On the Come Up(23)

“Ever thought that maybe you should stop giving them a reason to single you out?”

“Hold up, you’re supposed to be on my side!”

“I am, Bri. It’s bullshit that they’re always sending you to the office. But you also gotta chill a little bit. You’re a classic case of oppositional defiant disorder.”

Dr. Trey is in the building. “Stop trying to diagnose me.”

“I’m simply stating facts,” he says. “You tend to be argumentative, defiant, you speak impulsively, you get irritable easily—”

“I do not! Take that shit back!”

His lips thin. “Like I said, ODD.”

I sit back and fold my arms. “Whatever.”

Trey busts out laughing. “You’re predictable at this point. Sounds like that ODD helped you out last night though. Congrats on the Ring win.” He holds his fist to me.

I bump it. “You watch the battle yet?”

“Haven’t had time. Kayla texted me about it.”

“Who?”

He rolls his eyes. “Ms. Tique.”

“Ohhhh.” I forgot she has a real name. “It’s so damn cool that you work with her.” Even though it’s kinda sad that somebody as dope as Ms. Tique has to make pizzas for a living. “I’d be starstruck around her.”

Trey chuckles. “You act like she’s Beyoncé.”

“She is! She’s the Beyoncé of the Ring.”

“She’s something, all right.”

He probably doesn’t realize he’s all dimples at the moment.

I pull my head back a little with my eyebrows raised.

Trey notices me staring. “What?”

“Are you trying to be her Jay-Z?”

He laughs. “Shut up. We’re supposed to be talking about you.” He pokes my arm. “Ma told me she broke the news about her job before you ran off. How are you feeling about that?”

Dr. Trey is still on duty. “I’m scared,” I admit. “We were already struggling. Now it’ll only be harder.”

“It will be,” he says. “I can’t lie—between my student loans and my car note, feels like most of my check’s already gone. Things are gonna be extra tight until Ma gets a job or I get a better one.”

“How’s your job search going?” He’s been looking for something since his first day at Sal’s.

Trey runs his fingers through his hair. He definitely needs a haircut. “It’s okay. Just taking a while. Thought about going back to school to get my master’s. That would open up a hell of a lot more doors, but . . .”

“But what?”

“That would take away hours I could be working. It’s all good though.”

No, it’s not.

“But I promise you this,” he says, “no matter what happens, it’s gonna be okay. Your almighty, all-knowing big brother will make sure of that.”

“I didn’t know I had another big brother.”

“You’re such a hater!” He laughs. “But it’ll be fine. Okay?” He holds his fist to me again.

I bump it. Things can never go wrong on Dr. Trey’s watch.

He shouldn’t have to fix this though. He shouldn’t have had to come back to Garden Heights. At Markham State, he was king. Literally, he was the homecoming king. Everybody knew him from starring in campus productions and from leading the drum majors. He graduated with honors. Worked his ass off to get there in the first place, only to have to come back to the hood and work in a pizza shop.

It’s bullshit, and it scares me, because if Trey can’t make it by doing everything “right,” who can?

“All right, so this ODD of yours,” he says. “We need to get to the root of it, then work—”

“I do not have ODD,” I say. “End of discussion.”

“End of discussion,” he mocks.

“Don’t repeat what I say.”

“Don’t repeat what I say.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Bri is right.”

“Bri is ri—” He looks at me.

I grin. Got him.

He pushes my shoulder. “Smartass.”

I bust out laughing. As awful as the situation is and as big of a pain in the butt as he can be, I’m glad I have my big brother to go through it with me.





Eight


When I wake up the next morning, my headphones hang lopsided off my head as my dad raps in them. I fell asleep listening to him. His voice is as deep as Granddaddy’s, a bit raspy at times, and as hard as the stuff he raps about. To me it’s as warm as a hug. It always puts me to sleep.

According to my phone, it’s eight a.m. Aunt Pooh will be here in about an hour to take me to the studio. I flipped through my notebook most of last night, trying to figure out what song to record. There’s “Unarmed and Dangerous.” I wrote that after that kid got killed, but I don’t know if I wanna be political from jump. There’s “State the Facts,” which reveals too much personal shit—I’m not ready for that yet. There’s “Hustle and Grind,” which has potential. Especially that hook.