“So, he’s coming back over tonight, huh?” Tasha begins as I drive her and Junie to the Crenshaw Mall.
“Yes, he is.” My stomach cinches in nervousness. I should be happy that boo-thang is swinging over again, though I’m a bit nervous about introducing soul food to him. I’m sure if I introduced black caviar and capers with some truffles, it would be right up his alley.
This white boy really wants to eat fried catfish, huh? Oh dear.
I’m not saying white people can’t enjoy soul food. I’ve seen more white people in Roscoe’s than I can count. I’ve seen the occasional executive at that ribs joint just around the corner from my daddy’s home.
I just don’t see Savior risky getting his Gucci loafers sticky because the mom and pop’s joint didn’t clean the floor just right.
“Yo, I like Jesus Piece,” Junie the SoundCloud phenomenon comments from the back seat, “He’s cool peeps, Eggs and Cheese. You should keep him around.”
Junie calls me Eggs and Cheese because it’s another word for quiche. Kiesh = quiche. He’s a witty no-name broke rapper. I call him SoundCloud because that’s that only place his shit is known because you damn sure won’t hear him on the radio anytime soon or ever. Tasha should be proud.
“I heard you and your auntie got into it. She was on the phone talking to your dad about it and I listened it on the conversation.” Gotta appreciate Tasha’s messy ass every so often. “It seemed your dad was taking your side on it.”
“Well, if he took my auntie’s side, I would’ve heard about it now.” I navigate down the street. “Everyone knew when he inherited the home, I was going to get it. My Granny’s been dead for three years now and Gloria’s acting like her death just happened three days ago.”
“Your auntie is freaking out because of all of the gentrification going around here.” Tasha twists her long, purple braids. “More white people have moved in and all of the black families are moving out. That’s why she’s scared.”
“Funny how she wasn’t scared when the Mexicans had no problem targeting black families and running them out of the neighborhood but Becky and Timmy are a threat?” I counter. “White people move in, people want to cry gentrification. When Mexicans were killing us for sport, it’s ‘Oh, poor little Negroes.’ And then people wonder why we have a racist, bigoted, misogynistic, and xenophobic asshole in the White House.”
“Your auntie does have a strong point, Kiesh.” Tasha interrupts. “Several homes on your block have been sold and you said it yourself that you’ve had many offers on the home that you’ve turned down. What’s the magic number for you to finally say yes?”
Truthfully, there isn’t a magic number. I never intend to sell it. I secretly get the home appraised every year unbeknownst to my auntie and Tasha so I know exactly what the duplex is worth. And trust me when I say, the 300K the Kardashians were offering was a lowball offer and they knew it.
I haven’t figured out what I’m going to do with the home quite yet. A part of me wants to keep it in case things between me and Savior don’t pan out. A part of me wonders if I do ever get out of L.A., what would be the point of having it?
I can’t worry about that now. I’m about to go blow some money on stuff I don’t need to impress people I don’t even like. That’s my priority.
~~~~~
Too much money and crap later, we’re all eating at the food court. I’m digging into a collard green wrap filled with fried chicken and macaroni and cheese, while SoundCloud and Tasha are sharing a big bowl of jambalaya.
I wanted to start purchasing things for this weekend’s gala but Savior was insistent that he went shopping with me. Maybe he wanted me to look like something straight outta Saks Fifth and not Charlotte Russe. Can’t blame the dude.
“What’s this benefit?” Tasha asks she tries to find only the chicken parts of jambalaya. Why she couldn’t just ask for a bowl of straight chicken defeats me.
“It’s benefitting homeless and low-income programs across Los Angeles.” I answer. Doing more Google-stalking, I learned it’s a benefit his family has actively attended throughout the years. It’ll also be the first time I’ll meet Mama Ellison and just seeing her pulled-back Stepford Wife face, I know she will not approve of Savior dating me.
She looks like the type that has one black friend, who’s usually both male- and white-identified, and the kind that will dole out ‘How to Get a Man’ advice once she becomes engaged and then married.
“What kind of music will they have there?” SoundCloud asks. I know he’s low-key hoping for a gig.
“The typical white and wealthy fare,” I shrug. “I’m sure I’ll hear a lot of Coldplay. Maybe some Miley Cyrus and Justin Timberlake if they want to get edgy.” This is what I was talking about moving into a different income tax bracket. My daddy is a certified millionaire with hidden money in offshore accounts yet he’ll still bump Nas’ Illimatic LP like if it just came out. He could’ve moved to Brentwood with the OJs and LeBrons but he chose to stay in Ladera Heights. There’s something really amazing about that.
“Do you know what type of music Savior likes?” Tasha asks after finding some chicken. “He seems like the type to be all into Ed Sheeran.”
