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Vance

Practice
was the worst ever. It was hard trying to do physical activity with a pounding headache—or should I say
hangover.
The more beers I drank, the more they kept coming. Chauncey and Harlen made sure that Jaylen and I had the time of our lives. After practice, I called Tameka, just to let her know that I was capable of keeping a promise.

“What you doing?” I asked.

“Just leaving my exercise classes. Indi went with me today.” She seemed to be in a much better mood than I was.

“That's cool. I'm glad you had support,” I said.

“How was the party last night?” she asked.

“It was okay.” That was a lie. It was the best party I'd ever been to in my life! But I hid my enthusiasm. Didn't want to hurt Tameka's feelings or set her off. It was nothing for her emotions to be out of whack.

“Was it a lot of girls there?”

“Yeah, it was girls there, Tameka. It was a party. What kind of question is that?” I laughed.

“You dance with anybody?” she asked.

“I danced a couple of times. Yeah.”

The truth was, I stayed on the dance floor most of the night
because Lexi was definitely a dancer. She was like the Energizer Bunny. She didn't quit. And it was hard just keeping up with her. We finally took a break and ended up in a quiet little spot outside, where I held her and shielded her from the night air. We talked about everything under the sun—everything except for my girl at home, Tameka, and the fact that she's pregnant. I couldn't bring myself to tell Lexi everything. I was afraid. Afraid that she would walk away before I had the chance to get to know her better.

She spilled her guts about the dude that she'd left behind in Mississippi. It seemed that they grew up together and their parents were the best of friends. It was their parents who insisted that they date each other, but the truth was, she didn't really like him like that. He wasn't her type, and she was so happy when she got the scholarship to Grambling. It was her escape; escape from parents who tried to run her life. And escape from Tyrone, the dude who wished he could hold her like I did. The dude who wished she would look into his eyes like she did mine. The dude who was stuck in Washington DC, at Howard University while the girl of his dreams was here in Louisiana falling in love with me.

“Who did you dance with?” Tameka asked.

“I don't really know their names. Just a couple of girls.” I sat up in bed. “Hey, I gotta run right now. I need to go find something to eat. I just wanted to call you and check on you…like I said I would. I'll hit you back later.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

Sometimes talking to Tameka was like pulling teeth, or sitting through a lecture from my parents, or struggling to stay awake in class—it was something that needed to be done but wasn't always easy. She made it hard for me. My mind drifted back to that night at her house when her parents were
out of town—the night we made love for the first and last time. I had used protection, but it seemed that it wasn't enough to prevent her from getting pregnant. Condoms were never one hundred percent effective—they were more like ninety-nine percent effective. But they had never failed me before; they always seemed to protect me. But this one time, ninety-nine percent just wasn't enough. It was that one percent that got in the way—changed our lives forever.

My phone buzzed and interrupted my thoughts. It was Lexi. I picked up.

“Talk to me,” I said.

“Still hung over?” she asked.

“I'm cool.”

“I'm headed to the mall. You wanna hang out?”

My head was pounding and my body felt as if a tractor trailer had run over it. I was starving and a couple of extra hours of sleep would've been good. But the thought of seeing Lexi again made my heart race. Hanging out with her was better than anything else I could think of. She brought sunshine into my day.

“Let me hop in the shower and I'll meet you in about thirty minutes,” I found myself saying.

“I'll be waiting.”

 

Lexi leaned on the hood of a black Kia Sportage in the parking lot where she asked me to meet her. She was wearing a cropped top that showed off her pierced navel, a pair of denim capris and flip-flops.

“Whose car?” I asked.

“My friend Jessie's. She let me borrow it.” She walked around to the driver's side of the car, hopped inside.

I hopped into the passenger's seat, immediately started adjusting the radio and stumbled upon the hip-hop station,
106. Lil Wayne's voice filled the car as Lexi headed for Pecanland Mall. The air in Jessie's car didn't work, so we let the windows all the way down just to catch a cool breeze. It was hot in Louisiana in June, very similar to Atlanta summers—the type of heat that made you want to jump into a pool of water just to keep cool.

