Playing with Fire
Wyn
Every Saturday, for three months, we sat at that kitchen table and had breakfast like we were a normal family.
Dad came home from the hospital with a concussion and Mom came home with a new-ish attitude. She still didn’t speak to Auty, but the nasty looks were gone, and Dad was home more.
There was no more talk of us leaving California.
But I didn’t mind that, because I had a reason to stay.
“What are you girls up to today?” Dad asked as he poured sugar into his grits.
“Rian had her baby, so I’m helping Renelle babysit next door,” Auty replied.
I glanced at her, noting the crinkled individuals Renelle put in her hair after she cut most of it off.
It was still hot outside, but she had on a grimy oversized hoodie and skinnies that had her and Turkey’s doodles all over the legs.
“I’m going to the science museum.”
“The science museum?” Mom parrotted. She mostly stayed out of my way, besides a few more clothes added to my closet the first week of school.
Auty scoffed.
“Got something to say?” I asked her, my food no longer appealing.
“Nope. Nothing at all, Wynter.”
I narrowed my eyes at my sister. Eighth grade made her meaner, and more biting. Almost a month into the year, Autumn got into her first fight on campus, and got ISS. She’d blast rock music in her room, but once when I went to turn it off, I went in her room to find it empty, with her window cracked.
Mom, as usual, didn’t say anything. And Dad’s version of caring were these Saturday morning breakfasts.
“Who are you going to the science museum with, Wynnie?”
Auty slid her chair hard across the floor and left. Mom didn’t even flinch; just kept her creepy, toothless smile on me. Dad sighed, and began to collect the dishes for the dishwasher.
I stood and grabbed my glass of orange juice. “Some friends from school.”
Mom stood, too. “We haven’t had one of our mother-daughter dates in a while. Maybe–”
“Amani,” Dad started. “I had a whole day planned for us.”
I smiled at my mother. “Yeah, Mom. Go work on your marriage with Dad.”
I noted her hand twitch by her side, and arched my brow.
I knew that docile act was just that, an act.
“Wynter,” Dad sighed, and I deflated instantly.
For all his faults, he was home more. He was trying, even if it was too late.
“Please be home by seven. There’s something I want to speak with you and your sister about.”
He kissed me on my temple after I nodded. It was a fleeting thought to hope for us going down South after all, but even my brain knew that wasn’t going to happen.
I didn’t let the unknown mess with me, though.
I grabbed my new Coach purse, and my new iPhone, and bounced out my house, walking the opposite way of Turkey’s house. It wasn’t like anyone was looking out the windows, but I still didn’t want anyone to look too hard into the car that was picking me up.
The impala that was idling on the curb. I could see two heads in the front, so I opened the back door and slid in.
Holding my phone like a gun, I held it to the driver’s head. “Break yo’ self,” I whispered.
They turned and kissed their teeth. “On baby, you need to back up.”
I rolled my eyes, but did what he said. “Rico doesn’t even talk to me like that, but even if he did, I know you’re Fredo.”
Rico grinned from the front seat and handed me the CD case full of mixes he made. “I told you, nigga. Snow gon’ know who the realest is, every time.”
I beamed, jutting my chin out. The last few times I hung with Rico and Fredo, they’d both have two cornrows, in an effort to look as identical as they could, and have me guess who is who.
And don’t get me wrong, they did look just alike. Same height, same build. They even had the same birth mark under their chin.
But Fredo didn’t look at me the way Rico did. Fredo didn’t make me feel the way Rico did.
It was more than easy to pick out who was who.
“I gotta be home by seven,” I said, handing Rico a CD to play.
He nodded and popped it in the CD player. “We’ll think about it.”
“You’ll be home by seven, Ice Princess.”
“Remember, don’t be calling us by our governments around these niggas. We don’t know them like that, and you shouldn’t either.”
“Where are we going again?” I asked, bopping my head to Pharrell.
“Kilo finally got sponsored, so they’re filming him and some other niggas skating at some rich nigga’s crib,” Fredo said as he cruised toward the nicer part of the city.
“He’s that good?”
“Remy’s better, but Kilo’s more flashy.”
“Stay away from both of ‘em,” Rico gritted, making me smile.
This wasn’t the first time I’d hung with him and Fredo, but it was the first time since we started hanging out that I’d be back around his friends.
His gang.
Rico didn’t speak about them, not really. Rico didn’t speak about much at all, but especially not about any of his other friends.
I asked him if he was cool with Set once, and he countered with asking if I liked him.
