𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐚𝐠𝐨
It was a warm summer day in Los Angeles, California. There was nothing but ten-year-old kids horse-playing outside and teenage boys standing along the sidewalk playing dice. Dyme was relaxing on her mother's porch, sucking on a Watermelon flavored Blow Pop listening and watching around. She had nothing, in particular, to do anyway, since her mom was at work.
She watched as an all-black Mercedes slowed down in front of her house. The car rolled its windows down, revealing the face of Jace Carter, flashing a smile before calling her over, shouting, "Ayo Dyme!"
Jace Carter was one of Dyme's many guy friends that she had met and formulated a bond with over the course of the years. Jace respected black people because he grew up around them. He wasn't the type of white boy that said nigga because his friends allowed him to. He knew the history behind the word, so he never said it. He also took an immense liking towards black girls, hence his relationship with Dyme.
A small smile crept upon her face as she stood up, dusting excess dirt off of her butt and approaching his vehicle. She leaned her body through his window, "Whatchu doin over here? I thought you moved to Inglewood." Dyme said.
Jace got comfortable in his seat, directing his sight on Dyme seductively sucking on her lollipop. He tucked his bottom lip in with his teeth and studied her appearance.
She had on an all-white fitted sundress and all-pink Ugg slides. Her outfit was basic, but Dyme could practically make a potato sack look good, "I did move to Inglewood. I just came over here to see you," he smirked.
Dyme fake-gasped, laying her free hand on her chest, "You came over here to see lil ole me?"
Jace grinned looking around Dyme's body and catching a slight glance of her older brother, Semaj. That's when he sat up in his seat and felt his heartbeat escalate. Though he would never admit it, he was truly afraid of Semaj, for reasons most would agree with.
For one, Semaj was known for having a short temper, and two, anyone who seemed to have any sexual relationship with Dyme ended up getting jumped, all at the hands of him. Jace put the mack on Dyme when he was in and out of jail, which was only three years ago. What Jace didn't know was that he had gotten out about four months ago.
He didn't want to show his fear, instead, he just continued to talk to her, "Yeah, you know you my baby."
Dyme simpered but began to look behind her since Jace kept doing so. Once she caught a glimpse of Semaj sitting on the steps, smoking a Black & Mild, she muttered a curse word and leaned up.
"So whatchu come over here to tell me?" She asked, folding her arm and shifting her weight on her other leg.
Just as he was about to respond, Semaj shouted her name, causing Jace to jump slightly. Moments later, he walked up to Dyme, grabbing her forearm and jerking her body away from the car, "Take yo stupid ass back in the house!"
Dyme frowned, snatching her arm out of his grip, "You ain't my daddy!" She retorted, mugging him intensely.
"Go in the house, Dymond!" He grumbled with gritted teeth.
His glare was enough to convince her to trot back inside the house with a guilty frown upon her nerve-stricken face, but not without chucking the Blow Pop in the grass.
Meanwhile, Semaj was making his way to Jace's car, which hadn't moved an inch since he parked there, "What the fuck you doing over here, white boy?" He questioned.
Jace sat up in his chair, gripping the wheel until his knuckles turned pink, "Came by to say wassup to Dyme." He half-lied. He originally came by because he was planning on having sex with her, but Jace wasn't an idiot. He knew way better than to disclose that with him.
Semaj mumbled an inaudible threat before backing away from Jace's car, "Don't come by here no more," He advised, turning on his heels and making his way back inside of the house.
He made sure to slam the front door when he walked in, causing Dyme, who was sitting on the couch, to jump in fright.
"What did I tell you bout bringing niggas around the fucking house, Dymond?" He questioned.
It was obvious that he was tired of having to scare away every guy that even thought about having some type of relationship with her. Dyme stayed quiet, focusing her eyes on random objects in the room. This was one of the things that she did when she was getting yelled at, which just so happened to be more than often.
This time, she was dissecting the living room of her home. It was modern, basic even. Nothing but grays and blacks all around the room.
"I know you heard me," Semaj grimaced, "Are you doing this shit for attention?" He honestly asked her. He not, for the life of him, figure out why Dyme did the things that she did.
Of course, they had a rough time not growing up around their father, but she had always vocalized that she didn't have a problem with how many times they saw him a year.
"No, Semaj, I'm not doing shit for attention. I can't have friends now?" She replied, attitude apparent in her tone.
"I never said that you couldn't have friends, and you know damn well you ain't tryna be friends with them niggas."
One of Dyme's eyebrows lifted, shock written on her face, "So, when I want to have male friends, I'm tryna fuck, but when niggas have friends that are girls, no one bats an eyelash?"
"Don't play that double standard bullshit on me. You know what the fuck you be doin!"
Dyme raised up off of the couch, her chest heaving and her face crimson from how angry she was, "What exactly is that, Semaj? What am I doing?!"
"Watch yo tone when you talking to me, lil girl," He warned, pointing his index finger in her face.
Dyme expeditiously slapped his hand out of her face, "That's your fucking problem! You think I'm still six! News fucking flash, I'm sixteen, Semaj. sixteen!" She repeated, clapping her hands after every syllable.
Semaj took a deep breath, feeling like he would do something that he'd regret if he didn't, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
He didn't know of any other way that would make Dyme realize that what she was doing wasn't in her best interest. He thought long and hard for a solution, and then it hit him.
"You know what? You got it," he simply responded to her, nodding his head and jogging up the stairs of their home.
Confusion washed over Dyme, who was tilting her head and wondering why he had just—left. She mumbled, "That was weird," before slowly following Semaj up the steps and into her room, where he had one of the few suitcases on her bed, stuffing random pieces of clothing inside.
