Londyn
He had a key to my place.
The man had earned himself a key - albeit, temporary - to my place after dicking me down so good I wanted to thank his mama the second I walked into the house that was surprisingly back in regular condition after last night’s festivities. I still couldn’t believe how out of control things had gotten, a step beyond what I had experienced myself while I was there according to Eric’s Snapchat story. But since my reason for ducking out early had led to a night I couldn’t forget if I wanted to, I was just glad everyone - including myself - had had a good time.
Well, everyone except for my best friend Khalid since he had to miss it for work. But at least he was joining us for brunch, catching the recap stories that probably sounded unbelievable until he saw all the pictures and videos that backed them up.
He was watching Eric’s Snapchat for at least the fourth time when he said, “My boo Miss. Annie was really turnt the fuck up. I swear I would marry that woman if she’d let me.”
While I knew his obsession with my mother was rightfully rooted in how gorgeous she was, it still never failed to disgust me. “First of all, that’s gross. Second of all, my mom was completely out of control. I mean, twerkin’ on Auntie Sheri’s Facebook Live? For all of their former coworkers to see?”
Instead of agreeing, he only laughed. “You couldn’t even tell it was her in that damn onesie.”
“They were literally chanting “Go Annie”,” I reminded him, knowing if nothing else that made it the most obvious.
“Enough about them though, where the hell were you at?” he asked, the question making me cringe since the answer was… complicated.
“I went home early,” I answered plainly, taking a sip of the mimosa that was way more champagne than orange juice.
How they were able to drink anything other than water after last night, I wasn’t sure. But no matter how much I focused on them and their business, Khalid was still focused on me and mine when he mocked, “I went home early.” Making me roll my eyes as he continued, “I know your mom wasn’t lettin’ you leave the party early without a good reason, so…”
“Chance Washington.”
His face scrunched when he leaned in and repeated, “Chance Washington? Eric’s homie? I thought he lived out of town somewhere.”
With my glass near my lips, I explained, “He does. But he’s here on an assignment for work and we had... quite a night. I actually left him at my house this morning since his ass was sleeping like a log on my couch, and the both of us showing up late together wouldn’t have been a good look.”
“The both of y’all leaving the party early together probably wasn’t the best look either, but that sure didn’t stop you,” Khalid challenged, only making me cringe yet again since… he was right.
Still, I somehow found a way to defend my actions when I replied, “It was his fault! I was, you know, playing it cool, taking it easy, keepin’ it cute, not tryna be too thirsty. Then he told my mom - not me, my mom - that he was giving me a ride home so… I went with it. Everybody was so drunk by then, I’m sure no one even noticed we were gone.”
“Nah, that’s just what you hope. And with a house full of aunties, you know somebody’s nosey ass peeped game,” he said, once again being spot on. Though I, at least, knew exactly who that person was.
How much of it she remembered was the question.
“I mean, he told my mom so she knew of course. But she was also good and faded by then, not to mention she was wrapped up in some new dude named Stevie who I just met for the first time last night. He’s probably still around here somewhere,” I said, peeking around the tame crowd of familiar faces and not immediately finding him… or my mother.
There were only a few conclusions that could explain their absence together. And while I was already busy being grossed out by the possibilities, Khalid’s face went into a pout. “What? My baby was cheatin’ on me last night? You ain’t tell me all that.”
“Boy, shut up,” I said with a laugh, tossing a hand at him before I took another sip of my mimosa.
But Khalid was still selling his sadness, putting a hand to his chest in mourning when he asked, “My heart is broken and that’s all you got? You ain’t a real one, LoLo.”
Once again, I could only laugh at how ridiculous he was being. Though I was also quick to remind him, “Dude, I got your ungrateful ass a job and I’m not real?”
His little brokenhearted act fell instantly as he reached to steal a piece of bacon from what was left on my plate and replied, “That overnight rent-a-cop shit is kinda trash though. I mean, I can only watch so many videos on YouTube before I start dozing off at the desk. Which, by the way, did you know male seahorses give birth? Like two thousand little niggas at a time too!”
This time, I really bust out laughing at his enthusiasm. “Khalid, why the hell were you even watching that?”
He shrugged, shaking his head as he explained, “Boredom will lead you down quite a dark path.” Making me shake my head to agree as I listened to him go on. “But, let me be clear. I’m definitely grateful you hooked me up down at your spot. So thank you, Londyn,” he sang, reaching over to give me a little kiss on the cheek that made me wrinkle my nose in faux-disgust.