“I have no clue,” I shake my head, “I’m sure he has U2 on repeat somewhere.”
“He likes R&B music,” SoundCloud chimes in as he sips his orange soda. “He has a pretty impressive collection, if you ask me.”
Tasha and I lock eyes with each other before slowly turning both of our heads towards Junie. “What?” I spat out.
“Homebody has some very impressive taste in music. Very impressive.” Junie nods. “I recited a lyric from Outkast and he already knew what song it was. He didn’t even have to ask what artist is that or any of that.”
“Well, everyone knows Outkast!” Tasha laments. “It’s not hard.”
“Okay, but the homie recited a lyric from Big L.” Junie replies. Big L – God rest his soul – is one of the premier rappers who was the paramount for many of the 90’s rappers back then. He wasn’t well known on a global level, but if you’re a true hip-hop head, you knew who he was. “How many white boys can recite Big L?”
“Who’s Big L?” Tasha asks.
“My point exactly.” SoundCloud replies. “Only true hip-hop heads know. I would think Savior would be more inclined considering who is brother is and who he’s best friends with.”
I’m stunned in silence at what SoundCloud suggests. “What about his brother and his best friend?”
“Okay, how do I know more about the dude and I’m not the one screwing him?” SoundCloud glares at me and I flip him off. “His brother, Soul, is one of the co-creators of the FuckBoy Logic sneaker line with that Chamo dude. He also owns a large stake in Fresh Nectar.”
Fresh Nectar is one of the hottest clothing lines around with bragging rights from dignitaries to the hip-hop elite. They made gross revenue of $500 million last year. That’s a lot of hypebeasts wearing their clothing.
“Soul?” Tasha asks.
“Soul.” SoundCloud nods.
“Like soles on the bottom of my shoes?” I ask.
“Like Seoul, South Korea?” Tasha asks.
“More like Soul Train.” SoundCloud explains. “Mama Ellison was on the weird celebrity name trip before it became popular.”
“That explains about one brother but what about his best friend?” I ask. “I don’t see what that has to do with him.”
“Get out your phone and go to Caleb Kelly’s IG.” SoundCloud suggests. I look at him for a brief moment and he nods. Caleb Kelly is a NFL football player who notoriously kneeled in front of the American flag, making him both a saint and a sinner.
I just think it’s funny how no one cared about a biracial football player until he became blackity black black. And then people couldn’t wait to call him the nigger he is, but I’m asleep, tho. I pull out my phone and bring up Caleb’s IG page. “Okay, I’m here, and what?”
“Scroll to the post where he talks about Happy Founder’s Day.” SoundCloud chews more food. “What do you see?”
I find the post in question and scroll left. My heart stops upon seeing Caleb and Savior in their red bowtie finest throwing up the yo. They’re standing right next to each other and have the sexiest damn smirks on their faces as if they’re saying, ‘Yeah, we know we’re the shit.’
It’s a recent picture of them together, probably taken within the past year. The comments, of course, are full of thirsty bitches lusting after both of them. I knew Savior was a Nupe but to know he’s best friends with America’s Pariah, puts him on a different level of Peak White Boy Wokeness.
It also might explain the tension between him and his father, if what Junie told me about elder Ellison has any truth to it. Daddy Ellison has made it very clear he didn’t support that protest at all, which is interesting considering he’s well-known as one of the earliest and most vocal supporters of the Civil Rights Movement.
My mind travels back to that fateful day when I heard Savior and Thomas arguing. And then again that night when Savior came over and just wanted to be held. He didn’t say exactly what was going on, other than cryptically hinting he was still seeking his father’s approval. Yet, I wonder if there was something else troubling him.
“Well, well, well…” Tasha interrupts my train of thought and I briefly look up. “Look who’s here.” She nods behind me.
I turn around and sigh at the visual. One of Jalen’s birds and her friends are also at the mall. I think that one is named Chermica. I think. You see one bird, and it seems they all look alike after a while.
Chermica is the girl in high school who had potential to do great and somewhere between being a straight-A student and graduating, she became a bird for life. It’s like that lyric – some girls turn into ladies, some become hoes.
She’s the type of girl who always looks like she’s a can of busted biscuits, but always have enough money to get her hair laid. Kinda makes me wonder why she can’t be nappy and get a gym membership, but they don’t hear me, tho.
It seems they have been watching me for a while and talking shit like the flock of birds they are. I roll my eyes and turn back around. The last thing I need is to go to jail for tearing out a bitch’s weave. “Lovely.”
“She’s jealous of you, you know that?” Tasha asks. “It’s so obvious.”
“She can have Jalen for all I care.” I shrug. “I don’t want that nigga anymore and it wasn’t like we were going to get married and have babies.”
