Street Soldiers (20 page)

-Bryan

Drama High, volume 14: So, So Hood

* * *

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: GOLDEN EYE

Because of my wild dreams about Pam and dogs and whatnot I’ve lost my ability to get that good, good sleep again. I’ve been meaning to make an appointment with Dr. Whitmore but the weeks keep flying by. The African Student Union has to make an official bid to nominate a candidate for Homecoming court by tomorrow, and Friday’s quickly approaching.

For one reason or another most of the girls in the group are ineligible. We have a few exceptions, myself included, but I’m not running. What we need is someone unsuspecting to snag the crown right up from under Nellie’s ass. She needs to be punished and humbled at the same time. Once Nellie’s fake friends drop her ass for losing the crown, she’ll come crawling back to us. Then, maybe she’ll rat Cameron out for the conniving heffa that she is.

“Jayd, please pass me the scissors,” Mama says, setting down a crystal vase filled with water on the nightstand in between our beds.

There was a guy selling flowers off of the freeway exit where I purchased a dozen yellow roses to cheer her up. Mama needed my help with Pam’s service arrangements after our work at the shop so I decided to spend the night in Compton. Maybe I’ll sleep better knowing Mama’s in the bed across from mine just in case Pam’s soul decides to make another appearance.

“Here you go,” I say. I’ve been folding programs for the past hour. Netta’s son has amazing graphic design skills.

“You look tired, Jayd. Have you been sleeping well?” Mama asks, forcing my eyes to meet hers.

“Not really. I’ve had a lot on my mind,” I say, thinking about Jeremy and Keenan, Rah and his drama as well as my own shit. How will I ever be able to handle college with all of this extra bull to contend with?

“How are your dreams?” Mama asks, her eyes probing for the truth.

“Actually, I keep having this nightmare about a rabies infected pack of dogs chasing us,” I say, recalling my most recent vision. “You fall to the ground and I look back and run toward you. The dogs are right on top of you, sniffing at your bare feet. I try to help you up but it’s like you’re in a trance or something. I look at your eyes and they’re glowing like Maman’s, and here’s the really freaky part: so are the dogs’ eyes.”

Mama continues cutting the rose stems, inadvertently clipping her index finger on a thorn. She stares down at the blood pattern on the cutting board and reads the message.

“Jayd, how long have you been having this dream?” Mama asks, still examining the blood.

“It’s been about a week now. Each time it gets more and more intense. Sometimes I wake up screaming it feels so real.”

“I see.” She takes a deep breath, says a prayer in Creole and kisses her fingers.

Mama’s not going to tell me everything she’s envisioning and she doesn’t have to. I can see the worry written all over her smooth face. That’s the last time I buy her flowers. I don’t like seeing Mama bleed, even if she has nicked herself from time to time while chopping vegetables. It has always made me uncomfortable.

“Mama, what is it?” I take a tissue from the dresser and hand it my grandmother who looks unfazed by my gesture.

“I wish I knew. It’s a warning from the ancestors, Jayd—that much is for sure,” Mama says, pressing the napkin against her injured finger. “Make sure you record it exactly as you see it in the spirit book each and every time it comes to you. I don’t care if the dream is always identical. Keep writing it down and notate any differences no matter how slight the change may be.”

“Mama, what is it? I know the dogs’ eyes means something.”

Mama looks away from her personal divination, the creases in her forehead from years of worrying prominent.

“Lexi,” Mama says, shaking her head from side to side. “I think Esmeralda’s going to try and turn Lexi against us.”

As if she heard us from her in-house spot under the kitchen table, Lexi appears at the threshold between Mama’s room and the hallway. What the hell?

Mama locks onto her loyal canine’s eyes who glares back at Mama like she’s a stranger. Lexi’s mouth drips with foam and she’s eager to charge.

“Jayd, be very still,” Mama says, staring into Lexi’s dazed eyes.

Lexi begins barking loudly at her owner; Mama doesn’t budge. I never thought Lexi would be crazy enough to cross the threshold into our bedroom but she looks like she’s going to pounce at any moment. All the men are in the garage watching the game. I think screaming would piss Lexi off even more.

