Authors: Ni-Ni Simone

No Boyz Allowed (3 page)

BOOK: No Boyz Allowed

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I
sat Indian style in the center of my bed, surfing through cable channels, when this rude lunatic interrupted me. I looked up and stared at her like she was crazy.

Ms. Grier slammed a hand on her hip. “All week long you’ve been sitting in this room, only coming out when it’s dinnertime, like this is jail and you’re reporting to mess hall. Constantly keeping to yourself and not talking to anyone. Well, this is a home, okay!”

What the hell...
“Okay,” I said nonchalantly, secretly hoping that me agreeing would shut her up and send her on her way. But it didn’t. Instead, she yelled, “Khalil, where are you?”

“I’m here, Grier,” he said like he was just as sick of her as I was. He stepped through my doorway and took a deep breath. Then he placed four extra-large shopping bags from Forever 21, True Religion, Deliah’s, and Hollister on my bed. Afterward, he walked out of my room and quickly returned with three sneaker boxes, a pair of Uggs, and two pairs of four-inch stilettos.

Inside, I felt like I was in heaven, but on the outside I maintained the game face that said I was less than impressed. I knew I should’ve said thank you, but I didn’t.

“I helped to pick it, Gem!” Malik said, excited as I noticed his new outfit: a black pair of jeans, a football jersey, and black pair of Vans. Obviously, he’d been hanging with them at the mall. “This is yours, too, Gem!” He placed a brand new, hot pink, Spalding basketball next to me and whispered, loudly, “She made me do it.”

Ms. Grier shot him a look out the corner of her eye.

Malik carried on, “I had to tell her what you liked or it was gon’ be a problem.”

“I’m sure, Malik,” I said.

He continued his loud whisper. “All I told her is that you were a pink Nike girl, who used to shoot hoops.”

“You can stop trying to whisper, Malik,” I said.

“If I stop whispering then she’ll know all your secrets.” He squinted. “And I know you don’t want anybody to know how good you used to be before you transferred from school to school. And how you used to be the starting point guard and how you’d won a trophy—that we lost somewhere along the way. And I know you don’t want her to find out that when you grow up you want to play in the WNBA.”

“No, Malik,” I said sarcastically. “That’s our secret.”

“Exactly.” He shot me a quick smile and then looked at Ms. Grier. “See, I told you Gem would like the basketball.” He turned back to me and said tight-lipped, “Just roll with it. Baby Tot-Tot got you.”

“I see,” I said sarcastically.

He shot me a quick smile and then looked at Ms. Grier. “See, I told you Gem would like the ball.” He turned back to me and said tight-lipped, “Now tell her you like it.”

But I couldn’t tell her that, because honestly, I was done with balling and I was doing my best to shake any and all urges that I got to play again. That part of my life was dead. I was over it. Mostly because I’d had enough of making a name for myself on a team and then as soon as I got settled in, I’d have to move from one foster home to the next, and the next, and be transferred from one high school to another... and another. So in order to keep my feelings in check, I quit. Never mind that playing ball was the only escape I had. The only worry-free zone in my life... I had to skip all of that and fast-forward to my reality—which had no room for three-point plays.

“Tell her you like it, Gem.” Malik repeated, like he was holding his breath until I said yes.

I hesitated.
Just say it.
“Yeah, I like it, it’s cool.”

“Great,” Ms. Grier said. “And maybe when school starts you’ll try out for the team.”

I wish she would step off.

Ms. Grier paused for a moment and the room grew silent. “Now all we need is a thank you, and we can be on our way,” she said, breaking the monotony.

She was really pushing it. “Thank you,” I said dryly.

“You’re welcome.” She smiled as if she’d just struck it rich. “Now, come on Khalil. ’Cause now I need to go to the grocery store.”

“The grocery store? Wait for me!” Malik ran after them, leaving me sitting quietly in a sea of department store shopping bags and a basketball.

I told myself that this wasn’t a big deal—that it meant absolutely nothing.

Problem was: it felt like a big deal.

And it felt like it meant something...

