Page 3 of Not My Type
My older brother, Junior, and our friends are in the road too cheering them on. I exhale the smoke from my spliff. Regula day a John’s Road. Lorie’s slim figure appears in my view. Her relaxed hair is dyed ginger and pulled into a messy bun, with stray strands framing her face.
She’s wearing my Amiri shirt, a tiny pair of shorts and my Kappa slides. She glances at the screen, then hands me the phone.
“Look like a yuh brother.” I take the phone, my eyes the iciest brown. How deh gyal yah suh fass mon?
“Nick?” it’s Jordane, his background noisy.
“Yow?” I answer, Lorie rolls her eyes and walks away. I hiss and avert my attention to my phone. “Yuh deh pon the road?” he asks, he’s my little brother.
I’m like a father figure to him. “Deh a we base wid Junior dem a wah’m?” I ask. He didn’t sound like he was in trouble, but I was curious.The way mi live mi affi expect anything. Cya drop mi guard.
“Just a leave school, fawud nuh,” he says. I hop off the wall. I would never make myself available if it was someone else.
“Ah,” I hang up.
I curl my fist, my hand connecting with Junior’s. The dawgs aren’t far behind, I dap them up, jump in my Benz and floor the gas pedal to Monk Street. I pull over at Jordane’s foot. “Yuh reach fast eeh bruhhh?”he muses as he gets in the car. As per usual, we bun up speedometer pon a daily.
“Nawmal, yuh done know how my thing guh a’ready,” I chuckle.
He laughs, leaning in to say. “Mi see a nice pretty teacher over school today enuh... a your type,” nuhaskkif dat nuh grab mi attention.
Ye mon, that would a affi grab yuh attention.
“Weh yah seh?” my lips curling into a smirk. The yute love woman enuh mon, but mi nah seh nuttn’ stillz cause a same way mi stay.
Yuh even worst Nick, yuh try nuh catch AIDS else yuh goose cook.
Ah sah.
“Mi affi rush a idiot bwoy inna class today weh a try disrespect har,” he tells me. I let out a throaty chuckle. Him only care because him think the teacher pretty.
“Rookie dem mo-”
I spot a teacher walking out and fall silent. So does Jor. Her deep, golden brown skin glistens in the sun. I rock my legs. She has a pair of innocent eyes, pulling me in like a magnet. Challenge accepted, I’m more than ready to drag the demon out of them.
“A she this... ” he grins, his stare following mine. I lean on the door, tilting my head as I watch her saunter through the gate.
She’s petite, with an hourglass shape. The way she strides, like the street is her personal runway, sets something off in me. My gaze travels down to the brown fabric of her teacher’s college uniform— clinging to her body like it was stitched on to her skin.
Mumma barely have waist.
Jah Jah. One look and all mi can say is, big up har mother anyweh she deh fi mi wife.
Jor’s grin wider than the toll. This is entertainment to him.
My eyes narrow as I follow her every move. With every small step, her skirt rides up, exposing glimpses of her nut-brown thighs. Thickaz. She nuh see say dat too short?
That would a affi concern yuh.
The wind gently whips at her hair. It cascades all the way down to her lower back like a thick, dark waterfall. At first glance, it looks like a wig, but something about the way it bounces, makes me think otherwise. She looks exotic, her eyes, like Hennessy poured in low light, so rich, they almost seem black until a hint of warm brown slips through.
Har eyes ‘em still innocent to yuh?
Well...
Then just like that, Jor confirms my thoughts.
“Bredda? All a dat a har real hair enuh!”
