The staccato of the synthesized horns in Ludacris’s “Number One Spot” bounced around the gym walls—the beat so deep that if you bothered to look at the basketball net and the bleachers, you would have seen the two of them rattling about like Melyssa Ford’s badunkadunk in an old BET music video. But it wasn’t the nets or the bleachers or even trifling video girls that everybody was watching. No, today, Lauren was putting on a show worthy of a Top 10 YouTube video—and all eyes were on her.
Decked out in skintight, hot-pink Nike leggings and a matching tank top knotted at the waist to show off her belly button, Lauren mouthed the words to the song as she gyrated and swirled her hips, sat into a perfect knee bend, then hopped back up and popped her butt with the conviction of a woman who was expecting some tips for her hard work.
For sure, overprotective adults with more conservative leanings may have likened her dancing to a Magic City-worthy spectacle, but Lauren knew her constituency: This was what moved crowds, and who was Lauren to disappoint? This was the kind of routine the squad had been rooting for toward the end of last year’s basketball season—the kind of dance that, if the squad put its back into it at halftime, surely would work the good students of Brookhaven Prep into a tizzy. She had choreographed most of the moves under Dara’s watchful eyes a year ago. Lauren had created it specifically to make her mark on the squad, which, under the direction of the prior dance squad coach, Ms. Bruchette, looked a little too old-school and proper for most of the students’ taste. Coach Bruchette had them out there bumping a technical, mechanical two-step to Earth, Wind & Fire, while all the dancers and their fans were fiending for the squad to get low. Alas, despite the most vociferous outcries from Lauren’s teammates, Coach Bruchette wasn’t having it.
But today was a new day. Coach Bruchette had left the dance squad position and her gig at Brookhaven Prep to become the assistant vice principal at Brookhaven’s rival, The Galloway School. And the new coach was considerably younger, cooler, and clearly open to new ideas, seeing as she was trying to revamp the squad and get the girls to pick a new team captain. Lauren was all for revamping, but she wasn’t about to see herself erased as the head dancer. So she put her back into it—to remind her squad mates that nobody could do it better than she could.
Lauren twisted one knee in and then the other and rocked her hips from side to side, circled her body around, and launched into a cartwheel/somersault/backflip combination that made a few of her onlookers, who were standing around pretending to stretch but really watching her every move, gasp with glee. Well, most of them. Caroline Morrison and Trina Beddleman, who had all but attached themselves to Sydney’s ex’s left and right thigh like the trifling cleanup chicks they were, were both off to the side shaking their heads and clucking in each other’s ears, trying their best to goad a few of the other dancers, most notably sisters Meghan and Lexi Robichaux, to join in.
Lauren pretended not to notice; she turned toward the control booth and signaled Lucy Thompson, a junior she’d personally recruited for the dance squad after watching her rock it in their Modern Dance class last semester, to start the song from the top.
“Lauren?” Delia Lawrence said, approaching her fellow squad member with the utmost care, half her attention on the anti-Lauren crowd, the other on the Queen B herself. “I don’t mean to pull you out of your zone, but I need to ask you something.”
“Shoot,” Lauren said, using the back of her hand to wipe sweat from her forehead and brow.
“Well, I did a couple of practice front flips earlier, and I think I might have pulled a muscle in my thigh,” Delia shouted over Ludacris, whose rich, lusty baritone once again was warning all within range of the Bose speakers not to “slip up or get got.” “You have any tips for getting rid of a leg cramp?”
“Did you warm up?” Lauren asked in her normal voice, forcing the girl to move in conspiratorially closer. This made the anti clique cluck a little louder. Lauren tried her best to ignore them. “Because that’s what any good dancer needs to do first and foremost to prevent injury—warm up first, then stretch. Before I got here, I ran around the track twice to get my blood flowing, and then I stretched before I started working on the new routine.” She actually ran only halfway around the track—it was too cold to be out there freezing her behind off—and the stretching wasn’t really all that drawn out, but whatev. It sounded good.
“Yeah, I didn’t really give it much time,” Delia said. “I had a meeting with the Art Society Club and I didn’t want to be late to squad practice, so instead of warming up I just got to it, you know?”