The guys at school weren’t like him at all. Everyone dated everyone at one time or another, and so cheating wasn’t really a thing. It was just whose turn was it to hold hands in between classes, or who was your bus buddy this field trip.
Rico wasn’t like that. Besides Fredo, he didn’t want me around anyone but him. He was always asking me about my top five, or who was commenting on my pictures. He got me the new iPhone like he said he would, but I could only have his and Fredo’s numbers in them, and he’d check.
I didn’t know what to make of it. Especially when he’d make me mix CDs, and look at me the way he does, and be there for me the way no one else is.
“You hungry?” Fredo asked me. “I’on know if they gonna have food there.”
“Your pops cooked this morning, right?” Rico added, making me simper.
Little details like that, he always remembered.
“Me and Auty kinda got into it, so I didn’t finish.”
“What’s the deal with you and her? Set said y’all always been at odds.” Fredo glanced at me in the rearview, smirking when I shrugged.
“Everybody can’t be like us, Fred.”
“Well, I hope y’all figure it out. Being a twin is only the shit if y’all are on the same team.”
Rico said something in Spanish before turning the music up, so I didn’t have to answer.
But I still received everything Fredo said. It just seemed like we were almost too far gone.
As soon as we pulled up to a mansion I’d only seen on tv, my mood picked back up. Fredo parked in the horseshoe driveway, and we got out immediately.
Before I could take a step, I was pulled back until my back was against the car, and light brown eyes regarded me as serious as a heart attack.
“You stick with Tune at all times, Snow. Even if you gotta piss. And don’t take no drinks or blunts from these niggas. Entiendes?”
I rolled my eyes and folded my arms. “Fine.”
It was quick, but I still felt his lips on mine before he released me and walked off ahead of us.
“You got it baaaad, Wyn,” Fredo cackled, throwing an arm around my shoulder and leading us inside.
“Shut up,” I said, elbowing him, before my breath lost me.
That mansion was the stuff of dreams.
High ceilings, at least three levels. A chandelier hanging in the entrance, and winding staircases. Fredo kept us walking all the way to the back, where it looked more like a hood function.
Guys in green hung around as loud rap played. There were boys skating in the empty pool, and girls dancing and drinking.
We were definitely the youngest people here.
But a lot of people I noticed, I had them as friends on MyRoom.
They acknowledged me and Fredo, dapping us up, handing us bottles. Fredo grabbed an unopened bottle of Hennessy and poured us both shots, before taking us to the other side of the pool, away from people.
There was an empty jacuzzi there that we took residence in. They were right; Kilo wasn’t the best skater there, but it was still fascinating seeing Black boys doing tricks in an empty swimming pool, like that one movie.
“You ever thought about skating?” I asked Fredo.
“Nah. I fell once off a bike and was cool off all that shit,” he chuckled. “I wanted to play soccer.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Ricky didn’t,” he shrugged.
“Y’all do everything together?” I asked, my face screwed up with secret envy.
“Not everything, but back then, yeah. We both tried it, but then I ran into someone, and Rick beat that nigga down, right there at practice. It was easier to just give up.”
“So he’s like that with you too? Over the top?”
We both locked in on Rico, who was sitting with other guys from his gang. Everyone else around him was talking and joking, but he just stood there, one corner of his mouth up, looking zoned out, but probably listening to everything they were saying.
“We brothers, Wyn. Twins. Womb to the tomb type shit. I’m the same way with him.”
“Rico told me he didn’t even know you could fight until you got put on,” I giggle.
His grin widened. “Me and my pops had to slapbox away from him, so he wouldn’t jump in. He take that older brother shit too seriously. But I fasho got squabbles, girl. I’m the one who taught Ty-Ty, and I know he can beat Rico’s ass if he wanted to.”
“I can’t believe you and Tyree are really blood cousins. How was that?”
And just like that, I spent the morning and afternoon hearing story after story of a young Rico, Fredo, and Tyree.
Fredo was way more open than his brother, even though I knew he stayed away from heavier topics, like why Tyree was living with his grandmother and aunt, and what happened to his other friend Peanut, after elementary school.
But it was fun hearing about Rico from Fredo’s point of view, so as the sun traveled across the sky, I settled in, sipped Hennessy, and let him talk.
“Okaaaaay! Where's my brother!”
My eyes were a little heavy, but I still focused on the group of girls coming into the backyard.
Most of the filming was over, and now it was more so a kickback. People were chilling inside the empty pool, and Fredo and I moved into the grassy area with the rest of their gang.