At the mall, Lexi and I strolled past Foot Locker, and I popped my head into my favorite shoe store just to check out the latest in footwear. After browsing for a minute, Lexi pulled me away and into some girlie store where she seemed to find her home—trying on at least four pairs of jeans, two or three dresses. We stopped at a women's shoe store where she tried on several pairs of shoes. She tried on at least ten pairs of sunglasses at one of the mall's kiosks before settling on a pair with pink lenses to match the shirt that she wore.

“You are a shopper, for real, girl.” I laughed as we strolled through the doors of the mall and headed for the parking lot. My hands filled with her shopping bags, I said, “I don't know if I can come back to the mall with you.”

“What?” She acted as if she didn't know what I was talking about, took a sip of her smoothie. “I needed some stuff.”

“You needed all this stuff?” I asked.

“All of it. The jeans were on sale, and fall is coming soon. Gonna need those for school,” she explained. “And as far as the shoes, I can't wear flip-flops when it starts to get cold, right?”

“I guess not.” I laughed.

Lexi hit the power locks and we both hopped into the hot car, the black leather burning our skin.

“Where does a college student get so much money to just kick around like that anyway?” I asked.

“I worked all through my senior year last year. My parents
are always complaining about money, so I saved my own before I left for college. I got a pretty nice little bank account.”

“That's cool,” I said. “My parents gave me a credit card, but I can only use it for emergencies. In the fall, I plan on getting me a job somewhere…just so I can have my own cash.”

“You have to,” she agreed. “I refuse to be a cliché—a broke college student. Daddy's always talking about his college days and how he had to eat ramen noodles and canned soup that he warmed over a hot plate in his dorm. That will not be me.”

“Yeah, I heard those stories before, too,” I told her. “Both my parents talked about being broke in college.”

“What do your parents do for a living?” she asked.

“My moms is a lawyer. And my father is a dentist.”

“That's cool. My mother is a schoolteacher. My father works for General Motors. He recently got laid off, so money is tight for us right now. It's a good thing I got this basketball scholarship,” she said.

“I feel you. Getting a scholarship is priceless,” I told her.

“I'm thinking about going home for the Fourth of July. What about you?”

“Nah, I'm not going home until Thanksgiving. Maybe even Christmas, depending…” I told her. The truth was, Tameka was due sometime in November and it was very likely I would be going home for the birth of my kid.

“Depending on what?” she asked.

“I don't know…just depending…” I said. “Depending on how I feel around that time.”

“Well on the Fourth of July every year, my family has this big family reunion-type thing in Jackson. Relatives come from all over and my Daddy barbecues and we play all sorts of games like tug-of-war and baseball, and we have balloon fights. It's a lot of fun. You should come.”

“You for real?” I couldn't help getting excited. It sounded fun and I felt privileged that she invited me.

“Yeah, for real,” she said.

“Nah, I can't. I'm down here with my boy, Jaylen. I couldn't just run off to Mississippi and leave him here by himself. He wouldn't know what to do without me.”

“So bring him,” she said. “There's plenty of room at my parents' house for everybody. We can all just hang out there. As long as I let them know ahead of time that I'm bringing some friends home.”

“I'll think about it.”

“You for real?” she asked. “You should come for real, Vance. It'll be fun.”

“I said I would think about it.” I smiled at Lexi.

She didn't know it, but my mind had been made up the minute she asked. It sounded like too much fun to pass up.

“I'm hungry, Vance. Are you?” she asked.

“Yeah, I'm really hungry. What you feel like?”

“There's a place called the Rib Shack in Ruston. You eat barbecue?”

“Of course,” I said. “Who doesn't?”

Lexi hopped on I-20 headed west toward Ruston, the radio on full blast as the wind blew through the windows. Finally pulling into the parking lot of the barbecue spot, we stepped from the car. Lexi's long windblown hair made her even more beautiful. I held the door as we stepped into the place. The smell of barbecue had my stomach growling—loud.

“Was that your stomach?” Lexi asked.

“I told you I was hungry.” I laughed and held on to my stomach.

Lexi placed her hand over my stomach as if trying to see if I was really hungry or not. As the palm of her hand massaged my belly, I wrapped my arm around her neck and
we scanned the menu. We ordered and found a table against the wall. Ate like there was no tomorrow and then headed back to Grambling.

