“Oh, they sell it, but not in your neighborhood,” Jesse teased. “London, you might wanna slow your sister down, or she’s gonna have quite a headache in the morning. That Mad Dog has quite a kick.”
Jesse lit the bong he’d been filling. Paris had nagged him all night about rounding up a bag, until he relented, calling up one of his people before we went to his place. I’d hesitated to let her drink or smoke at first, until my little sister reminded me of a few wild parties Orlando and I had held at the house when our parents were away. I couldn’t argue when she pointed out that she was already older than I’d been when those parties took place.
I laughed, then took the bottle from Paris to finish it off. “Well, she’s my responsibility, so if she’s gonna have a headache, I might as well have one too.”
When I turned back toward my sister, she was taking a hit from the bong. She tried to brag, saying, “New York’s shit is better, but this ain’t b—” but she was overtaken by a coughing fit. She was still a kid, after all, only eighteen.
Both of us laughed at her as the thick, sweet odor filled the room.
“Don’t hog it all,” I called out, yanking the bong from her fingers.
“Anybody want something else to drink?” Jesse asked.
“Yeah. I’m kinda thirsty,” I said, only now aware of the time. I knew I would most likely be late to class the next day, but with the way I was feeling, I didn’t give a damn.
“Me too. Some more of that Mad Dog—and can you bring the rest of that weed, too, please?” Paris asked.
Jesse flashed a smile at the two of us sitting on the floor, slumped over one another; then he walked back to the kitchenette.
“Girl, maybe you right about this college stuff. I might have to rethink working for Daddy,” she said.
“Paris, I am having so much fun tonight,” I said with a giggle.
Paris left my side and crawled over beside the television. A Cosby Show rerun was airing, and it wasn’t long before I was mouthing along with the classic Huxtable family lip-sync routine to Ray Charles’s “Night Time Is the Right Time.”
“So, are you serious about this dude?” Paris whispered to me as she began fishing through Jesse’s movie collection.
“Yeah, I think I am,” I answered with a big grin.
She glanced toward the kitchenette. “Yeah, he’s cute, no doubt about that. But do you think Daddy would approve of him? I mean, damn, London, he’s white.”
“I have eyes, Paris. And no, Daddy won’t approve, but I don’t really care. I don’t live for his fucking ass.” Whatever was in the weed had me too relaxed for my own good.
Paris leaned back, looking surprised by my words. “Excuse me. Who are you, and what did you do with my sister, London? ’Cause you’re obviously not her.”
“London is right here. And she is her own woman, who does what she wants, where she wants. I’m not LC Duncan’s slave or his property. If I want to date someone outside my race, then that’s what I’m gonna do,” I said, full of a confidence I never would have had without drugs and alcohol.
“Easy to say when he’s not standing in front of you. You know he’s expecting you to bring home a black doctor or lawyer. Your boy Jesse ain’t no doctor or lawyer, and he damn sure ain’t black.”
“If he wants a doctor or a lawyer, black or white, let his ass find one for himself. I’m sticking with Jesse.”
Paris wasn’t buying into my bravado for one second. “But what you gonna say when he finds out about Mr. Tall, White, and Handsome over there and cuts you off?”
“I dunno. Get married, maybe start a little family, and lead a nice quiet life somewhere far away from Queens. We been talking about going to California, maybe the Napa Valley. Jesse’s really into nature.”
“So y’all can grow old and broke and watch porn together?” she joked, holding up one of Jesse’s DVDs that she’d discovered.