When I first met Khalid back in college years ago, that kiss might’ve set my whole little world on fire. He was the finest dude on my coed dorm floor with abs out of this world since he always seemed to have his shirt off, a personality made for entertainment, and struggle locs he had just started with the school year.
Since I just so happened to be the only girl around who knew how to give a good retwist without charging him much of anything, we became friends fast. And then I developed a crush that Khalid played into on occasion until being forced to set me straight; admitting that while he found me attractive too, he valued the friendship we had developed too much to mess that up.
Back then, I didn’t fully understand it. Went through the whole, “what’s wrong with me” to, “he must be on the down low” back to, “what’s wrong with me” thing. But as the years passed, I was glad I hadn’t pressed it beyond that since the friendship we had now was truly irreplaceable. Not to mention, Khalid was a borderline fuckboy who had dropped out after our sophomore year to pursue a music career that never quite manifested beyond the local scene. But at least he was still doing okay for himself, and he was still my annoying ass best friend that I could talk to about whatever, and my skills over the years had led him to a beautiful head of hair.
In fact, I couldn’t help tugging at one of the free locs resting beyond his shoulders when I replied, “You’re welcome, Khalid.” But then I almost yanked it out completely once I looked beyond him and saw who was finally making an appearance, looking even better than I’d left him this morning now that he was all cleaned up. “Oh God, he’s here. How do I look?” I asked, sitting up a little straighter in my seat as I watched him and Eric laugh it up about something.
“As ugly as usual since you wanna pull my damn hair out,” Khalid grunted, checking his roots before peeking in the direction I was looking to ask, “Has this nigga always looked like Odell Beckham without the blonde, or am I trippin’?”
While I could certainly see the resemblance, especially after Eric had said the same thing last night at the party, I still whisper-yelled, “Who cares!” Quickly turning away once I realized, “Shit, here he comes.”
Khalid was halfway focused on the bacon, halfway focused on my freak out when Chance finally passed us, offering nothing more than a simple head nod my way before continuing on towards the living room.
“Did he really just…”
I didn’t even get to finish my thought when Khalid started laughing. “Damnnnn. You must’ve had him burnin’ when he peed this morning or somethin’.”
“Fuck you, Khalid,” I snarled, throwing a jab at his shoulder before peeking in the other room to see Chance greeting all of the other women with much more enthusiasm.
“So what the hell was that about?” I thought to myself, turning back to ask Khalid, “Should I go say something? I don’t even know what to say. Like… what was that?”
The interaction was only a mere few seconds, but those few seconds were enough to have me shook since it didn’t make any sense after the time we had shared last night. Though Khalid attempted to bring some clarity when he replied, “If you’re asking me to translate, it’d probably be something like, “Thanks for the pussy, but I’m good on you”. Or maybe even a simple, “Bros before...””
I held up my hand to cut him off. “Okay, okay. I get it. But I still don’t completely understand. I mean, I pulled out some of my best tricks and everything.” …and had the soreness all over to show for it.
“Shit. In that case, ol’ boy probably thinks your little ass is too damn freaky,” Khalid replied with another laugh, the fact that he could find anything about this funny only annoying me even more.
Instead of sitting around just to be the butt of his jokes, I stood up from my seat, running my hands against my dress to smooth it out as I decided, “I’m gonna go say something.”
Khalid stood up to join me, though his mission was a little different when he added, “And I’m gonna go get my damn woman back from whoever this Stevelle nigga is.”
“Stevie, fool,” I corrected, though that was probably the smallest thing wrong compared to the other part of what he had said.
But my correction didn’t matter anyway once he replied, “More like, Stev-get the fuck outta my way, playboy.” Before taking off towards the room my mother and her little friend had magically rejoined everyone else in.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have the capacity to investigate their little situation, too caught up in my own drama as he just so happened to walk his fine ass back through the kitchen. And he was getting ready to blow past me once again until I stopped him with a hand against his chest.
My voice was low, trying not to draw too much attention when I said, “Hey. You good?”
He peeked down at my hand before peeking back up at my face to shrug. “I’m chillin’. What’s up?”
“Yeah, what’s up Londyn,” I thought, quickly realizing that not coming into this conversation with any sort of plan was a terrible idea. Still, I tried to play it cool, dropping my hand to my side as I pushed out, “Nothin’. I guess I was just… making sure we were good.”
