died from me French braiding it, then stitching the wefts down to her head. Therefore, I was only doing a quick weave. When I got done, I’d iron it since she hated curls, and I’d clean her eyebrows with a razor. At least twice a month, her room turned into a beauty shop, and I’d be in here getting her together. After the drama that unraveled earlier, I was sure I’d be filing and polishing her nails, too.
“If the streets don’t work out for you, Porsha, try your hand at being a beautician. I’ve gotta give you your props. There are bitches in the shop who can’t fry, dye, and lay some hair like you can. For real.”
“Thanks, Ma. I appreciate it.” I was really happy behind my mom complimenting me again. “The thought crossed my mind, especially after Imani’s mom said I had skills, but I’m almost done with the torture of school. I don’t know if I wanna jump back into someone’s classroom.” I was being honest.
“Well, as far as Imani’s mom goes, you better have charged that sludge rock. Don’t let me find out you’re through the hood passing out free styles or giving folks credit because you run with their kids.” My mom was always schooling and warning me. “And in regard to school, I was never a star pupil to teach you how to be one. But I’ve always been a hustler and about my money. With that being said, do what you’ve gotta do to keep money in ya pocket and food in ya mouth. Doing hair is a good skill to have because there’s always an ugly chick in need of assistance. Me and ya daddy won’t be around forever.”
I sighed. “I’ve got it, Ma. You didn’t raise a fool. I never touch a head without my cho’ first.”
“That’s what I’m talking about, Porsha. Good girl. As long as you keep that attitude up, you’ll never fall from the throne your father and I have created for you. You’re a Jackson, and Jacksons never get cheated up outta our coins.” By now, she’d spun back to the mirror and was admiring herself while talking to me.
Whenever Trinity started talking about my family’s greatness and how I was blessed to be a product of her and Calvin, I spaced out. I’d heard the same speech in several variations and could recite it backward. I didn’t need to keep hearing I was on a pedestal for me to know it. I’d accepted that I was better than most people. No other family I knew of in the hood was driving luxury cars in real name-brand clothes.
“A’ight, Porsha, it’s been real hanging with you today, but girl time is over. I’ve gotta take some time to zone out and get my mind right before this cabaret. Pass me my blunt from the ashtray, then skedaddle. Your brother’s probably looking for you anyway.”
“Okay,” I quickly replied, all too eager to get out from under her. Today’s impromptu mother-daughter date wasn’t my idea in the first place, so she could save her flip-flopping-ass attitude for the cougars, young hoes, and even the tiny-tot thots who were gonna be checkin’ for my daddy tonight.
“Ma, is it cool for Imani to come over and kick it with me and Benzie while y’all are gone to the cabaret?” I held my breath, hoping she didn’t remember the dick pic she’d seen over my shoulder earlier.
She sighed like I was getting on her nerves. “Yeah, Porsha. I don’t care. Ya think I can get a li’l peace now?”
“Yup, I’m out of ya way. Have fun tonight.” I turned and left her room, not really caring if she had fun, because I knew for sure that I would.
Me: Come through when you’re ready. I got the go.
Me: Tonight. Don’t play me. I’m ready.
The first text was to Imani. The second was to Street.
* * *
Unlike the wild adventure-like day I had with our mom, Benzie had a much different experience with our dad. They kicked it, playing with toys, eating, and watching TV, which consisted of Calvin exposing him to sports. Dad never said it out loud, or at least in my presence, but I knew he loved having a boy, just like I knew my mom really liked having a girl, especially when it came to helping with cooking, cleaning, and tending to Benzie.
The whole house was a mess. My dad was a good dad, but not a great keeper. Like every boy I knew of, he was a slob when it came to cleaning up behind himself. There were crumbs all over the floor from the snacks he and Benzie ate, sippy cups of spoiled milk on the table, and old diapers scattered in a few places, which could’ve easily been thrown a few feet away in the trash. I didn’t know what my parents planned on doing when I moved, because that meant the maid would be moving too.
After I got the living room put back together, I burned a few candles to help with the spoiled milk and diaper smell, and I sprayed the furniture down with Lysol. I made sure all of my chores were immaculately done, cleaning the kitchen and bathroom as well as sweeping down the hallway stairs. I was able to get a load of clothes in before Benzie started shutting down from the sugar rush he’d been spinning on.
Li’l man had been shut off in his room, locked in by a gate, so he could still roam around but see inside my or our parents’ room if our doors were open. He couldn’t really walk yet but could crawl and pull up on stuff. Right now, though, he was flipping out, screaming and laughing at the same time. Because Daddy used to let me get Kool-Aid wasted and sing along with Zoe on Sesame Street until passing out whenever my mom was gone, I knew Benzie was only a few minutes from passing out. Sugar will take you high, then drop you low.
With red stains all over his shirt, sticky fingers, and a face covered in all the candy, ice cream, and chips he’d gotten to snack on, he was about to sleep good and be out for the night. That’d work out perfectly for me . . . well, Imani, since she was the one who’d be here babysitting him. To make sure of it, I gave him a bath, dinner, and a warm bottle of milk before laying him down and saying good night.
With the whole house fresh and clean, I locked myself in my room and did a search for some porno videos on YouTube. I was a virgin, and Street wasn’t. So I needed to school myself on the art of straight fuckin’. Girls were doing some of everything, taking it in the asshole, eating the asshole, and twirling like gymnasts on the dick. I didn’t know what Street was expecting, but I wasn’t planning on doing anything more than missionary, doggie style, and maybe a sixty-nine-dine if he was lucky. I couldn’t go from a freshman to a graduate in a couple of hours. He better hope I don’t back out on all the shit I’ve been talkin’.
After scrolling through a few videos that either weren’t exciting or were too much for me to even think about trying, I found one where the girl was cute and the guy was kinda built like Street. In my mind, it was us, and I was trying to put myself all the way in the girl’s shoes. When that night came and I was put on the spot, I wanted to be able to perform. I paid attention to how she sucked his dick, took his dick, and threw her pussy back on him when she wanted more of his dick.
When a text alert interrupted the porno, I had to hurry up and wipe the pre-cum from between my legs with my panties and then put on a new pair.
Imani: Open the door. I’m coming up the block.
Me: Okay. Be down in a sec. Don’t ring the doorbell.
The fact that I’d gotten moist meant I was really ready to have sex . . . well, at least to me. Even if I didn’t perform like ol’ girl, I was sure I’d still give it up without telling him to stop out of fear. Clearing the browser history on my phone, I hurried out of my room and to the door to let Imani in.
Imani’s mom didn’t care that my parents were unconventional or that my dad trapped from the first level of our house. As long as I promised to do her hair for free, she let Imani come over without a problem.
