Two Thin Dimes (13 page)

J
amaica shivered slightly, though not from the cold. She folded her arms as she walked through the streets of the Courts toward the neighborhood store. Another glance around at the desolation caused a second shiver. She turned toward Savion.

“So how long have you lived in this neighborhood?”

“As far as I can remember,” Savion answered. His large, oversized, suede hiking boots kicked a rock in front of them, sending it skipping over the roughly paved, cracked, trash-strewn street.

“I grew up in the Courts,” he added. It was said without pride, yet at the same time, there existed no shame in his declaration.

Jamaica stepped over a huge, jagged pothole filled with muddy water, and glanced down a nearby street.
They are all the same,
she thought.
The buildings are all the same. The streets are no different, either.

The cheap, brown, industrial paint that covered the cement block buildings did little to hide the desolation. The broken-out windows, the disrepaired, pebble-paved streets, and numerous broken-down vehicles scattered throughout, all revealed to Jamaica a different world. A world which she knew nothing about. A world in which she felt lost, and even small. She was ashamed that she had never been to a place like this, and even more ashamed at the previous amount of thought which she had given its tenants.

“There's the hood park.” Savion pointed. “That's where I sky over all them fools when I'm hooping, including your boyfriend.” Savion smiled.

Jamaica returned Savion's smile. She nudged him slightly with her shoulder. “You haven't met Air Jamaica yet, have you?”

“Air Jamaica?” Savion waved her off. “Girl, you can't ball!”

Jamaica grabbed his arm and pulled him close. “I can out-ball you,” she declared. “I played a little hoops in high school.”

Laughing, Savion balled his fist and covered his mouth. “Yeah, right! You hooping, I'd like to see that!”

Jamaica extended her hand. “Deal?”

Savion shook it. “Deal!”

Together they entered inside of the neighborhood store. It was a small mom-and-pop shop, with a barbecue stand attached to the side of it. Moms ran the store, while Pops handled the barbecue. The smell of burning mesquite wood and sweet barbecue sauce hung thick in the air. It made Jamaica's mouth water. Inhaling dramatically, she extended her arms toward the ceiling.

“Mmmm, smells like Heaven,” she declared.

“Tastes like it too,” the stranger behind the counter told her.

He was a rotund, chubby-jowled, freckle-faced, elderly man, with a shiny bald head. His smile was disarming, easy, and ever ready, yet his voice was deep, booming, fatherly. He wiped his hands on his white apron, further smearing it with sauce, and smiled again.

“How can I help you kids?” His eyes twinkled and disappeared when he smiled.

“Hey, Slim,” Savion greeted. “Where's your glasses?”

“Oh, Savion, that you?” Slim asked. “I just broke 'em a little while ago, and I can't see a damn thing without 'em. What do you need today, Poppa?”

“The usual, but make it two,” Savion answered.

“You got it!” Slim's massive hand slapped the counter and he disappeared.

Jamaica smiled, leaned forward, and tugged Savion's shirt. “I see you come here often.”

Savion nodded. “Best barbecue in the world.”

“I'll see.”

Slim returned to the counter with two folded paper sacks, and handed them to Savion. In turn, Savion handed Slim a ten-dollar bill.

“Keep the change, Slim,” Savion told him.

Slim's smile made his twinkling eyes disappear again. “That's why I like you.”

Jamaica and Savion laughed.

“Y'all enjoy and come back soon!” Slim told them, slapping the counter once again. He quickly disappeared into the rear of the store.

“Alright, Slim, thanks.” Savion waved, and then turned and gazed around the smoky establishment, searching for a table. He found one in the rear of the dining area and headed over to it.

Jamaica took in her surrounding. She quickly deduced that Slim wasn't much for accoutrement. In fact, the word
minimal
would have been an understatement. Savion turned toward her and stated the obvious.

“We'll eat here.”

Jamaica shrugged. “Okay.” She'd try anything once. For now.

