Snitch Page 4
“Oh, shit.”
It was a ten-minute walk to Raoume’s place on Washington Avenue. The whole way there, Eric and Black Chuck talked about CSI. It was cool seeing them getting along. If they started hanging out together, I’d have even more chances to see Eric outside of school.
Q and me walked a short ways behind the guys. He is so hot! she mouthed.
I know, I mouthed back.
She leaned close to me. “You are so getting freaky with him tonight. Total L.R.”
Lubricated Rodeo. Where the hell she’d heard that, I didn’t know. But it sounded so wrong coming out of her mouth.
She was right about one thing. I’d love to get closer to Eric tonight. But was he even interested?
Why shouldn’t he be? I thought. I’m cute, aren’t I?
But I’d rather be beautiful. Stunningly beautiful with raven-black hair, ice-blue eyes, a slim, upturned nose, and dimples. Maybe three inches taller.
But instead of being beautiful, I was cute. Everyone said I was. Sweet. Some even said I looked innocent.
And I knew why. It was because I had a baby face. A nice heart-shaped face and a pretty smile (minus crooked eyetooth). Damn that baby face. Guys didn’t want cute. They wanted sexy. They wanted hot.
Well, I knew what I wanted.
To kiss someone.
Not just anyone.
Eric.
Tonight.
THE PARTY
Raoume’s crib was already jumping when we got there. His friend Salvatori was spinning the sounds. A huge black guy patted us down at the door. He stopped Black Chuck. “Gimme the flag.”
Black Chuck reluctantly gave it to him.
Walking into the living room was like stepping into a dance club. Strobe lights flashed, putting everything in slow motion. Most people were dancing, except for a couple of kids on the couch. The smell of weed hung in the air, mixed with heavy perfume.
Q looked at us. “We gonna dance?”
“Later,” Black Chuck said. “I’m thirsting for some Hennessy. Bet my bro Eric is too.”
“You got it.”
We went down the hall toward the bedrooms, squeezing through a bunch of people. The bar was in Raoume’s bedroom. A table was set up with bottles and a hoochie-type behind it. We went up to the bar and ordered a mojito for me, a vodka and cranberry for Q, a Bud for Eric, and straight Hennessy for Black Chuck. Eric thrust out a twenty before anybody could argue.
We left the bedroom with our drinks and headed into another, bigger bedroom crowded with people. Black Chuck pounded palms all the way there.
The RLB girls were there, no surprise. They weren’t rocking their colors—smart, since Flatbush was mostly a Crip hood. Marie separated from them to give Q and me hugs. “What’s good, honeys? See you got some manpower behind ya. That Eric is hot! You better keep an eye on him because my Bitches are interested.”
“You can tell them Eric is taken,” Q said.
“I will. But that won’t stop them from trying.”
I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. Whatever. If Eric was stupid enough to fall into their trap, then I didn’t want him anyway.
After we finished our drinks, me and Q tried to get the guys to come dance with us, but they were too busy talking to Chuck’s friends. I told myself it was okay; I couldn’t blame Eric for wanting to meet people.
We blazed on the dance floor, pulling some hot moves out of our arsenal of weapons: the chickenhead, the dip, and of course, Q’s booty shake. With the tunes spinning around us and the martini in my bloodstream, I was feeling fast, sexy, alive.
We’d been dancing for at least an hour when I felt someone bump my ass. Eric slid up behind me and grabbed my hips. He wanted to grind! I glanced back at him, at his wicked smile, and went with it.
Meanwhile Q was dubbin’ in front of Black Chuck. They looked good together. But Q was a square girl, and Chuck spent too much time on the wrong side of right. It would never work.
Eric moved so well, fluid and sensual, that I felt myself getting heated up. Eventually, we collapsed on the sofa.
“You know how to move, Divine.”
“I was thinking the same about you. Is this what the parties in Detroit are like?”
“Yeah.” His eyes were far off for a minute.
“You miss your friends?”
“Sometimes. But I’m not missing anyone right now.” God, he had soulful dark eyes. “You’re cute, Julia. You know that?”
Cute! He means it in a good way, I told myself. Just go with it.
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“Yo, Eric!” It was Black Chuck, out of breath from dancing. “My boy’s here. Come on.”
Eric looked at me. “I’ll be back in a few.”
“Okay.”
Q replaced him on the couch. “Man, Chuck knows how to dance.”
“Yeah.”
“Too bad he doesn’t have much upstairs.”
“Q! That’s mean.”
“I know, I know. I love Chuck too. But it’s true, don’t you think? He only passed one class last year and that was basketball. And he was just bragging to me that he’s tried a hundred different types of weed. Sorry to say, but that boy needs a hobby.”
“You’re right about that.”
“That’s what they’re doing right now, you know—smoking up in the bedroom.”
“Oh.” I felt a stab of disappointment. Not that a little weed was a big deal, but I’d been hoping Eric wouldn’t bother with those things. Well, hopefully he wasn’t a devotee like Black Chuck.
“What’d you expect, Julia? He’s from Detroit. Weed’s probably nothing for him. I bet he’s done heavier shit than that. Should we check up on him?”
