Chapter 7
Jasmine
The next day
“Nigga, move the fuck out the way before I use you as a fuckin’ speed bump! We cannot lose this reservation!” Pernelle leaned on the horn while pedestrians crossed the street, balancing to-go plates in their hands.
My brother swore she didn’t need a car last year because she couldn’t drive. Now that he “taught” her, I wasn’t convinced he actually did much teaching. P drove like a pissed-off taxi driver, who was late home for dinner on a fuckin weekday.
P and I had decided we were hungry and took the kids to her mama so that we could go have brunch at a spot one of my friends had posted on her Instagram story.
I had thrown on a long sleeved blouse, some leggings, and some shoes that P had in her closet, and she did the same.
Thank God we were about the same size because I never thought to bring clothes to their house when I crashed over there.
“Girl, it’s taking us forever to get there. We should’ve gone to the brunch spot that we went to up the street from your house.”
“No fuckin thank you. That food tastes like air up in there. Like they season it with thoughts.” Pernelle griped.
“Anyway, after brunch, am I taking you home, or are you going back to our place?”
“I don’t know about going back to y’all’s spot, mama is at home and it might be boring with the babies being at your mom’s.”
“Jasmine, we have a patio with a fireplace, a full bar, TVs everywhere, a pool table, an air hockey table, and a Pac-Man machine in the game room. Stop acting like you only visit us to see Messiah and Amira.”
“I’m not acting, I do.”
“Well, you won’t be seeing them until you go and get Rj back from his broke ass daddy.
I on the other hand am taking advantage of my babysitter.
Because mama doesn't have a smoked out house anymore and Crew upgraded her to a better side of town, we finally trust the kids with her.
So, I know you're going to let me breathe.”
“Oh I am, I get it, trust me.”
“I swear I want to tell Crew about Reggie taking Rj so bad, but I know we will be kissing him through the phone if I do.”
“Yeah, please don’t tell his crazy ass. I know Reggie is just blowing smoke anyway, so I’m not even going to take him too seriously on this. As soon as Rj starts crying for me all throughout the night, he will bring him back. This isn’t the first time his dumb ass has tried to prove a point.”
“Unfortunately, that’s a man for you.”
“Exactly why I don’t have one now. I mean, I may miss Trey for certain reasons, but that toxic shit wasn’t good for me anyway.”
P looked at me, twisting her lips to the side.
“You say that, sis, but I saw on the cameras that you got dropped off at our house last night. Now I didn’t say anything to your brother, but I think I know that car.”
“It’s not even what you're thinking, P, so don’t go there. I can’t stand his ass for what he did, but he saw me about to get on the bus and offered a ride, that’s all.”
“I didn’t say anything, I just thought I would mention that I saw y’all. Look for what it’s worth, Amir is a decent dude, he’s just a victim of the gangsta mindset because of who his people were.”
“The murderer is a victim? Okay, P.” I laughed through my nose.
“It’s the truth. Shit, I know my husband has done dirt because of his upbringing, but he’s still a great man for me. Sometimes it’s best to have a man on your arm that will pop a mutha fucka if he has to. Especially around here, girl.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Know so, sister, and plus, it also helps when he is fine, and Amir is that.”
“Yeah, he's alright, I guess.” Pernelle smacked her lips at my laid-back response. She knew I was fronting.
Pernelle had slowly started to become more and more like a big sister to me, and her advice was always harsh yet meaningful, kind of like Crew’s.
I know she wasn’t lying when she said that Amir looked good because he does.
Shit, back in the day or in another situation, I would’ve gotten at him.
But now, I really didn't know how to feel about his ass.
One minute I hate him, the next, his pretty ass hair hanging on his beautiful skin was on my mind.
I'm torn in between hate and pure lust right now.
The car came to a complete standstill in the middle of the street, and Pernelle started to honk aggressively, getting her money’s worth out of her fuckin horn.
“What the fuck! I’m way too hungry for this shit! I hate driving at this time of day.” The car was jerking from her accelerating and stopping.
“It looks like there is a funeral going on. Everybody who’s been walking down that way is in black.”
“And it’s going to be another one if one more person jumps in front of my car. I’m starving.”
I lifted from my seat and looked out of the window, seeing that the line of cars was backed up all the way to East 4th Street. I saw ahead that a funeral limo had collided with a hearse, both of them sitting crooked in the middle of the road.