Jamaica rubbed her stomach and turned toward Savion. “That was absolutely the best barbecue that I have ever tasted. And I've tasted barbecue all over the world!”

Jamaica outstretched her arms and spun around. “I'm full!” She shouted to no on in particular.

It made Savion smile. They turned onto a side street that ran parallel to the neighborhood playground. It was the swings that attracted Jamaica's attention. She tugged at the sleeves of Savion's hooded black FUBU sweatshirt and nodded her head toward the playground.

“C'mon,” she told him.

Before he could reply, Jamaica was off.

“I thought you said that you were full?” Savion called out to her.

Jamaica nodded. “I am, that's why I need to sit down!”

Jamaica plopped onto a swing and Savion walked around the swing and stood behind her. He examined her butt, which hung slightly off the small swing seat, and then grabbed the chains that held the seat. He pulled her back as far as he could, and then pushed her forward, propelling her high into the air. Jamaica outstretched her legs and leaned back, as the swing thrust her forward.

“You're going to get sick,” Savion told her. “You better not throw up on me!”

“Yuck!” Jamaica turned toward him. “I can't believe you said that!”

“Just don't do it!”

“So, where's your little girlfriend at?” she asked, propelling herself forward.

“Which one?”

Her head swung around toward him. “Oh, it's like that, is it?”

Savion smiled. “Well, it would be very selfish not to share the Save-ster.”

Jamaica shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Oh brother, not another wannabe player!”

Savion gave her a forceful shove, propelling her high into the air.

“Aaaaaaah!” Jamaica screamed. “Stop that!”

“I'm not a wannabe anything!” Savion proclaimed, and then shoved her again, sending her even higher into the air.

“Okay, okay! I take it back!” Jamaica shouted.

Savion let her swing high into the air twice more, before grabbing the chain and slowing the swing down.

Jamaica dragged her feet along the ground, helping to slow the swing down further. “Boy, if I was your sister, I would kick your butt!”

Savion laughed and raised his fist into the air. “I don't think you could handle these.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jamaica asked. She hopped off the swing and grabbed Savion, placing him in a head lock. “Did I tell you that I learned to wrestle in Europe?”

Savion placed his arms behind Jamaica's thighs, and scooped her high into the air. “Did I tell you I learned to wrestle watching Stone Cold Steve Austin?” He spun Jamaica around rapidly.

She screamed and clasped him tightly. “Put me down, boy!”

After a couple of turns, Savion sat her down on solid ground.

“You're alright, Jamaica.” He nodded. “I think I like you.”

“Well, I guess that's a compliment. So I guess that I like you too.” Jamaica brushed her hands along her pants leg, and then her sweatshirt, straightening them both out.

“I've never had a big sis.” Savion lifted an eyebrow toward her. “I guess a big sister-in-law would be cool.”

Jamaica continued brushing her sweatshirt. “Well, I don't know about all that.”

Savion stretched, popping his back. “My brother needs you. He loves you.”

Jamaica smiled. She also became very curious. “Why do you say that?”

Savion placed his hand against the supporting bar for the swing and leaned against it. “I've noticed the change in him. He's happier.”

“Really?” Jamaica's smile grew wider. She wanted to pick Savion for information, so she feigned surprise. The acting made her feel as though she were in grammar school again.

Savion shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, and besides…he told me.”

Jamaica waved Savion off. “Get out of here.”

“I'm serious,” Savion replied. “So, tell me this…”

“What?” she asked, still gushing.

Savion stood straight, and approached her slowly. “When are you leaving, and are you going to stay in touch with T?”

Jamaica turned away and folded her arms. She knew that one day she would have to answer that question from Tameer, and still, she had not thought of an answer. She knew that one day soon, she would, in fact, be asking herself that very same question. Would she stay in touch? Why would she? Why wouldn't she? What was she doing?