“Yeah, well, that’s why your leg is hurt,” Lauren said simply. “Lie on your back and pull your knee to your chest, then rub it. It’ll go away eventually. If it’s still sore, go to the clubhouse. I’ve got a special leg-warming wrap I keep for occasions like these. Wrap it around your leg, but not too tight, or else you’ll cut off your circulation, and that’ll make it hurt worse.”
“Bet,” Delia said. “Good lookin’ out. Oh, and that dance routine is the fire—it’s for us?”
“I hope it is,” chimed in Kayo Childers, a dance squad vet who joined the team around the same time as Lauren. Two of her girls, Rachel Brown and Brooke Redd, flanked her.
“Mos def it’s for us—and that’s what your team captain is for,” Lauren said before turning her back and signaling Lucy to start the music again.
“You have got to teach us that one,” Kayo said breathlessly.
“It’s easy—come on, I’ll show you,” Lauren said, explaining some of the moves. With Kayo, Rachel, and Brooke lined up behind her, she counted down, “five, six, seven, eight,” and then the gyrating began.
“All right, all right, ladies,” Assistant Coach Maddie said, storming onto the court just as the group began to drop and pop it. “Let’s focus, people. Cut the music,” she demanded, signaling Lucy. She waited until Ludacris’s voice faded out before continuing. “Okay, so we’ve got about four more practices before our first game, so we need to get it together. First, some team business: Coach Piper is out with the flu. Get those flu shots, people! We can’t have half the team sidelined with an illness that could have been prevented. If you’re afraid of needles, get the nose spray. It works—I know.
“In the meantime,” Coach Maddie continued, “Lauren Duke will act as captain until we can hold the official vote.”
The coach might as well have hammered Lauren in the head. Did she say “act”? I’m supposed to “be” the captain, not “act,” Lauren screamed inside of her head.
“Wait, so we are going to take a vote at some point, right?” Caroline pouted.
Lauren rolled her eyes and folded her arms. “That’s what the coach said,” Lauren snapped, backed up by giggles from Kayo and her girls. The room fell dead silent; the rest of the squad members seemed to lean in a little closer.
“Oh, I’m just trying to make sure we’re all clear what’s going on here,” Caroline said.
“Um, maybe it needs to be said more slowly so that you can get it right: Coach Piper is sick, and we’re going to pick the captain when coach is here,” Lauren said, dragging out each of her words.
“We’re not going to ’pick’ anybody—we’re all going to vote, unlike in the past…” Caroline began, Trina nodding in agreement.
“In the past, it was clear who was the leader of this squad, just like it is now. Formalities, sweetie. This is all about formalities,” Lauren retorted.
“Uh-huh—I got your ’formalities,’” Caroline said.
“Ladies, ladies, please—not here, not today,” Coach Maddie said. “It’s simple: There will be a vote, and anyone who thinks she’s able to lead this team will be able to participate in the elections.”
“Sounds simple enough,” Lauren snapped.
Coach Maddie gave Lauren a hard-eye and then turned her attention back to her clipboard. “We have the Candy Crave coming up next week. Now, normally the captain and her co-captain would be responsible for pulling this together, but since the position has been up in the air, we need to—”
“I’ve already started working on it, Coach Maddie,” said Lauren of the dance squad fund-raiser, one of their biggest. On Candy Crave day, the squad members would fan out through the halls of Brookhaven Prep with special bags full of candy—Snickers, Now and Laters, Hubba Bubba, Red Hots, Skittles, MilkyWays, Hershey’s Kisses, and more. They’d sell the candy at a ridiculous markup and add hundreds of dollars worth of cash to the squad’s fund-raising account. Lauren had meant to go buy the candy over the weekend—to show initiative. But, well, she had to help Donald with his shopping therapy on Saturday, and then on Sunday, her parents dragged her to church and to brunch, and by the time they got back home she just needed a nap, and then dinner, and then she had to get her nightly beauty ritual on earlier than usual because there was that Law & Order: SVU marathon she wanted to watch. She made a mental note to give Edwina a list so that she could hit up Sam’s or Wal-Mart or wherever you get candy at a discount these days. “We should have the candy ready to split into the bags by Monday.”
“Seems like we should have the candy Friday so we can split it all before the weekend,” Trina chimed in. “I mean, the sale is on Tuesday, and I’m not planning to be up all night Monday trying to get this stuff done at the last minute.”
“Well, that’s what your fearless captain is for,” Lauren smirked. “While you’re relaxing, I work. It’s no joke leading the team, but I do what I can,” she added, raising an eyebrow and admiring her nails.
