Welcome to my new series where I will be free writing and writing flash fiction to have fun, to regain my discipline as a frequent writer, and to stretch and strengthen my writing skills.
This is an old story I originally wrote during college, years ago, for my creative writing class. It is a fictitious, urban story that came from I don’t remember, but it was fun to write. Editing and few changes were made prior to publishing here.
Jackey and the Stranger at the Bus Stop
Jackey walked up behind the young man sitting at the glass kitchen table. Her long and thin brown legs stretched from the blue jean skirt she wore with a black shirt. The shirt read STAR in rhinestones.
She was quiet and not that that was her nature. But Jackey had a lot on her mind. He had the nerve to ask me to braid his hair, she thought. Still, Jackey neatly parted his hair one row at a time.
Although Desmond had become more of a stranger these days, he was still the love of her life. He was her best friend since high school and they always had each other’s backs. Jackey separated the row of thick, soft hair into three group strands. She overlapped the grouped strands forming Desmond’s first cornrow.
“Ah want that same style as Snoop,” Desmond said in a deep voice that carried its own bass.
“And I want that money that Snoop’s hairstylist makes,” said Jackey. But since I ain’t Snoop’s hairstylist and you ain’t any big time rapper Dez, we just gone have to work with what we got. I don’t have time to do any special styles anyway,” Jackey went on saying. “I have to leave for class in thirty minutes.”
Desmond let out a sigh and playfully jerked his head away from her hands. “Stoppp,” cried Jackey with an attitude. Although Desmond was playing, Jackey was agitated. He didn’t apologize for not making it to her dance contest the night before. All he said was, “something came up and I had to meet up with my peoples, Sean and Chris.”
“I ain’t gone braid your hair again,” said Jackey reaching for the hair that slipped out of her hands. Desmond bent his head back. His brown eyes met hers and he smiled a smile that softened his rough features. Jackey shook her head at the face that bore a long scar from his cheek to his chin. It was the scar that came a year ago from a guy who slashed his face with a box cutter. He was attempting to steal small bags of white, powdery substance from Desmond.
Jackey continued braiding Desmond’s hair. Out of the blue, an old song by Tupac began to play. Desmond flipped open his cell phone and interrupted “me against the world.” Jackey got quiet and continued braiding. “Man it’s in,” said Chris, the voice on the other end.
Desmond was quiet.
“When you coming. You know deez other fools can’t count,” Chris said as if he was speaking through a Walkie Talkie.
“Man you’re crazy,” Desmond said with a slight chuckle. “I’ll be there in an hour.”
Desmond hung up.
“You’re still selling drugs Dez?” asked Jackey who had been listening to the short conversation above his head. She let go of the cornrow she was braiding and looked down at his face. She expected him to look back up at her again to see her face of disapproval.
“You’re selling drugs and hanging with those dumb fools.”
“Man, I ain ‘t got time for this,” Desmond said getting up from the black cushioned chair he was sitting in.
“And why didn’t you come to my dance contest at my school? I don’t even see you unless you want your hair braided or you want some,” Jackey said angrily in one breath.
“It ain’t like you spending time with me,” said a composed Desmond. It’s all about you and your “I got dance practice. I got classes. I have to go to the shop. My friends and I going out,” Desmond said mimicking Jackey.
To be continued…