I felt like a mannequin. I swear I couldn’t move from my spot. I couldn’t believe he’d actually left me standing here and had walked off, disappearing like thin vapor into a sea of students.
Suddenly the bell rang and people started rushing past me, saying, “Elite! I heard you on the radio. I can’t believe you really won those tickets!”
A few more said, “Wish I could go.”
“Well, ya can’t!” Naja slipped over to me, grabbed me by the arm, and practically dragged me down the hall to class.
SPIN IT…
Track 3
Okay, so Jahaad had left me in the middle of the hallway, and unless I planned on not going to the concert, my relationship was going to be over. This might have been the easy way out…letting him dump me and not the other way around.
And maybe a week before, I would’ve seized the moment, but then again maybe I wouldn’t have, especially since this was the first time I faced the real possibility that he might actually leave me. So I had no choice but to figure out how I was going to keep Jahaad and go to the concert at the same time.
Not able to come up with a clear and concise plan, I shook my head. I was at work, just starting my shift. I checked my work schedule and saw that I had the night of the concert off. Not that I thought that would be a problem, considering my manager, Thelma, was cool. Last year she made me assistant manager and once I saw the jump in my paycheck, I told her I would forever be grateful and do whatever she wanted me to. Which I did. I always closed up, and every other weekend I opened, did extra hours, and always made the schedule so she wouldn’t have to.
I had been working at bebe in the Mall at Short Hills every other day after school and on the weekends since I forged my mother’s signature (at fourteen) on my working papers. I was tired of rockin’ the crackhead kid’s look: dingy and too big clothes, no frill kicks, and a smirk on my face that screamed this was the best I could do. Hell, there was no need for the truth to be that obvious when I could work and lie about it.
Anywho, I already explained to Ny’eem that if he wanted me to get those Air Force Ones he’d been eyeing, then he had to be home on time tomorrow night to keep the kids. Otherwise, his dreams of being sneaker king would be a wrap. Especially since I’m going back on my word of not getting him anything, since he refuses to get a J.O.B.
I had to admit I was worried I was gonna lose Ny’eem to the streets. All he wanted to do was hang out on the corner with his boys and chase behind them. Everybody, except Ny’eem of course, saw they were up to no good.
My mother even told him that if she caught him hanging on the corner again, she was going to wreck shop on the block. And if she did, that would have been on him. And I tried to tell him not to sleep on Cassie—between her lovemaking sessions with the pipe, she did try to be somebody’s mama. Not mine though, because ever since I had to mother my sisters and brothers, I told her to be clear: I was grown.
“Okay, Naja.” I looked toward Naja, who’s worked with me since last summer. “We’re not on the schedule tomorrow, but we have extra hours next week to make up for it.” We walked over to the counter and I stood behind the cash register while she leaned up against the front of the counter.
“That’s if I’m not married,” Naja said with ease.
This chick was crazy, and the way I was looking at her told her that I thought so. “What are you talking about?!” I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Girl, please. I heard Rick Ross is going to be there, and if so, I’m stripping on site.” She started throwing her arms in the air and dropping down low. “‘Drop down and sweep the floor wit’ it’—hey’yayyy!” She popped back up. “I am nothing,” she popped her gums and snapped her fingers in a Z-motion, “to play with.”
“You so crazy,” I giggled. “But look, what we gon’ wear?”
“Girl, I got this fly Juicy Couture outfit. And let me tell you it makes my boobs look like hey’yay, my ass look like holl’laaaah! And my stilettos look like they sing, ‘Here comes Miss America…’” Naja strutted like Naomi Campbell from one side of the boutique to the other as if she were working a Paris runway, did a pose, and came back again. “I’m puttin’ er’body to sleep. Except my girl, of course. We can be on the same level of flyness. What you buy?”
I sighed. I hated admitting this…even to Naja. “I don’t have any extra money this week. I had to pay for the twins’ school pictures, Mica’s school trip, and I had to buy Ny’eem a bus card. I’m broke. And all I have left is like fifty dollars.”
“Dang, that ain’t hardly enough and you need five dollars added to that just to get your nails and feet done. We can make arrangements with Tamara down the hall from you to do your hair. What about the booster, Lisa?”
“She got locked up last week.”
“Damn, and you know you definitely can’t wear no old gear.”
“Maybe though,” I said hopeful, “no one we know will be there.”
“Elite, this is the biggest concert of the year. Everybody and their stepmama will be there.”
“I know…maybe…you know…I shouldn’t—”
“Girl, I know you ain’t about to trip like maybe you shouldn’t go?” She sighed. “Damn, Elite, so what we gon’ do?” She placed both elbows on the counter and put her chin in her palms. “I got it,” she popped her head up and said as if a lightbulb had just gone off. “Maybe…you know, hmph.”
“Would you just tell me!”
She popped her gums, “Why don’t—nah, you won’t do it.”
“What?” I said, aggravated.
“Nah, you won’t do it.”
“What?!”
“Nah.”
“Would you say it! I hate when people do that!”
“Okay, since you beggin’ and everything.” She laughed. “Why don’t you know, you borrow a li’l sumthin’-sumthin’ from the store?”
“What store? This store?”
“Uhmm hmm.”
I waved my hand—it was obvious she’d lost her mind. “You crazy as hell. And who gon’ come bail me out when I go to jail? My mother is a crack-head—she done smoked all the bail money away. Girl please, you buggin’.”
“Look, you’re the assistant manager. You can delete the tape, take the gear, and bring it back after the concert if you’d like. It’s nothin’. That’s why I said borrow, and if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll borrow something, too.”
“I’m not—” I was interrupted by my cell phone ringing. It was Jahaad and I sent his ass straight to voicemail. I didn’t feel like being aggravated with an argument. And besides, he knew my minutes were low. “Now, Naja, back to you—”
“Oh look,” a female voice interrupted me. “I do believe we know the hired help.” When we looked toward the door, it was Ciera.
“Is this the part where I punch her in the face,” Naja said, more as a statement than a question.
Ciera rolled her eyes. “Anyway,” she said to her crew, “I have backstage passes.” She wiggled her neck as she looked through the racks. “And my cousin on my father’s side, his god sister’s brother manages Haneef, so you know we gon’ get V.I.P. treatment.”