I shook off my thoughts and peeked into each shopping bag. There were at least eight or nine pairs of jeans, leggings, sweatpants, hoodies, skirts, the cutest T-shirts, blouses, and accessories. Even cute bras and underwear. A heated wave of happiness—that I hadn’t felt in a long time—washed over me.

I ran my fingers over the basketball’s ridges and through the grooves. A smile forced its way on my face.

I twirled the ball around on the tip of my index finger.

Maybe I don’t have anything to lose...

And maybe I do...

Chance it.

I eased off the bed, ball in hand, and walked down the hall toward Man-Man’s room.

I bit the corner of my lip and sucked in a deep breath. I swallowed and knocked softly on the door.

“Ma,” Man-Man said. “I’m cleaning up my room now. And no, I don’t need your help because all you gon’ do is stand in the middle of the floor and tell me how this don’t make no sense.”

I knocked again. “Man-Man,” I called.

He hesitated and then I heard him walk toward the door. From the sound of things he unlocked about three deadbolts and knocked off a security chain before he cracked open the door. He pressed his face into the slit and said, “No guns allowed.”

“Funny.” I twisted my lips to the side. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Whatever you heard, it’s not true,” he said. “This house is filled with haters and they stay lying on me.”

This dude is nuts.
“I only wanted to ask you to play ball.”

He opened his door wide. “Play ball with who?” He looked down one end of the hallway and then turned his head and looked down the other end.

I placed one hand on my hip. “With me.”

“Play ball with you?” He frowned.

“What, you don’t play with girls?”

“Nah, I don’t. And I especially don’t roll with pink balls.”

“What, your skills shaky?”

“Gurl, who you think you talking to?” He squared his shoulders and pointed to his chest. “This is G-Bread, the pimp formerly known as Man-Man. I got skills. Mad skills. I just don’t ball with chicks.”

I rolled my eyes. “You must be scared.”

“Never.”

“Well then prove it. ’Cause I got twenty bills that says I can play better than you.”

“Twenty bills?” His eyes opened wide and he stroked his goatee.

I knew that would get his attention.

“You got twenty dollars?” he asked, raising one brow and dipping the other.

Puhlease. I’m broker than an old ho with no stroll.
“Is that a yes?” I asked. “Or you procrastinating?”

Man-Man cleared his throat. “G-Bread never procrastinates.”

“Then bring it.”

“Brought. Just make sure you have some tissue,” he said as he walked out of his room and I followed him out the front door.

“Tissue for what?” I asked as we stepped over toward the basketball hoop.

“For when I spank dat, you’ll have something to wipe your tears.”

“Boy, please.” I flicked my hand and dribbled the ball. “First of twenty.”

“Nah, first of ten. You need to pay me two dollars for each shot.”

“Oh, you’re real cocky.”

“I’m not cocky, baby. Confident.”

“Whatever.” I chuckled as I bounced the ball to him. “Check.”

“
Y
o, that lil raggedy pink ball wrecked my flow,” Man-Man insisted as he sucked in and shoved out two deep breaths while he rested his hands on his knees.

I bucked my eyes at him and shot him a look that clearly said,
“You buggin’.”
“There was no flow. And with all those playground jump shots you tried, you probably wrecked my ball.”

“A grown man shouldn’t be playing with a pink ball anyway.”

A grown man . . .?

He carried on, “Got me looking all thirsty and everything.”

“Thirsty?”

“Yeah, thirsty.” He stood up straight and placed his hands over his eyes like a sun visor. “And I hope the neighbors aren’t watching me. This better not end up on YouTube.”

Is he fa’ real?
“YouTube?” I couldn’t help but laugh.

“You better recognize. Just like er’body wanna Doughie, well er’body want a piece of G-Bread.”

What?

“It’s my curse,” he said proudly. “Every time I turn around, it’s a chick sweatin’ me ’cause she can’t get enough of me. I keep telling ’em it’s only one of me, and on my days off she gon’ have to kick it with her boyfriend.”

He is really feeling himself.

“That’s why I had to change my name from Man-Man to G-Bread.”

“And what does the G stand for?”

“It stands for Girls can’t get enough of genuine fine.” He broke out into the end-zone dance and I knew at this moment he was definitely related to Cousin Shake. “And the crowd went wild!” he carried on.

