Up at the College (24 page)

As soon as those words left Rochelle’s mouth, Yvonne ran to her bathroom mirror and studied her hair.

“Ooh, yikes. It really is time for a new do.”

“Uh-huh,” Rochelle said, coming up behind her.

“Yeah, Mommy,” D’Relle said, standing next to her sister behind their aunt. “You need some crunk in your system real bad.”

Yvonne reached up and touched her bouncing afro puff sitting on top of her head.

“But I don’t look as bad as Bettina, do I?”

“Naw. Don’t nobody look that bad. You know she got that thang under lock and key,” Rochelle said, laughing. “But the point
is this—you can look so good. And it’s time for you to get out of the rut you’ve been in, so you can really enjoy moving forward
with your life.”

“And the bad thing about Bettina,” Danesha said, putting in her customary unsolicited two cents, “is that she thinks she looks
good. But she don’t. And I don’t know why Daddy doesn’t tell that lady to pull those sundresses she is always wearing out
of her booty. It don’t look right. And I bet those crease parts that go in Bettina’s booty smell like booty.”

Yvonne and Rochelle were cracking up. Danesha was the only person they knew who always voiced what everybody else was thinking.

“Yeah,” D’Relle said, laughing. “Bettina looks like this in those ugly dresses. Don’t know why Daddy won’t make her wear some
different kinds of clothes.”

D’Relle stuck her pants way up in the crack of her butt, sucked in her behind and started walking around. She looked just
like Bettina when she was walking around thinking she was all that and a bag of chips with some dip.

Yvonne was making good time until she came up on two red lights that seemed to last forever. When they finally turned green
she shot off, only to come upon another set of lights about to turn red. She zipped through those intersections when she knew
good and well that those yellow lights were practically orange, they were so close to red. Yvonne was still racing the car
as fast as her heartbeat when she came to the third yellow light and decided that it would be a good idea to stop when she
reached the intersection.

The car jerked and lunged forward, spilling the contents of her purse on the floor. House keys, lipstick, mirror, gum, change,
mints, comb, eyeliner, pen, coupons, tampons, and cleaners’ tickets were all over the place.

“Daggone it!” Yvonne exclaimed as she tried to reach down and get her stuff before the light turned green, and then gave up
after the car behind her honked for the fourth time.

She slowed down and took a deep breath. It had been a long and emotional morning. First, dealing with Gilead Jackson. And
then Kordell Bivens jumping all up in her face, like he was actually going to make her do what they wanted her to do. What
was up with that? And who could forget Regina Young, who called herself
going with
Curtis, and all the time had been sleeping with that nasty Gilead Jackson.

Rochelle kept telling her to take a chill pill where Curtis Parker was concerned because that mess he was doing with Regina
had been doomed the day it began.

She said, “Girl, Regina is knocking boots with Gilead Jackson. She’s only with Curtis to make Gilead jealous because he keeps
her in the cut—something Regina cannot stand. That hussy loves to be in the spotlight when she is kicking it with a man. Plus,
if the truth be told, Regina is in love with Charles Robinson. She’d do anything to get Charles to hook up with her again.”

“How do you know all of this, Rochelle?”

“Her office is down the hall from mine. Regina is stupid and talks too loud. Plus, she’s a Delta—although most of my sorors
are not too fond of Soror Young.”

“Y’all the ones who let her pledge grad chapter, Rochelle. I told you to tell your girls not to let that skank into the ranks.
But y’all wouldn’t listen to me.”

“No, some of the other sorors wouldn’t listen. A handful of them were momentarily bedazzled by her credentials because the
girl looks pretty good on paper. But most of us wished they would have turned her down. Honestly, Yvonne, there are times
when that girl makes me want to snatch her Delta card out of her hand and cut her with it.”

“Well, we wouldn’t have had her,” Yvonne said.

“You are a Zeta, Yvonne, and you know that Regina was not trying to go for the blue and white. Regina always wants to be part
of what she has determined to be the coolest group with the most clout of anything.”

“She ain’t a Zeta because the finer women of Zeta Phi Beta Sorority Incorporated would not have had her.”