As we walked hand in hand to her dorm, I pulled her knuckles up to my lips. Kissed them.

“I had a good Saturday,” I told her.

“Me, too.” She smiled. “Can we have a good Sunday, too?”

“And Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday…”

“You won't get tired of me?”

How could I get tired of a girl who was constantly in my dreams? Whenever I was apart from her, I couldn't wait to see her again. I couldn't imagine getting tired of her.

“Nah, not right away,” I teased. “Maybe I will later.”

“Think about the Fourth of July, okay?”

“I will.” I handed Lexi her bags from the mall and she took off walking toward her dorm.

“Let me know soon, okay?”

“I will.” I smiled as I watched her sexy body sashay down the sidewalk.

“I'll text you later.”

“You do that.”

I watched as she disappeared through the doors. Continued to watch, as if she might come back outside. I missed her already. And even as I began to jog backward in the opposite direction, I had an urge to call her cell phone just to say hi. What was up with this inner struggle of mine? What I wanted and what I had were two totally different things, and I didn't know how to balance the two.

Marcus

Daria
and I stepped into one of the largest party suites on campus, with its slanted skylights and built-in bar. The music was loud as the sound of Jay-Z's voice echoed through the room. I'd never been to a party where I was the minority. Besides Daria and me, there was only one other African American person there. It was nothing like the high school parties I attended in College Park. It was way more grownup, with people standing around the room holding on to the necks of beers and wine coolers. There was never alcohol at the parties I went to back home.

I tried not to snicker as I watched white people dance to hip-hop. Instead I followed Daria across the room and we each grabbed a bottle of water from a cooler.

“I'm sure this is not like the parties you go to back home, Marcus,” Daria said and smiled, “but it's something to do, right?”

“Will some other black people show up?”

“Probably not.” She laughed. “But if you feel uncomfortable we can go.”

“Nah, I'm cool,” I told her as I stood against the wall, bounced my head to the music and took a drink of water.

“Marcus, old chap. How are you?” Paul asked and extended his hand for a shake.

“Hey, what's up?” I said, giving him a handshake.

Derrick grinned and extended his hand, too. “Marcus…what's up? You decided to show up. What brings you to the Bell Tower?” he asked, referring to the suite. “I thought this party was by invitation only.”

“Well…I was invited.” I grinned. “By my friend Daria here. Daria, this is Paul and Derrick.”

“Nice to meet you both,” Daria said and shook both their hands. “Marcus, I'll be right back. I see some people I know.”

“Okay, do your thing,” I told her.

She walked away and the three of us checked her out—all at the same time. Wearing a short, almost see-through dress and flat sandals, she looked as if she belonged at a photo shoot in Tahiti somewhere.

“She is fine,” Derrick commented. “That you, man?”

“Nah, she's just a friend,” I said.

“Hook me up, then.” Derrick grinned.

I don't know why, but I was immediately jealous at the thought of Derrick being hooked up with Daria. I searched for an excuse to get his interest off of her.

“I don't know, man. She got this boyfriend that she talks about all the time,” I lied. “I'll see what I can do. Can't make any promises, though.”

“If her boyfriend's not here…at Harvard, then he doesn't matter.” He smiled. “She's fair game.”

Paul and Derrick drank beers as the three of us chitchatted about everything under the sun and listened to music. When Chris walked up, I wanted to walk away. Our first encounter in the dining hall hadn't been a pleasant one, and even though we were roommates, he wasn't one of my favorite people.

“Hello, good men. What's the word?” he asked and shook Paul's and Derrick's hands. He reached for mine. “Malcolm, is it?”

“Marcus,” I corrected him.

“Close enough.” He grinned, winked and took a drink from his cocktail. “This party is lame. I know a better party that's just a train ride from here. Anybody interested?”

“Anything has to be better than this,” Derrick said.

“Paul, you interested?” Chris asked.

“I don't know. It's still early for this party. It'll probably get better later,” Paul said.

“Don't count on it,” Chris said.