“Esmeralda crossed Lexi’s thoughts with another dog suffering from rabies. She’ll regret playing mind games with my girl,” Mama says, her eyes aglow. “Jayd, take the corners of your blanket in both of your hands and be ready to throw it over Lexi’s head.”

“Say what?” I ask aloud even if I meant to curb the outburst. There are two things I don’t mess with when they’re angry: dogs and bees.

“Jayd, this is no time to be scared. Lexi’s our dog. She won’t hurt us and we won’t have to hurt her if you do exactly as I say.”

Technically, Lexi’s Mama’s dog but this isn’t the time to argue semantics.

Lexi’s eyes go from confused to lethal in a matter of seconds. She leaps across the threshold onto Mama’s bed and attempts to take a bite out of my grandmother’s thigh.

“Lexi, no!” I scream, leaping to my feet. I drape the blanket over Lexi’s frantic body, entangling her in the blanket.

“Good job,” Mama says, wiping blood from her leg. “It’s just a scratch; I should be fine.” Mama takes the edges of the rowdy blanket and leads the way outside.

“If Esmeralda had the ability to control Lexi’s mind this whole time why is she just now attacking?” I ask, opening the backdoor.

“Because she didn’t have Rousseau,” Mama says, wrestling with her beloved pet. When Lexi realizes what she did she’s going to feel horrible. “He can con any animal by becoming one himself. He must’ve gotten close to Lexi, allowing Esmeralda the perfect opportunity to slip in but that’s okay. We’ve got something for her ass.”

“What are we going to do?” I flick the lights on in the backhouse and let Lexi and Mama inside. The warm, sweet scented place calms us all down.

“You’re going to write this incident down in the spirit book, take a protection bath and go to bed,” Mama says. “I’ll take care of Lexi.”

“But Mama,” I begin, but she’s not hearing it.

“Jayd, when you don’t sleep you’re spiritually and mentally weak. And if you’re weak you can’t help anyone, including me. Don’t worry about my scratches, child. I’ll be fine. I’ve lost too much good sleep in my life to worrying, Jayd. Do as I say and get some rest. Everything else will work itself out in the morning.”

*

When I awoke this morning Mama and Lexi were nowhere to be found. I have no idea what happened after I went to sleep last night—I don’t even remember dreaming. The patchouli oil in my bath water was overwhelming and forced me to relax even if I didn’t want to. I’m glad it’s Friday but would feel better if I could’ve laid eyes on Mama to make sure she’s okay. Esmeralda’s getting too slick with her attacks. Mama hates playing fire with fire but after what I witnessed last night, Mama’s hot enough to literally burn Esmeralda’s house to the ground with the blink of an eye.

“I’m loving this shit, man,” Nigel says, showing off his fancy new watch before the impromptu ASU lunch meeting. We need to nominate and vote for a candidate before lunch is over. “These schools are jocking me like females, but the perks are way better than any chick has ever given me.”

I know Nigel’s in pain over he and Mickey’s final demise but this isn’t the way to handle it. He needs to be careful about accepting gifts from the various universities attempting to woo him. If Nigel gets caught he’s going to find himself riding the bench permanently no matter how good of a player he is.

“Nigel, don’t you think you should reject all this crap? Besides, you know you will not be attending any school in Illinois. It’s too damn cold for your Cali-bred self,” I say, trying to sweetly tell my friend that he’s tripping big time.

“Jayd, please,” Nigel says, adjusting his new arm piece. “You’re the only person I know who’d look a gift horse in the mouth and slap it. You’re too suspicious.”

“And you’re too infatuated with the bling, Nigel.” It is a nice watch but still, this is wrong on so many levels, not to mention it’s illegal.

“Let the man enjoy his arm candy, baby,” Chase says, making light of the situation. He can do that; his family could by the watch company if they wanted to. Nigel’s money doesn’t go back that far. His dad was in the NBA and made some solid investments over the years that have sustained his family.

“Don’t encourage him, Chase,” I say, smacking my boy in the arm. “Nigel’s playing Rolex roulette with his entire future. Is your football career really worth a nice watch?” I wish I could shake some sense into my boy but he’s in no mood to listen.

