Dating Games Page 4

  “But it just turns out that somebody moved out yesterday, and I ain’t had time to tell anybody about the room,” Aunt Dorothy smiled at Rafe.

  “But I ain’t fifty years old.”

  “I know that. But that’ll just be our little secret. I think you’re mature enough not to cause any trouble. And if you do, you’re still not too big for me to put you over my knee and spank your behind like I used to do when you were little.”

  AUNT DOROTHY opened the door to a small room with a full-size bed pushed up against one of the walls, a dresser against another, with a 19-inch television on top of it. “This’ll be your room.” Rafe looked over the small area, and thought that with a couple of air fresheners, he could call it home.

  “I don’t got any money on me now, Auntie,” Rafe said, pulling at both his jeans pockets with his thumbs.

  “You mean, you don’t have any,” she corrected him.

  “Yeah. I don’t have any, but I’m supposed to be going to see my parole officer tomorrow, and I’m sure he got a job set up for me.”

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. There’s no rush. You take your time. Do what you have to do, and pay me when you get ready. Okay?”

  “All right.” Rafe gave his aunt a hug. “Thank you so much for this,” he called over her shoulder.

  “It’s what families are for. And what about your parents? You want me to call them? Talk to them for you? I’m sure they’d want to see you.”

  “No. No,” Rafe said, leaning back so he could look into her face. “I’ll get over there when I think it’s right, okay?”

  “Okay. Enjoy the room.” Aunt Dorothy stepped into the hallway. “And you know if you get hungry, just come on downstairs, and I’ll make you something to eat.”

  “Thanks, Auntie.”

  “And one more thing. The man across the hall from you, he’s in his sixties. He never comes out of his room, but he can be a grouch. Don’t pay him no mind. You’ll probably never bump into him anyway. But the guy down the hall, Wade, is a sweetheart. You’ll like him.” She smiled, “You’ll do just fine up here.” She closed the door.

  Yeah, Rafe thought, laying across his bed. He should be just fine here, and for the first time in three years, he was able to rest fully.

  FIVE

  THIS NEGRO had to be saving his money for something, Alizé thought, staring down at the bacon barbecue cheeseburger sitting unwrapped in her lap. She was on the passenger side of Steven’s Toyota Corolla. Steve, a high school boy—not on the football team, or basketball, or any other team for that matter, but cute, 6’1” and every girl wanted him—was Alizé’s boyfriend. At least he was for the moment. It was the following night, Saturday, and they had plans to go to a movie.

  “I’m hungry,” Ally said, just after he had picked her up.

  Steve looked down at his watch. “We ain’t got time. The movie’s going to start in less than half an hour.”

  “And …” Alizé said, crossing her arms, twisting her lips. “What is that supposed to mean to me? I’m hungry, and I need something to eat, and you need to be taking me to get it.”

  Steve cut his eyes at her for a moment, then started the car and drove off. They ended up in the Burger King drive-through. He ordered what he wanted and asked Alizé what she’d like. She thought about saying “a decent place to eat,” somewhere she could sit down on something other than plastic seats, or sit in the car and eat her meal off her thighs. She didn’t say a thing. Just another strike against Steve, who would, if he messed up again, get dumped faster than he could say “Whopper Junior.”

  “So what you want, girl?” Steve asked, as if his time cost a million dollars a minute.

  “Whatever,” Alizé grunted. She ended up with a bacon barbecue cheeseburger combo meal. They sat in the parking lot, Alizé staring down at the top of her burger. It looked cold and stale, and the bun had a big dent in it, where one of the burger people had stuck his thumb into it.

  “What’s wrong?” Steve asked, through a mouthful of chicken sandwich. “Why ain’t you eating? Movie starts in ten minutes.” He pushed the last of his sandwich into his mouth, sinking his finger in behind it, and sucking off whatever juice was on it, before he pulled it out.

  “I ain’t hungry no more.” She started to wrap the burger back into its paper. “Let’s go to the movie. I’ll just throw it away.”

  “No, no.” Steve quickly reached over and grabbed the burger out of her hand. He repackaged it carefully, slid it back into the Burger King bag, and placed it in the glove box. “I can eat that tomorrow for lunch.”