“Why wouldn’t we be?” he asked, his piqued eyebrow enough to have me wondering had I only imagined his cold shoulder.
But then Khalid’s laugh of a reaction played in my head, giving me the confidence to respond, “You didn’t speak when you came in.”
“Yeah, cause you were occupied.”
“Occupied?” I asked with an awkward laugh. “I was literally just sitting there talking to my friend.”
“Oh, so he’s your friend, huh? I’d hate to be him,” he replied, moving past me again towards what was left of the food.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, leaning against the countertop nearby as I watched him throw together a plate.
He didn’t stop assembling it to answer, “I’m sayin’, if I was feelin’ somebody, I’d hate to find out she was all over somebody else just the night before and was referring to me as just a friend.”
My face scrunched when I repeated, “Feelin’ somebody? Khalid is not… wait. Are you jealous?”
Instead of answering my question, he dug in his pocket, then stuffed the key ring I had left him in my hand. “Here’s your key, Londyn.”
“Oh my gosh, you are jealous,” I said with a laugh, tickled to no end since I had been the one pressed about the whole situation just moments before.
Little did I know, I was far from alone. Though Chance still tried to play it off when he insisted, “Man, ain’t nobody jealous. I got what I wanted and you got yours too. If anything, I feel bad for the kid cause he definitely won’t be able to measure up whenever he gets his chance.”
His arrogance had me hot all over again, ready to blow this joint the same way we had done the night before. But since being too anxious - too eager - hadn’t done anything other than stress me out for no good reason, I decided to play right into his little theory, sidling up next to him to reply, “You’re so convinced he’s after me when he could’ve very well been before you…”
“What?” he asked, the tightening in his jawline enough to let me know I had hit a nerve.
And with that, I took a page from his book, changing the subject as I patted a hand against his shoulder and said, “Thanks for bringing my key, Chance.” Before leaving the kitchen for good.
&
“So you ready to tell me what happened between you and Ellen’s boy last night, or you think I forgot?”
My mother and I were supposed to be doing a last check of the Airbnb, making sure we got all of our things out, making sure we didn’t leave any damages and hiding the spots that we did. But instead, she was watching me do everything by myself while she grilled me about Chance.
At least, she called herself trying, to which I replied, “Forgot what?”
“Little girl, don’t you play with me. I sent you home in the hands of a good lookin’ young man expecting a story to come out of it. So spill it,” she demanded, leaning against the door frame of one of the bedrooms while I checked the corners and crevices.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to look at her, hyperfocused on the task at hand of checking under one of the beds when I lied, “There’s nothing to tell. Chance was a complete gentleman.”
“Well true complete gentlemen deliver complete orgasms.”
“Mama!” I screeched, snapping my head up only to find her snickering at my reaction.
Then she shrugged, stepping deeper into the room to reply, “I’m just saying. He looks… healthy. Strong. Virile. And I know you didn’t fall too far from the tree.”
“Is that your way of saying you played Mrs. Officer with Stevie last night?” I asked with a snicker of my own when I pulled out a pair of handcuffs that were tucked underneath the mattress. Something that might’ve grossed me out if they hadn’t come at the perfect time to take the attention off of me and put it on her.
But I shouldn’t have been surprised when she easily brushed off any possible embarrassment, snatching them from my hand as she repeated, “Mrs. Officer? Girl, I was the officer, the sheriff, the chief, the detective…”
“Okay, okay. I get it. You had a good time.”
She nodded, emphasizing, “I had a great time. Stevie just makes me feel so… young again.”
There was a glow about her smile that I hadn’t seen since… well, the last guy she called herself getting busy with. And while I was tempted to ask if she was at least serious about this one, I instead focused on the other part of her statement to insist, “You’re not even that old.”
“Oh, but I am. Just because I give you young girls a run for your money doesn’t mean I haven’t been on this earth for double the time with two grown ass children to show for it,” she replied, making me smile since I was certainly proud to be one of her grown ass children.
Sure, my mother had her fun, lived her life to the fullest, and maybe made some questionable decisions along the way. But she was a damn good mom; my biggest fan, my loudest cheerleader, the one who made sure I had everything I needed and more growing up, even without always having the full support from my dad or Eric’s. And so, if Officer Stevie was responsible for her glow, I had no problem going along with it.