“Nah. That’s his business, not mine.”
“High school guys are so wack,” Q said. “I’m gonna get myself a college guy.”
Soon after, we hit the dance floor again. It became mad obvious that Eric had forgotten his promise to come back in a few. I couldn’t help feeling hurt and a little pissed off.
By midnight, I’d had enough of the party. I told Q that I was going home.
“Mom’s picking me up at twelve thirty,” she said. “Wait a bit and she’ll drive you.”
“Thanks, but I’ll be fine.” I hugged her. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I said “bye” to a couple of people on my way out, but I wasn’t going to stop in the bedroom to tell the guys I was leaving.
A ten-minute walk seemed a lot longer when it’s dark and you’re alone. So I tightened the laces of my shoes and did what I usually did when it wasn’t safe: I ran.
I jogged across the parking lot in front of Raoume’s building. The streets weren’t totally deserted; I saw a few guys my age hanging out in the doorway of an all-night deli. I ran to the corner of Church Avenue, stopping to catch my breath. And then I heard it.
My name.
I swung around to find Eric running up to me. He stopped in front of me, much less winded than I was. “What are you running for?”
“To be safer, I guess.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“You should’ve. It’s stupid walking home by yourself.”
“I wasn’t walking. Anyway, I’m a black belt.”
He crossed his arms. “Yeah, sure.”
“Fine, I’m lying. You should go back to the party.” I sniffed. “Chocolate weed, hunh?”
He lifted a brow. “Something wrong with that?”
“No. I’m just not into that.”
“Me neither, most of the time. Look, you probably think I ditched you, but I really didn’t. I got caught up in things. My bad.” He slung an arm around me. “Why don’t I walk you the rest of the way home?”
“I won’t stop you.”
It felt surreal, having his arm around me, his warm body brushing up against mine as we walked. He’d actually come after me. That must mean something
.
“That Black Chuck is hilarious,” he said. “No offense, but it’s kinda weird thinking you two are friends. You’re totally different.”
“Yeah, but we go way back. We’re like family, maybe because our families aren’t the best. I mean, my dad is great, but I don’t see him that much. And Black Chuck’s mom isn’t around.”
“What about his brother, Scrap? He talks about him like he’s a god.”
“Scrap is head of the Flatbush Junction Crips.”
“I heard.”
“FJC’s always got drama going on. Chuck’s more concerned with the latest beef than anything else in his life—like school. Sometimes I worry Chuck’s gonna get hurt.”
“I think our man BC can take care of himself.”
“I hope so. I’m always telling him to be careful, but he never listens. I wish he’d get out of the gang.”
“You gotta respect his choices, Julia. He knows what he’s doing.”
“Who are you, Oprah?”
“With her cash flow, I wish.”
I was actually disappointed when we reached the lobby of my building and I had to move away from him to press the button for the elevator. The doors opened right away.
“Thanks for walking me.”
“Wait a second, Julia.”
He jammed the elevator door with his foot, touched my cheek softly, and pressed his lips against mine. I was so stunned that it took me a couple of seconds to respond. I parted my lips to kiss him back. He smiled against my lips, made an mmm sound, and kissed me more deeply.
My mind reeled. I was kissing Eric! No, Eric was kissing me! And it was awesome. This guy knew how to kiss—slow and sensual, without too much saliva or tongue. His lips were driving me crazy, making my eyeballs roll back behind my lids, making my body burn for him.
Beep, beep.
Damn it! The elevator made that annoying sound when you held it longer than ten seconds.
Eric pulled back. “Wow.”
“Wow,” I echoed.
“I just had to . . . Hope it’s okay, Divine.”
“It’s more than okay.”
He smiled crookedly. I stepped back into the elevator, the doors closing on his beautiful face.
KISS
Eric:
u out there?
Julia:
no way—eric!?!
Eric:
What up? fun friday night
Julia:
raoumes parties r always off da hook
Eric:
i meant somethin else ;-)
Julia:
OMG! well u saw me smiling didnt u? that satisfy ur ego?
Eric:
fo sho!
Julia:
so what u mean by that kiss anyway?
Eric:
lol u know damn well what it means. means I wanna come over to ur crib RIGHT NOW and do it again! and again and again . . .
Julia:
r u tryin to sext with me?
Eric:
I’m game for anything.
Julia:
ERIC!
Eric:
im playin. when can i c u?
Julia:
um . . . sometime this week i guess
Eric:
so what u wanna do and when?
Julia:
hmmm . . . wednesday we get outta school early for p/t conferences. lets hang after that
Eric:
wednesday thats in 3 days! ok i will wait
Julia:
well i CANT WAIT to c u
Eric:
damn u sweet divine
CLOUD NINE
Julia!”
I lifted my head from the desk to find Mr. Finklestein glaring at me.
“Awake now?”
I blinked, trying to clear the cobwebs from my head. “Yeah. Sorry.”
He gave me the I expected better from you shake of the head. “As I was saying . . .”
It was the second time this week I’d been caught dozing in his class, and I was a little disappointed in myself. I’d never wanted to be one of those girls who let school suffer because of a guy.
But Eric wasn’t just any guy. He was Eric.
