Kaala whirled her round-shaped head back around so that Andrea could see the
expression etched upon her friend's pretty face, the same expression she wore
whenever 'where's my hug at?' Gillian giddily came around the corner in the
school hall. Kaala's thick caterpillar eyebrows were raised and her mud brown
doe eyes were as round as the full moon that was beginning to creep into view
far off into the east.
Andrea rolled her own eyes at her, eyes so big that someone had once told her
that they occupied half of her face…. That someone was trying to compliment her
at the time.
"La, will you just chill out." She whispered just loud enough for only Kaala to
hear, although there was no need, for Remi's was always booming some loud
music to add to the laughter and arguments and conversations, mundane or
otherwise, heard around his place. His speakers belching the kind of jazz that
Andrea would often hear coming from her granny's kitchen, especially on a
Sunday.
"I can't," She gulped, trying to fight off the temptation to veer her head back
around her shoulder to look at the hooded man staring at them from across the
street, her hands pulling nervously on the ends of her straight and black hair.
The baggy jumper and camo-print pants barely holding onto his waist for dear life,
advertised a lean and skinny frame, and his no doubt gaunt face was hidden from
them within the shadows of his hood. All that was visible to them was his lower
chin, pale where it was not covered all over by a beard as bright as fire.
God, please don't let me get shot today…. Or ever, really…
"He looks like someone with bad intentions." She squeaked, and although Andrea
was used to dismissing Kaala's obviously exaggerated assessments of danger,
even she was not above admitting that the sight of the man had her fighting back
a shiver.
The gaunt and thinness might've, on their own, just be signs of some financial
plights that forced him out onto the street. But his clothing was clean and looked
freshly bought, and his sneakers were not exactly the latest, but they were recent
enough to perhaps indicate that money-wise, he was not exactly hurting.
But what made Andrea want to hide away in her bed and cover herself in her
blanket was the aura that radiated off the man. She could only describe it as
menacing energy, and it wafted off him like warmth from a heater, so potent as
to flow its way towards them a whole dozen yards away.
"His hands haven't once left his pockets," Kaala noted, "And he keeps on staring
at us…. And I don't wanna be the one to say it, but that is definitely an unhinged
white man."
Finding an assortment of people at Remi's was not unusual, the old man had the
sort of charisma and food that brought people of all color and walks of life to
hear him push his jazz-agenda and enjoy his catfish. But this kind of person stuck out like a sore thumb, even amongst a crowd tailor made for thumbs of all sorts. Even Yaheem and his boys felt welcomed and safe enough to come to Remi's open-handed and even go so far as to hang out with Taario and his when the occasion called for it.
"Don't tell me you're scared of white people, La." Andrea tried to bury her nerves underneath six feet of mocking laughter, "A girl who goes to St Martha's isn't supposed to be scared of white people. Brown girl or no!"
That comment brought Kaala out of her head enough to retort with her usual snort and eye roll, "Bitch, you go to St Martha with me. So don't go acting like we aren't copying math homework off people from the same tax bracket."
Andrea grinned, no doubt looking like her mother whenever she did. Ever since she'd been a little girl, any time she grinned, there was usually someone around to bring up her resemblance to her mother.
"Ay, some of us don't have daddy's money to get us in a place to copy off that math homework to begin with. Some of us had to grind out a scholarship." Andrea teased, sticking her tongue out.
"Oh? You trying to make me feel bad about my daddy's money, meanwhile your
daddy is not here, not a coin put to child support yet." Kaala replied with her own
tongue being stuck out. Andrea tried to fight back the twitch she felt tugging at
the corner of her thin upper lip, but Kaala's dumb expression broke the valve,
and her laughter came flooding out, "Is this you? Wooow… but say less, or next
time I come over, I'll make your daddy my dadd—"
"Ay! Ms. Boujee" Andrea turned her head to see Ja's face peer out the window
from his workstation, "Get your skinny boujee ass over here, and come get this
here food you ordered."
Ja… why does it always have to be Ja…?