For now.
“Well, if he makes you happy, I’m happy for you,” I told her, abandoning the bedroom to check the next.
She was right on my heels when she added, “And if Chance didn’t make you happy last night, you let me know so I won’t invite him or his cheapskate mama to any more of my events. You know that woman had the nerve to take a whole pan of sausage home with her today? Talkin’ about she was going to take it down to the homeless shelter so it wouldn’t go to waste. Oh, it’s going to a waist alright. Hers.”
A laugh slipped out before I could contain it, though I was still sure to ask, “Mama, I thought you liked Miss. Ellen?”
“Oh, I love her like a sister. I just wish she’d stop being so frugal all the time like Chuck didn’t leave her a nice lump sum when he passed away.”
“A nice lump sum was the least he could do…” I muttered, the stories about Chance’s father from back in the day enough to scar the heart of anyone who knew.
Simply put, I strongly hoped Chance had fallen as far as possible from that tree.
Of course my mother didn’t indulge me, snapping her fingers as she replied, “Nu uh. Grown folks’ business.”
Once again, I could only laugh, quick to remind her, “You just called me grown a minute ago, and now I can’t speak on it? You wanna be all in me and Chance’s business, but I can’t be in y’all’s? I mean, you really think I just plugged my ears over the years every time it was brought up that he was...”
“Mama, you’re viral!”
“What?” we both asked at once, watching as Eric jogged into the room with his phone in his hand before he explained, “Auntie Sheri’s video has been shared all over the internet! Black Twitter is havin’ a field day!”
While I took the phone to see… thousands of retweets already? Seriously? My mother asked, “Black Twitter? What the hell is a, Black Twitter? I thought it was only on Facebook Live.”
He nodded, giving her the most basic tutorial on social media when he answered, “It was, but someone ripped the footage to share it everywhere else.”
The more I scrolled, the crazier the tweets seemed to get, my eyes wide as I started reading them out loud.
“OMG! This is sooo gonna be me in a few years! Hashtag Auntie Goals.”
“How she twerk better than me though? Hashtag dead.”
“Yoooo, whose mom is this?! I wanna be her friend in real life!”
“I need me a mature ratchet bae like this.”
That one made my mother gasp, a hand to her chest as she said, “Mature?”
“Weren’t you just in here talking about how old you felt?” I reminded her, going back to the tweets that all seemed to carry the same general tone - they were impressed with my mother’s ability to shake her ass.
But of course she didn’t see it that way, too caught up on someone acknowledging her age - even in a mostly-complimentary fashion - when she insisted, “That’s for me to say, not these… strangers.”
“Wait. Even Zalayah retweeted this?!” I asked, checking to make sure the account was verified before reading the tweet out loud.
“Someone find her for me. I need this choreography in my show ASAP.”
“Real superstars recognize other superstars,” my mother said with a shrug and a smirk, making Eric and I both laugh as I handed Eric his phone back.
He was back to scrolling the same way I had, his eyes glowing with amusement as he replied, “You’re like… legit internet famous, ma. For twerkin’ in a snow bunny pajama onesie. This is wild.”
I couldn’t have agreed more, especially since I had just learned about the video earlier today and now it was already in the face of millions. But my mother seemed unfazed, giving a wave of her hand as she led us back downstairs. “Ahh, these things happen then they blow right on over. I’m sure they’ll be moved onto someone else come morning.”
“Or... you’ll be even more famous and they’ll be inviting you to come do twerk tutorials on TV,” I teased, already imagining the daytime talk show tour all viral folks seemed to get when there wasn’t shit else to talk about.
Though, being who my mother was, I was hardly surprised when she replied, “The only way I’d ever do that is if it’s a show on WAWG. Not one of these… other networks. Lord knows I’d hate to be responsible for white women thinking they suddenly know how to dance.”
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to die of laughter from her shade or be proud of the fact that she was only taking her talents to the black-owned network, We All We Got. But I only had a quick chance to do both once I heard Eric say, “Well Nubia Perry, owner of the network, just retweeted the video so…”
“Nubia Perry?! You know that’s my girl!” my mother squealed with excitement, snatching Eric’s phone to see it for herself. And while I wasn’t sure what having a viral star for a mother would mean in the long run, I was glad she had stolen the show, allowing the whole “Chance” thing to slip from her mind with ease.