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From the look of her body language, Jasmine seemed to relax somewhat. She took her hand off the door handle, which I used as my opening to keep talking and prying for information.
“So y’all are going through some shit, right?”
“I mean, we ain’t really goin’ through nothing major, but it’s just that the nigga be on some bullshit sometimes, and I can’t figure him out.”
“On some shit like what? What do you mean?”
“Like the other day he was talkin’ ’bout how the game ain’t in him no more and how he wants to leave the streets alone. And I’m tryin’ to talk to him like, ‘Nigga, what the fuck!’ It ain’t like he can just up and get a corporate job somewhere or something. He keeps saying he wants to leave the streets alone, but he don’t have no plan B. I can’t figure the nigga out, but it’s like he ain’t the same thorough-ass dude I met.” Jasmine shook her head. “This is just between me and you, right?” she added.
“Jasmine, you don’t even have to say that to me.” I reached and grabbed hold of the Macchiato I had been drinking and drank some before continuing. “I’m so rude! Excuse me,” I smiled and said. “Do you want something to eat? Something to drink? My treat. I’m in here just steady munching and drinking in your face.”
“Nah, I’m straight,” Jasmine quickly replied.
“See, me and you, we need to hang out, because I totally know what you’re saying and where you’re coming from because your man and my man are from the same world, so I get it,” I added with a slight half of a smile.
Jasmine looked at me and nodded her head. I opened up the small pack of shortbread cookies that I had also gotten from Starbucks and started to eat one.
Although Jasmine’s man and my man were from the same world, me and Jasmine were from two different worlds when it came to sophistication. Jasmine was more of a loud but pretty hood rat chick with a ghetto edge to her. And I was more of the quiet good girl, middle class model type of chick that understood the hood and how to maneuver in it. But one thing that I knew for certain was the universal language of money. Nonchalantly I went into my bag, took out three stacks of hundred dollar bills, and handed them to Jasmine.
“What’s this?” Jasmine quickly asked me with a confused smile.
“It’s for you.”
“Yeah, but what it is for?”
I took another bite of my cookie and drank some more of the Macchiato. “When I told Nico I was meeting up with you, he told me to give that to you.”
Jasmine started to count the money. Although she was quiet as she counted it, I could literally feel the energy inside the truck change from negative to positive.
“Take the money and use it to take Shabazz somewhere nice. Go to Atlantic City or Canada or somewhere. I don’t know, but just do something one-on-one with him and help him get his head right.”
After she was done counting, she said, “Mia, this is three grand.”
“Jasmine, you’re family. This is what we do. Shabazz got a lot on his head right now with Skeen’s murder, and everything is getting to him. So you could talk to him now like you been doing, but he probably won’t hear you. And all it’ll do is keep you frustrated. But if the two of you get away for a few days where you and him are one-on-one with no distractions, that’s how you’ll be able to connect with him and help him get his mind right. Trust me. I’ve been there before.”
Jasmine was quiet. I could tell her wheels were turning.
“I been there with Nico. Not with Shabazz,” I laughed and said. “You know what I mean, right?”
Jasmine was still quiet and she didn’t crack a smile or nothing.
“Jasmine, like you just said to me, I’ll say it to you—All this is between me and you. Shabazz don’t have to know nothing about this money or us talking or anything.” Then I added, “That three grand is student loan money or Pell grant money. You understand?”
Jasmine kept looking straight ahead, sort of like she was day-dreaming, and then after about thirty seconds or so, she looked directly at me and told me that she understood. She looked at her phone and noted the time.
“You know what? Fuck that class. Fuck all these classes. Find a place to park, and I’ll come with you to the admissions office,” Jasmine said to me, a sinister look on her face while she stuffed the money into the front pocket of her tight jeans.
I smiled and soon ended up finding a place to park.
Jasmine and I did make it to the admissions office, but Jasmine had no idea that I could have cared less about a nursing curriculum or about the prerequisite classes a person needed before entering the program. The only thing I wanted was to fulfill the mission Nico had given me, which was to gain Jasmine’s trust.
After we left the admissions office, I took Jasmine to downtown Brooklyn and I treated her to lunch and to multiple apple martinis. By the time I dropped her back off at her car near the school late that afternoon, I was more than confident that I had fulfilled my mission.
“See, this is some goddamn bullshit right here,” Jasmine said, referring to her car. She was slightly slurring her words, due to all the liquor she had drunk. “You see this rental that nigga got me driving? I look too good to be pushing a fuckin’ rental!” Jasmine screamed out at the top of her lungs, sounding like a brat. “And to make matters worse, the car has to go back any day!”
“Jasmine, you are so crazy. You had one too many of them martinis. You sure you can drive?”
With an intoxicated look, she leaned over and gave me a hug. “We family, right?” she asked, totally random and from left field.
