Chapter 22
22
Boys all around the gym were either shooting hoops or studying. Except one.
Dominique was sitting on a bleacher by himself when I approached him. He was texting on his phone. The goofy grin on his face let me know he was more than likely talking to a girl.
“?’Sup?” I asked as I took a seat next to him.
He jumped. His eyes enlarged as he whipped his head in my direction. “Come on, bro. Don’t be doin’ that.”
Looking at Dominique head-on, I could see bags under his eyes from lack of sleep and an uneasiness about him.
Something was up, but I couldn’t dive in just yet. I could tell by the way he was eyeing me that his guard was up and he wasn’t about to come out and tell me he was in trouble.
“Shouldn’t you be workin’ on homework?” I brought up as I gestured to the guys who had their heads in their books.
Dom peered at the other kids around us and shrugged, not interested. In fact, I didn’t even see his backpack in sight. “I’ll do it tonight.”
“Why can’t you do it now?” I asked.
Dom faced me, a crooked grin on his face suddenly. “I’m talkin’.”
“Oh yeah?”
He held his phone out, and on screen I caught a glimpse of his Instagram page. It was full of shots of him smoking weed, flashing the middle finger, holding money—all the juvenile shit kids thought was “cool.” He pulled up a girl’s page, some cute little thing who had a penchant for selfies and flipping the bird as well.
Kids.
“That’s cool, but you should still hit the books,” I suggested.
Dominique made a face and tucked his phone away. “Yeah, yeah.”
I looked out at the floor, trying to come in casual. “So, what’s up, D?”
Dominique leaned over, planting his elbows on his knees and huffing a sigh. “It’s whatever.”
“Mm-hmm.” I hummed. “So why ain’t you sleepin’?”
The frown that stretched across Dominique’s face as he kept his gaze out on the gym floor made me tense up.
Something was wrong.
“I ran into some trouble.” For once, Dom wasn’t giving me the runaround. “My people…they wanted me to move some stuff for them. You know, do ’em a solid like how they looked out for me when I needed it.” He hung his head, the muscles in his jaw flexing. “But I didn’t think it was a good idea, because of the stuff you be tellin’ me. They ain’t like that I wasn’t down. Almost had to square up with one of them.”
Instinct had me wanting to reach out and touch him, but remembering what it was like to be in his shoes, I didn’t.
“So now what?” I prompted when he didn’t continue.
He shrugged, shaking his head. “Just been laying low. Whatever happens, happens.”
A pain sizzled across my heart for the kid. He was just trying to do the right thing, and maybe it was already too late.
I scratched at my neck, peering down at my boots. “What are you thinkin’, Dom? What do you need? I got you.”
“I got heat, so I’ll be okay if anybody want to roll up on me.”
Closing my eyes, I shook my head. Seventeen with a gun and a few problems was a bad recipe.
I’d held my first piece when I was nine. Found it in the woods one day when I was on a walk with Savon and some guys. At the time, it had felt cool to hold such power in my tiny hands. We’d taken turns holding it, pointing it, and pretending to shoot each other and objects. It wasn’t until I’d gotten jumped into the local gang that I realized shit wasn’t so sweet.
I’d seen things I didn’t want Dominique to see. Things that pushed me to be right where I was in this gymnasium trying to fix a problem that some men before me created.
“You don’t want to do that,” I warned gently. “Once you pull that trigger…ain’t no turnin’ back.”
Not to mention what would happen to him if he ever ran into a cop holding a gun.
I scrubbed my hand down my face, watching the game going on absentmindedly. “I tried tellin’ you about them people you hang with, Dom. The people that’s really there for you, will look out for you, and don’t expect anything in return. And by look out for you, they won’t be trying to get you to do some shit that’ll get you caught up.”
For once, Dominique didn’t fight me. “I know.”
“The streets can seem like they welcomin’ you with open arms, but take it from me, they don’t love nobody. I’ve seen them take more than give,” I said.
Dominique bobbed his head, quietly listening.
“It’s too many of us losin’ a war that should’ve never been started,” I said further. “They say LA on a different type of time, but shit, it’s all of southern California. You shoot at them kids and then they’ll bust back, but they won’t just stop at you, they’ll get your mom and little sister because they won’t give a fuck.”
