Read Online Jayd's Legacy by L. Divine - Free Book Online Page A

his mother are very close. Like me, he’s an only child. “At first it was cool going to Westingle. You know, the girls up there are hella fly,” he says, taking a CD out of the case and popping it in the stereo. Smokey Robinson. The boy’s got good taste. “But, gas is way too expensive to be rolling from Long Beach to Westchester every day.”
    â€œI know that’s right,” I say, agreeing the gas prices are out of control. But, as Daddy says, that’s what happens when a Republican gets into office.
    â€œSo, South Bay High was the next best choice, because of their academics, and of course, the football program is top notch.”
    â€œWell, I’m glad to have another brotha in the mix,” I say. It’ll give the wannabe brothas up there, like KJ and his crew, someone to compete with. Then maybe we sistahs can benefit. Men are at their best when there’s a little competition. As we cruise down La Brea toward Fairview Boulevard, I can’t help but feel excited as we approach Raheem’s house.
    â€œSo, how do you like South Bay High so far?” I ask, knowing it’s a completely different world from Westingle. In Westchester, White folks are the minority. It’s located between LAX and the Marina: prime real estate location for Los Angeles. And, wealthy Black and Asian kids are the majority and they’re hella smart. Too bad my mom missed the deadline for me to transfer there. I’d probably have an entirely different story to tell, but with the same type of drama, I’m sure.
    â€œThe weather’s the same. You know being by the beach is great for working out on the football field. But, the people are on some straight up Oreo shit, Jayd. Them brothers don’t even act like real niggas up there. I can see why you got with a White dude,” Nigel says, making me miss my baby. “So, I heard you went with the basketball star, KJ, too. You working it up there, huh, girl?” he asks, nudging my left knee with his right.
    â€œStop being nasty and keep your eyes on the road.” As he makes the right onto Fairview, my stomach’s getting all knotted up. I can’t stand it. I’m too excited to see this boy. The last time I saw Raheem was over a year ago, before my breast reduction. He’d hurt me so bad I didn’t ever want to have another boyfriend again in life. I wonder what he’ll think of my new, much smaller appearance. He was the first boy to ever see my breasts under my shirt, so I’m sure he’ll notice the difference, unlike Nigel. He probably thinks I just lost weight, like most people.
    Â 
    When we get to Raheem’s house, his little brother, Kamal, is hangin’ outside on the front porch listening to his iPod. Raheem’s in the doorway behind him, talking on his Blackberry. I see not much has changed. Raheem’s mother, Tasha, is a stripper and is rarely home, which is why Raheem basically took over their grandmother’s house when she passed a few years ago. His father, Kareem, is in jail for life behind that wack-ass three-strikes law, leaving him and his little brother to fend for themselves. Raheem provides the best way he knows how: hustling weed and making beats.
    The most striking feature of all of Raheem’s fine qualities is his beautiful, black skin. Like onyx, it shines under the porch light. He’s wearing a white wifebeater tee and baby blue Enyce sweats with his feet bare: There are no shoes allowed in his home. His tattoos serve as sleeves on his chiseled arms, complementing his narrow black eyes and angular face. I notice he has a new scribe directly under his father’s name and date of entry into the penitentiary, complementing the scribe of a few verses from KRS One’s song “Reality” and his mother’s name on his other arm. I’ll have to read the words another time. He’s grown at least six inches, making him about six feet even