Midnight (33 page)

Inside, there were three walls covered with uninflated new balloons of every imaginable color. Every two inches of wall had a different color balloon sample pinned up.

“How many colors?” I asked the lady up front.

“We have 240 different colors. That’s three times the amount of colors offered in the deluxe Crayola crayon box. Each balloon is fifty cents except if you buy in bulk, which is an order of one hundred or more balloons. Then it’s twenty-five cents each.” She smiled.

“One hundred balloons,” I repeated, skeptical.

“You’d be surprised. Some businesses and events order tons of them. They make a plain place look exciting and women and children love them.”

Looking around I figured they had to be selling something besides balloons to turn a real profit. Although I could see from the extremely small size of the space that the rent they were paying couldn’t be too much.

“What else you selling?” I asked the lady.

“Just balloons,” she answered. “But our balloons are filled with a special helium solution. The balloons from the other
stores will die out in an hour or two. Ours will last for forty-eight hours or more,” she said.

“Forty-eight hours?” I repeated.

I ended up ordering one hundred balloons from their elite line, the psychedelic ones with the crazy colors that I knew she would like. They would match her strange stockings and tights. They cost double the price of the basic colors. There was also a twenty-five-dollar service fee for the short guy whose job was to pump ’em up. Then there was the twenty-five-dollar delivery charge to have the balloons delivered to New Jersey where Akemi was staying for the week. I was starting to see how the Helium Hub made their profit. But I didn’t care about the money. I wasn’t gonna walk around the city holding a bunch of balloons like some kind of clown. Yet, I grabbed the opportunity to do something special that she could feel. Once she received them, I would invite her to come out to the
agid
ceremony with me on Saturday. Umma wanted to meet her and Naja was going to be there too, so it meant the world to me.

“Each balloon will be knotted and then tied with three colorful twisted ribbons,” the lady said, after collecting my information and my money and completing my receipt.

“Would you like to write anything on the card? It’s complimentary with your delivery.” She pointed to the small card collection in her counter case.

I chose a lavender-colored gift card and wrote inside.

Akemi, I would like you to meet my family on this Saturday at five o’clock. If you say yes, I’ll come and get you from wherever you are and bring you back safely afterwards.

Mayonaka

I knew it would be her cousin reading the note aloud to her, or someone else in her family. So I wanted it to be short and simple and decent. Then, I would wait for her or someone in her family to give me a call and hopefully a favorable answer.

In the evening, I showed up on the Deuce to meet with Chris and Ameer and their girls as promised. Forty-second Street was all lit up and bursting with people and tourists, same as it would be late into the night, same as it would be almost twenty-four hours a day. Our meet-up spot, the arcade, was three floors of fun for teens and tourists, and con men and pimps looking for teens and tourists. In New York, that was unavoidable. It just came with the territory.

Chris was inside the picture booth behind the curtain with his girl. I recognized him by his kicks.

Homegirl was alone and bent over on the pinball machine. Her face changed as soon as she saw me roll up.

“I thought you was gonna leave me hanging,” was her greeting to me after all of this time.

“Is that what I should’ve done?” I asked her.

“Oh, and you got a smart mouth,” she said.

“Did you show up to watch or do you wanna play?” I asked her.

“Yeah, let’s do the air hockey, I’m good at that,” she said. I put the dollar in. We grabbed our handles and started slamming that plastic puck around like our lives depended on it. She was mean on the table. I imagined she was looking at that puck like it was me. She was banging that shit with a vengeance.

Every time she leaned in, those 34 Ds bubbled out of her Danskin body shirt. I could see the white body powder in her cleavage. She had her leather belt drawn tight around her small waist and wore jeans that couldn’t restrain that
ass. I was part playing the game, part checking her out. Her ten-karat gold knocker earrings dangling from her ears. She rocked Reeboks.

As I looked around the place, every teenage female had on the same thing, tight jeans, tees, and kicks, nice-looking bodies, okay faces, but not a lot of originality, style, or variety. I thought to myself, I could pick any one of these girls. It seemed like no matter what, I’d end up with the same damn thing.