Dominique winced beside me and I knew I was getting through. He glanced at me, his eyes glassy. “What do I do?”
I’d just spent the weekend customizing a car for someone. I had money to spare and if Dom owed a debt, I was willing to help. But in case it wasn’t that easy, I was ready to offer more. “Let me have that gun, D. You need a place to lay low? You can stay at my crib. I got an extra room. You just go to school and come back, and most importantly, stay out of trouble.”
Dom didn’t like this offer too much. “I don’t wanna look like a punk.”
The male ego was such a fragile thing when you were young. “You wanna live to fight another day, or break your mom’s heart by havin’ her bury her son at only seventeen?”
Anger flashed in his eyes and his nostrils flared. “Man, watch that shit.”
I slapped my hand on his back hard. “Yeah, the thought doesn’t feel so good, does it?” I gestured to myself. “ I was in a gang when I was your age. Shit had me gettin’ pulled out of school by my mom, and contrary to what the movies show, I didn’t have to get jumped out or fight anybody. I just stopped doing the shit I wasn’t supposed to be doin’ and it was done.”
Dom narrowed his eyes. “ That’s it?”
“That’s it.” I was twenty-nine now, and of course things were different when I was a teen, but it wasn’t a dramatic exit from my gang life like they showed in Hollywood.
Dominique snorted. “You tellin’ me you can just leave the Bloods or Crips by just stop showin’ up to work?”
His words caused me to laugh and he joined me. “A simple letter of resignation to the streets.” I chuckled some more. “It was anticlimactic, but I’m fortunate to have gotten out and to have had my mom and grandma in my corner. I’m sure your mom is in yours, and you know you got me.”
Dominique nodded and I was happy he wasn’t too thickheaded. I knew a lot of the boys out playing basketball before us or reading textbooks scattered across the bleachers, but Dominique had always felt like a mirror of my younger self.
Besides that, I didn’t want to see this young Black boy die.
The streets would chew you up and spit you out, and no one would bat an eye.
“You owe any money?” I asked, getting back on track.
Solemnly, Dominique nodded. “Just a stack, but I don’t have it.”
“Well, I do. You take it and you pay it back and let them know you’re done. Do it publicly so that nothin’ pops off.”
“Thank you, Keith.” He looked me in the eye, his gratitude prominent.
I held my hand out. “So, you comin’ through my spot?”
Dom smirked, but he reached out and slapped his palm against mine. “You better have some good video games.”
I stood up. “Nah, that’s BYOS.”
Dominique’s brows furrowed. “Huh?”
“Bring Your Own Shit,” I clarified. I’d never been into video games all like that. I’d mess around and play a game or two at Savon’s if he was in the mood, but it wasn’t my thing.
Dominique clicked his tongue, and before I could tease him further, I chanced a look at the gym floor and noticed my grandmother walking in. She’d spotted us and was making her way over and because she was alone that left me wary. She was eighty and active, but still, I worried about her.
Dominique came with me as I stepped down from the bleachers and met up with Betty Jean.
She was holding a couple of blue plastic bags carefully. “Hey, I came to give you a care package.”
I was quick to scoop her in for a hug. Her familiar perfume of flowers and just her enveloped my senses.
I released her and introduced her to Dom. “This is Betty Jean, my grandmother—but really, once you get to know her, you see how she’s everyone’s grandmother.”
Dominique was shy as he bobbed his head at Betty. “Hi.”
“What you bring me, Betty?” I wanted to know, because it already smelled good.
She held out the bags and I took them from her, finding each to be a good weight. “Just some oxtails and rice, and a jar of some peppers I canned from my garden.”
What a bounty. “For me? You too good to me.”
Betty Jean and my mother knew how to throw down in the kitchen. Leila liked to say that I was a good cook, often spoiling her, but I knew I’d never measure up to my mother and Betty.
I handed the food over to Dominique. “Want some?”
His greedy ass didn’t hesitate to snatch the bags and take off for the cafeteria. “Thank you, Miss Betty!”
Betty Jean beamed after him. She loved to feed people.
In a way, I owed my hobby for gardening and yard work to her.
After my mother had pulled me from school, I was still wound up, still angry, still raging. She hadn’t known what to do with me. Betty, her approach had been simple.