  “Sure you can,” Alizé said, sarcastically. “How stupid of me.”

  By the time they got out of the car, Alizé had much attitude. Halfway there, she had noticed that they weren’t headed to the nice movie theater on Michigan Avenue but toward the ’hood.

  “Movie theater ain’t this way,” she noted.

  “Dollar theater is.” Steve kept his eyes on the road.

  After Alizé and Steve parked the car, they walked toward the theater, turned the corner, and were met by the back of a line, thirty people long.

  “Un-uh,” Alizé said, looking at all the guys wearing their baggy jeans, hooded sweatshirts, and denim studded jackets. The women by their sides had gold teeth in their mouths, hair weaves and piece-ons flowing down their backs, makeup painting their faces like clowns, and outfits so bad that she wondered if they’d gotten dressed with their eyes closed.

  “I’m not going in there with those fools!”

  “But Thug Life is playing,” Steve said, digging in his pockets, readying his two dollars for whenever they made it to the ticket booth.

  “Thug Life” Alizé said, loud enough for the people standing around her to hear. “We don’t got to pay to see that. It’s showin’ right out here in this line.”

  Steve cut an evil look at Alizé, motioning for her to close her mouth.

  “I’m not going up in that theater with these niggas to get shot by a stray bullet just because some fool is talking too loud.”

  “Well, take yo’ ass home then,” a woman’s voice called out from somewhere in the middle of the line. There was a small swell of laughter, which quickly died down.

  Alizé craned her head, looking for the person who spoke. When she couldn’t find her, she simply said, “Fuck whatever crack ho said that to me.” Alizé turned to Steve. “Let’s go.” But Steve grabbed her by the arm, preventing her from leaving.

  “We ain’t going,” he said, his voice low. “You wanted to go out and see a movie, so that’s what we’re doing.”

  Alizé’s face showed mild shock. She looked at Steve as though he had lost his mind or maybe forgotten who the hell she was. She then let out a pathetic chuckle, still allowing herself to be held.

  “Going out! You call going to Burger King, eating in you tore-up car, out?” Alizé said, speaking loud enough for everyone, from the front of the line to the back, to hear. Heads were turning, people tapping others on the shoulders, and drawing their attention to Alizé’s tirade.

  “And then you bring me to this nasty-ass movie theater,” she continued, “that’s showing year-old movies to motherfuckers who can’t afford to see nothing better.”

  Another woman’s voice, higher pitched this time, came from farther up in the line. “I’m gonna be one more motherfucker for that bitch, then it’s on.”

  Alizé heard this and quickly turned in the direction of the remark. She stepped out of line and spread her arms wide, as if inviting confrontation.

  “Somebody don’t like it? Whassup? Step out. Let’s do this,” Alizé said, scanning all the women’s eyes.

  Steve stepped out to hook one of her arms, drag her back in, but she pulled away. “Naw, I told you, I ain’t goin’ in. I’m worth more than this.” Alizé paced back toward him, her jeans hugging her curves just right, the eyes of so many of the men on her.

  “I’m tired of this,” she said.

  “Well, roll wit’ me, baby,” a man c
alled out.

  “Yeah, she fine as hell,” another agreed.

  “Oh, ya’ll like what you see,” Alizé smiled, stepping back out in the front of the line.

  “Hell, yeah!” a bunch of the guys answered enthusiastically.

  “Ya’ll really like it?” Alizé cooed, pulling off her jacket, showing off the tight-fitting T-shirt and the breasts pushing against the thin material. She spun around to give the guys a good look at her.

  “I said, do ya’ll really like what you see?”

  A couple of guys started clapping, as if they were at a strip club and Alizé was about to start taking it off. Others shouted their approval. Steve stood still at the end of the line, looking ashamed and embarrassed.

  “So I should get wit’ one of ya’ll instead of my cheap-ass boyfriend?” Alizé called to the line filled with men.

  “Oh, and you know it,” some shouted.

  “Mos def!” others agreed.