“I want to stay in touch with him,” she answered, not knowing if it were true. She turned back toward Savion and met his eyes. “I'm going to try.”

It was Savion's eyes that gave him away, even before his question.

“But it will be hard on the road?” he added to her sentence.

“What?” It still took her by surprise, even though she now suspected that he knew.

Savion nodded his head toward the street and started off. “C'mon.”

Quietly, Jamaica folded her arms and followed.

Savion was the first one through the apartment door. He stuffed his keys inside of the front pocket of his baggy blue jeans, and headed straight for the DVD player. Jamaica stood behind him, arms folded, and watched as he stuck a disc inside of the machine. Savion lifted the remote and turned toward her.

“Tameer loves rap music, that's all he listens to. To him, it's like poetry. The rhyming, the anger, the message. But me, I listen to all types of music.” Savion smiled and turned toward the television, pressing fast forward on the remote. When he finally stopped the disc, Jamaica Tiera Rochelle's latest music video was playing on the television.

“How long have you known?” Jamaica asked, her voice a crackling whisper.

Savion didn't turn. He responded while still watching the video. “Since the first day in the mall. I wasn't one hundred percent sure, until Tameer won the car right after his other one broke down. Then, the cash scholarship thing from the supermarket gave everything up.”

Savion turned toward Jamaica and smiled. “Awards aren't given out in December, they aren't given out in cash, and you usually have to apply for them.”

Jamaica laughed. Her laughter was infectious, as Savion soon joined in. Finally, after several moments, she stared at him.

Jamaica was relieved that her deception was over, and that she could now be herself. No more hiding, no more sneaking, no more lying. She could be Jamaica the singer. She wanted to be able to tell Tameer herself, that way she could explain things to him. She wanted Savion to give her the chance to straighten things out, and maybe smooth things over before he told his brother.

“Are you…”

“No.” Savion shook his head. He knew what she was going to ask. He knew what she needed to ask. “Why should I? Besides, he doesn't need to know right now, anyway. You're good together. My brother is happy, and so are you.”

Jamaica outstretched her arms. “Come here.”

Savion stepped closer, and they embraced.

“Okay, that's it!” Dawshanique declared. “I've called everywhere, talked to everybody I know, and nobody knows her.”

“Well then, girl, that settles it,” said Shamika. “She is some outta-town hoochie mama.”

LaShay popped her bubble gum loudly over the telephone. It angered an already frustrated Dawshanique.

“Uh, LaShay, honey do you mind?” asked Dawshanique.

“Dawshanique, I'm not that bitch!” LaShay replied. “I ain't stole your man.”

“Hold on, both a y'all,” Shamika interrupted. “Y'all don't need to go there, 'cause we gots bigger fish to fry. Besides, Shay, that damn smacking is getting on my nerves too.”

Dawshanique exhaled loudly over the receiver. “Back to Ms. Thang.”

“What?” Shamika asked.

“I want her,” Dawshanique told them. “I wanna pull some of that hair outta her head.”

“Whew!” LaShay shrilled. “Now ya talking! That's the Daw I know!”

“So what are you saying…I mean, what's the plan?” asked Shamika.

“There ain't no plan!” Dawshanique told them. “You just keep a lookout for Ms. Thang, and let me know when she's outside.”

“So what are you gonna do, run up and box her?” LaShay asked.

“Hell yeah!” Dawshanique answered.

“Oooooh, hold on,” Shamika shouted. “That sounds like Tameer's car!”

“Damn, bitch, you know what it sounds like already?” Dawshanique said angrily.

“Daw, don't go there,” Shamika warned. She peered outside of her apartment window. “Yeah, that's him. Ms. Thang just ran outside…and she's wearing his FUBU hoody!”

LaShay smacked again. “Damn, Daw, you didn't even sport his clothes like that!”

“Oooooh, bitch, you wrong,” Shamika told LaShay. “Stop being messy.”

