11:17 pm
Charmayne knew Tae was going to be late. He was always late. This is the same guy who showed up so late for a Math test once that he had exactly enough time to write his name on the paper and hand it in. This is the same young man who took a girl to the movies and showed up so late that by the time they got there, Caine was already about to get shot by Ilena’s cousin (that was a Menace II Society reference). Needless to say, Charmayne expected Tae’s “eleven o’clock” to look more like 11:45 or midnight. As a matter of fact, she never even asked how they were getting to the meeting, seeing as to how neither one of them had a car. Yet and still, here she was- dressed in black, form fitting pants and a black and white spaghetti strapped shirt. Her hair was let down and straightened for the first time since her Uncle Clifford’s funeral. As she adjusted her boobs in the mirror, she heard a knock on the door. Her heart raced. She said a quick silent prayer as she walked to open it.
“Lord, grant me the strength to let my words come out clearly, and the courage to accept whatever reaction they evoke from whoever hears them. Thank you for your gifts. I am eternally grateful. Amen” It was showtime.
“Who the fuck is it?” she playfully yelled, in a pseudo-gangsta rap voice.
“Your Daddy, bitch.” Tae responded in an even more ridiculous gangsta voice.
(By the way, Tae called Charmayne “bitch” as a term of endearment. The same endearment that was present when Charmayne called him “faggot”, or “hoe ass nigga”, or “faggot ass hoe ass nigga”. It was meaningless banter between best friends, not the least bit derogatory. So, to all the “b” word referees who are reading this and waiting for the writer to degrade women so that he can be dismissed as another Hip Hop heathen, hell bent on destroying the Black race- I (the aforementioned writer) politely invite you to go to hell.)
Anyway..
“Your daddy, bitch,” he responded in an even more ridiculous gangsta voice.
She undid the four locks and the chain, and opened the door to see Tae standing there, freshly groomed- neatly dressed- and smelling like one of the dudes who comes over to try to court her momma. He didn’t even look like Tae.
“Oh shit, Devontae Jefferson- look at you,” she was genuinely impressed.
“You look alright too, Charmayne Alexander,” is what his mouth said. His heart said, “Daaaamn!” as every ounce of his blood rushed to his pelvic region. Luckily for him, his brand new Pelle Pelle jacket was long enough to disguise the bulge in his freshly ironed Karl Kani slacks.
He saw Charmayne in a whole new light. Her hair was perfect. Her skin was radiant, without a trace of make-up. Her body was bangin’. It was like doves were circling her with harps playing “Ribbon in the Sky”- and…
“Nigga stop looking at my titties,” Charmayne’s sharp voice was accompanied by an even sharper punch to Tae’s shoulder.
“Ain’t nobody lookin’ at your shriveled up, California raisin ass titties!” Tae responded, half lying- trying to laugh it off. “You ready or what?”
“Yeah, let’s dip.”
With that, they left. Ms. Alexander heard the door slam. Why hadn’t Charmayne said goodbye? She could’ve at least yelled up the stairs and said “Momma, I’m gone.” They bonded earlier. For the first time in years, they had a genuine mother/daughter “moment”. Why the cold shoulder now? All of her questions were answered when her mental CNN gave her a quick newsflash:
“..This just in.. Your daughter revealed her life’s passion to you, and basically opened up to you for the first time in 18 years, and you said nothing. That’s right, you looked at her as if she were an alien- and then walked away from her without uttering a word. No “good job” or “I’m proud”. Right now she’s probably seeking comfort in the arms of some saggy pants rapper who’s gonna beat her and get her addicted to drugs. Great parenting…”
The front of her brain felt like there was a war going on right behind her eyes. Throbbing. The worst feeling imaginable is knowing that you didn’t say what you should’ve said, and then realizing that you will never get the opportunity to say it again. Throbbing. No matter how much time went past, in Charmayne’s eyes this night will forever be the night she rapped for her mother and her mother shitted on her dreams. Ms. Alexander suddenly began to remember what that night was like for her when she was growing up. She vividly recalled her mother telling her to stop singing “ the devil’s music”. She could still remember the taste of rejection. The metallic dryness in her mouth as she sat at her piano and saw her mother sitting in the back of the nightclub- disdain on her face. No amount of applause from strangers could compare to the lack of support from the woman that gave her life, so she quit. She stopped singing the “devil’s music”, and did the things her mother thought she should do. As she tried to wrestle these memories from her mind, the throbbing in her head turned into a paralyzing pain that ushered a single tear down her cheek.
Meanwhile...
Charmayne’s voice was a bit scratchy from freestyling the entire way from E.79th and Kinsman to E.40th and Payne -where the studio was. Tae turned off the car and the instrumental to Jr. Mafia’s “Get Money” ceased abruptly. They sat quietly for a brief moment. Both of their bodies sat heavy in the bucket seats of the Buick Riviera that they rode in. There was a sense of nervousness in the car, but also an air of “we ‘bout to get it”-ness.
Tae broke the silence, “You ready?”. It almost sounded cliché.
Charmayne simply nodded her head and opened the door. As they walked to the door of the studio, their interaction was no different than when they’d walk up to the door of East Tech High School.
“Hey, if they made a play about you running around topless on a beach, what would it be called?” Tae quipped.
“What?” Charmayne asked, already chuckling.
“Raisins in the Sun.”
They both cracked up. Tae always had a way of breaking tension with his humor. Charmayne caught a quick flashback to when Bobby Cook was pissed off because Tae was talking to his girlfriend in shop class. The entire school was waiting in the parking lot to see Tae and Bobby fight. Tae (knowing that Bobby would’ve beat the brakes off him) showed up to the fight wearing an 80’s Adidas sweat suit. He walked right up to Bobby and started breakdancing. He was a HORRIBLE dancer. It was so damn funny, that the entire crowd (including Bobby Cook) forgot that he was supposed to be catching an ass whoopin’.
Charmayne’s trip down memory lane stopped when she heard the studio’s intercom say “May I help you?”
Tae cleared his throat and put on his business voice.
“Ah, yes. We have a meeting with Shadow.”
“What time is your meeting?”
“Eleven o’clock ma’am,” Tae was on his grind.
“It’s 11:52, sir,” the intercom voice was sarcastic- almost asshole-ish.
“No offense ma’am, but we’re stars. Stars never show up on time,” Tae’s mouthpiece was a double edged sword- extremely uncontrollable at times. All that good shit Charmayne just recalled about his “sense of humor” went out the window, as she now pictured security escorting them away from the studio. “Damn Tae! Sometimes I feel like….” The door buzzed, and the intercom voice said “Third door on the right, sir.”
“God Bless Tae’s smart ass mouth”
TO BE CONTINUED... NEXT MONDAY MORNING
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