“Well, sis, I have some crackers in my purse that I stole from your pantry before we left. We may as well dig into those because it looks like we're about to be on this street for a while.”
“Fuck that. I’m hungry as shit, and I haven’t eaten since last night!” Pernelle complained as people cut in and out of the cars, carrying plates and commenting on the wreck up ahead.
“Me too, and I wanted something good. That’s why I suggested Marcello’s.” I replied.
“That did sound good, but you know what sounds even better? An after funeral plate.” I laughed at her.
“You're not lying. Beans, bread, barbecue. I didn’t even get a plate after Trey’s funeral.”
“Well, hold on, sis. I got a good idea to get you one.”
She swerved the car over to park against the curve in one of the only free spots on the street.
“P, why did you stop?”
I asked as she put the car in park and grabbed her purse.
“Come on, let’s go eat.” She killed the engine.
Pernelle opened the car door, and I followed her out even though I still had questions about what this crazy ass girl had up her sleeve.
“P, where are we going?”
“I’m going in here to get myself a plate. Shit, we may as well. Whoever’s funeral this is caused us to miss out on our reservation, so they owe us some dinner.” I laughed while shaking my head, staying on her heels.
“You are sick, sis.”
“Yeah, sick of being hungry.”
She and I walked up to the building where everybody was filing in and out with styrofoam to go plates stacked high. We joined the line behind a couple of black ladies dressed in skirt suits, and heavy scents of perfumes floating in the air.
The two ladies in front of us turned to look at us, then pressed their lips together with that friendly church smile people give when they don’t know you but still want to acknowledge your presence.
One of them gave a small nod before facing forward again, shifting her purse higher on her arm as the line moved closer to the door.
“I think we should go. These people are going to know we don’t belong here.” I leaned over, whispering in Pernelle’s ear.
“Just relax, Jas. These people don’t know who Nathaniel knew.”
“Natheniel? Who the hell is Natheniel?”
She nodded her head to the obituary hanging on one of this lady’s sides. I felt bad as shit, but I laughed at the thought of what we were doing. P was standing here unbothered, and I was both nervous and amused by the desperation we had to eat.
I couldn’t help but be slightly eager because the scent coming out of the building smelled like some good ass food. I think the longer we waited, the longer I didn’t care that we didn’t know who died. Shit, if this food is good, I would even grieve him for a little bit.
Pernelle’s phone rang as the line moved up, and she dug inside her Chanel to answer it.
“Oh, this is Crew calling, watch this.” She laughed under her breath.
“Hey, baby.” She answered him on speaker like he wasn’t ignorant as hell.
“Fat coochie P, where you at, baby?” Thank God there was so much chatter around us that I didn’t have to be too embarrassed.
“I’m at Nate's funeral, babe, at the repast getting a plate. You want one?”
“Who the fuck is?”
“Just play along if you want a plate too.” She said through closed lips.
“Oh, damn. Yeah, I do, baby. I hate that I missed my nigga Nate's funeral. Tell his mama I’ll stop by the house one of these days and that I hate I had to work today.”
“Okay, I will, baby. Love you and talk to you later.”
“Later, love you.” She hung up the phone, and I had yet another reminder of why those two belonged together. Both of them were sick in the fuckin head, but I was no better standing in this line playing along too.
After we waited for another ten minutes, we finally made it inside the doors to grab a pre-fixed plate off one of the folding tables.
Mine had barbecue chicken, baked beans, and macaroni, while both of Pernelle’s were loaded with fried chicken, green beans, and potato salad.
As soon as we got in the car, we started tearing our plates up, balancing them on our laps until the officers finally opened up one side of the street to let traffic squeeze through.
Pernelle ate on her plate until she was ready to drive, and then put the leftovers on the backseat floorboard and took off in the direction we were headed in first.
“R.I.P. Nate, thanks for the food,” I said out loud, and Pernelle started to crack the fuck up, laughing so hard it let me know that I was out of line.
I started jamming to the music Pernelle had playing, finishing off a piece of strawberry cake. I hadn’t even asked Pernelle where we were going until the car slowed down to a stop.
We pulled up to the barbershop where Crew got his haircut and spent more time talking shit outside than he ever did in the chair.