After a while, I let her win the game but didn’t tell her that.

“I told you I was good,” she said, grinning.

“Let’s play Pac-Man,” she suggested. I followed her over, not really interested in the little girly game. I dropped in two quarters and she pushed “two players.” She got ate up real quick because she couldn’t be calm and steady. Pac-Man is a simple game of nerves.

All six of us ended up lined up side by side, driving the race cars against one another. I don’t know about the girls but me, Ameer, and Chris was definitely competing to run each other off the road and race to the finish line. Chris had his hands gripped tight on the steering wheel, his face all screwed up like this shit was for real. He was in a zone like he gets in a good basketball game. Ameer was serious at first, then lost focus laughing at Redbone, whose car was crashing into everything including the walls and even driving backwards from the finish line. Homegirl was looking over at me when Chris won the race.

“Let’s go somewhere and get something to eat,” Redbone said. Chris jumped in immediately and said, “Pizza.” Me and Ameer both laughed, knowing this cat was constantly concerned about the budget.

At the pizza store, Chris slid his girl some money and a motherfucking buy-one-get-one-free coupon! He told her,
“Get two pies and drinks.” We laughed again. The girls went up to get the food. We hung back and took the chance to talk.

“What’s the plan?” I asked.

“We’ll take them to the 7:45
P.M.
show at the Roy-Al. The seats lean back,” Ameer said, smiling.

“I brought a bag of candy in case they ask for anything,” Chris said, cracking up.

“Damn, you can’t break down and buy her a bucket of popcorn?” I asked him.

“Not when I can get twenty pieces of candy for a dollar and popcorn at the movies cost five dollars,” he said.

“You too cheap, man,” Ameer barked.

“The more I save, the more we save. You’ll be thanking me later when we taking turns driving our new Testarossa.”

“Word up,” I agreed.

Homegirl and Redbone came back with two pies. Chris’ girl carried the drinks in a cardboard tray.

I sat there staring at the two pork pepperoni pizzas before I just stood up and walked away from the table. I’m thinking that Redbone and Ameer been together now for a minute. She
been
chilling at his house and him at hers. He
been
bringing her around to all our spots. Didn’t she know he considered himself a Muslim and that
we don’t eat no God damned pork?
I wasn’t hungry anyway. Still I didn’t want to sit over the pig on the pie.

I realized these chicks didn’t really know us. Even if we explained ourselves to them, they either wouldn’t understand or wouldn’t care, or better yet would think we was on some bullshit.

I heard Homegirl ask her girlfriends, “What the fuck’s wrong with him now?” Chris jumped up and grabbed the two round trays with the pies untouched and took them back to the counter.

Next thing I know an argument broke out between Chris and the guy up front. The angry Italian was refusing to take back the pies. “Once the pie leaves the counter it’s yours,” he barked.

Me and Ameer stepped up. As soon as he saw us coming he picked up his telephone receiver and threatened to call the police. The girls ran up, talking about “What’s wrong y’all? There ain’t nothing wrong with this pizza.” Each of the three of them grabbed a slice for themselves and started chomping. The angry Italian hung up the phone. Now the girls were sitting with the pork pies back at the table. We fellas were still standing, our jaws tight, estimating what could be done about the rude Italian.

I knew the girls thought they was helping us stay out of a fight or from getting arrested. But I was burning anyway.

“Forget it. They didn’t know,” Ameer said, defending the girls.

“I can order one without the meat. Nobody told them to put pepperonis on it anyway,” Chris said.

“Nah, I’m good,” I told them. “I’m not hungry.” We went back to join them at the table. I sat sideways in the chair just cooling out my temper. Homegirl was staring at me outright. Redbone was getting her secret glances on. Then they would signal each other. None of it mattered to me.

At the movies I hung back and got some popcorn and a Coke. When I walked inside, I seen everybody was paired off and seated in separate rows and sections. I handed the popcorn and the drink to Homegirl.

“Thanks,” she said.

In the dark theatre Chris and his girl, and Ameer and his girl, got it on. For them, it didn’t matter what the fuck was on the screen.