“Umm . . .” I hesitated, completely lost for words.

“Got you speechless, huh? Playa-playa, baby. That’s how I do it.”

I blinked not once, but three times. “Oh . . . kay, so let’s just stick to the money you owe me.”

Man-Man looked at me and frowned—his laugh lines sank like parentheses around his mouth. “Everything is about money with you too, huh. You just like Toi. I thought having two sisters was hard, and now I got three of ’em. I feel like somebody’s trying to kill me.”

I paused for a moment.

Did he just call me his sister? And the word foster wasn’t in front of it?

“Besides, I’m kind of glad you won,” Man-Man continued.

“Yeah, right.”

“No, I am. Because now you can spot me some cash when we head out to this party tonight.”

“Spot you?”

He draped his left arm over my shoulders. “Check it, lil sister—”

There it was again . . .

“Picture it,” he pointed to the sky. “Tonight, me and you, at the hottest end-of-the summer-and-back-to-school-jammy-jam ever! Courtesy of tore-up-in-the-face-but-brickhouse-n-the-waist Shaquita and her twin sister, anybody-can-get-up-in-them-jeans Bownita.”

“Sounds like a strip club.”

“Nah, these are respectable church-going girls. Both of ’em sing in the choir. Now, just stay with me. The music is bumpin’, and then I walk up in the spot with you. Yo, you know how much play that’s gon’ get me with the honeys?”

“No.”

“Check it, they gon’ look at me and be like ‘Look at G.’” Man-Man kicked his voice up at least three octaves. “ ‘G is so hot and understanding. He brought his lil sister out the house and to the club. He’s so sweet and sensitive. I love him.’”

“Oh, so, this is only for your benefit?”

His voice returned to normal. “Nah, we gon’ both have fun. Lots of it.”

“Well, all of that would be nice if I really had some money, but I don’t.” I walked toward the front door and by the time I reached the doorway, I noticed Man-Man wasn’t behind me. I turned around and don’t you know this clown had the nerve to look shocked.

He stuttered, “What you, what you, what you mean you don’t have any money? What happened to it? How you gon’ make a bet and don’t have any money?”

“Excuse you?”

“I don’t believe this.”

“Believe it.” I walked into the foyer and toward the stairs.

“Hold up.” He jogged behind me. I stopped and stood on the bottom step. “A’ight,” he paused. “A’ight, let’s regroup.” He tapped his left index finger against his temple. “It’s coming to me.” He snapped his fingers. “It’s coming to me. . . . A’ight, boom, this is what we gon’ do. You gon’ hit up Mommy for some money
and
her car. ’Cause I don’t have any gas in mine.”

Rewind . . .
“What?!”

“She’ll give it to you,” he said reassuringly as he patted me on my right shoulder.

“First of all, I can’t drive.”

“I can. Got a license and everything.”

“Then why can’t you ask?”

“Because Toi murdered my reputation around here. I need to lay back in the cut for a minute. Feel me? But I know exactly what you could say.”

“I can’t ask Ms. Grier for money. And I’m definitely not asking for the car. Boy, please.”
Was he crazy?

“Whatcha mean you can’t ask?” His eyes popped out. “So you gon’ do me dirty like that?”

“This isn’t about you. I’m just not doing it.”

“A’ight,” he turned to walk away, but quickly turned back around. “A’ight,” he said and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s cool. So, umm, I guess we’ll have to stay home and watch Cousin Shake chase Ms. Minnie around the house.”

“Keep my name outcha mouth!” Cousin Shake spat as he walked past us wearing the tightest and the nastiest pair of red and blue Superman underwear I’d ever seen. And to top it off, he had on taxi-cab yellow knee pads and a clear plastic cape tied around his neck!

Gagging...

Immediately, I leaned against the wall because I knew that at any moment I would have a flashback of seeing Cousin Shake practically naked and die.

Jesus take the wheel...

“Told you.” Man-Man looked me over. “Can’t breathe, can you? Now, the choice is yours. So, what you gon’ do?”

I cleared my throat and stood up as straight as I could.

“So how exactly should I ask her?”

BOOK: No Boyz Allowed

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