One morning, she’d taken me out back and pointed to her vegetable garden. She pointed to her flowers next and looked at me.
“ Planting helps the environment, ” she’d said. “ Your anger, your wrath, destroys it, Big Man. Do something good. Create something, help it grow, nurture it and you’ll find peace. I promise .”
That day, we’d tended to her vegetables and then to her flowers, and in all the work, I found myself distracted, busy, losing some of my steam. At eighty, Betty still kept up with her beloved garden. Because of her, I kept my yard up too.
Dominique wouldn’t like it at first, but maybe I’d get him out in the yard this weekend if he was still staying with me.
“What’s up, Betty?” I asked as I steered her over to the bleachers for a seat.
She sat up, posture elite as she faced me. “I just wanted to stop by and see you, that’s all. Your mother saw you a couple of weeks ago and it’s been quiet ever since.”
I really had to do better on that. Outside of work at the garage, I was caught up at the community center or doing side gigs with clients.
Still, I couldn’t forget what my mother saw the last time I’d seen her, or, who she’d seen.
I scratched at my neck. “Yeah, I just been pretty busy. My fault.”
Betty Jean smiled knowingly. “Your mother mentioned seeing a friend helping you in the yard.”
Here we go . Kennedy wasn’t even a friend to me, and now I had to lie to my grandmother about it. “Something like that.”
“Your mother said she was dressed like a farmer,” Betty pointed out next.
Against myself, I smiled, feeling a jolt in my chest. I wondered what Kennedy would wear when I taught her to cook.
“She’s not used to doin’ a little manual labor. She wanted to look the part, is all,” I explained.
“Ah,” Betty Jean responded. “She sounds cute.”
My smile dimmed at the reality of how fucking beautiful Kennedy Nichols was. I was a hundred percent sure that was why her fiancé had pursued her. She was the type of beauty some men wanted to claim and show off, like a trophy after a well-fought challenge.
I liked how pretty Kennedy was, but I really liked how cute she was as a person, too. She wore white because she was heavenly, but she was humble as well.I was still reading Night Changes little by little, but I made sure not to lose her place in the book. She’d dog-eared her page, versus using a bookmark like I was with my receipt. A part of me wanted to know how Eden kept her place in her books and if she’d freak out over the corners of her pages being folded over.
“It’s not like that, Betty,” I confessed. “She’s a temporary friend. Nothin’ real or too serious.”
Betty frowned, pouting for me. “Doesn’t look like that’s what you want.”
I loved fucking Kennedy. In the bedroom she was submissive, which I liked, but assertive when she wanted it her way, and I liked that, too.
But I couldn’t pretend anymore that this was just about sex.
I didn’t know Kennedy to say that I wanted more, but I wanted to know her. Because I liked her.
After all this time by myself, caged off from everyone and everything, this woman slipped through the cracks and got in.
Deep down, I knew she’d never have to use any of what I was teaching her. She was going to marry a rich man in December. After that, she’d be set for life.
“Doesn’t really matter, Betty,” I admitted. “I never saw what happened with Leila coming, and it hurt. This thing, I know in advance.” I tapped my temple. “It’s smarter not to get too attached and wrapped up in it. It is what it is.”
Betty reached out and patted my knee. “You know, tomorrow isn’t exactly promised for people my age.”
My fists balled up at the thought. “Don’t talk like that Betty.”
Her brows furrowed. “Why not? It’s the truth. Don’t let it hurt you. I don’t wanna leave here and not see you happy, Big Man. And you don’t need a woman for that, just yourself.”
I hadn’t seen Kennedy in over a week. That first week flew by without a peep and more than likely this one would too. Even if I never saw her again, I hoped things worked out and she didn’t have to marry that weirdo. That she could go on and make decisions for herself.
Betty Jean’s words hadn’t fallen on deaf ears. I needed to be happy, with just myself before I could ever be happy with someone else. The crazy thing was, I hadn’t spent my week sulking, or feeling sorry for myself, but instead, I’d caught up on things I’d needed to do around the house. Enjoyed a show or movie, and focused on work. I was whole.
I wasn’t sure what the future would bring, but I knew that I was okay, that I was going to be fine, and for that, I was solid.