“I hope to see that for myself real soon,” Caroline snapped.
“Whatev,” Lauren snapped back. The tension in the room was palpable; it was clear the squad was divided up into two sides—the Lauren camp and the Caroline trough—and it was obvious by the way they were standing who was on whose side. You could practically draw a chalk line between them.
“Okay, ladies, enough,” Coach Maddie said, raising her hands as if in surrender. “The fund-raiser is Tuesday. Lauren, thank you for taking the lead on this. Please let your squad know when you need their help; don’t try to take all of this on yourself, okay?”
“Sure thing, Coach,” Lauren said, her eyes still on Caroline.
“Okay, now, let’s get to work. We’ve got to get the new girls up to speed on some of our classic routines and then get to work on a few new ones, so I hope everyone’s warmed up,” Coach Maddie said.
“Actually, Coach, I was working on a little somethin’—somethin’ during warm-ups,” Lauren chimed. “I already started teaching a few of the girls the steps. I’d be happy to show it to you, and maybe we could use it as the beginning of the new halftime show.”
“All right, loving the initiative, Ms. Lauren—let’s see it,” Coach Maddie said, smiling.
Lauren gave Lucy the go-ahead to get the music going; within minutes, the entire squad was standing behind her, taking her cues—following her lead.
Just the way it should be.
“That was a cute little dance you pulled together, girl,” Meghan said, walking up behind Lauren, who was toweling off in front of her locker. “Maybe the next time you find yourself on the set of a Thug Heaven video shoot, you could whip that out—you know, get your shot.”
Lauren put her towel in her locker and sighed. “You know, it must really suck to be stuck playing the background all the time.”
“I wouldn’t really know much about that,” Meghan said. “Maybe you could give me some lessons.”
“Oh, it wouldn’t be a problem for me to school you,” Lauren said, her raised voice drawing the attention of the rest of the squad. A few of the girls slammed their lockers and leaned in to the catfight, tossing wild glares and shoulder shrugs at one another. They were seconds away from taking bets on which of the girls would win in an all-out brawl. The locker room fell dead silent. “But since I never play the rear, my lessons would be all about how to win.”
“It won’t be with that hood rat twirl you were forcing on us today,” Meghan snapped. “I have to admit, I feel a little dumber after watching it.”
Lauren took a step forward and smiled. “Wow, I really didn’t think it was possible for you to be dumber. But you know, since I’m trying to let my light shine bright today, I’ll refrain from going there. Instead, I’ll give you some of my friendly advice: Why don’t you focus your energies on getting that job at the drive-thru at Checkers and leave the big-girl work to the pros.”
“Funny you should bring up Checkers,” Caroline chimed in. “Isn’t that how boys in the hood pay the rent? You know, I hear it’s the perfect cover for the weed and crack sales.”
“I wouldn’t know about that, seeing as I don’t deal in weed or crack,” Lauren snapped. “Is there something you want to talk to us about, Caroline? Because you are aware of the dance squad prohibition against drugs, right?”
“Oh, I’m well aware of the rules,” Caroline said, stepping in to stand directly next to Meghan. “We all know about those. It’s those unwritten rules that can get a little tricky. You know, ’Thou shalt not be seen in the SWATS if one wants her family’s reputation to stay intact,’ and ’Thou shalt act like she’s got some home training,’ and, oh, there’s my personal favorite: ’Thou shalt not consort with hood rats and dough boys, lest you want to become one.’”
“You know what?” Lauren said, getting in Caroline’s face.
Kayo stepped between the two and gently pushed Lauren back. “She’s not worth it, Lauren, for real. Don’t bother.”
Caroline flung her weave and turned to face Meghan. “You know what? Unlike some people in the room, I’m really not one to debase myself like this, so I’m going to go ahead and hold my head up like a girl with some class. Maybe someone can watch my moves and learn a little.”
“I know that’s right,” Meghan laughed, tossing a high five to Caroline for good measure. “Come on, let’s go—I’m tired of wasting my damn breath in this locker room full of thick-headed posers.”
Lauren smirked and turned back to her locker; she grabbed her oversized Marc Jacobs hobo and her Brookhaven Prep dance squad gym bag and slammed the locker door shut. “You ready, Kayo?” she said. “I’ve got things to do, places to go, people to see. Later for this mess.”
