Afterburn

We got to the Majestic Drive-In and there were people from my school everywhere. A black or Latino movie coming out back in those days was still considered special so everyone in our school would rush to see it on release day. Otherwise, they’d feel left out on Monday morning, when everyone started talking about how awesome it was. Back then, no matter what the movie was about—even if it was derogatory to blacks and Latinos and made us all out to be drug dealers and gangsters—it was still awesome because “we” were in it.

I was mad that I couldn’t show Ruiz off more. If we’d gone to a regular theater, I could’ve sported him on my arm as eye candy. On the other hand, the drive-in meant that we could be completely alone to do whatever, without people watching us instead of the movie. I did get to show him off briefly, when we went inside to get popcorn, Twizzlers, and cola with cherry fountain syrup. Jessica Wilson, who I knew for a fact also had a thing for Ruiz, almost shit herself when she saw us together. Even though it wasn’t an official date, I made it seem that way by giggling at his every comment and rubbing my fingers up and down his arm while we waited in line for our turn.

Jessica was there with Langston, the captain of the football team. While he was fine enough, his head was way too up in the clouds for me to ever be interested. When it came down to it, Langston cared about his looks more than he cared about the looks of the girl on his arm. It was his world and anyone who didn’t like it could step. I’d spent an hour talking to him on the phone once. I caught on quick, five minutes into the conversation, that he was only calling to feel me out and see if I would be an easy lay for him.

Boys were so silly; thinking that we weren’t up on their immature games. Sure, some girls were still in that naïve stage but m

ost of us knew the deal. Momma had definitely educated me. I’d never gotten over the fact that she’d had sex with Chance’s daddy. Often times, when I was over their house visiting, I’d sit there and stare at him, wondering if his wife even suspected that he was cheating. When he’d leave out saying he was going to the store or had to go back to work to do some overtime, I’d think he was headed to one of the local strip clubs instead. Momma’s revelation had changed my entire outlook on men. The one man that I would’ve sworn was faithful had turned out to be banging numerous other women. Lack of trust had become a major hang-up for me before I’d even had my first serious relationship.

Still, part of me hoped that Ruiz was different. Not that I thought he and I would hook up, but he was my fantasy man and I wanted to at least believe that his scruples were better than his father’s.

We were back in his Camaro, watching the film, and chowing down on popcorn when Ruiz came out the blue and asked, “Rayne, you have the hots for me, don’t you?”

Had he really just asked me that?

“What?” I replied in astonishment.

“I asked if you have the hots for me.” He took my left hand into his right and started playing with my fingers.

“Ruiz, you know you’re like a brother to me.”

I could see his eyebrows rise in the dim lighting of the car. He took his free hand and turned the volume down on the speaker that was hooked onto the driver’s side window. “So it’s just my imagination that you’re looking different tonight to impress me?”

I let out this hideous fake laugh; a nervous one. “Different? What’s different about me?”

“The tight pants. The makeup. The high heels you can hardly walk in.”

He was right on the money about the heels. I’d almost busted my ass three times on the way to and from the concession stand.

“Ruiz, I always dress like this,” I lied. “You probably haven’t noticed before; since you’ve known me so long. Chance and I are both growing up.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, but Chance doesn’t dress like that. Ma would kill her, if she even tried.”

“Well, you know your mother and my mother are two entirely separate people; like night and day.”

“Like an angel and a demon,” he said.

The sad part about his comment—him obviously referring to my mother as the demon—was that I couldn’t argue with him. Mrs. Martinez had the face and spirit of an angel. My mother, while unquestionably beautiful—was a snake.

Ruiz realized that I was saddened by his words so he let my hand go and put his arm around my shoulder. “So you like this movie?”

“It’s okay. Seems like it’s going to be full of violence.”

“Humph, no doubt.” He shrugged. “It’s about the emergence of crack in America; starting with the hood. Rich people use that pure cocaine shit. We get to use the bottom of the barrel leftovers.”

The way he’d said “we” made me curious. “You ever use crack?”

“No, not me, homes. Hell, I won’t lie. I’ve smoked my share of weed in my day and have no plans of giving it up, but I’m not trying to get strung out on crack. That shit’s for the birds.” He started caressing my arm. “Enough of all that. Why don’t you come here and give me a kiss?”

“A kiss?”

He grinned at me. “Yeah, a kiss. I know you’ve kissed before.”

“I’ve done a lot of things before,” I quickly replied, not wanting him to know that I was still hanging on to my virginity like it was worth all the gold on the face of the earth.

Ruiz smirked. “You don’t say. Tell me about some of the things you’ve done.”

“Why would you want to hear about what I’ve done with other boys?”