AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Shit.
“What you thinking about? You hooked up with some hoochie last night?”
I focused my eyes on my sister sitting across the table from me in the Waffle House. We were having breakfast together off campus since she’d missed dinner last night. “Why I gotta be messing with hoochies?!” I asked.
Sharla forked a piece of waffle into her mouth and smirked, “Because I know you. You have a thing for hoochies. That’s how you keep things casual.”
“That’s the past me. Maybe I’m ready to settle down now.”
Rolling her eyes dramatically, she said, “Shiiiiiid.”
I laughed. “How can you be so sure I haven’t changed? You haven’t seen me in over a year.”
“We talk on the phone, though, and I haven’t heard anything in those conversations that leads me to believe you’re ready for a commitment. And there’s nothing wrong with that other than you’re getting old.”
I stared at her and shook my head, refusing to admit she was right in her assessment of me.
“So, what’re you saying? You’re here to try to rekindle some college flame? You can’t do that by hanging around campus outside of the times of the alumni events. You’re scouting for some young, unsuspecting, I’ll-let-you-hit-it-and-quit-it-because-I-think-you’re-cute coochie and you know it! I just hope you didn’t hook up with anyone I know because ew.”
“Isn’t everyone you know a consenting adult? I mean…”
Her eyes widened. “Who?! It was someone in my dorm, wasn’t it? You hooked up with someone after Brooklyn told you I wasn’t there? You know what? I don’t even care. Do you, big bro.”
“Really? If that’s really how you feel—”
“It is. I mean, I’m pretty sure Brooklyn screwed some random dude in my suite. So, whatever.”
Lifting my eyebrows, I asked, “For real? Why you think that?”
“She was too chipper. Fucking always lifts her mood.”
Just how much fucking was this girl doing? I wasn’t the judgmental type but I felt some kind of way about other dudes having liberal access to her goodness. Damn, was it good…
“Stop looking like that!” Sharla hissed.
“Like what?”
“Like you wanna make her giddy.”
Too late, I thought.
“Vann, please don’t tell me that you’re the random dude that Brooklyn screwed, and in my suite, no less! She’s my friend,” Sharla reminded me in a whiny voice, “and I’m not going to be made to deal with the aftermath of you breaking her heart.”
“Damn, that’s what you think of me?”
“I’m serious, Vann! I mean, she’s closer to Nadia than to me, but she’s still my friend. Leave her alone. Full stop.”
I looked at her and nodded.
Sharla wasbusy the next day and evening, too. Unlike my laid-back college career, Sharla’s was filled with obligations. The overachieving was strong with that one. Anyway, I was cool. I met up with some of my classmates, reminisced, walked the campus, and got pissy drunk. I rinsed and repeated all that the following day. On the fourth day of homecoming week, I opted to actually go to a homecoming event. My favorite homecoming event—the annual bonfire, was a sure-fire good time for students and alumni alike.
The controlled fire was blazing in a field far behind the Jesse Owens Athletic Complex, which housed the official Romey Rattlers basketball court, indoor pool, racquetball courts, weight rooms, and indoor practice football field. Brown bodies extended from an arc around the fire, filling the field and the Owens Complex parking lot. Drinks were in most hands and marijuana smoke permeated the cool October night air. Chatter, music blasting from an SUV parked in the field, and distant sirens created a familiar symphony. This was Romey U. This was home to me.
I stood flanked by two of my Romey U classmates, Dennis Drake, a fellow mass communications major who worked as a TV News personality in Michigan, and Princess Young, another mass communications major who was now a stay-at-home mom of three and the wife of a former WNBA player turned entrepreneur. We shot the shit as we observed the crowd and enjoyed our beers.
When the unmistakable sound of a drum cadence could be heard, I knew my most anticipated part of the night had begun. It was tradition for the band to march from the football field after practice to the bonfire and perform. The crowd began to shift, waves of people moving to make room for the approaching band to enter the space. The air became alive with anticipation. In HBCU culture, the marching bands were just as beloved as the sports teams if not more so. The bands had their own legion of fans and followers, and the Righteous Romey Marching Band was no exception. I moved, too, making my way toward the front of the crowd flanking the newly formed path as the drums grew louder, indicating that the band was closer.
“R-O-M-E-Y! B-A-N-D! Righteous! Righteous! Righteous musicality!” the band members chanted in rhythm with the drum cadence as they crossed the parking lot in tight formation. Making their way down the aisle of onlookers led by the drum majors, they began to play their signature song, LTD’sHolding Onwhile people shouted people’s names, friends they recognized in the band.