“Yeah, sure. Just give me a minute,” Kayo said, staring at Caroline and Meghan. “Anything else?” she asked the two.
Neither answered—they just stalked out of the locker room, a few of their minions in tow.
“That’s what I thought,” Kayo said. “Come on, girl, don’t pay them any mind.”
“Girl, please, ain’t nobody studying Caroline or Meghan or any other one of those heifas,” Lauren said. “Instead of being all up in my business, she needs to be figuring out how she’s going to handle that not-so-cute face, the slight verbal disorder, and anger management.”
Kayo and a few of the other girls who’d been hanging on every word laughed. “Give me a minute, I have to go to the ladies’ room. Why don’t we all meet outside; we can talk details on the Candy Crave on the way to the parking lot, k?”
“Sounds good,” Lauren said. “See you outside.”
For sure, Lauren had won that round, and she was grateful for Kayo’s assistance, but too many of the dance squad members were getting out of pocket, and she didn’t quite know how to respond to the madness. Between the insistent YRT postings, the ridiculously personal outbursts from the girls who used to admire her, and the pressure at home, Lauren was feeling like she had lost absolute control over all the things she once ruled with an iron fist. Did Caroline really come out of her face like that? In front of the entire locker room of dance team members? And just who in the hell emboldened her anyway? Lauren had seen her sniffing behind Marcus a couple of times, like she was trying to get with him. Which would most certainly make her a sloppy mess, chasing behind a boy who cheated on his girlfriend and got the sidepiece in the family way. Yeah, that’s it right there, Lauren thought to herself. Unbelievable.
As quickly as she connected the dots, Lauren whipped out her iPhone and punched in Sydney’s info; her sister was going to want to hear about this, for sure. Coming to a stop right at the entrance to the clubhouse, Lauren dropped her gym bag and gingerly placed her hobo on top of it, then prepared her fingers for texting. Just as she’d typed in the words You are not going to believe this some movement caught her eye. She looked up momentarily and then back down at her text, and then, suddenly, back up again. So loud was her gasp that Kayo, Rachel, and Brooke, who all were within mere feet of her, wrinkled their brows. Lauren slammed her back against the wall, the cold tile every bit as shocking as that which her eyes had just taken in.
“What?” Brooke asked, walking up behind Lauren. “Dang, you all right?”
Hell no, Lauren wanted to say, but then she would betray what she wished she hadn’t seen: Jermaine, in all his hood-tastic glory, sitting on the front bumper of his car. What in the world he was doing there Lauren didn’t know. Maybe he had news for her? Perhaps he got lost? Or maybe Altimus threatened him and he was looking for Lauren to protect him? Whatever the reason, he was there, and Lauren did not need this. Not today.
“Um, nothing,” Lauren said, “accidentally” kicking her Marc Jacobs onto the floor so that she could pick it up. “I, um, was in the middle of texting Sydney and almost dropped my phone. I just got this back from after an eternity’s worth of punishment, and I’m not trying to break my baby now that she’s back in my possession.”
“Uh, okaaaay,” Brooke said, looking at Lauren like she was two steps off the deep end. “You need some help? You look like you’re about to fall to pieces or something. Let me get one of your bags.”
“No, I said I got it!” Lauren said a little more loudly than she’d intended. She picked up her bag while she tried to think fast about what to do. For sure, walking up to him and giving him a hug and kiss and acting like they were a couple just wasn’t in the cards right now—not after the hellish practice with half the squad giving her the side-eye over her questionable hood associations. What would be said behind her back—and to her face—about the boy in the long white polo, baggy, sagging jeans, and a baseball cap twisted to the side, sitting on top of a broke down car in the middle of the parking lot? Unannounced? Wasn’t no way.
“Can you get the door?” Lauren asked. “God, can you believe Caroline’s wack ass trying to come for me?” she added, trying hard to adjust her tone and preoccupy them with chitchat so they would focus on her and not the boy sitting outside.
“I mean, I don’t know if she’d gotten an extra shot of courage juice or what, but she was really bugging out, wasn’t she?” said Kayo, bursting through the door. Lauren walked out right behind her, huddling next to her and in front of Brooke and Rachel, praying that her positioning was shielding her from Jermaine’s view.
“She got an extra shot of courage juice, all right,” Brooke insisted. “She got that special Marcus juice—thinks she can just say anything to you because she’s picking up your sister’s sloppy seconds.”