Shamika and LaShay shared a laugh at Dawshanique's expense, before Shamika continued her window-seat reporting.

“Well, she's gotten inside of the car, yep, they kissing…exchanging slobber. Yeah, Daw, I think it's safe to say they sexin',” declared Shamika. “Hold on…oh, she's getting out. Now he's getting out…uh-un, girl, that ho is getting behind the wheel! He's letting her drive his car!”

“Ooooh, girl, she's got your man, your man's clothes, and your man's car!” LaShay wailed.

“Damn, Shay, I can hear her, you don't have to repeat it!” Dawshanique shouted. “You like this shit!”

“No, I don't,” LaShay told her. “I'm glad it ain't me, though!”

Dawshanique was beyond angry. “It couldn't be you, all your babies' daddies are dead, you jinxy bitch!”

“Fuck you!” LaShay shouted.

“Hold on, both of you!” Shamika shouted. “We got to stick together. Remember, a new hoochie is a threat to all of us. We've got to get her out of the Courts, off the East side, and hopefully out of town!”

“Just let me know the next time she's around,” Dawshanique told her. “I'll make damn sure she doesn't show her face in public again!”

“Good!” said Shamika. “Now, you two make peace.”

“Peace,” LaShay said dryly.

“Peace,” Dawshanique agreed.

“Good, now let's concentrate on getting this bitch,” Shamika told them.

Jamaica pulled away from Tameer. She wiped the lipstick from his lips and smiled.

“I had fun last night,” she told him.

Tameer nodded. “Me too.”

“Are you gonna pick me up tonight?” Jamaica asked. She knew that he would.

Tameer nodded and smiled. It made her smile again. She tilted her head and stared at him curiously. His smile was a bit too mischievous.

“What?” she asked.

Tameer stepped back and shook his head. “Nothing.”

Jamaica could tell that he was hiding something. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“I can tell when you have something up your sleeve.” Her hands moved slowly up his side, and she began tickling him with her nails. “I can get you to tell me.”

Tameer laughed and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

“It's a surprise. Can't I surprise you?”

“That last time you surprised me, we had a big fight.” Her face contorted slightly.

He rocked her gently from side to side. “It's nothing like that.”

Jamaica leaned back and stared into his eyes. “Are you sure?” She smiled. “So what's it going to be this time, ice fishing? No, don't tell me, mountain climbing? Survival school? Or how about a terrorist training camp?”

Tameer laughed and kissed her on her forehead. “You look good in that shirt. You look good in all my clothes.”

“Yeah, well, you look good without any clothes,” Jamaica told him. Her hand slid down to his derriere, where she pinched him. Her pinch made him jump.

“Hey!” Tameer grabbed Jamaica's hand. “It seems like you're trying to get into my pants, Jamaica.”

She pulled away and winked at him. “Tonight.” She smiled.

Jamaica reached behind herself and turned the knob on the door of her motel room. “Tonight,” she repeated, this time more softly. “Tonight.” It was almost a whisper. She then disappeared inside.

“Well, this is getting to be a regular habit,” a familiar voice called out from behind.

Jamaica turned, and spied her friend in her usual position, sprawled out across the bed. This time, however, she was under the covers.

“China, you really need to lighten up.” She sauntered across the floor of the motel room and sat down upon the edge of the bed. Smiling, Jamaica lay back, sprawling out her arms and legs until she covered the entire lower half of the bed.

LaChina knocked Jamaica's arms away. “Hey, watch my legs, Nature Girl.”

Jamaica shook her head. “Ha, ha, real funny. You really need to unwind, relax, get a little.”

The toilet flushed, and Jamaica bolted upright. She turned toward LaChina as the bathroom door swung open.

LaChina waved her hand. “Troy, I'd like you to meet Jamaica. Jai, this is Troy.”

Jamaica covered her open mouth, and Troy, who was wrapped inside of a wet towel, quickly stepped back into the bathroom.