Andrea got up from their table, watching the hooded man abandon his leaning
against the streetlight to seemingly stare into her soul, before he turned around
and began walking away into the darkness of another autumn night. Andrea
fought back another bout of goosebumps before she went over to the window
and greeted Ja with her middle finger raised, "How many times do I have to tell
you, call me Andrea or fuck off."
Ja pulled back the plastic bag that contained her and Kaala's orders and smirked
at her, his teeth were admittedly a dazzling display of white that irked Andrea to
see, "Oh come now Bruh, I'll stop calling you Ms. Boujee, when you stop being
Boujee, Ms. Boujee!"
Andrea rolled her eyes and took the bag; it weighed down by food and grease
that tasted like heaven but looked like hell, "Which is it that got you so bitter, Ja?
That you are as plain as white bread, or that you stuck working here, even
though this was supposed to just be a job you took to cover your junior year.
Disappointment breeds hate." Ja snapped his fingers twice, having to maneuver his long pink fingernails in order to do it, "Mmmh! Yes Boujee Girl! I know that was supposed to make me mad, but damn it if I don't love hearing you use that boujee talk they teach you down there at St Boujee for boujee girls. Even though! Disappointment breeds hate!" Ja flipped his blue braids over his broad shoulder, "Listening to you talk
like reading a goddamn essay."
"And how many of those have you failed in your life, Ja?" Andrea heard the gruff
voice of Remi come from within the kitchen, and heard the walking stick stamp
itself into the tiles over-and-over again as he shuffled towards the window.
Ja rolled his dark eyes; his fake lashes were as thick as brush thistles and longer
than half a pinkie. Remi smacked him on the thigh with his walking stick, earning
a yelp from Ja, "Boy! What did I tell you 'bout rollin' your eyes at me?"
"That you'd hit me so hard that mama would feel it." He muttered in reply, and
Remi huffed, "Damn straight. Now get, 'fore I gotta make my own baby girl hurt
just cause her baby boy's a dumbass."
Ja clicked his tongue, and scurried off when Remi threatened to hit him once
more before the old man turned around and sighed, his eyes a basin of red rivers
that all led to the dark brown irises in the middle, "That boy…. Love him, swear
to God that I do, Andy. But goddamn it, why couldn't I'd gotten a normal
grandson who loves the Falcons and the Pelicans or some shit like that."
Andrea sighed heavily, her heart conflicted at having to defend Ja, a person who
annoyed her to no end, from a man like Remi, who she loved almost as much as
she was annoyed by Ja, "Pops—"
The old man waved her words away before they even began, "Now now, don't
come 'round here and spew all that woke nonsense of yours. Took me a week to
clean up the last rant you yucked all over these here floors."
Andrea shrugged, "We don't stand for bigotry, Pops."
He stroked at his beard, which was a forest of white with the odd grey now, the
only hair that remained on his head. It took five-year-old Andrea some time to
get used to the fact that the same man serving them food had a bush of chest hair
bursting out the top of a shirt he refused to button all the way, even when he was
cooking. Remi had traumatized her by saying that was where he got the flavor
from. "Well sit the hell down then. Cause I said what I said." The old man sighed again
before shrugging, "Hell…. Don't do me no good complainin' and bitchin' 'bout it
now. He should be out makin' somethin' of his life, had his mama at his age now. I
had twenty whole years to make a Falcons fan outta that boy, but this damned
place," The burly man gestured all around them, to an old and somewhat dirty
restaurant that was filled with patrons who did not seem to care just how old
and dirty it was, "Took a lot out of me."
Andrea pointed towards the walking stick, "Thought that was the war that you
love talking about that done did that to you, Pops."
He chuckled and his dark eyes gleamed with pride, "Nah not back then, Andy. I
know that Remi don't look like much now, baby, but 40-year-old Remi?" He
whistled and shook his head, "Killed more Iraqi's than I could count. But don't
worry yourself now, woke girly. Ole Remi fathered enough bastards over there to
break-even!" Remi burst out into thunderous laughter that very soon turned into
a spell of coughing fits.
She could feel her eyebrows furrow and her heart begin to sink like a rock
thrown overboard, "It's getting worse, huh?"
The old man continued the other half of his coughing fit into his handkerchief,
"Don't worry yourself none, Andy. I ain't dodge bullets and bombers just to end
up keeled over and kicking the bucket in this here restaurant."
