“WELL, WELL. YOU’RE far from home,” I call to her as I approach, recognizing those blue eyes reflecting in the street light. Reina’s blonde hair is glowing like the sun, even in the night. I like something about this girl, but I don’t trust anybody, so even as I see her smile at me, internally I’m approaching with caution. I’d hate to have to hurt her if it came to that.
“I’m aware,” she responds, her voice sounding more at ease than when she called my name. She sounded nervous then, like she wasn’t sure if it was me. Now that she knows it is, she’s comfortable, and I don’t think there’s another person in the world who feels comfortable around me besides Nix.
The two of us stare at each other for a while, and I take a second to admire the soft features of her face, focusing on her full lips, but then I remember Nix is still standing behind me, so I address him before giving my full attention to Reina.
“Nix,” I say to him after I turn around. “Moe gave his blessing for you to stay out a while tonight. Do me a favor and get any info you can about Cash N Check. I want to know everything we can about the place if we’re going to do this. Stealing money makes no sense if we go to jail before we can even spend it. You and I will meet up again after I talk to Reina.”
Nix looks past me at the girl who he knows doesn’t fit it in this neighborhood, before replying, “Who’s Reina?”
“My new play-thing, apparently,” I reply, being vague on purpose. Who I’m talking to isn’t anybody’s business, not even Nix’s. I glare at him while he works himself past his concern and finally walks away in the direction of the check cashing place we’ll probably be borrowing a few dollars from soon. Once he’s gone, I turn around and eye Reina.
“What are you doing out here, Reina Wilde?” I ask her.
“Well, I was looking for you.”
“And you knew to find me here?” I respond in real curiosity. How would Reina know to find me at Nix’s house in the middle of the evening? She seems to always be popping up at places no one would know to look for me, which is why I don’t trust her. Only Nix has earned my trust, and not even Reina’s pretty little face will earn it this fast.
“No, I got lost. I was just heading back to the train,” she says, eyeing me to gauge my reaction. As unbelievable as that excuse sounds, I know Reina’s not from Strawberry Mansion, so getting lost around here seems like something she might actually do, which would explain why she sounded so nervous when she called my name a second ago. She was relieved she found me after having to walk around the neighborhood. It’s a good thing she did, too. Who knows how long her luck would’ve held up out here?
“Tisk, tisk, Reina. This isn’t a safe place,” I say behind a chuckle. “You realize that, right? Strawberry Mansion is known for its violence.”
“Yeah, I realize I’m not in Kansas anymore,” she replies, rolling her blue eyes. She has an attitude and an edginess in her personality that I like. I feel it calling to me when I look at her.
“Come on, Reina. Let’s talk,” I say as I turn around and start walking. I know she’ll follow, and sure enough, I hear her footsteps quickening to catch up to me.
“So, uhh,” she begins, but I cut her off with a wave of my hand and a frown.
“No, no. I have a question for you.”
“I didn’t hear anything,” she says, staring at the side of my face while we walk. When I turn to look at her, I see concern in her eyes, even though she’s trying to hide behind a thick strand of golden hair. She thinks I’ll be angry about her eavesdropping on my conversation with Nix. That’s funny.
“I don’t care if you did,” I fire back. It wouldn’t matter to me if she heard every word the two of us said. First off, I’m not hiding anything from anybody, and second, if she can’t handle that conversation, she may as well stop getting on the train to come see me, because the conversations Nix and I will have in the future will be far worse. Or should I say, far better?
“Oh,” is all she says in response, so I continue with the question I had in mind as I face forward, put my hands in my pockets and march down the cold, dark street.
“Why do you keep coming here?” I ask without looking at her.
“I told you.”
“Ah yes, because I’m interesting.”
“Look, I’m sure you think I’m some stupid rich kid who doesn’t know anything. Maybe I don’t know anything about your life, but I can tell you one thing, Solomon King—you don’t know a thing about mine either.”
There it is again, that attitude that I find so appealing. Reina is a little firecracker. I like firecrackers!
“Hmm,” is my only response as we keep walking. “So you wanna be my friend, huh?”
“I do,” she answers quickly.
“Because you’ve never met anybody like me where you’re from.”
“I haven’t.”
“That’s probably a good thing,” I counter.
“I know what’s good for me and what’s not,” she snips, putting a tiny smile on my lips. I like when she’s fiery.
“Alright. Why don’t you tell me about your life, Reina? Make me understand why a rich kid from a good neighborhood who has nice clothes, a warm jacket, and money in her pocket is coming to a neighborhood like mine to see someone like me. Because it just doesn’t make sense.”