Rochelle shook her head. Her sister was all Zeta—earnest, studious, and just as happy to be a Zeta. Yvonne could have pledged
any of the other three sororities when she was an undergrad. Both the Deltas and the AKAs came to her and asked her to pledge
on their next lines. The only reason she didn’t get an invite from Sigma Gamma Rho was that they didn’t have a chapter nearby
at the time Yvonne decided to go on line. But for whatever reason, Yvonne appreciated the more low-key and quieter style of
her sorors. And despite the jests and teasing, Rochelle believed that being a Zeta suited her sister just fine. Yvonne was
a walking, breathing testament to what loyalty and “Finer Womanhood” truly were.

“Why did Charles Robinson quit going with Regina?” Yvonne asked.

“Why does Charles break off with any woman, especially skanks like that ho-hussy-heifer who think that they are more than
they are? He gets tired of them, and they get on his nerves. Plus, Charles has a serious crush on Veronica Washington.”

“Robert Washington’s ex-wife?”

“Ummm, hmmm. Charles would love to hook up with Veronica. He is crazy about that girl.”

“But I know for a fact,” Yvonne told her sister, “that Veronica is not trying to hook up with another man who doesn’t know
the Lord—not after what Robert put her through when he left her for that thang up in Baltimore.”

“The woman with the head shaped like Stewie’s on
Family Guy
?”

“Yeah,” Yvonne said, laughing. “Tracey Parsons’s head definitely qualifies her as a double for Stewie Griffin.”

“When did you see Robert and that woman, Yvonne?”

“At Southpoint Mall.”

“So what she look like?” Rochelle asked.

“Okay, Rochelle,” Yvonne said real slowly. “Tra-cey looks like Stew-ie with a bunch of blonde braids on his head. Okay?”

“Well then, what did she have on?”

“Blue-jean capris, matching blue-jean slip-on sneakers, and a green-and-blue print T-shirt.”

“Oh … oh … heck-ee naw. Heck to the naw …” Rochelle said. “I
know
Robert was not at the mall flaunting
boo-boo kitty head supreme
, and this heifer was wearing blue-jean capris? Girl, do you know how many times
that
negro told Veronica that he hated capris and that she better not wear them out to the mall with him?”

“We have to pray for Robert, Rochelle. He can’t help it. Remember, this negro is retarded enough to believe that he is a real
player. Veronica told me that Tracey sent Robert an e-mail note to their joint e-mail by accident. Said Stewie was going on
and on about how much she
luuuuuvvvveeddd
that negro, and then went on to write some crazy mess like,
You make me feel so … so … free, so much like a woman, a vixen, a sex kitten, the ultimate hottie
.”

Rochelle was dying with laughter. She said, “That skank is crazy. The only real
hottie
that I know of is Hottie from the first season of
Flavor of Love
.”

Yvonne started to cheer up thinking about her crazy sister. She turned on the radio to hear Cy Young cutting up, and then
being on point, when he played “What’s My Name” by Brian McKnight.

She bobbed her head around and got in the groove of Mr. McKnight’s ultra-smooth and sexy voice as he put a hurting on singing,
“what’s my name, say it, say it, say it, what’s my name.”

Her cell buzzed. She picked it up off the seat and realized that there were four missed calls—all from Rochelle. She flipped
the phone open right before it clicked off.

“If you’d get a Bluetooth, you’d be able to answer that daggone phone,” Rochelle fussed.

“Hello to you, too,” Yvonne said, and put the cell on speakerphone.

“Where are you? Are you all right? I just got off the phone with Trina. She said that y’all negroes were getting ready to
throw down up in the Athletic Center. And did Kordell Bivens really have the nerve to get all up in your face, Yvonne?”

“Kordell Bivens did what?” Yvonne heard Elaine saying in the background. “I hope they kicked his How-the-Grinch-Stole- Christmas-looking-lips-self
behind. I can’t stand that man, with those old thick cornhusker-looking legs.”

“Yes,” Yvonne said, “Kordell tried to get cute with me but Maurice and Curtis nipped it in the bud.”

“Oh. Coach was there?”

“Rochelle, the meeting was about basketball players, why wouldn’t he be there?”

“Oh, yeah … good point. So, what did Coach do?”

“He jumped up in Kordell’s face and told him he’d mess him up bad if he ever did anything like that to me again.”

“Coach did that for you, Yvonne?” Elaine hollered out.

“Tell her yeah,” Yvonne said.

“She heard you because we have you on speakerphone, too.”

“How far are you from the shop, Yvonne?”

“Twenty minutes or less, Elaine. Will that cause a problem for you?”

