Meadow tried not to laugh but couldn’t hold it in. “Is Blain a gang member?”
“Girl, I don’t know. I think he just threw something up on the low.”
The Bloods in the room cheered.
Bu smirked, holding up his set, proud as ever.
“But…” Jacory smirked mischievously, “I also got a brother who’s been reppin’ blue since he came out the womb.”
The Crips in the room popped off.
Malik laughed, covering his face. “Here she go-”
Zaire shook his head, smiling. “She messy.”
Jacory pointed at Malik. “This one’s for you.” When she spotted Zaire, she added, “Oh, and that Black golfer whose first name they refuse to say is here too...Zaire.”
Meadow smiled like she was the Black golfer.
The DJ dropped a west coast beat.
It was clean, heavy, but had that signature creamy sound that tasted like lowriders, palm trees, block cookouts, and long summer nights.
Malik and Zaire looked at each other, too sexy to be in the same room.
Meadow and Tia didn’t know whether to look at Jacory or Zaire and Malik.
Malik stepped forward automatically…shoulders loose…footwork precise.
Feet shoulder width apart, confidence to the sky, he heel-toed while moving with a military styled cadence that showed where he was from. He hit a slow crip walk, smooth as a car coasting down a clean boulevard.
The crowd erupted and a few other members joined him.
“AYEEEEEE!” Aku hyped, winding her own hips knowing what that dance taught her husband how to do. If she wasn’t crying, she was ready to fuck. Malik couldn’t catch a break.
Zaire stepped in next, chest bouncing lightly to the beat, chin lifted just an inch — enough to say he wasn’t new to this.
His first step matched Malik’s heel-toe, but he added a slide. Right heel in…toe out…dragged the foot back like it was on water, then the other side.
Controlled…lazy, smooth…Black boy joy.
His chain swung in tiny circles against his chest.
Meadow put both hands over her mouth. “Jesus.”
Tia whisper-yelled, “Bitch look at his feet.”
Malik dropped into a small bounce… chest, shoulders, then feet, before pivoting clean into a crip walk shuffle.
Two taps forward. One tap back. A tiny hop. A toe spin.
He spelled out the letter C with one foot, carving it into the floor like he’d written it his whole life.
Zaire followed with his own variation…heavier on the toe taps, lighter on the heel, adding a little dragging backwards hop that made the crowd lose their minds.
Meadow pulled her phone out, just to capture him in the way he truly looked to the world— at least to the people who matter— to her.
It was early afternoon when Meadow and Zaire finally turned down the gravel road toward the house. The air in Juniper Falls sat heavier than it had in Emerald City…dense in a familiar way, thick with pine and the quiet hum of a place that moved at its own pace. Meadow felt it immediately. Her shoulders tightened without permission. Her breath shortened. Her mind went straight to Magnolia before the SUV even rolled to a stop.