  “Hmmm.” Alizé rubbed her chin, as if giving it serious thought. Then a second later said, “But what good would that be doing me, ’cause ya’ll cheap brothas brought ya’lls’ dates to the dollar show too.”

  The women in the line laughed as Alizé walked off. “C’mon Steve,” she motioned. He obediently followed, having no other choice.

  OUTSIDE ALIZÉ’S apartment, she sat slumped down in the passenger seat of the car. They hadn’t exchanged a word the entire way home.

  “That show wasn’t called for back there,” Steve protested.

  Alizé didn’t speak, didn’t even turn to face him.

  “Callin’ me out like that. Making me look like some punk. Calling me cheap.”

  “You are cheap!” Alizé told him, turning to look at him.

  “I ain’t cheap! I’m just in high school. How you expect me to be rollin’?”

  “Much better than you are if you expect to be rollin’ with me,” Alizé pointed out, rolling her eyes.

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I meant what I said out there. I deserve better than this change you throwin’ at me. Burgers and the dollar show ain’t my idea of going out. Maybe you need to get a job.”

  “I’m not thinking about no job. I’m thinking about graduating from high school and then going to college, which is what you should be thinking about,” Steve said, pointing a finger at Alizé, “instead of trying to be taken out for lobster dinners and expensive shows.”

  “So it’s to keep on being like this?” Alizé asked.

  “What am I supposed to say, girl? I’m in high school.”

  Alizé shook her head sadly, placed her hand on the door handle, and popped it open. “Then you can’t afford me,” she said and got out.

  As Alizé walked toward her apartment building, she heard Steve calling out to her for her to stop, for her to please stop and let him talk to her, but she kept walking, not even looking back once. This was how it would all start if she let it, Alizé thought. It was probably how it started for her mother. She let her father stick around when she shouldn’t have with his cheap ass. Then he got her pregnant, and by that time it was too late. She had been mistreated by the man she loved most, and after that, she just got accustomed to it. So now every man she dealt with had an open invitation to walk all over her. They didn’t have to treat her right, didn’t have to take her out, buy her nice things, prove how much they wanted to be with her, because her mother was soft and didn’t require them to.

  But that wouldn’t be Alizé. Hell, no, she thought as she stepped in the door, closing it behind her, finally blotting out Steve’s pleading for her to come back, to reconsider. Alizé was worth much more than that.

  When Alizé walked into the apartment, her mother had the phone to her ear. She was talking, lowering her voice as Alizé walked by, but she still heard what her mother was saying.

  “I just wanted you to know that I had a really good time the other night, and I want to know when I can see you again,” her mother said into the phone, her hand cupped over her mouth to keep Alizé from hearing her.

  Alizé shook her head as she walked into her room. Isn’t that nice? Her mother had a really good time, Alizé scoffed. She got all gussied up, put on her red dress, just to have it hiked up around her hips, and get done in the room next to her two daughters, when they were supposed to be painting the town. And now she calling that man, asking when they could do it all again. How sorry was that?

  Alizé was right. Her mother had gotten used to being mistreated, and now it even sounded like she was beginning to enjoy it.

  SIX

  JANET JOHNSON’S apartment was on Thirty-Seventh Street, about ten minutes from where Alizé lived. The apartment was a huge two bedroom. Old as hell, but it was gigantic for the little that JJ paid in rent each month. The place was so big that when Sasha, one of Alizé’s and JJ’s mutual friends, was having problems with her boyfriend beating her, JJ said that that she could stay there until she got things together.

  Sasha was nineteen and beautiful. Could’ve had any man she wanted with that pretty brown wavy hair she had on her head, that perfect smile, and that petite body. She looked like a model and dressed like one too, spending every dime she had on clothes. But she said she was done dating for a while, and Alizé could understand, remembering the time Sasha showed up at JJ’s place, both eyes swollen so shut she could hardly see. She had stolen her man’s credit card and had an all-day Gold Coast shopping spree, but she still didn’t deserve to get worked over like that.

