chirped, “I’ll pick numbers two and three, please!”
He smiled a little, shook his head. “Yeah, well it be’s like that some days. Most days, actually.” He tore his eyes away from the piece of paper. “Hey; you okay? He didn’t do anything creepy, did he?”
I shook my head. “Naw. He was just trying to be friendly. In a thoughtless kind of way.”
Rich made he-man muscles with his arms. “You want me to go over there and kick his ass?”
I giggled. “It’s okay.”
“Cool.” His eyes were back on the wrinkled piece of paper.
“I don’t know how you can even see your handwriting in this dark room.”
“Shush. I’m trying to concentrate.”
“Yuh bumbo.”
“You know Dad would ground you for a week if he heard you say that.”
“Yuh bumbo.”
“After he got done laughing at your accent, that is. Just let me concentrate for a few minutes, nuh?”
I sighed. Rich could be so irritating. One minute he’d talk to me like an adult, and the next he’d be going all older brother on me, trying to tell me what to do. “You should already know your stuff by heart.”
His shoulders slumped. “I did when I came in here.”
That’s when I realized just how nervous he was. I leaned over and lightly cuffed his shoulder. “You’ll knock ’em dead,” I said. “Don’t fret.”
“Yeah, okay.” Then he was back to whispering at his piece of paper, like a wizard’s apprentice muttering a spell he was unsure of.
“Hey,” said a voice from beside our table. My heart leapt in recognition at the voice before I even looked up to see who it was. Sure enough, it was Tafari. He scowled at me.
Rich looked up from his piece of paper, saw Tafari, and leapt to his feet. “Bro!” They gave each other that shoulder-bump hug-to-the-side thing that straight black guys do. Tafari pointed at me with his thumb and hissed, “What’s she doing here, man? She could get the place shut down.”
I glared at him. “I will not! Why’re you talking to me like I’m some kid?”
He ignored me. “Rich, if your parole officer finds out you snuck a minor into a bar . . .”
“Scotch is all right. She’ll be cool.”
I stuck my tongue out at Tafari. Okay, so now I was acting like some kid, but whatever. It was the best I could come up with while fighting the urge to get up and kiss him, tell him I was sorry, take him to a quiet table where I could explain everything. About the marks on me. About the Horseless Head Men. And then he’d look at me like I was some freak, and first his eyes would get far away, and then the rest of him. I could be magic like that.
Tafari said, “But she’s got a drink!”
As though he’d never snuck me a vodka tonic or two when we were on dates.
Rich’s eyes were all for the empty stage. He darted a quick glance at my glass. “Bet you she doesn’t.”
He hadn’t even asked me first. He just trusted that I wouldn’t do anything stupid. I loved my brother so much right then, I could barely stand it. Smirking, I held my glass out to Tafari. “It’s ginger ale. Here, smell.”
He waved it away, shaking his head. “If the place gets busted, I’ve never seen you before in my life.”
That hurt.
Rich was so jittery; tapping his fingers on the rickety round table, looking around every which way.
“Still nervous?” I asked him.
He smiled. “Yeah.”
“When do you go on?”
“There’s an opening act. Some chick. Open mike starts after that.”
“And?”
“I’m the first one up.”
“Wow. No pressure there, huh?”
Rich didn’t look as though he appreciated the joke. I tried again. “But that’s good, right? That way, you get it over with quickly.”
“Put it like that, I guess so.” He didn’t seem reassured.
Tafari clapped him on the shoulder. Rich jumped nearly a foot. “You’re gonna kick butt,” said Tafari. “Serious poetry slam butt.”
Over by the bar, the guy I’d dissed was talking to someone else; an olive-skinned girl with long,
He smiled a little, shook his head. “Yeah, well it be’s like that some days. Most days, actually.” He tore his eyes away from the piece of paper. “Hey; you okay? He didn’t do anything creepy, did he?”
I shook my head. “Naw. He was just trying to be friendly. In a thoughtless kind of way.”
Rich made he-man muscles with his arms. “You want me to go over there and kick his ass?”
I giggled. “It’s okay.”
“Cool.” His eyes were back on the wrinkled piece of paper.
“I don’t know how you can even see your handwriting in this dark room.”
“Shush. I’m trying to concentrate.”
“Yuh bumbo.”
“You know Dad would ground you for a week if he heard you say that.”
“Yuh bumbo.”
“After he got done laughing at your accent, that is. Just let me concentrate for a few minutes, nuh?”
I sighed. Rich could be so irritating. One minute he’d talk to me like an adult, and the next he’d be going all older brother on me, trying to tell me what to do. “You should already know your stuff by heart.”
His shoulders slumped. “I did when I came in here.”
That’s when I realized just how nervous he was. I leaned over and lightly cuffed his shoulder. “You’ll knock ’em dead,” I said. “Don’t fret.”
“Yeah, okay.” Then he was back to whispering at his piece of paper, like a wizard’s apprentice muttering a spell he was unsure of.
“Hey,” said a voice from beside our table. My heart leapt in recognition at the voice before I even looked up to see who it was. Sure enough, it was Tafari. He scowled at me.
Rich looked up from his piece of paper, saw Tafari, and leapt to his feet. “Bro!” They gave each other that shoulder-bump hug-to-the-side thing that straight black guys do. Tafari pointed at me with his thumb and hissed, “What’s she doing here, man? She could get the place shut down.”
I glared at him. “I will not! Why’re you talking to me like I’m some kid?”
He ignored me. “Rich, if your parole officer finds out you snuck a minor into a bar . . .”
“Scotch is all right. She’ll be cool.”
I stuck my tongue out at Tafari. Okay, so now I was acting like some kid, but whatever. It was the best I could come up with while fighting the urge to get up and kiss him, tell him I was sorry, take him to a quiet table where I could explain everything. About the marks on me. About the Horseless Head Men. And then he’d look at me like I was some freak, and first his eyes would get far away, and then the rest of him. I could be magic like that.
Tafari said, “But she’s got a drink!”
As though he’d never snuck me a vodka tonic or two when we were on dates.
Rich’s eyes were all for the empty stage. He darted a quick glance at my glass. “Bet you she doesn’t.”
He hadn’t even asked me first. He just trusted that I wouldn’t do anything stupid. I loved my brother so much right then, I could barely stand it. Smirking, I held my glass out to Tafari. “It’s ginger ale. Here, smell.”
He waved it away, shaking his head. “If the place gets busted, I’ve never seen you before in my life.”
That hurt.
Rich was so jittery; tapping his fingers on the rickety round table, looking around every which way.
“Still nervous?” I asked him.
He smiled. “Yeah.”
“When do you go on?”
“There’s an opening act. Some chick. Open mike starts after that.”
“And?”
“I’m the first one up.”
“Wow. No pressure there, huh?”
Rich didn’t look as though he appreciated the joke. I tried again. “But that’s good, right? That way, you get it over with quickly.”
“Put it like that, I guess so.” He didn’t seem reassured.
Tafari clapped him on the shoulder. Rich jumped nearly a foot. “You’re gonna kick butt,” said Tafari. “Serious poetry slam butt.”
Over by the bar, the guy I’d dissed was talking to someone else; an olive-skinned girl with long,
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