"What are you doing?" She questioned, keeping her stance as far away as possible from him.
Semaj shrugged, shoving one of Dyme's favorite pair of shoes, her University blue 12s in a pocket within the suitcase, "Nun much. Just helping you pack for your trip." He told her coolly.
Dyme's already perplexed face contorted, "What trip?"
"I'm sending you to Richmond."
Once that one sentence escaped Semaj's lips, Dyme felt like her entire world came crashing down. What the fuck is he talking about?
She was hoping and praying that she didn't hear what he had just said to her correctly, "U-uh," She stuttered, "Richmond? You're kidding, right?"
She let out a nervous chortle and slowly started to enter her room. She took a peek at the inside of the suitcase, seeing that it was almost full.
"Nah, I'm deadass. You wanna be grown? Fine. Let's see how this how long this shit will slide in Richmond."
Dyme's mouth formed into an 'O,' "You're not sending me to Richmond," She tried to convince herself, folding her arms.
Semaj chuckled lowly, "Yeah, I am," He replied with a tight-lipped smile.
Dyme felt her heart race increase rapidly. She now knew that Semaj wasn't playing anymore. He was sick of all of her shit, and he was going to make sure that something happened.
Therefore, he decided that he'd send her to Richmond to clean up her act. The crazy part was, Semaj was dead serious, and he wouldn't have to tell their mother about it because she simply wouldn't have cared.
"I'm doing this to protect you." He reassured in a softer tone.
Dyme sniffed back her tears and shook her head, "You're doing this to get rid of me."
Semaj rubbed his hand across his face and sat on her bed. He patted the spot beside him, signaling for her to sit next to him, so she did.
"I love you, Dymond, and I've seen you change these past couple of years. You need a father figure in your life. I tried to be that for you, but I can't," He shook his head, "I'm not tryna get rid of you, I'm just tryna help you."
"I barely know him. How the fuck am I supposed to live with someone that I don't know?" She asked, tears pouring down her cheeks.
Semaj took initiative and wiped the tears off of her face and making her face him, "I'm just sending you to live there for the rest of the summer. The week before school, you can come back, but you need to spend time with him."
"Just two months?" She inquired.
"Just two months."
Almeda by Solange played lowly on the TV that Dyme's father, D'Angelo, had bought her. In fact, he had her whole room redecorated since the last time she stayed with him she was three-years-old. The room was now decorated in different shades of blue—Dyme's favorite color. Dyme appreciated the gesture, but it still didn't feel like home to her.
She heard a couple of feeble knocks on her door and looked over to see her father's head poking in. Dyme locked her phone and tossed it back on the bed and sighed, "Yes, dad?"
"I was just comin' to ask you a favor," He answered.
"Which is..." She trailed off, lifting one of her eyebrows.
"Could you go to the corner store for me?" He requested, handing her a $20 bill, "I just need a pack of Black & Milds. You could keep the rest."
Dyme threw her head back and groaned, taking the $20 and standing up from the bed, "I have to walk?"
He nodded, "Yeah, but it's only a couple of minutes."
Dyme sighed, grabbing her jacket off of her bed and put it on, zipping it up, and shoving the bill inside of her pocket along with her cell phone, "Thank you!" she heard her father call out.
She shook her head, heading out of the door and looking up and down the street. Just as he promised, there was a liquor store about two or three minutes away.
She looked at her surroundings before walking up the streets stuffing her frail hands inside of her pockets, whistling to the tune of Almeda. Dyme was used to walking to the store in LA, and surprisingly, Richmond wasn't much different. Well, except for the slang that they used. She was also aware of the ongoing Bay vs LA debate, which, she thought, was childish.
No matter what part of California you lived in, you were still in California, so what was the point of formulating an immature beef?
She finally made it to the store, pushing the door open with her hand and hearing a bell chime. She looked over to the Asian man behind the counter, then at the store.
She made her way to the candy aisle, grabbing a bag of Watermelon Sour Patch Kids, then going to the fridge in the back and getting a Pineapple Fanta.
Just as she was about to make her way to checkout, she bumped into a tall & buff figure, "Oh shit! My bad," He apologized.
Damn, he fine, she thought.
"It's nothing," She smiled, stepping around him knowing for sure that before she got home she'd get his number.
She placed her items on the counter then asked the man for two packs of Black & Milds instead of one. Her change came out to be $13 after she spent $7 on the items that she had.
She grabbed the bag that the man had provided her and walked out of the store, counting to three, "1... 2..."
With her lips curved into a smirk, she turned on her heels and by no surprise, it was the guy she'd ran into, "I couldn't let you leave me without your number," He flirted.
Dyme tilted her head to the side, "The way you ran over here tells me that this isn't your first time doing such a thing."
"And what thing are you talkin about?"
"This," Dyme pointed between them, "You tryna get my number," She folded her arms, "I'm not an idiot, I know all about the mind-games that guys like you like to play. So why don't you spare me the theatrics and tell me what you really want."
He began chuckling, choosing not to believe that this girl had called him out on his bullshit.
She was right, his sole intention was to put the mack down then fuck her, "Welp, you caught me," He smiled, "I guess you see right through me huh, without even knowing me."
"It's not that hard to distinguish a nigga that's tryna fuck and a nigga that's tryna get to know you. You just so happened to be the first, and I don't have a problem with it," She admitted.
He stepped up to her and smirked, "So whatchu tryna do?"
Dyme shrugged, "I'm with whatever."
He smiled, nodding his head, and reaching his hand out for a handshake, "Tyrann—And your name is..."
"Dymond—but everybody calls me Dyme," She responded, shaking his hand firmly.