Chapter 6 BACK TO THE PAST

Nine Years earlier

DETROIT, MICHIGAN.

A U R E L I A N O

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." I stare at him with my bottom lip unhinged. "She asked if you can be her boyfriend and you told her you'd think about it when you're obviously hook line and sinker in love with her."

He smiles sheepishly and shuffles nervously on his feet. "Yeah, I mean I like her to bits, but I freaked out when she asked me just like that, you know."

I sigh resignedly. There's no hope for Dipo. He's officially a dolt. "It took you a whole frigging year to summon up the courage to take her on dates, and now that she's asked on your behalf, you told her you're gonna think about it? Negro, please! What planet do you come from? Haven't you learned anything from me all this while?"

He scratches the back of his neck and fumbles with his glasses.

I kind of feel sorry for the dude. Here he is acting all lovey-dovey with this chick, claiming the sun doth rise and set in her eyes, when for a year, she and I have been fooling around with each other, and I don't mean first base only.

I'm talking first, second, and third base even. Heck, I've been inside of her countless times more than I can even count, each time sweeter than the last. That girl laces her honey pot with sugar and spice and all things nice.

One thing I like about Roxy is, she doesn't give me pressure. She knows my rules of freestyling. Seems she's also down for that, but for some time now, ever since she and Dipo began going out on dates, I feel a wave of strange anger well up inside me, a certain restlessness sinking into my pores making me lash out verbally at everyone around me.

It's annoying as hell because I know what that shit feeling means . . .

Jealousy; the fucking green-eyed monster that messes shit up.

She told me she was going to put Dipo out of his misery and ask him to be her boyfriend, seeing he's too chicken to do it. Instead of having a good laugh about it like I should have, I got so incensed; I punched a hole in the wall, splintering a bone or two. Now I'm staring at my pop'd hand and wishing I could take back my actions.

If wishes were horses, I'd probably have a Lamborghini or two. Heck --- throw some couple of mansions into the fucking mix and good spending money too.

Thank goodness football involves the use of the legs and not the hands, still, practise is a bitch, because I'm only able to do one - hand push-ups with my good hand, thanks to coach and his fucking pushfullness.

"Do you think I messed up?" Dipo inches close to me, asking the most foolish question ever.

"I got to hand it you, man." I pat him on the back. " You could easily get the award of the world's most stupid man that ever lived."

He grins for a moment but then becomes somber again. "A, it's easy for you to go out with girls and sleep with them for the fun of it, but I don't know how to do that. You've taught me almost a zillion times how to go about it, but I guess I wasn't just caught out for this chick game." His face falls as he stares at the ground in abject sorrow.

"Naah, man. Some men develop that trait late." I lie. Truth is, if you don't have it, you just don't have it. Sorry. "Look man, why don't you call her up, tell her you want to meet and talk with her. Make sure you prepare some surprise candlelight dinner shit. The food must be off the chains, get some smoked salmon, chicken soup, and all the stuff she ---- women like." Fuck! I almost slipped up there.

Luckily, he doesn't notice.

He looks interestingly at me instead, lapping up every word that falls out of my mouth. By the time I'm done, my knuckles are sore from clenching them tightly in anger.

I'm pissed they'd both be in a room together, but knowing Dipo, he'd probably just sit there like a fucking log of wood, smiling dreamily into her eyes as he daintily holds her hand, until he chucks up the courage to delicately ask if he can kiss her knuckles. Roxy on the other hand might jump his bones if she's horny enough. That girl doesn't mince words when she's in heat. She'd tell me she needs a rough fuck and she needs it now.

We've done it so many times at school in the female toilet that I've lost count. At first, I thought we would get caught, but then the thrill of it made us both wild with abandon.

I know we both agreed to not allow feelings get the better of us, but this shit tightening in my chest has refused to budge, especially ever since she told me she would tell Dipo to be her boyfriend for the fun of it.

I'd lost it then, almost hitting her in my rage.

I don't like labels, neither do I want to have anything serious with any girl right now, but one thing I can't stand to be is 'the other guy,' which is pretty much what it's about to look like.

We'd always meet up at the boy's quarters of Dipo's parent's home for a quick shag. I never liked taking her to my place downtown, because I didn't want to see the pity in her eyes I was sure would surface. The day she insisted she wanted to know my place, I'd warned her it wasn't a good neighborhood and she said didn't mind. Still, I'd stalled, making up some flimsy excuse not to take her.

