‘Mr. Sinclair, get to class.’
I still remember Mr. Anderson’s voice that day. High-pitched and dripping with impatience. Uptown rolled his eyes so hard I thought they might stick. I nudged Uptown and he fixed his face before turning around.
‘My bad, Mr. Anderson, we was just trying to find my math book.’
‘And what does your math book have to do with Ms. Monroe?’ Mr. Anderson said.
He peered at me from under his glasses. I knew what he was thinking – that I was too smart to hang around someone like Uptown. In retrospect he might have been right, but at fifteen I ain’t care too much what he thought. I was too busy caught up in the web that was Uptown Sinclair.
He was my very first boyfriend and, like most of the neighborhood girls my age, I was infatuated with him. We met outside the convenience store one day after school. He told me he liked my dimples. Back then, most of the boys liked me and my dimples, but Uptown was the only boy I liked back.
‘Just trying to help, Mr. Anderson,’ I said.
‘The bell rang two minutes ago. I’m heading to the office to grab some detention forms. When I come back, I hope you’re not here.’
He peered at us from under his glasses and walked away with a pep in his step. Uptown shook his head.
‘It’s like he get off on getting us in trouble,’ he said. ‘Let’s leave. We can go back to my brother’s apartment and chill while he’s at school.’
‘I can’t miss fourth period anymore, Mr. Alton says I’m close to failing, baby.’
Uptown leaned in and kissed me. All at once his hand was under my skirt. ‘Oh, come on,’ he said. His breath was soft and hot in my ear. ‘I switched schools for you. You can’t ditch for me?’
Uptown Sinclair did not go to Miles Brooks Magnet School, but I did. He pestered my mama for weeks, brought her flowers and trinkets he knew she’d love, and eventually, much to my surprise and none of Uptown’s, she acquiesced and signed the form to transfer him over. Uptown could charm the skin off a snake. According to him, us going to school together was a way to protect me. The truth was, when Uptown liked a girl, he’d transfer to wherever she was. As a result, by sixteen he had attended six high schools and counting. Years later my therapist would call his behavior codependent. My eyes rolled in the back of my head, but I figure she had a point.
Uptown had a way about him, no doubt about it. He was 6’3″ with smooth dark skin and a lopsided smile which made it impossible to stay mad at him. A single gold chain hung across his neck and his white school shirt was always crisp, complimenting the sharp crease in his khaki pants. I could drink him in like water, and at times it seemed every part of him quenched some part of me. Even at sixteen he was a New Orleans legend, known for his powers of persuasion and his bad behavior. Uptown was many things, but his true self always remained a mystery, perhaps even to himself.
Our ditch day ride was an all-black Ford Bronco. It was on loan from his mama because his two-seater was in the shop. We hopped in the car and drove towards the 9th ward.
‘I gotta pick up Robb,’ he said.
My heart sank. ‘Robb? I thought today was about you and me?’ Typical Uptown, always getting one over, I thought to myself.
‘It is, but we got a drop to make.’
Robb was Uptown’s brother on his daddy’s side and a true menace. His mama bartended at the local watering hole, and years before she had been Uptown’s daddy’s mistress. As such, Robb had never been welcomed at Uptown’s mama’s house.
Hell-bent on proving he was the toughest boy in the room, the chip on Robb’s shoulder was the motor which drove Uptown’s recklessness. Behind every bad decision Uptown made, and he made quite a few, there was Robb. No matter how many people tried to break them two apart, they eventually found their way back to each other. Robb was the black sheep of the family and Uptown’s best friend.
Uptown rolled to a slow stop at a graffiti-covered school. New Orleans Vocational High, Uptown’s proper neighborhood school, was the exact opposite of Miles Brooks Prep. There were metal detectors stationed at every entrance, the dropout rate was three times the national average, and wooden planks existed where windows should’ve been.
Robb was already sitting outside with a group of boys, all of whom shared the same menacing glare. As far as a family resemblance, Uptown and his brother ain’t exactly look related. Robb was a few inches shorter and a little chubby, like his mama, Ms. Loretta. He wore the same lopsided smile as his brother, but with far less charm. But for all his faults, Robb was more cunning than a fox, and his quick thinking saved Uptown on numerous occasions.
‘What up, boy?’ Uptown called out.
New Orleans had a charm about it, just like Uptown. Sure, the city was violent and corrupt, but on a good day you’d hear them horns from the brass band and all was right in the world. Kinda like how one glance from Uptown could make you forget how he’d made you angry a moment before.
Robb walked over and dapped him up through the window. He took one look at me and shook his head before climbing into the backseat. The feeling was mutual.
My therapist used to tell me that Uptown was a product of his environment, and that made some sort of sense. New Orleans had a charm about it, just like Uptown. Sure, the city was violent and corrupt, but on a good day you’d hear them horns from the brass band and all was right in the world. Kinda like how one glance from Uptown could make you forget how he’d made you angry a moment before. Back then, nothing soft grew in New Orleans. Being soft could get a person killed, or at the very least taken advantage of. So, like many boys in his position, Uptown learned to guard himself against all kinds of evils. The way he saw it, sorting out a person’s intentions was the only way to survive. He could read people like a book, and that’s how he made it through.