"It's what you get for being a Falcons fan in New Orleans." Her heart lifted at
hearing him laugh once more, like watching embers reignited by the wind, "Hah!
That Brees had ya'll spoilt. I watched ole Archie Manning get his ass beat into the
turf every Sunday. Didn't have much loyalty left by the time that Vick came
along."
"Andy!" She turned to see Kaala stood there; her arms folded over her large
bosom as she frowned at her, her sneaker tapping impatiently and her long and
straight dark hair pulled back into a ponytail.
"Oh yeah, gotta go Pops." she said, waving at him. He winked at her as Andrea
made to leave, "You be good now, Andy baby. Oh, and you tell that fine-ass
momma of yours that I got my hip replacement coming up. Once it's done, ole
Remi will be back to going all. Night. Long."
Andrea yelped and ran away from another bout of thunderous laughter, catching
up to an annoyed Kaala who stood waiting at the corner, "Listen, Bitch. I don't
care if you don't mind eating cold, gross, greasy food; you kinda need the weight
anyways to be honest. But I'm perfectly thick as is. I don't need to add any more
pounds into this tracksuit."
She laughed as they started for her house a couple of blocks down the road,
relieved that the hooded man was gone, and even more relieved that he had
walked in the opposite direction, "It's almost what makes us the perfect pair, you
know."
Her neighborhood was like any other around the city, with wooden homes
painted in whites and blues and greens and pinks that had long been chipped at
by wind and rain, something others might deem in need of repair, but that her
Granny had called 'character'. Each house, square in shape and two-storeys tall
at most, had a wired fence around their homes that served as a boundary to keep
little gardens and grass patches, away from other little gardens and grass
patches. Every ten or so yards, there would be a streetlight erected, tall and
drooping like sunflowers beginning to wilt, emitting spotlights that covered just
enough of the cracked paving that one only had to take a step in darkness before
being beat down with a yellow light from up above. Her neighborhood was not
particularly safe, but it was not exactly dangerous neither, just knitted together
enough to not allow for much internal violence, too knitted together to allow for
outsiders not to be viewed as targets.
Kaala's raised one of the caterpillars that lived on her face at Andrea, "Me having
ass, and you looking like a pre-pubescent boy who does a couple of squats here
and there?"
"No, bitch." Andrea snorted, "Well, yes. But more like…. One has what the other
lacks, you know?"
Kaala cooed, "Oh my god! Look who decided to get all romantical! Tell me more,
Andy."
She grinned as Kaala wrapped her arm around Andrea's waist and rested her
pretty head on her shoulder, "Well, you bring ass, and I got the brains,"
"Oh…."
"I got beauty, you have a thick booty."
"Wait a second..."
"I have charisma and a dazzling sense of humor, and you have a butt."
Andrea laughed, and was a little hurt when they stopped and she did not hear a
peep came out from Kaala, "Oh come on Bruh! That was hilarious."
"Andrea…" Kaala released her now, her posture straight as a pole and staring
wide-eyed as if she'd been touched by a ghost. She followed Kaala's trembling
finger to see that the hooded man stood down the road from them, across the
street from the turn that led to Andrea's house.
No… No, No, No, No, NO!
"Fuck no…" Andrea muttered as she almost dropped the plastic bag, her hand
instinctively wrapping around Kaala's wrist and almost pulling her arm out of its
socket as Andrea began to quickly walk her way towards her home, watching the
man from the periphery of her vision, "How the fuck did he get here? T-There's
just no way that he got here before us." Kaala stuttered, "Down Jefferson will
take you to Cordaelle. How the fuck did he get here?"
Andrea ignored her as she pushed open the three-foot high fence door and made
sure to bolt it behind her as she marched up the four concrete stairs leading to
the first of her two front doors, the barrier of the fence instilling some courage in
her thumping heart. She glared at the hooded man, who stood resolutely by his
new streetlight, his features hidden within the shadows of his hood.
"Fuck off!" She screamed at him, opening the grill door, and then the wooden
door to her home and shepherding Kaala in before slamming the doors shut
behind them.