The two of us keep walking while I wait for Reina to spill the beans about her life. I’m just dying to hear why she’d risk her life coming down here. She doesn’t have to spend time in Strawberry Mansion like me and Nix do. I’m here because I have no choice. My parents cursed me to be here. They’re the reason I have to climb out, scratching and clawing for everything. My life was hard before I was ever born, and hers was like a fairy tale. Her life is a dream, so why would she intentionally keep placing herself inside my nightmare? After some time to think about her response, Reina finally speaks up.
“I’m not happy,” she leads off, grabbing my attention. “I have nice clothes and a nice house in a nice neighborhood, you’re right. But what I don’t have are nice parents, nice friends, or happiness. My mother hates that I’m nothing like her, my father pretends I don’t exist most of the time, and the kids at my school are stuck-up little shits.
“I know it sounds crazy to say that I feel more at home in Strawberry Mansion than I do in Center City West, but it’s the truth. I’ve been sneaking away from Center City for about a year now, and I just so happened to come here and see you my first time in Strawberry Mansion. I came here to get away from my parents and the little prick they keep trying to force me to date.
“You see, my parents own a powerful petroleum company called Wilde Inc. It’s a family-owned kind of business that’s been in the family for generations and literally makes billions of dollars.” I find myself looking at her with wide eyes as the word reverberates in my head. She just said billions. I let her continue. “My parents, Alistair and Betsy Wilde, are your average, rich, white conservatives who hate change, and have a certain way about doing things, and I get to reap the benefits of being a Wilde, as long as I play by their rules. I have to look a certain way, act a certain way, and live a certain way.
“Part of that is being seen with the son of one of their family friends. His name is Charlie Connelly, and he’s an arrogant, aggressive, pompous jackass who does a fantastic job of hiding his asshole-ness whenever our parents are around. He’s a piece of filthy shit just like the rest of them, but if I don’t conform, then my parents would have no problem shunning me like I’m some embarrassment to them simply because I want to be who I want to be. It’s miserable living a life like that. No matter what I do, no matter how much I love doing it, if it doesn’t fit into their way of thinking of how life should be for our family, then it’s wrong. So every day, I’m wrong. I’m wrong to them in every way. It’s like I was born into the wrong family, and I’m now going to the wrong school, hanging out with the wrong people, and living the wrong life. I wasn’t meant to be an heir to the Wilde Inc. fortune, but that’s what I am, and I absolutely hate it.
“I hate how they pay off politicians, and judges, and police chiefs to get what they want, and then belittle me for the smallest things, as if white collar crime is somehow more permissible and admirable than the crimes committed by poor people. I hate them, and they hate me for not being like them. Maybe that’s difficult for you to understand since you’re from Strawberry Mansion, but I want out of my terrible existence the same as you want out of yours, and it’s hard to meet somebody who understands what that feels like. That’s why I’m drawn to you, Solomon. Without even trying, you get me. You understand what it’s like to feel like you were born into the wrong life.”
As she finishes talking, I realize I’ve stopped walking and I’m staring at her in awe under the orange glow of a streetlight. I’ve never heard of such a thing. A rich girl who hates that she was born rich? It’s crazy, but when I look into her gorgeous blue eyes, I believe it. It’s written all over her face, in every crease and dimple. She’s the exact same as me and the exact opposite at the same time. How the hell is that possible? She left a life of luxury behind to come to a poor neighborhood with liquor stores on every corner and crack houses on every street, because deep down inside, she’s just as unhappy as I am.
Now, my usual response to something like this would be, “Aww, you’re just breaking my poor little heart,” but there’s something about the way Reina tells her story that hits home for me. She has a life I would kill for, yet she’d trade it all away. It’s quite the connection. Neither of us feel like we should be where we are, and we’re both doing things people don’t approve of to get what we want. I want the money she has, she wants the mindset I have. What the hell is that about? Isn’t life screwed up, that a girl like her would want out of her life of excess? The sound of all of it amazes me.
“You’re unhappy too,” I hear her say. “I can see it in your eyes, but you come alive when you’re doing something wrong. There’s something in you that lights up when you’re forcing life to bend to your will. That’s something I crave—the ability to make life bend at my will. I don’t know your story, but I want to. I know you’re the only person I can be myself with. So how about it, Solomon. Are you going to let me in?”
I look in Reina’s eyes and I see the sincerity in them. A girl from Center City West is actually just as dark and unhappy as I am, and she wants to know about me. She wants to connect with me. How strange. Nonetheless, I decide to give a small piece of myself, but I do it cautiously, anxious to see what she’ll do with it. I take a deep breath and keep my eyes on the dark road ahead of us.
