Miasha: Secret Society

“Go, baby!” I screamed over the roaring crowd.

Me, Tina, and Khalil were at one of James’s games at the Liacouras Center. It was doin’ it too. It was one of the playoff games, so everybody came out to support. It was all types of girls on James. They saw dollar signs and fame just like I did. But they were mostly college girls from out of town with no sense of style or game. They knew not how to catch the big fish.

“Take it to the hoop, Jay!” Khalil shouted out.

Khalil was hugged up with Tina. They looked cute together, and the diamonds they flaunted helped, from their matching studded earrings down to their his-and-hers Cartier watches.

After the game we met James in the hallway leading to the locker room.

“You did good, baby,” I said as I kissed James on his sweaty cheek. He gripped my ass and smiled. “Thanks.”

“Yo dog, you on your way,” Khalil said, giving James a handshake hug that niggas do.

“Yeah, James, you good to be so bony,” Tina added.

We all just chuckled.

“We gotta go get something to eat. If a skinny nigga like me starvin’, I know you must be damn near dead, Tina,” James slid in.

“Watch ya mouth, nigga. You play ball, you don’t box,” Khalil said in Tina’s defense.

“Don’t worry ’bout it, babe, I can handle his scrawny ass,” Tina said.

“Let’s go to Friday’s,” Khalil suggested. “On me,” he added.

We walked across the street to the parking lot and played eenie meenie minie mo to determine whether we were going to drive James’s Suburban or Khalil’s convertible BMW M3. The BMW won, so we did ninety the whole way to T.G.I. Friday’s, damn near sliding off of our seats every time we came to a stop.

We all filled a booth at the restaurant. We drank Long Island iced teas, ate Jack Daniel’s entrées, and bugged out.

“Tina, you might wanna get you a doggy bag,” James came out and said.

“For what? I’m gonna knock this off right here,” Tina replied.

“Yeah, but you know you gonna want some more when you get home, you know, for ya midnight snack,” James joked.

“I can just take yours ’cause ya bony ass ain’t gonna eat it all.”

Tina and James was always goin’ back and forth bustin’ on each other’s weight. It was fun chillin’ with James and Khalil. They always had me and Tina crackin’ up.

Spending time with Tariq was much simpler. He appreciated it when I would show up at his office during the week and treat him to lunch or something. I chose weekdays to be with him because that was when James had classes and basketball practice and O was usually making his runs. Sometimes I would go with Tariq to show people properties. Not a bad job at all if you like sales. And the commission was heavy. It would be newlyweds buying their first home together or businesspeople relocating from other states or couples with too many kids for the two-bedroom apartment they called home. It was interesting. I learned a lot. I started thinking about buying my own place.

“You really want to do it?” Tariq asked.

“Yeah,” I said simply.

“All right. I’ll take you Monday. You’ll be my client.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said, licking my ice cream.

Tariq and I were sitting on a bench in Fairmount Park along Kelly Drive, spending some quality time together. He was the romantic type who liked to chill in intimate places.

“What type of house are you looking for?”

“I want a thorough-ass crib,” I said, staring into the sunny sky.

Tariq laughed. “You’re so hood,” he said.

Monday came and I went to Jersey to Tariq’s office. He treated me like a client instead of his girl. He showed me a few available houses in Jersey, implying that he wanted me to move out there with him. But that wasn’t happenin’. He showed me a few houses around Philly. They were all right but not exactly what I was looking for. It took seven weeks, but I finally found one in Haverford Township right outside of Philly. It was a three-bedroom town house with two and a half baths and a full finished basement. The main floor was newly renovated with recessed lighting throughout, hardwood floors in the living and dining rooms, and a gourmet kitchen with all stainless-steel appliances, granite countertops, and a flat-top stove. It was hot, especially for me, a single twenty-year-old unemployed girl from Master Street.

By that summer I was the shit. I had my own place and I was seen in a variety of hot cars. One week I would pull up to the Julius Irving games on Parkside in Tariq’s milky white Jaguar XK8. Tina was in the passenger seat. The next week Tina would be driving Khalil’s M3 and I was in the passenger seat. We were the flyest girls out there. Bitches were hatin’ like crazy, especially because we were young bucks. And the niggas was on us the minute we showed up at any of the games. Tina was pimpin’ hard on dudes, but I was cool with the three I had so I wasn’t doin’ nothin’.

Tina was messing with Khalil and this other guy named Drake from North Philly. Drake was a crazy dude with more bodies than a city morgue. I begged her to stop messing with him even though he was breakin’ her off. So she told him that she was HIV-positive. Tina was stupid like that, but she got rid of him. It was cool, though, because Khalil was really feeling her and he did just about everything for her. She wanted for nothing. I remember days she would call him up out the blue and ask for like three thousand dollars. He would hop in his Beamer and bring it to her, no questions asked. I was impressed and was kind of jealous that James wasn’t capable of that, but I let it ride because I knew that once James got drafted I was first in line.

Besides, I wasn’t doin’ too bad myself, and it showed when my birthday came around at the end of the year. Tariq bought me my own duplex in the Northeast. It already had tenants in it and everything. Typical of him. He was all for black people owning property. And it was a foreclosure so it didn’t break him. Plus, he really cared about me and was trying bad to win me over. He was at the point in his life that every man comes to once he’s achieved most of his goals and is tired of playing the dating game. He was ready to settle down, and I guess I was the first suitable female to come along at that time.

O bought me a diamond bracelet. He told me he had one more surprise for me. When he pulled up in front of my house in a 2002 Range Rover, I had no clue that it was the one more surprise. I almost fainted, but I didn’t let him see that. He was the type of dude that had to believe you was used to getting shit like a $80,000 car for a birthday gift after only one year of knowing a nigga. So I kept my cool. Besides, I wasn’t a fool. Niggas who bought their girls cars were smart. They knew they could take it back in a heartbeat the first minute she started trippin’. Needless to say, I kept my shoelaces tied tight.

James somehow scraped together some money and took me to Jamaica for a week. It was like a double date. Khalil took Tina. We had a ball. James and Khalil were straight-up hood niggas, which meant you could go anywhere in the world with them and have fun. They knew how to make the best of any situation. Being in the islands helped too, but they made the trip. When they weren’t busting on people, they were taking us on crazy shit. We did everything from Jet Skied to scuba dived. We even panhandled just to fuck with people. We would have skydived if it weren’t for Khalil being afraid of heights. It was a week well spent, and even though it didn’t cost nowhere near my other gifts, it was the most memorable. I couldn’t imagine spending a week in Jamaica with Tariq or O, anyway. Tariq would have probably spent the whole time buying time-share and O probably would have wound up finding a weed connect and setting up shop. So, even though the trip exposed how broke James was compared to O and Tariq, I was glad he was the one I spent it with.