Roxy lives in a fucking mansion in Palmer woods with her brother. It's a place for only the rich and mighty. I'd gone there to pick her up for one of our licentious meetings and thought I'd fallen into a different world. I was about driving away thinking I'd lost the way somehow when she'd waltzed out the door looking delectably fuckable in bum shorts and a crop top.

We never made it far before the hunger in my groins took over and made me take her in the back seat of my car.

I need to talk to her --- I need to talk to her now and warn her not to so much as kiss Dipo, otherwise there'd be hell to pay.

Knowing Roxy and how wild she is, she'd string him on for the fun of it and dump him with his heart in tangles --something I wouldn't want, not in a million years -- yet here I am, acting like a lovesick pup.

If I were in Dipo's position . . . man, the night would be a pedestal, and her body would be a plaything for me to work my charms on.

After I give him a few more pep talks, we part ways and I dial Roxy's number, noticing with rising anger it keeps going into voice mail. I continue trying it severally, hoping by some streak of luck it rings, but no,  it keeps going to voicemail.

Where the fuck could she be, and why is her phone off?

I fist my good hand and feel the pain as my blunt fingernails dig ridges into my palms.

I make my way home and after taking a shower, I don a fresh pair of jeans, a tee, and finish off my looks with my favourite converse sneakers. Mum isn't home, as usual. At this time, she'd be working her butt off.

It's time I pay her a surprise visit at work, maybe get a free meal while I'm at it.

*

The wide doors are quickly opened by mama when she sees me at the door. She ushers me into the foyer, after a quick warm hug. As usual, she smells of food spices. It's a sharp and pungent smell.

As I look around appreciatively, everything looks clean and neat. Even the chandeliers are sparkling from her constant cleaning. She works so hard, I"d wanted to cut down on some courses at the university so I could get a job to ease some of her stress, but she'd kicked vehemently against it.

The issue we were trying to avoid back in Mexico, was the same thing we encountered on getting to Texas where we were dropped off. With nowhere to go, we began living on the streets, the only difference being that some good Samaritans would come every day like clockwork to hand out food and other knick-knacks, including cast-off clothing, to us and other people who were also living on the streets.

We were directed to a shelter for women and children, but after mama almost got raped one night while I was taking a piss in the lavatory, we decided to scram --- right back to the streets.

Mama picked up odd jobs here and there, like sweeping shops for a few pennies, but it was never enough. We went on this way, until one day, lady luck shined on us when after sweeping a shop, mama was given a hand out by a random person going on her way. As she was about to throw it away thinking it was an advert of someone's business, some words caught her eye from amongst the bright colours of the flyer, making her pause --- Help for the needy. This was quickly followed by details of how a certain church could help people in need by relocating them and giving them jobs, too. At the end of the flier, phone numbers were displayed for the interested parties.

If mama hadn't gotten that flyer when she did, I'm very sure I wouldn't even have gotten this far in life. The church helped us settle down in Detroit, and also got mama a job as a cleaner, cum cook, with a good and kind family. The couple has a young son, the same age as myself and we became fast friends, with both of us attending the same schools.

"There you are, young man." Mrs. Fagbemi clucks, taking me out of my reverie. "Uhhh! Look at you. You keep growing taller every time I see you." She beams up at me. Mrs. Fagbemi is basically like a second mother to me. Memories of her doting on me when I was a kid, sweep into my mind as she continues speaking. "We tried to get your friend to drink more milk so he can become taller than he is now, but I guess he can only do so much, considering how his father and I . . . ooohhh."

Her words get caught off when I carry her up and spin her around in the air. She's like a teddy bear, plump and cuddly, but without the fur. "You nutty boy! Put me down this instance," She shrieks. I do as she asks, gingerly setting her down on her feet. She stumbles a bit, clutching my hand for dear life as she steadies herself. "Now you've made me all dizzy. I'm still seeing stars from all that spinning, dear me." She keeps muttering to herself as she totters off, almost missing her steps in the process.

"Hijo! (son), when you're done disturbing madam, please come in here and help me make some enchiladas." Mama calls out from the kitchen down the hallway.

I grin to myself and bound down the hallway and into the kitchen, where I snag a cupcake from the array on the tray and wolf it down immediately, without mama knowing. She wordlessly hands me some batter, and it doesn't take long as we roll the flour and fit the cheese - peppered filling into it.

My time in the kitchen with mama wasn't always something I looked forward to. I kicked against it violently at the beginning, protesting that it wasn't right for a man to cook, but each time I started, Mama'd shut me up with a series of slaps and I'd grumble all the way, vowing never to learn anything she taught me, but once my protests died, I found out that a certain peace descended upon me, blocking every other thing out, and I was able to forget the world and all the pain it brought me and channel all my energy into cooking.

