I never let a broad play me out of position. Got to stay focused on the mission at hand. Focus, focus, focus.
Ever since the protest started, I haven’t worked out as much. Haven’t hung out with Willie Mack and Fast Freddie as much. I even missed the third quarter of the Jets game last Sunday to talk on the phone with Claudia. What’s up with that?
I’m minutes from closing the deal with homegirl, I can feel it, but the truth is, I’m starting to feel a certain kinda way when I’m around her. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I want her for my wifey. But I can see keeping her around for a while. Maybe. Don’t forget why you came here, homeboy. T-Diddy, snap out of this. Dive in her ocean and get out, playa.
Tonight may be the night. I need to lock this up now. I inch my hands down to her jeans and cup her cheeks. She pushes them back up. Still playing hard to get. Wait, she pulls me closer to her, grinds a little. Homegirl got me vexed. I don’t know if she wants T-Diddy or not.
I see Willie Mack and Fast Freddie on the dance floor getting their freak on with some sophomores. They’re basically doing it right there. Time for me step up my game, for real.
I move my hands back down, but this time, I go inside her jeans. Now that’s what I’m talking about. This is all me, homegirl.
“What are you doing, Omar?” She pushes me away from her.
“Why you screamin’, Claudia? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Are you drunk?” Every nosy character in West Charleston is all up in our convo now. Claudia is loud as heck. The music stops, and it seems like the whole party is watching us. T-Diddy can’t have no broad disrespecting him like that.
“Naw, girl, ain’t nobody drunk.”
“So why are you tripping?”
“Didn’t you pull me on the dance floor?”
“Yeah! To dance.”
“What, you ain’t like T-Diddy’s moves?” My boys and several other party people laugh, and I laugh it up with them. “Lighten up, homegirl, you killing the buzz. Hey, DJ, turn the music back up. Ain’t no party like a Panther party, ’cause a Panther party don’t stop.”
The lights go back down, the music blasts, the party resumes, and Claudia storms out the front door. I chase her, but Kym steps in my way.
“Omar, you’re too good for that skank. Let her go, keep it moving. I ain’t gonna keep waiting on you.”
“Then don’t. Now, step.”
“Karma is a bitch, Omar. Watch your back,” she says, and flicks her wrist at me like she’s casting a spell or something.
Outside, I see Claudia half a block away, getting into her car, about to be ghost. I sprint and jump in front of her car, so she can’t, at least not without running me over.
“Can we talk, please?”
“Out of my way, Omar. I swear!”
“T-Diddy ain’t moving. Get out and talk to me.”
“You really know how to be a jerk, don’t you?” She jumps out of her car.
“Thank you. Look, Claudia, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You showed your true colors, primate.”
“What about the kiss?”
“There was no kiss. You’re delusional.”
“I know your tongue moved.”
“I wasn’t myself.”
“What, you an alien or something?”
“It was a mistake. A minor lapse in my judgment. I should have followed my first instinct and slapped you silly.”
“That kiss, your lips, this thing we have is not minor. It’s major.”
“Sounds like a song I’ve heard on the radio.”
“No comment.”
“Stop trying to play me. Look, you got your kiss, you copped a feel. Ain’t that enough to claim your prize? Leave me the frick alone.”
“The frick? WOW!” I say, laughing. “Claudia, will you forgive me for tonight?”
“Look, Omar, we’re friends, that’s all. Actually, we’re not even that.”
“I thought we had a thing. We were feeling each other.”
“A thing? You don’t even know me?”
“I do know you, girl.”
“What’s my favorite color?”
“Red.”
“Green! What’s my favorite flower?”
“Rose.”
“Tulip. This is silly. Look, let’s stick to the protest.”
“T-Diddy could have any girl at this party. Real talk.”
“You can have every girl at this party, but you won’t have this one. Real talk.”
And then homegirl gets back in her car and speeds off.
“Like I said, she’s out of your league.”
“C’mon, son, it ain’t over till it’s over,” I tell Willie Mack. “Don’t underestimate T-Diddy’s game.”
“Yeah, how’s that game working out for you?”
“T-DiddyGotSomeMagicUpHisSleeveRight?”
“You gonna hypnotize her?” Willie Mack says sarcastically.
“You got jokes. Step five of the ladykilla playa playbook is a guaranteed bong bong!”
“I thought it was only three steps,” Belafonte muses.
“Y’all know he makes this ish up as he goes along. Ain’t no steps, and definitely ain’t no playbook,” Willie Mack says.
“Hate all you want, homeboy, but wait till you see what I got in store for homegirl next. It’s about to be KFC three-piece time.”
“LegsThighsAndBreasts,” Fast Freddie hollers, and we all laugh.
“Oh, snap! The DJ is going old school. ‘Brooklyn rocks to the planet,’” I sing, trying to change the subject. As much as I want to believe that I still got this thing under control, Willie is right. Not only did I just piss her off, but this playa is out of moves.
“YoWeWasQuietForLikeTheWholeFirstBellOnFriday. That’sCrazy!”
“What’s crazy is you did all this to dip in that honey,” Willie Mack adds.
Yeah, that’s how it started. I was trying to impress her, at first. But now I’m kind of into it. I mean, I’m not trying to change the world or nothing like that, but stuff does need to be different at our school.
Last week I was in the library for the first time all year. Half the shelves are empty. Claudia says we’re supposed to have at least fourteen thousand books, but we only have three thousand. That’s just wrong.
And now the administration is considering putting in metal detectors to curb the violence. So we’re prisoners now. How do I say any of this on a Friday night to my boys while we’re getting ready to get our party on? Buzzkill.
“I did it for a bunch of reasons, dawg. I’m a complex individual. T-Diddy got many sides. I’m like an isosceles triangle.”
Nobody says anything—they just stare at me. Finally we all bust out laughing.
“Well, I hope it works, ’cause West Charleston ain’t the same without the marching band. Real talk.”
The music stops for a second, and I hear my ears and my phone ring. I pull it out, thinking it’s probably Uncle Al telling me to stop by the store and pick up something for him. But it’s not. Six new text messages and two voicemails. From Claudia Clarke.
“Fellas, I’ll be back.” I jump up to go.
“WhereYouGoingT? ThePartyJustStarting.”
“Willie, give me your keys. I need to take care of something.”
“It’s on E, put some gas in that joint, T,” he says, throwing me the keys.