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Ignoring the text and Messiah’s question, I moved forward until I was standing right in front of Brooklyn and Jamaal. “Hey,” I said.
She seemed startled when she looked up and saw me. “Oh, hey Vann! You remember Jamaal? Jamaal, you remember Vann, right?”
We both said, “Yeah,” almost simultaneously and with virtually the same energy. He looked just as pissed to see me as I was to see him.
Her attention shifted behind me, and she frowned. “Is that—”
“I’m Percy Periwinkle, a friend of Vann’s,” Messiah offered in this strangled, high-pitched voice.
Goofy ass dude.
“Oh, uh…hi?” Brooklyn said.
I had to fight not to tell Jamaal’s ass to step since Brooklyn wasn’t officially mine yet and I hadn’t ever fought with one eye before. I was sure that was going to put me at a disadvantage although dude was a little shorter than me. Instead, I stared him down.
No one spoke for about a minute before Brooklyn said, “Uh, it was nice talking to you, Jamaal,” dismissing him.
He nodded, eyed me, and walked off.
Her eyes followed him as he left, and I stepped in close to her, so close that the perfume she wore crawled all over me in the cool night air. Directly in her ear, I said, “You fucking him?”
She backed up to look me in the eye, almost bumping into someone in the crowd behind her. Her eyes narrowed as she countered with, “Are you trying to use me for comfort because of what you’ve been through with your health?”
“What? No!”
“What are you trying to do then?”
“I’m tryna claim what should’ve been mine thirteen damn years ago!”
“What? My pussy?” She rolled her eyes.
“Yes,thatand your everything else. More than anything, I want your heart, baby. I love you.”
“I hear the band coming!” Messiah squeaked, sounding like a ghetto Mickey Mouse.
“Vann, is that…Messiah?” she asked, her frown pinned to this fool standing behind me.
“Are you fucking that Jamaal dude, Brooklyn?” I asked, my tunnel vision on one thousand.
“Is that a curl on his head? What’s up with his voice?”
“Brooklyn,” I said slowly, teeth clenched. “Are you fucking that Jamaal motherfucker?”
She sighed, “No, Vann. Not in years. Not that it’s your business, though. Are you fucking the chick from the bar?”
“No. She don’t even like dick, and if she did, I still wouldn’t fuck her. I’m hung up on you.”
“I know the feeling,” she muttered, making me smile.
I reached for her hand. “Come with me.” She just stared at me, so I added, “Please, Brooklyn Skye.”
Thankfully, her response was to take my hand.
BROOKLYN
“Aye, man, I’ll be right back. You gon’ be good?” he said to Messiah in that ridiculous disguise.
“Yeah, I’ma be good,” Messiah said in a shrill voice. I had to fight not to laugh because what the fuck?