“It’s a good thing that didn’t happen.” Tasha adds. “Can you imagine the type of husband and father Jalen would’ve been?”
“Oh trust, I know.” It was a realization I made when I was late on my period one time. I made the fateful mistake of telling Jalen and he spent a good hour trying to convince me why I should have an abortion and that we should go dutch on it. How sweet of him.
It’s not like I’m using abortion as a form of birth control; I ain’t that dumb. But I also knew if Jalen knocked me up, I was bound to be a single mother. There was no way in hell Jalen would’ve put on a ring on it.
“Everything happened in the way it was supposed to,” I reply. “Jalen has about three other girls he can waste his time with. He doesn’t need me.”
“Jalen wants you now because he can’t have you.” Tasha points out. “He knows he can’t compete with a Beemer SUV.”
“It’s not just that,” SoundCloud points out, “Jalen can’t compete with Savior. If it was just a car, he would’ve gone out and got baby girl a better one. Jalen cannot compete with wealth and opportunity. Savior can give Keisha things he can’t. I’m sure he’s kicking himself for suggesting you take the internship when you were doubtful about it.”
Tasha’s mouth gaps open and I nod. “That explains his sudden attitude lately.” She says.
“When he wants you to do well, but he also wants to keep you on a leash.” Isn’t that the fuckboy logic? He can have several women as long you’re only sleeping with him? You can do nice things and play wifey as long as he doesn’t return the favor and you’re okay with it?
Truth is, Jalen didn’t want me to succeed if it meant cutting him off. He wanted me to be successful just enough but not too much. It has nothing to do with having a flock of women, not really caring about any of them, and one of them decides she wants to do better.
It has to do with the one he wanted, decided she wanted better for herself. The male’s ego is just so fragile.
“Oh well,” I take another bite of my wrap, “not my circus, not my monkeys.”
~~~~~
We hit a few more spots before we head back to the car. Junie picked up a purple beanie he’s had his eye on for a minute and Tasha picked up some braid accessories. I made a pit stop inside Vickie Secrets for a little sexy number for Savior. He’s made it clear he likes me butt-ass naked but there’s nothing wrong with enticing a dude.
As we made our way to the car, I overheard snickering behind me that became increasingly louder with each step. I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. I’ve felt Chermica and her bird crew follow us from store to store, even stepping inside to just to see we were really there before they followed us to another store.
Sensing what was going on, I place a text to my daddy I was having problems at the mall. He assured me it was going to be handled and that was that.
“Do you want to confront them?” Tasha whispers to me.
“And for why? Given them even more ammo? The last thing I need is that.” I reply. “It’s being handled right now.”
“Oh word?” Junie asks. “How?”
Just as we approach my Beemer, we see three black SUVs parked around it. Chermica and the Birds immediately stopped talking and stalking once they realized who the fuck they were dealing with.
“Angel face,” Ashley gets out of one of the SUVs, greets me with kisses, and hugs. “How’s my baby girl?”
“I’m doing great, Mom.” I give her a small package from Macy’s, “got you something.”
“Oh, you didn’t have to, baby.” She smiles. “Junie, Tasha, lovely to see you.” Ashley’s face looks behind me. “Hi Chermica! I hope you’re doing well, sweetheart! Did you mother get her chlamydia cleared up yet? I heard she got the clap by messing with that parolee a while back?”
Chermica’s friends start laughing at her and Chermica is stunned in silence.
“Honey, please be sure to give my love to your mother. I know she has to be recovering from all that itching and scratching. Tell her that wearing those tight-ass jeans won’t help with the fish smell she also has been slanging around. You don’t want to pick up your mama’s dirty habits now, baby?” Ashley winks. Ashley is a classy clapback queen. Every term of endearment is always dripping in condescension.
Chermica turns around and runs back to her car with her friends following her. Ashley examines my bald head and shakes her head. “You need a trim, angel face. Let me get you an appointment with Charlene. Let’s see if she can get you in tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow morning?” I ask. “I have that gala I’m attending over the weekend.”
“That’s even more perfect! You’ll look nice and fresh for it!” Ashley smiles. “All right, it’s time for me to head back to your dad’s. Call me if there are any more problems, ‘face.” She heads back inside the SUV and they all quickly take off.
I know what transpired between me and Chermica won’t the be the last occurrence. Chermica’s mother is besties with my womb-holder, Andrea. And Andrea hates Ashley with a passion. I expect a nasty phone call from Andrea within the next 24 hours.
Meanwhile, Tasha and Junie stare at what just transpired and look at me with shocked faces. “When you’re a gangsta like my daddy, you need to be with a woman who’s just as – or even more so gangsta as you.”