Chapter Eight
Larenz
“Larenz, sorry to interrupt, but can you help my boyfriend with his Black Literature class?” Macy sat down, unannounced and uninvited, at my table on the unofficial Black side of the campus dining hall.
She flashed her perfect Miss Teen California smile and turned on her cheerleader and sports team groupie charm.
She reminded me of Toni Childs on my favorite show Girlfriends.
“You’re the smartest person I know on campus, and the only one who reads, like, everything he gets his hands on for fun. ”
It was winter intersession term in January.
I’d decided to come back to campus early from holiday break to pick up some extra money by doing tours others didn’t want to do in the cold temps and helping with some resident advisor training sessions.
Macy and I had taken a few classes here and there together over the years and knew of each other, as most Black students did given that our population wasn’t very high on campus.
While I went the student leadership route, Macy had gone the cheerleader and athletics route, majoring in kinesiology and sports science.
We’d both been in numerous photo and video shoots for campus posters, brochures, and recruitment videos.
But we didn’t hang out like that. Same Black community but different tribes.
I turned off my iPod and took the earphones out to give Macy my undivided attention.
“I might. What’s going on?”
I didn’t want to rush Macy, but I was really hungry for lunch that day.
Though it was winter break and not a lot of people on campus, it was still fish fry Friday, my favorite, and I wanted to eat my catfish and fries while they were hot and crispy.
After lunch, I’d be free the rest of the day to read, update my MySpace, or check out Black Gay Chat.
“It’s a three-and-a-half-week class during intersession, before we start the regular semester in February. There’s a lot of books to read and papers to write in such a short span.”
“I mean, that’s how intersession works. Classes are compressed.”
“Duh, I know that,” Macy said. She did that snorty laugh she was known for around campus. It always made us laugh more. “But he’s on the basketball team, and they still have practice, workouts, and a few home and away games during this time. You know life goes on as a student athlete.”
“Got it,” I said. “Black Lit, you said? Professor Darder?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him.”
“Okay. Just saying because if it’s Dr. Darder, I know how to navigate the class.”
“My man’ll be joining me for lunch in a few. You two can connect, look at the syllabus, and see if you can help?”
“Sure. Why not? I’m just working over break, not taking classes or anything.”
“I knew you were the right person,” she said.
“Now, between you and me, he ain’t the brightest bulb in the pack, if you know what I mean.
I help him keep his life together. So go easy on him.
He just needs a B or B minus. You don’t have to do A-level work or anything. I appreciate the favor, Larenz.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Nice,” Macy said as her phone chirped and she stood up. “I got money, so I can pay you. Would five hundred work? We could also put you on a fitness and nutrition plan in exchange for helping him. He and I both love working out.”
I noticed her sneer when she said “fitness and nutrition plan” while looking at my lunch tray.
“I’ll let you know when I look at the syllabus and see what’s required.”
“Thanks,” Macy said. “He’s just getting to the cafeteria. I’ll bring him over in a bit to introduce you.”
She darted away, stylish in her pink velour track suit and pink furry boots to match, long Beyoncé-length golden braids bouncing and swinging behind her. Beautiful as Macy was, it was no wonder she was chosen to be on every campus publication.
Minutes later, arm in arm, Macy returned with her man.
B.D. King.
“Larenz Ross. This is my boyfriend, B.D. King. B.D., Larenz.”
B.D. hovered over the table, his crotch level with my eyes. I took in his height. Looking urban chic in his unzipped black puffy coat with a tan faux fur hood lining, skull cap, dark gray sweats, a long silver chain with a “B” pendant hanging from it, and salt-stained black Timberland boots.
B.D. nodded and stuck his hand out to me as if it were our first time meeting.
“Good to meet you, Larenz.”
Part of my job as orientation leader required me to make contact with students who’d been in my groups.
B.D. had avoided my calls, texts, and emails in the six-plus months since summer orientation, but since I was responsible for hundreds of students, I wasn’t going to sweat the few, including B.D.
, who fell off my radar. My life went on. Apparently, his did as well.
“Larenz is a sweetheart,” Macy said as she held on tight to B.D.’s arm. “He’s the one I said can do your Black Lit classwork for you during intersession.”
“Thanks, bruh. Appreciate it.”