We took off and I heard a rustle in the backseat. I turned to find Robb holding a large zip of weed against his nose.
‘We bout to make so much money,’ he said, inhaling deeply. ‘One of these is worth at least $400, maybe more.’
I sighed and turned back to face the road. Uptown squeezed my hand and flashed his lopsided grin at me. My heart skipped a beat and my anger dissipated. We cruised towards the interstate with Robb holding his weed and Uptown holding my hand. Ahead of us I watched as a beat-up white Cutlass Supreme puttered down the onramp.
‘Got myself something to celebrate,’ Robb said. ‘Take a look at this.’
He reached towards the front seat and thrust something shiny into Uptown’s chest. It was a small silver handgun with a pearl handle. Uptown dropped my hand, briefly taking his eyes off the road, to grab it. He admired the handgun for a second too long and suddenly we were close, too close to the Cutlass.
‘Watch out!’ I said.
Uptown slammed on the brakes but it was too late, the black Bronco collided into the Cutlass and the three of us went silent. The driver, an older white lady, reached behind her and pulled a stiff tan object from her backseat which she strapped onto her neck.
‘Did she just put on a neck brace?’ I said.
Uptown shook his head. ‘She looking for a payday.’
‘Po’ ass trash,’ Robb said.
Suddenly, an innocent ditch day had turned into a precarious situation. We had nine pounds of weed, a large semi-automatic and Robb’s handgun in the backseat. Try as I might, all I could think of was jail.
Uptown squeezed my hand again. ‘Dent ain’t that bad. I’ll give her the money and we’ll be on our way.’
Me and Robb nodded, but just as Uptown reached for the handle, a police officer pulled alongside us. My heart sank and I dug my nails into Uptown’s wrist.
‘Calm down,’ Uptown said. This time his voice was rough and threatening, like the way he talked to the boys at the basketball court.
He rolled down his window and a rush of humid air seeped into the Bronco. I watched as he turned towards the officer and smiled his lopsided smile. His eyes were blank.
‘Hey there,’ he said. Instantly, Uptown the small-time drug dealer and son of an addict disappeared. With our lives on the line, he morphed into the Uptown I knew he wished he could be.
The officer’s potbelly pressed tight against the horn as he leaned towards us. It looked as if his blue shirt could pop a button at any minute. ‘I just called state patrol, this is out of my jurisdiction, but they should be here soon. Sit tight.’
We watched as the officer drove towards the other car, and I watched as Uptown’s eyes fell on the exit up ahead. Before I could protest, Robb grabbed his brother by the shoulder.
‘Soon as he pulls off, we gotta get outta here.’
Uptown bit his bottom lip and nodded.
Cold terror washed over me. ‘Are you crazy? They’ve already got our plates. We need to stay put.’
‘What about the weed and the guns, Mya?’
‘Hide them,’ I said.
Robb cracked his knuckles at my suggestion. ‘Keep it up and you gon’ be on the side of the road with that white lady, maybe worse.’
My face turned beet red with embarrassment.
Uptown shot his brother a look through the rearview mirror. ‘Chill,’ he said. He turned to me and spoke tenderly. ‘Baby, we gotta take off, but don’t worry. I’ll get us out of this.’
‘He’s gone. Pull off,’ Robb said.
Uptown sat up straight and peeled off. I turned and watched as we left the po’ ass trash and the white Cutlass Supreme in the dust. To suppress my screams, I closed my eyes and said a quick prayer. By the time I opened them, we were at Orleans Ave – the exit Uptown had eyed earlier.
The cops were on our tail as soon as we got off the expressway, sirens blaring behind us as Uptown expertly swerved in and out of traffic. He kept going, never once putting his foot on the brake. We approached a red light at a busy intersection, and I felt the car accelerate.
‘Baby, no,’ I said.
‘It’s this or jail,’ Robb said.
Heeding his brother’s words, Uptown launched us full speed into the traffic.
Years later, me and my therapist discussed what would’ve happened if I hadn’t ditched school that day. I knew regret was the appropriate feeling, but secretly, I wished I could relive the thrill. My therapist likened my connection with Uptown to a trauma bond, but hey, whatever, no one’s perfect.
The Black Bronco slashed through the intersection unscathed, and I watched as the officers behind us crashed into the same cars Uptown had evaded. We ducked off into a back alley, and only then did his bravado return.
‘I’m a bad muthafucka, aint it?’
‘Yeah!’ Robb said. He leaned over and grabbed his brother by the shoulders.
Uptown continued his descent through the backroads of the city at the highest speed possible.
‘Make a left on Dauphine,’ Robb said.
Uptown obliged. His chest heaved in and out with excitement, the lopsided grin on his face once more.
