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Somewhere South of Atlanta
June 2017
Juan
“I’m outside.”
Click.
Juan hung up the phone and pulled around to the front of The Woodson House. He could have saved the trouble of attempting to navigate his brand new Tahoe around the roundabout driveway, but instead chose to flaunt it — in true and typical Juan fashion.
“A lot of nasty nights up and through there,” Juan said to himself with a devilsh grin. He reminisced. His old dorm brought back many memories: every window laying claim to a different mental record; memories coming back to him he thought he had forgotten. “Lets see…I fucked Terry in there. Courtney got it in…there. Oh wait or was it Bobbi Red?? hol’up…wait..No. Bobbi Red got it in the starewell. That Gahdamn, Bobbi Red.”
Indeed, Juan’s undergraduate years were filled with tales of sex, achocol, and politics. In between the partying, threesomes, and Jack and Ginger ale, Juan had mangaed to earn a degree in political science and was currently in his second term as Atlanta A&T Student Body President. He cleaned up well.
“Where this nigga at?” Juan, now irritated, said outlaid. “He must not now I don’t wait for freshmen.” He tried to put himself in a better mood on the way over but he was irritated and it showed. If it was up to him, he would be spending the night chilling and smoking with Jeremiah, catching up with an old friend while trying to cope with the loss of another. Yet, duty called. Kappa Lambda Nu called.
Every other year, The Brothers of Kappa Lambda Nu had the option to vote on whether or not to pledge a summer line. Summer intake used to be a remedy for large fall and spring lines but for the last 6 years, summer intake had morphed into a power grab for fraternities and sororities who wanted to stake their claim for yard domination as early as possible by grabbing up as many top freshmen as they could.
As president of Kappa Lambda Nu, Juan had the responsibility of personally vetting “high profile A&T freshmen.”
“There his ass go!” Juan spotted who he’d been assigned to recuit. He put the truck in park, blowing twice. The potential recruit walked over to the passenger side of the truck. Juan let his window down.
“What up?! Juan Julio. Get in.”
Juan turned the music down and let all of the windows ups. He cranked the air to high and turned it on its highest setting.
“You don’t mind do you?” Juan asked as he put the truck in drive. “I’m not used to the Atlanta heat yet…what’s your name again?”
Juan stuck out his hand toward the freshmen. He could barely make out his face but could tell he had some height on him.
“Khalil.”
“Khalil?” Juan repeated. “Da fuck kinda name is that?”
___________________________________________________________________
Jeremiah
Jeremiah checked his phone. Juan would be pulling up any minute and he still had not bothered to put on any clothes. He stared at the ceiling for a few moments, watching the fan spin a few times as he mentally prepared himself for a night out. Tonight would be the first time he would have seen many of his friends since Deontae’s memorial. Tonight was going to be…a process.
Jeremiah climbed out of bed and walked over to the closet. He pulled a pair of jeans off of the hanger and put them on. He grabbed a plain, white t-shirt from the top shelf to complete the look for the evening. He checked his phone again. He still had a few mimutes to spare before Juan picked him up.
He went back to the closet and pulled out his book bag, dumping the contents on the bed. Jeremiah sifted through his things until he found the small black pouch he was looking for. He walked back over to the side of the bed and pulled each item out of the pouch: a small mirror, razor blade, a playing card, a handkerchief, and a small clear bag. Jeremiah opened the tiny bag and dumped the contents out, letting the white, powdery substance pile up on the knightstand.
He then used the playing card — the ace of spade — to scoop the contents off of the knight stand and onto the tiny, compact mirror. Using the razor, He divided the powder into 4 narrow lines. He brought his face to each of the lines and inhaled, leaving no traces of what had been. He used the hankerchief to wipe his nose, checking himself in the mirror from where he was sitting on the bed.
Everything appeared in place. Jeremiah repacked the contents into the small black pouch, placed it in his bookbag and put it back in the closet. He slid his feet into his favorite pair of Puma slides and closed the door.
His phone rang.
“Hello?” Jeremiah answered.
“I’m outside.”
Click.
Jeremiah hung up the phone and headed outside.
