“I watched y’all play the Bruins last week. You pissed that one boy off, didn’t you? Must’ve been out on that ice talking shit,” my brother, Daniel, said.
I smiled, scratching the back of my head as I reclined on my sofa, activating the speakerphone and placing my cell on my chest. “That was Abney’s sensitive ass. I played with him back in college, but you know me. I gotta talk shit.”
“What you say to him?”
“I asked him if his mama knew he was out after dark and if his dick had grown long enough for him to stand up and pee or if he was still sitting down pissing all over the toilet seat.”
My big brother howled into the phone. “You are a fool, Bean! Gon’ get your ass kicked one day.”
“Nah, my team got my back, and anyway, everybody knows chirping is part of the game. I just happen to be exceptional at it.”
“I hear you.”
“Yeah…so, how you been feeling? How’d it go at the doctor’s the other day?”
“I’m good. Everything is fine.”
He always said that shit, but it was never true. At sixty-something years old, Daniel was the oldest of the Ford kids and the one in the poorest health—high blood pressure, diabetes, heart disease—you name it and Daniel had it. Hell, our mom and pops were in their eighties now and they were healthier than Daniel. Of course, I still worried about them. I worried about everyone in my family. I’d just hit thirty and was a teenager compared to them.
“You sure? You need anything?” I questioned him.
“Yes, I’m sure, and no, I don’t need anything. Me and my family are fine. Me and the wife both got good jobs and we take care of each other. You know that,” he said.
“Yeah, I know. Just…take it easy, okay?”
“I always do. When the last time you called home?” he asked.
I wanted to groan but fought it. “Why? Mama called you?”
“She called me, Pammy, Junior, Maryann, Brutus…all of us siblings! She’s worried about you.”
“Nah, she just wants to talk about Krystle. I can’t take that right now.”
“Why? Because she be telling you right about how you ain’t never gonna be happy until you get her back?”
“Dan—”
“I’ma leave it alone, but call Mama. She’s too old to be worrying like this.”
Through a sigh, I said, “A’ight.”
Krystle
“…as you can see, this is a beautiful townhome, fully furnished and equipped with all the luxurious amenities one could desire,” I stated as we finished the property tour. It really was a great place with a hefty lease and a beautiful commission for me if this potential client decided to bite.
“It’s great. But uh…I do have one question for you,” Chandler Osborne said. He was a recent trade from the Titans to the Cyclones whom I’d reached out to via Instagram. He was also huge—tall and fine.
Very fine.
“Okay, shoot. No pun intended,” I replied with a smile.
He chuckled, tilting his head to the right. “Are you free for dinner, Ms. Ford?” he asked, his eyes locked on mine.
“Oh! Um…” Yes, he was cute but was I really ready to date? I mean, I wasn’t serious about the dating app. Hell, was I even over Ford?
Well, he’s over you. He’s had how many girlfriends since you split? I bit my bottom lip and fought not to wince at that thought.
“Wait, are you single? I should’ve asked you that first instead of assuming—”
“I’m single. Uh, when did you have in mind?”
He smiled, making himself look even cuter. “Are you free tomorrow night?”
Returning his smile with one of my own, I affirmed, “I am.”
Four
Krystle
Then…
Terrence Ford’s family had money. Like, a lot of money. Their house was similar to mine, but they had rooms added to the back. Ford had all kinds of stuff in his room—games, game systems, a million and one hockey jerseys. He even had his own cell phone, a Motorola Razr! My mom said his brothers and sisters—they were all super grown— actually bought him most of that stuff whenever Blake complained about not having as much crap as Ford did. I mean, I wanted a cell phone, but I didn’t complain about it. The Fords also had two nice cars, and the RV? It was huge and really fancy. I loved it!
The day of the blues fest, Mr. Son, Ford’s dad, drove the RV to the location of the event—an empty field that was once the county fairground—while my mom and Mrs. Ford talked. Ford’s parents were old, like the same age as my Big Mama and Pawpaw old! I thought maybe that was why they had so much money. Mama said it was because Mr. Son was retired from working for the railroad. I didn’t know anything about that. I did know that like my mom, Ford’s mom didn’t have to work.
Shifting my eyes from our moms, I fixed my attention on my brother and Ford. Well, I was really just looking at Ford. I saw my brother all the time. Why would I be looking at him? Anyway, Ford was changing, growing up. All three of us were since we were twelve years old at that point, but there was something very different about Terrence Ford, and it wasn’t only that he seemed to have grown several inches in height overnight. It also wasn’t that his voice was changing, now deeper than before. Same weird red hair and light skin. As I stared at him, I just couldn’t figure out what it was.
“Why you looking at me, Chicken?” he accused, making me blink and frown.
“Ain’t nobody looking at you, ole ugly boy!” I volleyed back at him.
“Don’t y’all start that mess up!” our mothers fussed almost in unison.
Ford
Chicken Leg Krystle Tyler was so annoying and weird and…pretty. I swear she was prettier every time I saw her, and I basically saw her every day. I hated thinking she was pretty because her attitude was ugly, nasty. Plus, she was always staring at me like I was some bug she’d never seen before. Yeah, I was funny looking, the only person in my family with red hair other than my great-grandfather on my dad’s side according to him, but dang, I wasn’t that ugly, was I? I mean, a lot of the girls at school thought I was cute. I had a whole girlfriend—Natisha Johnston—who swore I was finer than all the dudes in B2K, and girls were always losing their minds over those guys. So, what was her problem with me? I mean, yeah…we fought all the time, but this was different. It was strange.
Freaking bizarre.
I shook my head a little, hoping I’d stop thinking about my best friend’s dumb sister as I dragged two lawn chairs from the RV. The adults were setting up the area right outside the RV where they were going to sit and watch the show. Blake was right behind me with the ice chest and Stupid Krystle was behind him carrying Wal-Mart bags full of chips and stuff for us. My mama and Mrs. Tyler were in the RV getting the other food—ribs, potato salad, sandwiches—ready to bring outside. My pops had left to go speak to some old guy he knew.
“Man, what we supposed to do all day? Ain’t no other kids here? Why we parked so far back? I hate blues music,” Blake grumbled.