“No. Miss Hattie Lee Booth is on her way. I’ll get her going while we are waiting on you. Right now, it’s just Rochelle and
me in the shop, waiting on you.”

“Is that the same Miss Hattie Lee who cooks all of that good food at Rumpshakers?”

“One and the same.”

“Elaine,” Yvonne began tentatively. She had wanted to ask somebody who could hold their counsel this question for a long time.

“Yeah, sweetie, what you need?”

“Did Miss Hattie Lee ever do any kind of … you know … dancing? And I don’t mean just going to a dance and dancing.”

“She used to be a stripper back in the day at the Lucky Lady Club down in the Bottom. Folks say that she was the baddest thing
on two legs.”

“But has she turned in her pole?”

“Yvonne, you are a nut,” Elaine said laughing. “But to answer your question, the answer is no. Miss Hattie is still on the
pole. And from what I’ve heard, she be working it over there at Rumpshakers, too. Put some of those young dancers to shame.
And I shouldn’t be surprised since she is Sweet Red’s and Lil’ Too Too’s grandmother.”

“Who told you that? Somebody you know has seen her dance?”

“Mr. Tommy at you all’s church.”

Yvonne could hear Rochelle hollering with laughter in the background.

“Y’all know that Mr. Tommy don’t miss a thing,” Elaine went on. “If something is going down, Mr. Tommy is going to be there,
looking over those glasses and making sure he is getting the skinny on everything and everybody.”

“What he say, Elaine,” Rochelle said. “You know I’d love to be a fly on the wall when Mr. Tommy is watching Miss Hattie Lee
do all of that dancing.”

“I don’t know if I want to see all of that, Rochelle,” Yvonne said.

“Mr. Tommy said that Miss Hattie Lee dropped it like it was hot for him one time, and it liked to run his pressure straight
through the roof. He said that she made him feel like he was in his prime again,” Elaine told them. “He said that he loved
how after she got through dancing like that for him, she pulled out pictures of her grandbabies and great-grandbabies. Said
looking at those pictures and talking about the grandbabies while Miss Hattie Lee was still in that outfit was almost as good
as the dance itself.”

“Mr. Tommy knows he needs to stop,” Yvonne said. She slowed down. “Elaine, will it be okay if it’s more than twenty minutes?
I just ran into some roadwork.”

“Take your time. I only have two customers coming in this morning—you and Miss Hattie Lee.”

Y
our sister will not be here for about thirty minutes,” Elaine said.

“You think she is going to back out again?” Rochelle asked.

“Nope. But she is scared to death about going through with this makeover. She wants it and knows she needs it. You know this
will be the complete end of who she thought she used to be.”

“You’re right,” Rochelle said and went and pulled out one of Elaine’s DVDs. “I didn’t know you watched
Apostle Grady Grey’s Half an Hour of Holy Ghost Power
.”

“Girl, I love that show—try to catch it whenever it’s on.”

“Lawd knows I love me some
Grady Grey’s Half an Hour of Holy Ghost Power
, too,” Rochelle said.

The door opened and Miss Hattie Lee Booth walked in smiling and carrying a plastic container of huge homemade coconut, chocolate
chip, raisin, and pecan cookies. Rochelle followed the delicious smell of those baked goods, hoping Miss Hattie Lee had brought
them for the people at the shop.

“Here, baby,” she said to Elaine, just grinning. “I made these for you and your customers. Get one and taste it.”

“Let me wash this stuff off of my hands. You gone have me big as a house with these cookies, Miss Hattie Lee,” Elaine said.

“You want one, baby?” Miss Hattie Lee asked as she turned toward Rochelle and held the container of cookies out toward her.

“Yes, ma’am,” Rochelle said and took one of those big fat cookies. She bit into it and closed her eyes. It was chewy and so
good.

“Are you getting your color touched up, Miss Hattie Lee?”

“Yeah, Elaine. The gray is beginning to show and I need to have it looking better now that I have a new man.”

Rochelle gave Miss Hattie Lee a sly once-over. She was really pretty with that blonde hair, pale reddish-brown skin, shapely
figure, and a smile that could light up an entire room.

No wonder Mr. Tommy loves going to see her dance
, Rochelle thought.
I’d bet some good money that girlfriend can put it on a brother
.

“Yeah, I heard about you and this new man,” Elaine told her as she took a cookie and bit into it. “Oooh, this cookie is so
good.”