“What about you, Marcus? You wanna take a ride?” Paul asked me, as if my answer would determine whether or not he joined Chris. “I'll go if you go.”

“I don't know, man. I came here with Daria,” I told him.

“Bring her along,” Derrick said.

“Let me see if she's interested,” I told them and then made my way across the room to where Daria was laughing with two other girls. I tapped her lightly on the arm. “Hey, Daria…”

“Hey, Marcus, what's up?” she asked.

“Me and a few of the fellas are going to another party….”

“Where?” she interrupted.

“I don't know…somewhere Chris knows about. He said we can take the train,” I explained. “You wanna come?”

“Hmm.” She smiled. “It sounds like fun.”

She said a few more words to the girls she was chitchatting with and then followed me back to where Chris, Paul and Derrick were waiting. The five of us headed for the elevator, Chris leading the way. We walked across Harvard Yard, down the sidewalk toward the train station and hopped on the “T.”

“Where are we going?” Derrick asked.

“I know a bar where we can all get in without ID,” Chris stated.

“On what planet?” I asked. I was barely seventeen and my chance of getting into an adult bar was slim to none.

“Trust me.” Chris grinned.

 

That was exactly what we did; trusted him. And soon we were pushing our way through a crowd of intoxicated partygoers. Soon I found myself dancing, too, with Daria moving her hips in front of me. Without words, we were in tune with each other, dancing as if we had practiced beforehand. She was a good dancer. She moved like she belonged on Miss Martin's dance team with Indigo and her girls.

To my left, Paul and Derrick found spots against the wall, where they stood and checked out the crowd. Chris had already grabbed a beer from the bar and was moving off-beat in front of a blonde girl who was tossing her hair from side to side. Wearing a bikini top and denim shorts that showed too much thigh for the public to see, she was aggressive. She grabbed Chris's beer and took a drink from it.

After the song ended, Daria grabbed my hand in hers and escorted me to the back of the bar. A couple of empty spots were available on a leather sofa, and we rushed over and grabbed them. Daria sat very close to me and crossed her silky, clean-shaven legs in front of me.

“This place is hot!” she said.

I nodded in agreement as Soulja Boy's voice suddenly rang out across the room. When the waitress approached, I ordered Cokes for Daria and me and hoped I had enough in my wallet to cover it. I had already spent twenty dollars getting us into the place. The cover charge was a small detail that Chris forgot to mention before we got there. I glanced over at him as he bounced around the room with Bikini Top.
He was in a zone and totally out of character. He wasn't the sarcastic, anal Chris who made inappropriate comments to total strangers—he was suddenly the party animal Chris who was putting away beers like a real alcoholic.

“What's his story?” Daria asked as Chris danced his way to the bar.

“Just recently met him,” I said. “All I know is he's from Yellowknife, Idaho.”

“He's wild.” She smiled. “But I like the place he picked. This is cool.”

“Yeah, it is.”

The deejay slowed things down a little with some Keyshia Cole. Derrick and Paul headed our way. Paul grabbed an empty seat next to us. Derrick gave Daria a lustful look.

“Wanna dance?” he asked.

“Okay,” she said, not realizing that he had more than dancing on his mind.

She followed him to the dance floor, his hand touching her lower back. She wrapped her arms around his neck as they slow danced to the music. A tinge of jealousy rushed through me as I watched Derrick grab a hold of her small waist. She was beautiful, I thought, as I watched her move to the music. Her face was a flawless light brown, her breasts were perfectly sized and her legs were the best parts on her body.

“She's gorgeous,” Paul commented, obviously he'd busted me watching Daria way too close, “but Derrick is not her type.”

“She might give him a shot,” I said. My mouth said those words but my heart hoped they weren't true.

“Nah, he doesn't have a chance with a girl like that.” Paul smiled. “She has eyes for someone else…you.”

“I have a girl at home,” I quickly said; reeled my feelings back in—focused on Indigo. “We're in a committed relationship.”

“How committed can you be when she's in Georgia and you're in Cambridge, and a girl like that is dancing around in your dreams?”

