My mother was furious! We called my sister, Ta’kiesha, and she was even more heated. Cursing Fred, telling me to give her his number. My protector, she was. Always has been. He didn’t answer at first then she called and he picked up. Her and my mother let him have it. After being cursed out Fred actually asked to speak to me. He apologized and wanted to see me. That’s a no for me dawg. He had some nerve.
I didn’t know how to walk pass Q Street after that, knowing he told everyone what he did to me. Surprisingly, he didn’t. Shame? I dont know what it was but I was made not to talk to him ever again and I was not mad at that. I remember some days passing and being at the bus stop with my friend Gene when my big cousins Lynn and Tony pulled up. “So what’s up Gi? Who the fuck is this Fred dude?” Did my sister tell them? My mother? Either way, I didn’t care and I left no detail behind when I told them what happened that night. They both told me not to worry about his “bitch ass” and don’t say anything to him or anyone about it. I listened.
When I did finally walk down Q Street with my best friend Samira, coming from the store, I passed a familiar face. It was Fred’s friend who was on the bike, Terrence Davis. I knew Fred told him, at least, but I decided not to press the conversation. He stopped me to talk about the energy drink I was drinking. “That’s odd”, I said. “You don’t drink Red Bull? All the other energy drinks are nasty”, I said. We went back and forth, walking down the street, while Samira stopped and also talked to one of the guys outside.
Samira caught up and we all walked to the light on Florida Avenue and 1st Street. I hit him with my favorite line, “If is meant I’ll see you again to give you my number”. I loved using that line. He peeped it and had a different agenda. “Meet me right here tomorrow”. “Okay”, I said. It was the way he demanded it that didn’t sound like a real demand but didn’t really leave me with a choice either. I liked that.
As Samira and I walked away, we laughed about the silly fact that he and Fred were friends. So there, walking down the street, we made a bet. “I bet he’ll talk to you and start to like you”, she said. What? “No. That’s Fred’s friend, he will not want to talk to me”, I said. But he wouldn’t. Fred is his friend. Or would he?