After just ten minutes Homegirl got real aggravated. For some reason she started squirming in her chair and looking
around. She wasn’t interested in the film, I guessed. She started exhaling real hard, then folded her hands across her body. I looked at her. She was rolling her eyes.

I don’t know what she was thinking, but I was thinking, to me she was average. Her personality didn’t shine through. She had a nasty attitude and her conversation had my mind wandering off all over the place.

Redbone’s face was buried in Ameer’s lap. As he leaned back in the flexible theatre seats, her head was bobbing up and down. I thought to myself, no wonder this brother was pushing so hard for me to get with Homegirl. If I wasn’t here to keep her out of Redbone’s face, he would’ve lost out.

“Can I say something to you?” Homegirl asked.

“Talk,” I told her.

“What the fuck did I ever do to you?” she asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I answered calmly. But I could tell without even turning my head towards her that she was getting real wild up.

“Since you first met me you been acting like you too good for me. What’s up with that?”

“You don’t really want to know,” I told her, still calm.

“If I didn’t want to know I wouldn’t even ask,” she shot back with attitude.

“When I first met you, you was with some other dudes,” I told her.

“So,” she said. “I didn’t know you yet.”

“You didn’t know them either,” I answered her. She sat quiet for a minute.

“Then, after you was with them, you switched up and rolled with us,” I reminded her.

“So? Your man liked my girl!” she explained.

“Right,” was all I answered.

“Right what?” she asked with fury.

“He picked her. Chris picked your other girl. But I didn’t pick you,” I said calmly. She didn’t have no quick response.

“I told you that you didn’t really want to know,” I said.

After a few seconds, she asked, “If I wouldn’tve been with them other niggas first, and you just met up with us like a coincidence, would you have picked me?”

“Nah,” I told her.

“Why?!” she screamed.

A couple of people in the theatre turned around saying “sshh” loudly.

“Relax,” I told her. Then I didn’t say nothing else.

“Why the fuck not?” she asked, getting loud all over again.

“I’m not saying nothing else. You getting too crazy,” I told her.

She stood up and in one unexpected motion dumped the Coke and emptied the popcorn box on me. As I sat there drenched in soda syrup and popcorn butter, I saw myself standing up and choking the shit out of her.

I didn’t have to be able to see my Ralph Lauren suede shirt to know that it was ruined. Now I would have to throw away a garment that cost me two weeks’ pay. The Coke was all over the already dirty movie theatre floor, mixing with the dirt and grease, and making a paste on the bottom and sides and in the ridges of my Lo boots.

But, my father told me, “Never beat a woman; if she gets crazy, just restrain her.” I thought about his words and I thought about getting out of there before this chick got so loud that next thing I would be up against the wall getting patted down by the popo.

Ameer and Chris was on their way over towards us. I got up calmly and told them. “Don’t even worry about it. I
knew
I didn’t want to fuck with this crazy broad. I’ll check y’all tomorrow.” I moved to roll out and Homegirl stuck both her feet forward to block my path. I stepped over her and left.

Back on the Deuce, wearing a wet and stained shirt in the night chill of spring, I walked right into a nearby narrow Army & Navy store. I picked out a new crispy green army shirt and pants and popped the tags and put them on. At the register I paid cash and regretfully dropped the Ralph Lauren and my wife beater into the steel wastebasket.

Outside I cleaned my boots off with a bunch of napkins and bottled water I copped from a frank stand.

A lot of cats were milling on my Brooklyn block that night. Springtime brings everybody out who was either hibernating or hiding for the winter.

I was walking through on a humble, home much earlier than I planned to be, maneuvering to stay out of any one guy’s path or clique. Still I was watching, catching everything going on to my left and my right, as well as directly in front of me.

Of course I seen Kelvin, aka Conflict, hosting an outside conference in the corner in the dark. I had noticed his black Camry first, with the white leather interior and the big Mercedes-Benz sticker he had plastered across his back window. DeQuan was standing with him in a tight circle of four, his brand new Kawasaki bike parked close by with one of his brothers standing on post to make sure nobody fucked with it.