How did he know that she was in my dreams? He had a point, though—a point that I hadn't considered before then. I was headed back to Atlanta in a few weeks, but soon I'd be leaving for Harvard again—for good. Where would that leave Indigo and me in the future? I had my goals and aspirations and she had hers. She was unsure about where she wanted to go to school—one day it was Spelman and the next day it was New York University—but every day it was something different.

“Marcus, you wanna dance now?” Daria was suddenly standing in front of me, taking a drink from her soda and pulling me onto the dance floor before I had a chance to protest.

Derrick looked as if he'd been slapped in the face as I followed Daria to the dance floor.

“What's up? You didn't like dancing with my boy, Derrick?” I asked her.

“Marcus, give me a break. I wanted to give him a mint, because his breath was kickin'!” She laughed. “While he was all up in my face trying to get my number.”

“What? You didn't give him your number?” I teased.

“Marcus, shut up.” She smiled that beautiful smile and part of me was relieved that she and Derrick didn't hit it off.

She moved in close to me, placed her hands on my chest. I grabbed her waist. Her hands moved to my face, caressed it. Her eyes gazed into mine, and it was perfectly natural for her lips to accidentally press themselves against mine. She opened her mouth and my tongue found its way inside—her peppermint kisses were refreshing. What was I doing with this girl in my arms—kissing her, as if she belonged to me? Someone was supposed to stop this from happening. Derrick
looked as if he wanted to, but he couldn't. Indigo was nowhere to be found—not even in my thoughts. All I could think of was this brown beauty in front of me.

The place was suddenly chaotic. A crowd of people gathered as someone caused a ruckus near the men's room. People bumped against us as they rushed to see what the commotion was. Daria and I rushed over, only to find Chris in the middle of a brawl with four dudes twice his size. One of them was punching him in the face, and blood gushed from his nose and all over his shirt. Bikini Top snuggled against another dude—obviously her man. A security guard grabbed the bigger dude and pulled him off of Chris, who was yelling profanity. Paul grabbed Chris.

“Let's get out of here,” Paul said as he passed me, forcefully pulling Chris along.

I held on to Daria in order to shield her from the drama. Daria, Derrick and I followed Paul as he escorted Chris out the door.

“I'm not ready to go!” Chris yelled, stumbled and tried to force his way back inside of the bar. “I wasn't finished with him.”

“Oh yes, you are ready to go,” Paul said and pulled him away from the door. “He was definitely finished with you.”

“What's wrong with you, man?” Derrick yelled and pushed Chris even though he was already injured. “I'm tired of your crap!”

“She was my girl,” Chris slurred, referring to the blonde. “I had her first.”

“Obviously not, man,” Paul said. “She left with somebody else, dude.”

“Why would you bring us here, get pissy drunk and then cause all this chaos?” Derrick was angry and started pushing Chris around. “I can't believe I followed you here!”

“Cut him some slack, man,” I told Derrick.

“Don't tell me what to do,” he spat back.

“I'm not telling you what to do,” I said. “It's already bad…let's not make it worse.”

“Let's just go home,” Paul said.

“You all right, man?” I asked Chris. “You're holding your ribs like you're hurt. And you can barely walk.”

“I'm fine,” Chris insisted as he stumbled and fell to the ground. He rested his back against an ATM machine for support. He held on to his side and moaned. He was in pain.

“I think we should find a hospital or something,” I suggested.

Paul sighed. “Yeah, you're probably right.”

“I'm out of here. I don't have time for Chris and his craziness,” Derrick said and then turned toward Daria. “I'm on my way back to campus. I can see that you get there safely.”

“That's very sweet,” she said. “Thanks. But I'm gonna stay with Marcus.”

“Fine. Suit yourself. I'm out of here.” Derrick headed for the train station, never looked back.

“Marcus, get us a cab,” Paul suggested as he tried to help Chris to his feet.

Daria shivered from the cool night air and I handed her my blazer. She wrapped it around her arms and gave me a warm smile. I was grateful that she hadn't accepted Derrick's offer and decided to stay with me. I flagged down a cab driver who just happened to be creeping along the street. He pulled next to the curb and we all piled in. Daria hopped into the front seat and the three of us in the back. The cabbie rushed through yellow lights as he drove us to the nearest emergency room.