“Yeah, you better get Syd on the case and let her know she needs to tell her ex to take control, because he’s making everybody look really messy right now.”
Lauren, barely paying attention to the advice, turned her head in the opposite direction from where Jermaine was standing, praying with every step that the angels made her invisible to Jermaine and rendered him mute so he didn’t, have mercy, call her name out in front of folks. She dropped her head down so far, her chin almost touched her chest. And then she messed up and snuck a peek.
Their eyes met.
He was smiling.
Lauren kept walking—just looked the other way.
“So you gonna tell your sister what’s up, Lauren?” Kayo asked. “Because this madness has got to stop.”
Distracted, Lauren didn’t answer her at first. “Um, yeah, I guess,” Lauren said. “But you know, I don’t really try to get all up in Sydney’s biz—I got enough headaches.”
“I know that’s right,” Brooke agreed, using her key-ring remote to unlock her candy-apple red BMW 325i. “Let somebody else deal with the sloppiness. You need to focus on keeping your job as captain, because I will not be answering to anybody’s Meghan and Caroline. I swear, geriatric patients in the ICU got more moves than those two. I’m trying to get a little Ludacris in my life.”
“Yeah, well, I’m doing what I can,” Lauren said, finally arriving at the driver’s side of her Saab. She unlocked the door and tossed her bags in the front seat, all with her back to the direction in which Jermaine was sitting. She couldn’t get the key in the ignition fast enough and almost slammed her own leg in the car door.
“All right, then,” Kayo said over the din of Lauren’s engine. “You in a rush or something? Why don’t you come with us to Maddy’s for a strawberry energy shake?”
“Um, I just gotta get home,” Lauren rushed. Just then, her iPhone rang. Jermaine. “My, um, mom’s got something for me to do, and Mr. Peters gave me enough homework to get me into Harvard. I swear, I don’t know how I’m going to get to it all,” she said, putting her car in gear. “Okay, smooches, ladies. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“But we didn’t talk about the fund-raiser,” Kayo said as Lauren screeched out of her parking space.
“I’ll hit you on the MySpace,” she said, pulling away, her left hand on the wheel, her right on her phone.
“Hello?” she said, answering her phone as she pulled to the corner of the street. She caught the light. Damn.
“Yo, what’s the rush?” Jermaine asked, his deep voice rumbling more quietly than usual.
“What? What are you talking about? Who is this?” Lauren asked, feigning ignorance.
“Who you think it is? It’s the guy who spent the last half hour in the parking lot waiting for you.”
“Jermaine?” Lauren asked, trying to sound surprised.
“Yes, it’s Jermaine.”
“What’s up, love?” Lauren said cheerily.
“What’s up? You tell me,” he said. “Why’d you walk away?”
“What are you talking about?” Lauren said, staring at the light as if her sheer willpower would make the darn thing change from red to green.
“I was outside. You saw me. You kept walking, got in your car, and left,” he said, the anger in his voice now fully apparent. “Why’d you walk away?”
“Jermaine, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just got out of dance practice and I was with my girls, talking. Why would I walk past you? You came all this way to see me?” she asked, trying to sound seductive. “Aw, I miss you!”
“Well, why don’t you come back and hang out with me? We can go grab a bite to eat, maybe go—”
“Um, sweetie, I can’t,” Lauren said, still watching the light. Finally, it changed. Lauren gunned the gas. “I got my girls in the car. I have to drive them home and then get back to my house to do some homework and stuff. As much as I’d love to…”
Jermaine watched Lauren’s car pull past the parking lot—past his car. Clearly, she was the only one in it.
“Nah, nah, it’s okay. I should have called first,” Jermaine said, walking slowly around the car to the driver’s side. “You’re a busy girl.”
“Sometimes, I guess,” she said. “I’m sorry, sweetie. Don’t be mad, okay?”
“I’ll be all right,” he said. “Maybe another time. I’ll holla.”
Jermaine pushed the END button on his Treo and threw his phone on the passenger seat. The phone landed hard on the bouquet of hot-pink roses lying on the dark brown leather, damaging their delicate petals. Jermaine stared out over the steering wheel, his eyes landing on the huge black letters on the side of the building: THE DUKE HOUSE.
This was Altimus’s house, and he wasn’t welcome.