I didn’t know what kind of game he was playing, pretending like we hadn’t met or like I hadn’t been his summer orientation leader more than six months earlier. But whatever.
“No prob,” I said, deepening my voice. I mean, he was an athlete, and it just felt like the thing to do at the time in front of him and Macy. “Just let me know when you want to connect.”
Over lunch—my catfish and fries, B.D.’s plate piled high with grilled chicken breasts, brown rice, and broccoli florets, and Macy’s vegetables-only salad with lemon vinaigrette on the side—B.D.
, Macy, and I agreed he and I would meet at my residence hall the next day, after his noon home game was finished.
He and I both knew he knew the location, but played the game of pretending he didn’t.
I looked forward to the assignment and the extra money I’d earn which, hopefully, would cover my books for the coming semester.
I just needed to figure out time management between my tour schedule, picking up extra hours at the dorm front desk, and B.D. ’s class and basketball schedule.
The next day, I’d just finished giving Diego, my coworker from summer orientation and the tour guide team, his twice weekly blow job when I got an unexpected knock at my door.
Diego had already pulled his pants back up, thanked me, and gathered his coat, gloves, and backpack.
I opened the door for Diego, and B.D. entered.
“Oh,” I said, surprised to see B.D. without a call, message, or buzz from the dorm front desk attendant. “Diego, this is B.D. B.D., Diego.”
They exchanged looks without greetings as B.D.
walked into the hallway leading to my room and Diego walked toward the elevator lobby.
The part where they didn’t speak was awkward, but I didn’t trip.
B.D. didn’t need to know about who I hooked up with on campus, and Diego didn’t need to know I’d taken on a tutoring job during winter break.
“The ‘no white girl rule’ apply to white boys?” B.D. said as he kicked off his boots at the entrance and breezed in like he owned the place. Well, he had known it from summer orientation. Still.
He caught me in a little bit of hypocrisy. A little. “What are you talking about?”
“The little white boy from summer orientation who just left your room,” B.D. said, glaring at me. “Didn’t even zip up his pants. Rude.”
I wanted to tell B.D. that showing up to my room unannounced was rude, and if he’d come five minutes earlier, he would have gotten an earful of shouting and delight through my dorm room door.
Since I knew what he was implying about Diego and me, I decided to come clean just a little. But no details.
“There’s just a handful of us Black folks on campus, so if you’re hungry you’re gonna eat, if you know what I mean,” I said, closing the door behind me.
“I’m sure you’ve dabbled and swirled in your campus dating life.
Besides, Diego is Latino. He looks white, but he’s Mexican American, family from Guadalajara. ”
“Yeah, right. And whether I dabble or swirl on campus is nunya.” B.D. pulled out and opened a canister of Altoids from his pocket. He handed it my way. “You need a mint. Your mouth and this room smell like dick.”
Embarrassed, because he was probably right, I took a mint and popped it in my mouth. It burned a little, as the inside of my mouth and tongue were still sensitive from sucking off Diego minutes earlier.
“What do you know about dick scent and blow jobs, B.D.?”
“I know a lot. I been getting my dick sucked since I was in high school,” he said, nodding with confidence and swag. “And when Macy don’t feel like giving me any the traditional way, she gives me head instead.”
“Whatevs. I don’t need to know about your sex life, B.D.”
“And I don’t need to see no white, Latino, Mexican nigga in your room or coming out of your room,” he said. “What was that you said back in summer orientation? Something about ‘friendly, but not friends,’ if I recall.”
“Wow. Once again, I’m glad to see you paid attention.”
“Trust. I’m paying attention, Larenz.” He took his mittens and coat off and set his backpack, athletics bag, and basketball down in the middle of my room.
He pulled off his skull cap and tousled his curls, which I noticed he’d cut down a bit since summer orientation.
As he sat, he asked, “Can I have a seat at your desk?”
Rude.
“You’re already doing it. Anyway, Diego and I were setting up our work schedule,” I lied.
No need for B.D. to know about Diego or any other guy on my campus roster.
There were a few. Fraternity guys from Greek Row and the Divine Nine.
Corn-fed farmer guy classmates from Iowa and Nebraska.
An English department teaching assistant who taught my first-year writing class a couple years earlier.
“We’d just finished when you showed up…unexpectedly, I might add.
How’d you get past the front desk security? ”