A few minutes later we pulled up at the spot. A dull, pink shotgun home with a free-standing two-car garage on the left side. A year previously, at the tender age of fourteen, Robb had moved outta Ms. Loretta’s house and into Binny Graveaux’s drug house. Binny was a brutal man, but he offered Robb a clean place to lay his head and a way to make money. It was a fair shake.
Robb hopped out and opened the door. Uptown eased the Bronco into the garage. Alone and in the dark, he cut the engine and touched my cheek. I turned away.
‘I want to go home, Uptown.’
‘I’ll take you home later today. Right now, we gotta lay low. Come on.’ His voice was firm, and it made my blood boil. Typical Uptown, everything on his terms.
Robb closed the garage door and we walked towards the back of the house. The exterior was unassuming enough, which I figured was probably the point, but inside it was a teenage boy’s dream. The walls had been knocked down so the house was basically one big living room. Robb’s bed was tucked away in a far-off corner near the front door, and in the center of the room a brown leather sofa sat atop a hideous shaggy green rug. Opposite the couch was a large television and stereo system. Uptown plopped down on the couch and I sat as far away from him as possible, arms folded.
‘Ima go next door and make the drop,’ Robb said. ‘P will come by and work on the bumper. You two, lay low.’
Uptown nodded and powered his beeper off. The TV blared and, after a while, Uptown scooted towards me, his face tender. He reached for my hand. I jerked away. ‘I’m sorry, I messed up.’ He looked deep into my eyes and once again, a little part of my icy anger melted. For a moment he looked away, his face heavy with the weight of his actions. ‘What am I doing?’ he said.
The two of us sat in silence for a long while. I wondered how long I could go on like this, how much more of his antics could I take. Years later my therapist would ask me how many maladaptive behaviors Uptown exhibited, and I shrugged because back then there wasn’t no fancy therapist to tell you about all the ways you messed up and how to fix them. Back then it was me and my man from the wrong side of the tracks, who I thought I loved. All the love in the world couldn’t make me understand him, though.
After a while, Uptown pulled me towards him and wrapped me in his arms. He brushed my hair out of my face and kissed my temple.
‘I can’t keep doing this, Uptown.’
‘I need you, Mya.’
I exhaled a short breath and pulled away. My adrenaline was wearing off, and suddenly my body felt very tired. I laid my head in his lap, and he stroked my hair until I fell asleep.
We parked in front of the TV for the rest of the day, sleeping on and off. Every so often I’d wake and plant a few kisses on his lips and he’d sneak his tongue into my mouth, touching me and making me feel alive all over again. Occasionally, a knock or bump from the garage caused him to turn his head, but we didn’t dare leave.
I woke properly around seven o’clock. Robb was in the room with us, quietly talking to his brother. A whole stack of money was in his hand. He peeled half of it off and handed it to Uptown. In silence, they counted their money and the lopsided grin appeared once again.
‘Coast is clear, bro,’ said Robb.
‘Car fixed?’
Robb nodded.
‘Come on babe, I’ll switch the car out and drive you home,’ Uptown said.
I glared at him, but he grabbed my face and kissed me deeply. We broke away and Robb tossed him the keys, shaking his head.
‘You a sucker for love bro, you know that?’ Robb said.
‘No sir,’ Uptown said. He smiled warmly at his brother and dapped him up before heading out the door.
My house was only ten minutes away, a straight shot down St. Peters Street. I begged him to take me home first, but he wouldn’t hear of it. We had to drop off the Bronco. I still remember the sky as we pushed towards his mama’s house. A deep orange illuminated the cotton candy clouds, but in the distance fat grey storm clouds were brewing.
He made a left on Toussaint and inched the Bronco towards the white shotgun house he called home. The street was quiet, but I saw his mother in the driveway. Her red robe matched the red roof perfectly. A cordless phone was at her ear, and she looked scared out of her mind. Uptown wiped his palms on his khakis and, for the first time all day, seemed genuinely nervous.
It didn’t take us long to catch on. A grey Crown Victoria was parked in front of the neighbor’s house. Inside, sat two men. As we inched closer we spotted another Crown Vic across the street from Uptown’s house. This one was all black and inside there were two more men. Two more men were inside the white Crown Vic in front of Uptown’s house.
A cop car screeched up, blocking us from behind. For half a second I locked eyes with his mother, and the look on her face made my stomach drop. The cordless phone in her hand fell to the ground. In an instant a dozen plain-clothes police officers surrounded the Bronco. Guns were pointed at us from all angles.
‘Get out of the car!’
‘Hands up!’
Uptown cut the engine. With his hands up he stepped out of the Bronco. I followed suit, a river of tears streaming down my face. The metal cuffs were cool on my wrists and, for the third time that day, I wondered how I had let myself get into such a mess. Then I saw his lopsided smile as he looked me in my eyes. He mouthed that everything was going to be okay, and then spoke loudly and confidently.
‘She ain’t know nothing officers, it was all me,’ he said.
Typical Uptown, always in some mess.
Danille Lauren has been published in Borderless, by West Virginia University Press, and cc&d magazine. She lives in Atlanta.