  JJ was the opposite of everything Sasha was. Where Sasha was soft, JJ was hard. Where Sasha was quiet, polite, and submissive, JJ was loud, rude, and forceful. But she was like that for a reason. When she was younger, her mother’s boyfriend used to rape her. JJ said that when she finally told her mother about it, her mother got all upset with her, said she was lying, and kicked her out, telling JJ that she wasn’t going to let her mess up the good thing she had with that man. That had to be why JJ hated men so much.

  Finally, there was Lisa, Ally’s girl. She was average looking and didn’t care how many times Alizé said she’d do her hair, face, and nails for her. The answer was no. She was plain as hell but had a cute smile. She was twenty years old and had had a baby when she was sixteen. Now she was going to school and working full time, trying to provide for it but failing.

  All four girls lay around the apartment sipping on beers and coolers. Alizé sat cross-legged in one of the big chairs, while Lisa’s body was draped across the other one. JJ and Sasha sat on the sofa, Sasha turning the pages on a motorcycle magazine, while JJ puffed from a joint and sipped from a beer.

  The 27-inch color tube played on in front of them, the volume down, lit candles placed here and there about the room flickering, as the girls continued to drink from their bottles and pass the joint around.

  “Ya’ll are getting me down,” Lisa said, setting down her barely touched passion fruit wine cooler. “Ain’t there something more to do than just lie around here and get drunk?”

  “Like what?” JJ wondered, holding the joint to Sasha’s lips, allowing her to take a puff.

  “I don’t know. Go and see a movie. Go out to dinner. Something.”

  “Movie playin’ on the tube right there … ooh, ooh, go back to that page, girl,” JJ said to Sasha, seeing a Harley she liked. “And don’t got no money for dinner,” she reminded them. “But there’s a fresh box of Cap’n Crunch in the cabinet, and the milk should still be good.”

  “Do you even care about your future, JJ?” Lisa asked, sitting up in her chair. “Or is it all about bikes and beer?”

  “Future? I’m twenty-two years old. My future is now.”

  “But you still need to be plannin’ for—”

  “I ain’t got to plan for nothin’. Just because you messed up and let some nigga get you pregnant when you was a shorty don’t mean that everybody got to be going to school and working they behinds off, tryin’ to be a good mother, when kids is the furthest thing from they mi
nd. Next time you need to make sure that fool put a condom on.”

  “I love my baby,” Lisa said. “I’m glad I have my son. At least I have some priorities. At least I got direction,” and she got up and headed toward the kitchen.

  “Whatever, man,” JJ said, blowing her off. “Why don’t you direct your ass into getting me another Heineken.” JJ looked over at Alizé, then tapped Sasha, bringing her attention to their brooding girlfriend.

  “Damn, girl,” JJ said. “Where your head at?”

  Alizé didn’t respond, just kept peeling the label from her wine cooler bottle.

  “Alizé,” Sasha called.

  “Hunh.”

  “The sex must’ve been good last night, ’cause you still there.”

  “Naw, I was just thinking about what Lisa said. She was making sense, you know that, right.”

  “C’mon, Ally,” JJ said, flopping backward into the sofa. “Not you too. Can’t some girls just hang out and chill? Ya’ll ain’t even in your twenties yet. What’s the damn rush?”

  “Look at us. All we do is sit around, like Lisa said, and get drunk and high, and where’s that gettin’ us?”

  “I ain’t listening no more. You wreckin’ my high, girl,” JJ said. “Talking about the future and all that nonsense.”

  “I look at my mom,” Alizé said, “and she just be letting dudes run all over her because she ain’t got no leverage. She ain’t got no power. You need money to have power, so you won’t be in no situation where a man can just treat you any way he wants. Buy your ass a damn barbecue bacon cheeseburger, and expect you to be happy. Know what I’m say in’?”

  “I don’t think it’s all about just money,” Lisa said, walking back in the room, handing JJ a fresh beer. “But I hear where you coming from.”

  “Ally just uptight, because she must be having problems with Steve again,” JJ said.

  “Ain’t having no problems with Steve, because Steve is done.”

  “Yeah, we heard that the last time,” Lisa remembered.

  “Naw, I mean it now. Brotha ain’t got no money, and I’m tired of being taken to cheap places to eat like I was in high school.”