We work in silence now, as mama puts some Spanish rice to boil on the cooker, the sauce already simmering nicely and causing my mouth to water with its heavenly smell.

Dipo suddenly bursts into the kitchen excitedly. "I smell something delicious cooking. Mama, what's for lunch?" He lifts the lid of the pot of sauce and takes in a big sniff. "Ah! Magnífico (magnificent)." He breathes in the scent, rubbing his hands together in glee. That one word is basically the only thing he knows how to say in Spanish.

I frown as I watch him excitedly sniffing the air as he goes to hug mama. My fingers begin to tap restlessly on the hardwood table.

"Hey A, what's up?" He finally notices me as he comes to stand close. "Let's go to my room, please, I want to fill you in on the details." I arch a brow, urging him to silently go on. "Remember what we discussed . . ." His words trail off and he looks at me expectantly, but I deliberately school my features into a confused look. He looks exasperated and steps even closer into my personal space. "Remember dinner plans with Roxy." He whispers feverishly, causing mama to throw him a look, but he smiles brightly at her and begins dragging me out of the kitchen. "We'll soon be back for your sweet enchiladas, mama." He throws over his back.

When we get to his room, he starts talking about how he's made a booking at one of the prestigious restaurants in town for his dinner date with Roxy. As he talks, I walk close to his six-tier bookshelf, bursting with books. They're so tightly packed, not an inch of space is left to manoeuver another book onto it. Over the years, I spent many a time in this room with him, poring over books and learning more about the world through them.

I marvel as I catch sight of the ladder perched against it. We used to scale the height of the bookshelf with our hands and legs when we wanted a book from the top, but when he got the ladder, things became much easier. I decide to push off from the bookshelf, already bored, and walk close to him, circling him as he keeps yapping. I watch as his mouth moves but I don't hear a damn word he says.

Fucking nerd with no game!

Suddenly without warning, I speak out, cutting him off from whatever mumbo jumbo he's spewing. "I dare you, double dare you . . . " I move close to him and jab him in the chest. "Triple dare you even, heck, I might as well quadruple dare you, to fuck Roxy tonight, or else . . ." I let my words hang as I turn around and square my shoulders, waiting for him to say something.

"Or else what?" His voice is surprisingly strong, confident, even.

I turn back around and assess him. He looks poised for a fight. His hands are fisted on either side of him as he stares at me. "I'll do the honours for you instead." I finish, finally, dropping the bomb on his head and watching as his bottom jaw suddenly goes slack. His eyes round to almost saucers, as his brows jump some notches high. He looks at me wonderingly, trying to gauge if I'm serious or not.

I've never been more serious in my entire life than I am right now, but he doesn't have to know this, so I coil my lips into a smirk for his benefit,t and shrug indifferently, like it doesn't mean shit to me when in fact I'm burning with rage inside. "You game or what?" We do this shit all the time, but only with things, we deem inconsequential, never with something as serious as it is right about now.

"Um . . . " He starts, scratching his head and looking everywhere but at me.

"Come on bro, don't be a pussy, you going to allow all I've taught you go down the drain?" I mock, moving close to him, taunting him.

He shakes his head wildly. "No . . . I."

"Alright forget it, now I know you don't have it in you." I flick my wrist, dismissing him as I begin walking out of his room.

"Wait!" He calls out. There's urgency in that one word. I also sense a new emotion, which piques my interest and gets me turning back around to look at him. "I'll do it." He squares his jaw, quite like how I did mine, some seconds ago. He looks me dead in the eyes and says more forcefully "I'm soo gonna do it."

His words send a punch to my stomach as I stumble back a bit. "You are?" I can sense the shock in my voice, unfortunately, so can he.

He throws me a look, one filled with suspicion. "Let me make this clear," he starts, raising his index finger. "If I do win the bet, you'll continue teaching me more tricks on how to make her fall for me easily. I know you've been holding out on me with some of your more potent moves." He smiles winsomely and turns around and walks to his wardrobe.

"And if you don't?" I ask, not bothering to wait for a reply as I snigger, confident that he's never going to go past first base with her, that is if he even gets there in the first place.

He still doesn't get it.

Roxy won't let him get near her pants, not even if he's the last man on earth.

He's already lost, even before the game's begun. He just doesn't know it yet.

I chuckle to myself as I watch him fuss over what to wear for their dinner date tonight.