It all started with the phenomenal kiss.
Since then, we’d texted and talked on the phone every night. His phone voice was ultra-sexy. So many things about him surprised and impressed me. Like he was a total fan of CSI and NCIS. Like he was on the All-Star baseball and basketball teams last year. Like he was an extra in a few indie music videos. Like when he was tired he let Spanish words slip.
The one thing he didn’t want to say was why he came to Brooklyn in the first place, but I knew I’d get it out of him. Maybe today after school when we had our first date.
Suddenly everybody got up and started moving their desks. I guess we’d been assigned some group work. I joined a group and looked at the board to figure out our instructions.
“Are you doing it with Eric yet?” asked Kareen, well known for her big mouth.
I groaned. “If it happens, you’ll be the first to know.”
“I bet he’d be mad good,” Kareen said.
“He’s brolic, all right,” Jessica put in. “But I thought you was with Black Chuck.”
“Black Chuck and I were always just friends.” I raised my hand and asked Mr. Finklestein if he was collecting the classwork assignment. He said he was, so I tried to curb the convo so that we could get some work done.
I figured this would be an easy day because of the early dismissal. I couldn’t wait to see Eric. We were going to catch a movie then get some eats at TGI Friday’s.
At 12:35 p.m., we met at the gates in front of the school, just as floods of kids were coming out. I was standing with Marie and Q, trying not to get trampled.
Eric touched the small of my back. It gave me a little shiver. “We good to go?”
“Yeah.” I paused as two Crip girls, Sarah and Nessa, walked by, their eyes hating on Marie.
I heard Nessa say, “Nice pants, Marie.”
Marie got her back up. I, for one, liked her jeans with the hand painted over the left butt cheek, even if they weren’t my style.
Too bad Marie couldn’t let the comment go.
She put an arm out in front of Nessa. “You like ’em, huh?”
“Yeah, I do.” Nessa sucked on her blue lollipop. “The hand on your ass is mad phat.”
None of us missed the double meaning.
“You were looking at my ass? ’Cause you wouldn’t have seen the hand if you weren’t looking at my ass.” Marie smacked her butt. “You want a piece?”
“Sorry, but I don’t go that way,” Nessa said. “Though you got enough ass there to feed a Third World country.”
“A what?” Marie pushed her. Nessa pushed back. Then they were grabbing, tearing, grunting.
That’s how the riot started. Within two seconds, everybody knew there was a fight and rushed in. They closed in before Eric, Q, or me had a chance to pull the girls apart.
Picture it: thousands of students all being let out at the same time, a fight waiting for them. Everybody full of energy because we got out early. “Fight, fight,” charging through the air.
More fights broke out, like little wildfires, throughout the crowd. Gang members. Honors students. It didn’t matter anymore. A wave of people spilled into the streets, stopping the traffic on Avenue X. Some of them surrounded cars, banging on the trunks and hoods, cursing at the drivers, who got out and cursed back.
Q and I stood there, watching it all from the school lawn. Eric headed for a confrontation between a skinny Puerto Rican kid and a beefy white driver. I watched, my heart in my throat, as Eric stepped between them, taking the man by the shoulders, somehow managing to talk him out of beating the kid to a pulp with his antitheft device. The kid ran away, and Eric coaxed the guy back into his car.
Sirens filled the air as the NYPD pulled up on all sides. It looked like a squirt of soap dropped into a pool of grease as kids ran off in all dir
ections.
Marie emerged from the crowd, her hair wild.
“You okay?” I asked.
She nodded and cracked her gum. “Wasn’t no more room to fight.” She looked disappointed. “Y’all like my jeans, don’t ya?”
FIRST DATE
Channing Tatum was nothing compared to Eric. It wasn’t Channing Tatum’s hard body leaning in to mine in spite of the armrest. It wasn’t Channing Tatum’s hand on my thigh during the entire movie. He was just on the screen in some mindless action flick. I paid him no attention.
TGI Friday’s was steps away from the movie theater on Knapp Street. The place was pretty empty, so we had our choice of tables. We chose a booth, of course.
Eric slid in across from me, putting his forearms on the table. “What did you think?”
“Of what?”
“The movie!”
“Oh. It was all right.”
“C’mon, I know you ain’t one of those girls who don’t have opinions.”
“Okay, how about it sucked?”
“You’re right, it did. Next time you choose.”
“Next time I will.”
The waitress came over and handed us menus. “Something to drink to start off?”
“I’ll have a virgin strawberry daiquiri.” I turned to Eric. “They have the best daiquiris here.”
“I’ll have a Corona.”
“Do you have ID?” the waitress asked.
“Sure.” He pulled ID out of his wallet.
She looked at it and gave it back to him. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
She walked off. He slid the ID over to me. It was a Michigan driver’s license with his picture on it. His real name too. And a birth date making him twenty-one years old.
“How’d you get this?”
“I got connections in DT. Good, eh? Cost me enough.”
“How much?”
“Two hundred.”
“Holy shit!”
“It’s worth it. Gives me the freedom to go wherever I want. Can’t put a price tag on that.”
I examined it closely. “It’s flawless. You can see it was done by a pro.”