What the hell was wrong with her? She straightened and pulled her shoulders back. She looked at her friends. “Geez, I am being ridiculous. I’m determined to be a strong, independent woman. I can handle this. I can handle Raff Lauden. I can even go out on a date with him.”
All eyes went wide. “Attagirl,” Mallory murmured.
“I’m not sure I’m going to go out with him,” she backtracked. “Honestly, I have no idea why he even wants that. You know who he last dated? Cissy Lordlee! A gorgeous millionaire’s daughter who looks like a supermodel! Phhht. He’s going to lose interest in me fast.”
Sasha pursed her lips. “Uh, Paige, sweetie, I think you sell yourself a little short there. You may not be a millionaire, but you’re pretty gorgeous yourself.”
Paige waved a hand. “I do okay. I know how to dress and put on makeup. But, hell, I’m nothing like her. Anyhoo. You girls are all so great. Thank you for listening to me babble on and on, and sorry I was being such a baby about it all.” She rolled her eyes.
Mallory’s arm slid around her shoulders and pulled her in for a little squeeze. “You’re not being a baby. These are all legitimate concerns. Have you decided what you’re going to do?”
“Not for sure, no.” She had until Monday to decide. “But whatever I do, I am not letting another man scare me into making bad decisions.” She grinned. “I’ll make my own bad decisions. Maybe. And then I’ll make the best of it when I do. Now. It was more fun talking about foot fetishes.”
“Hmm,” Sasha said. “Joe’s a cop. He probably has handcuffs.”
“Yes,” Mallory said with a wicked little twist of her lips and one arched eyebrow. “As a matter of fact, he does.”
Raff looked at the young African-American boy sitting there, elbows on the table, head in his hands. Raff glanced at Dutch, who nodded at him.
“You can do it, Wayan,” Raff said. “We can help you.”
Wayan shook his head without lifting it. “They’re my homeys. My boys.”
“I know you feel like they’re family,” Raff said. “But when shit goes down, they ain’t gonna be there for you.”
“Otis tried to leave. They jacked him up bad.”
“I left. I did it,” Raff said. “You can do it too. You need to know some things, though. First, don’t tell anyone you want out. Yeah, they’ll jack you up. Some bangers even get dusted. You’re not high up enough, probably, for that, but don’t tell anyone you’re leaving. Start hanging out different places. Just do it. We got programs here for dudes like you, after school, weekends.”
“Lots of stuff to do here,” Dutch put in.
Wayan lifted his head and sat back in his chair. “Like what?”
“You like sports? We play basketball. You saw the gym downstairs. Workin’ out, punchin’ a bag’s a good way to blow off steam. You don’t like sports, we got PlayStations and computers. We got pool tables. You like art? We do that too, all kinds.”
“Like basketball,” Wayan muttered.
“Great.”
“Next thing,” Raff continued. “Stop dressing like a gangster. You’re all saggin’ and bangin’. Ditch the hoodies. That’ll help you meet new people, make new friends who aren’t gangsters. Don’t act like a banger, don’t talk like a banger.”
“Don’t know how else to talk,” Wayan mumbled.
“You’ll learn. You got any teachers at school you like?”
After a pause, Wayan said, “Yeah. Mr. Turner. He’s okay.”
“Talk to him. You need him for making excuses why you can’t do stuff with your homeys. He’s keeping you after school, or something like that. Don’t take calls from them. Make lots of excuses. Your mom can help with that maybe.”
“She don’t give a shit,” Wayan said.
“Probably does more than you know,” Raff said quietly. “Maybe she has her own shit to deal with.”
“Yeah.”
“And come here a lot. This place is here for guys like you, who want something better. We’ll help you keep busy
All eyes went wide. “Attagirl,” Mallory murmured.
“I’m not sure I’m going to go out with him,” she backtracked. “Honestly, I have no idea why he even wants that. You know who he last dated? Cissy Lordlee! A gorgeous millionaire’s daughter who looks like a supermodel! Phhht. He’s going to lose interest in me fast.”
Sasha pursed her lips. “Uh, Paige, sweetie, I think you sell yourself a little short there. You may not be a millionaire, but you’re pretty gorgeous yourself.”
Paige waved a hand. “I do okay. I know how to dress and put on makeup. But, hell, I’m nothing like her. Anyhoo. You girls are all so great. Thank you for listening to me babble on and on, and sorry I was being such a baby about it all.” She rolled her eyes.
Mallory’s arm slid around her shoulders and pulled her in for a little squeeze. “You’re not being a baby. These are all legitimate concerns. Have you decided what you’re going to do?”
“Not for sure, no.” She had until Monday to decide. “But whatever I do, I am not letting another man scare me into making bad decisions.” She grinned. “I’ll make my own bad decisions. Maybe. And then I’ll make the best of it when I do. Now. It was more fun talking about foot fetishes.”
“Hmm,” Sasha said. “Joe’s a cop. He probably has handcuffs.”
“Yes,” Mallory said with a wicked little twist of her lips and one arched eyebrow. “As a matter of fact, he does.”
Raff looked at the young African-American boy sitting there, elbows on the table, head in his hands. Raff glanced at Dutch, who nodded at him.
“You can do it, Wayan,” Raff said. “We can help you.”
Wayan shook his head without lifting it. “They’re my homeys. My boys.”
“I know you feel like they’re family,” Raff said. “But when shit goes down, they ain’t gonna be there for you.”
“Otis tried to leave. They jacked him up bad.”
“I left. I did it,” Raff said. “You can do it too. You need to know some things, though. First, don’t tell anyone you want out. Yeah, they’ll jack you up. Some bangers even get dusted. You’re not high up enough, probably, for that, but don’t tell anyone you’re leaving. Start hanging out different places. Just do it. We got programs here for dudes like you, after school, weekends.”
“Lots of stuff to do here,” Dutch put in.
Wayan lifted his head and sat back in his chair. “Like what?”
“You like sports? We play basketball. You saw the gym downstairs. Workin’ out, punchin’ a bag’s a good way to blow off steam. You don’t like sports, we got PlayStations and computers. We got pool tables. You like art? We do that too, all kinds.”
“Like basketball,” Wayan muttered.
“Great.”
“Next thing,” Raff continued. “Stop dressing like a gangster. You’re all saggin’ and bangin’. Ditch the hoodies. That’ll help you meet new people, make new friends who aren’t gangsters. Don’t act like a banger, don’t talk like a banger.”
“Don’t know how else to talk,” Wayan mumbled.
“You’ll learn. You got any teachers at school you like?”
After a pause, Wayan said, “Yeah. Mr. Turner. He’s okay.”
“Talk to him. You need him for making excuses why you can’t do stuff with your homeys. He’s keeping you after school, or something like that. Don’t take calls from them. Make lots of excuses. Your mom can help with that maybe.”
“She don’t give a shit,” Wayan said.
“Probably does more than you know,” Raff said quietly. “Maybe she has her own shit to deal with.”
“Yeah.”
“And come here a lot. This place is here for guys like you, who want something better. We’ll help you keep busy
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