“But I’m a gamer, big man. You saying what I do for work ain’t serious?”
It’s bait.
She’s setting traps and I’m stepping toward them willingly.
I sigh, already losing. “What’s the game?”
Her smile deepens, victorious but subtle. She wiggles her finger at me. “Come, come.”
“To where?”
“You’ll see.”
I follow her down the hallway knowing full well this is a mistake.
Her bedroom door is half open revealing the source of the LED glow. I hesitate for half a second at the threshold before entering. I’ve been here before, but it still feels like entering sacred territory.
Her room is pure Frankie. Not at all what I expected. First off, it was covered in posters of Superman layered over older posters she never bothered to take down.
Comic book covers framed like art pieces. A messy but intentional desk stacked with sketchpads, sticky notes, half-open graphic novels. A controller resting on top of her duvet like it’s part of the bedding. Her bedspread is dark blue with tiny yellow stars stitched into it.
There’s a faint scent of paper and perfume and something citrus from the candle burning on her nightstand.
“Wow,” I snort. “Man like Clark Kent.”
“Well yes,” she replies immediately. “He’s the first Jamaican superhero.”
I turn slowly. “I—Superman is not Jamaican, Francine.”
She looks at me dead serious. “Of course he is. Him name Clark.”
See… how can I not like her?
I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying not to smile. “Whatever you say, Jelly.”
And I see it happen. Her face shifts and all teasing disappears.
“Jabari McKingsley.” Her tone goes dangerously calm. “Can you please. Please. Stop calling me Jelly?”
I blink. “Why? It suits you.”
“Fuck you.”
The bite in her voice makes my chest tighten. “Woah. Woah. Woah. What’s wrong?”
“Don’t play dumb. You started that stupid nickname.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So why are you acting dunce when I say I don’t want to be called it?”
There’s a misunderstanding here. I need to clarify because she’s vicious when she’s upset and I don’t want to be her target.
“Frankie, I call you Jelly ‘cause you used to like jellies. Remember?”
She stills and her eyebrows knot. “…Huh?”
“When we were kids. You and Za used to run through a whole bag in our living room. Did you actually forget, or are you playing again?”