“Sorry, I didn't know you had company,” Troy said, smiling sheepishly. His gaze shifted from LaChina to Jamaica. “Nice to meet you.” He quickly closed the bathroom door.

“Oh my God,” declared Jamaica. She turned toward LaChina, who shrugged her shoulders.

“I got bored, so I went to the club,” LaChina explained.

“China, you didn't!”

“You did!” LaChina retorted. “I needed to unwind.”

Jamaica slapped her friend across her shoulder. “I can't believe you!” She waved her hand toward the bathroom door. “You just met him!”

“It was a reward.” LaChina leaned back and crossed her legs.

“A reward?”

LaChina wrapped the covers around her body and stood. “Yes, a reward. I've wrapped up all of the loose ends and successfully closed the Sea World video shoot.” She turned toward Jamaica and frowned. “You won't believe how protective they are of those damn things.”

Jamaica fell back onto the bed. “Yippie. Now I've got to kiss a big, slimy whale on video for several minutes, for all the world to see. Tiera, the fish kisser.”

LaChina knelt next to her friend. “Think of it like this, we don't have to stay here any longer. No more boy toys, no more cold, just fun in the sun, surrounded by half-naked island men, catering to our every wish.”

Jamaica turned and rolled over on her stomach, so that she could come face-to-face with her friend. “Well, I was thinking about…you know…maybe hanging around until Christmas.”

LaChina bolted up from her position on the floor.

“What?” It was a shout. “Hang around until Christmas!”

Jamaica nodded. “Yeah.”

LaChina adjusted the blanket around her body and began pacing. “Uh-un, no way.” She shook her head. “Jai, it's going to snow.”

“So? Christmas should be spent in the snow. How else can you make snowmen?”

LaChina stopped her pacing and frowned at Jamaica. “You know what, I've just noticed something. One, your vocabulary has gone to hell, and two, you've gone crazy.”

Jamaica smacked her lips. “China, what are you talking about?”

“You're crazy,” LaChina told her, as she resumed her frenzied pacing. “Weren't you the one, who only last year…and a few weeks ago, said…and I quote, ‘China darling, Christmas should be spent somewhere warm, somewhere tropical.' That was you, wasn't it?”

Jamaica extended her hands in a calming motion. “Okay, okay. So we did the tropical thing, now let's do the winter thing.”

LaChina stopped once again, and stared at Jamaica. “We can do the winter thing in New York.”

Jamaica shook her head. “I'm not going.”

“What? What do you mean you're ‘not going'?”

“I'm not going,” Jamaica repeated.

LaChina sat down on the bed next to her friend. “Jai, I was kidding when I said that you were in love.” She tapped Jamaica's shoulder, causing her to look up at her. “You haven't really fallen for this boy, have you?”

“Of course not. I mean, how could I? What does he possibly have to offer me?” Jamaica asked.

LaChina stared at her. The silence combined with LaChina's steady gaze caused Jamaica to shift nervously and shake her head.

“Nothing. He had nothing!” Jamaica said forcefully. “I mean, I'm a superstar, right?” Her eyes met LaChina's for a brief moment, before she cut them away.

LaChina shook her head. She knew her friend.

“What has this boy done to you?” she asked with an exhale.

Jamaica rolled over onto her back and gazed at the ceiling. “The same thing Tyrone did to you.”

“Troy, his name is Troy.”

“Whatever.”

LaChina stared at Jamaica for several moments. Jamaica continued to avoid eye contact. LaChina shook her head.

“Like I said a minute ago, Jai, when I said that you were in love, I was only kidding before. But now…” LaChina shook her head. “Jai, what are you going to do with him? Girl, you're from two different worlds.”

Jamaica exhaled forcibly and shook her head. “I don't know, China.” Her fist rose to her mouth, where she bit down upon her knuckle and stared off into space.

“I don't know,” she repeated softly.