Having played professional basketball for nearly two decades, Mr. Esop knows better than anyone about being savvy with your talent to make it to the next level. If Nigel’s smart, he can do the same thing. God gave him a second chance when the shootout resulting in Tre’s death spared his own life. He needs to count his blessings, stop trippin’ and go home.

“Nah, it’s not,” Nigel says, removing the watch from his left wrist and observing it further. “But it’s a nice incentive to go to school in the Midwest. Hey, do you think they’ll buy me a truck to drive around in all that snow?”

“Yeah, man. Why not?” Chase says.

They’re both making light of a very serious situation. I wish Rah were here to talk to his best friend since Nigel’s obviously not listening to a word I have to say.

“Nigel, stop playing,” I say. “You know you’re not a man of the elements.”

Hell, none of us are. Me and my crew are true LA brats, spoiled by sunshine and mild temperatures. Sure, we have an earthquake every now and then but it’s a small tradeoff when you consider what the majority of our days are like.

“I don’t see UCLA trying to keep a brotha iced. All they’ve done is invite me to socials and games and shit. Where’s the real love?”

“That is love, fool or has it been too long since you’ve experienced a healthy relationship to know the difference?”

Nigel smirks knowing I’m talking about more than the volatile relationship he has with our coaches at South Bay High. When Nigel left Westingle to attend South Bay it was a bittersweet decision made mostly by his father, who wanted him to play for the best team in the region—not the second or third. It was a smart move overall but Nigel misses his old school. Rah keeps him in the loop about everything going on, but it’s not the same thing.

“Jayd, do I detect a little haterism?” Chase says, tickling my side and hitting my irksome spot like only my play brother can.

“Chase, are you his manager now?” I ask, smacking him in the arm.

“I’m his boy, Jayd. And because I’m his boy I’ve got to look out for my boy’s best interest, you feel me?”

I think Chase actually believes his own bull.

“Does that include him making all of the wrong decisions?” I say, flicking the watch with my finger. If I could throw it in the trashcan to prove my point I would.

“Jayd, you worry too much, baby. Chill with all that negativity. You’re bringing a bad aura into the room.” Chase takes the sign-in sheet and passes it to Nigel who’s busy setting his watch.

“What time is it in China?” Nigel asks, playing with the fancy gold dials. “This watch has three time zone settings. I want to set them all.”

“You’re too damned silly for me.” I can’t help but laugh at Nigel’s enthusiasm. Last week he got a pair of the new Jordan’s before they hit the stores. I guess all of the attention is to be expected with a top athlete like Nigel.

No matter how foul the source, Nigel deserves a little lightness in his life after everything he’s been through lately, courtesy of Mickey. Speaking in baby-mama drama, Mickey walks into the classroom with her lunch in hand. I’m glad she showed up to the meeting but not for the attitude she’s about to bring.

“I see Christmas came early for someone,” Mickey says, eyeing the expensive watch before greeting anyone in the room. Damn, this girl can spot bling faster than Queen Califia. Maybe Nickey’s gift of sight as a caul child’s rubbed off on her mother.

“How’s my daughter?” Nigel asks, signing the sheet and passing it to his estranged baby-mama.

“Nickey’s fine,” Mickey says, setting the food down on an empty desk. “By the way, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to see my daughter anymore. I mean, you don’t want to be with her mama so you shouldn’t be with her, either,” Mickey says, signing the paper and passing it to Chase who’s as shocked as the rest of us.

“Mickey, what the hell are you talking about?” Nigel asks. “No matter what happens between you and me Nickey will always be my daughter. Check the birth certificate if you don’t remember.” My boy’s vessels are about to pop. Mickey’s playing dirty by using Nickey as a pawn to get back at Nigel when this shit’s all her fault.

“Well, that can be easily rectified. We can take a blood test down to the county courthouse and change the name if you want to pay for it.” Nigel looks like he wants to go Ike and Etta Mae Turner on Mickey. I’ve never known him to hit a chick but even the most levelheaded brothers can slip up when pushed too far.

There’s such a thin line between love and hate and Mickey has crossed it. My girl doesn’t know the full extent of Nigel’s wrath like I do. When he gets pissed, much like Rah, Nigel sees red. He’s fallen in love with Nickey, even giving her his last name when he really didn’t have to. There’s no limit to what he’ll do to protect his daughter, damn a blood test.