“My mother’s a junkie whore, my father’s dead, and we don’t have any money, so I steal things from people who do,” I reply, looking up into the cloudy night sky. “I’m a lowlife criminal who openly talks about robbing places on the street, and I have to scramble, grind, and scrape just to get by. But one day, I’m gonna run this city. Everyone will know my name, and they’ll fear me, and they’ll know never to cross me. My name alone will petrify anyone who’s not already on my team. I’m gonna be the most feared, respected man on this side of the entire country. One day I’ll have everything I want, and the things I’ll do to get them? Well they won’t be pretty to most people. But I like that. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I take a second to look into Reina’s eyes, searching for the fear that I expect to be there, but there is none. She just looks right back at me and says, “I believe you.”
She’s not afraid, and if I’m not mistaken, I’d say she likes it, which is the most interesting thing that’s happened to me all day. Even more interesting than doing a mini surgery on Moe’s ear lobe.
The two of us keep walking until we reach the train station again. Reina keeps coming down here and spending all of her time looking for me, so every time we meet up, it seems like it only lasts a few minutes before she’s going back to where she lives. This time, however, when we reach the subway, there’s a group of guys standing in front of it, so her departure is about to become much more interesting.
Everybody wants to be a tough guy in this neighborhood, and these assholes fit the mold perfectly, especially the one with the stitches in his cheek wearing a puffy red jacket that looks two sizes too big, who I immediately recognize to be my mother’s old dealer, Davon. Yes! Fun is waiting for us!
Reina tenses up as we approach the baggy-clothed foursome, and something in me doesn’t like it. There’s four of them, three black guys and one Hispanic guy with tattoos covering his neck. They play the role of bad asses pretty well, but I know it’s an act. The tough guys only make things worse when one of them gets up and stands in front of the entrance as if he won’t let us pass without saying a password. I don’t recognize him, which is the only reason he’d be standing here, because he obviously doesn’t know me either. But I see the look on Davon’s healing face, and he knows he doesn’t want to go down this road again.
“Hey Davon!” I call to him with a goofy wave, just as Davon tries to get the attention of the guy standing in our way. “How’s that cheek?” I ask, smiling from ear to ear.
Davon barely lifts his head. Aww, he’s embarrassed. He should be!
“Did you tell your friends about me?” I ask him, egging him on before turning my eyes to the bald guy standing in front of us. “Davon and I met a few days ago. We even played a game. I won. That’s how he ended up with that hole in his face. Aww, good times.”
I want him to try something. I wish for it. I want all of them to try something, because by the time it’s all over, Reina will know that she never has a reason to be tense as long as she’s with me. It doesn’t matter where we go, if she’s by my side, she’s untouchable.
Unfortunately, Davon decides against responding to me. He just hangs his head low as we push past his little friend without hesitation. I don’t slow my pace in the slightest, because if they don’t know it now, they will know it soon—this is my city, and I don’t move for anybody. You move for me!
“Your work, huh?” I hear Reina ask with a smirk on her lips. I smile at her as we keep walking, letting her fill in the blanks herself. “Well, thanks for walking with me,” she says, moving on.
“Better to be with me than not,” I reply.
“I’m sure you’re right. Hey, do you have a phone? That way we can plan on when and where to meet, instead of me wandering around these dangerous streets.”
“Nah, I don’t have a phone, but I’m sure I’ll have one soon.”
“Well, I’ll try to come back next Saturday. Around two?”
I nod my head. “Got nowhere else to go, so I’ll be here.”
“Okay.”
I watch Reina make her way to where she’ll get back on the train, but I don’t watch her leave. I turn on my heel and walk out of the subway, right past Davon and his crew, who are completely silent when I pass. Not even the slightest whisper. Just the way it should be.
As my boots step on the cold concrete, I feel a sense of excitement. For the first time in forever, I feel like things are looking up. I’ll spend the rest of the night talking to Nix about how to hit Cash N Check for everything they’ve got, and something deep down inside of me is looking forward to next Saturday. It’s really deep down in there, but it’s there.
I don’t know if she knows it, but Reina Wilde is doing something right. Maybe it’s the pretty face. Maybe it’s the way she wears her nice clothes like she’s ashamed of them and she’d rather be wearing a baggy white t-shirt, sweatpants, and tan Timberland boots that match mine. Maybe it’s the way her blue eyes pierce into my soul every time she looks at me, forcing me to put forth maximum effort just to look away. Or maybe it’s the story she told about how messed up her life at home is—the way she made me feel her pain using only her words. It’s the connection I felt when she spoke about wanting to get away. Needing to get away. I felt that need emanating off of everything she said. I felt it, and I recognized it because it’s the same feeling that lives in me.
Reina and I are kindred spirits. We’re two peas in a pod literally from opposite sides of the tracks, but we feel the same things. We’re cut from the same cloth, and damn it, I think I like it.