a baby in the room, but are those maternity clothes in that bag? Jayd, are you pregnant?”
Why does she assume I'm the one who's pregnant? Back when I used to hang with Sandy, Mrs. Esop thought I'd gone to the bad side, becoming a hottie. But it was Rah, not me, and I thought she understood that. But, as usual, it's the girl who has to take the rap.
“No, Mrs. Esop, I'm not pregnant.” Rah looks down at me, shaking his head from side to side. We both know we're all about to catch hell for our two friends.
Mickey decides to continue heading for the door, picking up one of her bags. Mrs. Esop gently but very firmly takes the light blue shopping bag away from Mickey, who was using it to hide her baby bump, which is now apparent for everyone to see. If Mickey would stop wearing her tight-ass clothes, she wouldn't look so obvious this early in the pregnancy. But it's too late to change now.
“Well, I guess now's as good a time as any to tell y'all that Mickey and I are having a baby,” Nigel says, joining his girl in front of his mother. Both of his parents look too shocked to speak. But his mother's not done quite yet. Mr. Esop shakes his head as he replaces the cue stick in its holder on the wall before joining his wife in the foyer with the rest of us. Rah walks over to Rahima, who's waking up from her peaceful nap.
“I had to fight many a hussy off your father in our day,” Nigel's mom says, holding her husband's arm tightly with her right hand while unconsciously crushing the flowers in her left. I can tell she wasn't, and still isn't, a woman to be messed with. Her pristine nature keeps her heat in check, but she's from Compton just like the rest of us. So I know that through her ivory Dolce & Gabbana suit and heels, she's got that ghetto girl buried deep down inside.
“Why couldn't you be more like that KJ boy I'm always hearing about? You should've played basketball this season, too. Maybe then you wouldn't have had so much idle time on your hands.”
Nigel looks deflated. His dad's always riding his ass and likes to use bible scriptures to do it.
“Not to hate on KJ, but I used to date him and he's not all that.” Mr. and Mrs. Esop look at me like I just farted loudly and tried to play it off. I decide to take myself out of this conversation and join Rah in the living room.
“Yes, that's it. You need to get back into the church,” his mother says, looking hard at me.
What did I do? I didn't give it up to him. That was all Mickey's doing.
“That's a good idea. First thing tomorrow morning we're going to sign you up for some extracurricular activities in the church. We'll talk to the pastor after this evening's service, which you will be attending.”
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