As we were about to head back to our table for more beer, fries, and the burgers, a group of brothers came into the pub. They wore casual clothes that were a bit too “young” for their age. If you’re over forty, skinny jeans are not the move. One guy, wearing a Hampton Alumni shirt, recognized Porter, and walked over.
“Oh snap! It’s PJ! What it do, man!” said the guy. He was a handsome guy, shorter than Porter with a close-cut fade, and gorgeous chocolate skin. He gave Porter what I noticed was a long and ceremonious handshake.
“Good seeing you, Frat!” said Porter.
Just as I suspected, Frat boys. Groan.
The guy turned and looked at me, then looked at Porter with a raised brow. “Yo, Frat, this you?”
I knew that question was every elder millennial Black man’s way of asking a man if he and his date were a couple. I looked at Porter, who was both flush from the beer and being put on the spot. He put his beer down immediately.
“Jamal, this is my…coworker Ari James. Ari, this is my frat brother, Jamal Faulk. Oh, and Ari went to Hampton too.”
“Oh, word?” said Jamal, turning to me, and slightly blocking Porter out. “What year were you?”
“2001.” I tried to signal our ZZ Top waiter for another beer, but nearby patrons swamped him with orders. Fuck. I guess I was going to have to suffer this interaction sober.
Jamal looked at me hard, squinting his eyes behind his designer eyeglasses. “Hmm…you look mad familiar. I graduated in 2000. Porter, with his old ass, was my Dean of Pledges.” Then he snapped his fingers. “I got it! I just remembered where I recognized you from. Weren’t you roommates with Isabella Pierce? Bella? Short girl from Louisville with the Toni Braxton haircut? I used to stay sneaking into McGrew Towers to lay my mack down on the upper-class chicks, including Bella, but she wasn’t feeling me.”
Weak game aside, it pleasantly surprised me that Jamal remembered me. “Wow! McGrew! That’s taking it way back. Yeah, I was—well am—still friends with Bella. And she’s Bella La Croix now.” Hampton wasn’t a huge university by most standards, so students formed close-knit circles. All I had was choir and Bella. Who would have thought someone other than my fellow His Chosen Sounds choir alumni would recognize me? I had to have been at least forty pounds lighter. Still a fluffy, plush girl, but certainly not my current size. I also wore the worst bob haircut on the planet. It looked like Edward Scissorhands did it. Such is the life of a broke college student who had to do her own hair. I’m not proud of that moment in my life.
“I knew you looked familiar! You were in Gospel Choir with her too, right?”
I shouted over the speakers, which were now blasting Nirvana. “Yeah, I was. We were. Bella and I are still close. She’s in Atlanta now. Married with two kids. Twins.”
“Man, the whole Gospel choir was fine as hell. And could blow! Porter wouldn’t know that. He never made it to chapel. Too hung over from the night before! Right, P?” Jamal nudged Porter, who wasn’t the least bit amused. He simply grunted something inaudible and took another sip of his beer.
Jamal laughed, as he rubbed his chin. “Man, I had a serious crush on Bella. She was so fine.”
I playfully swatted Jamal’s arm. “Hey, who didn’t! She’s still fine, but don’t talk about my friend like she’s a piece of meat!”
“Oh! So, she’s a MILF!”
We both laughed. I looked over at Porter, whose annoyance at Jamal interloping on our “date” seemed to grow. In all fairness, didn’t he say it wasn’t a date and I wasn’t his girl? With that, Jamal assumed it was fair game to talk to me. I already had peeped that. Trust me, if he asked me out, I was going to say no. I can’t deal with the Jamals of the world. The combination of loud, brash, cocky, and handsome was something I’d had enough of. Porter’s obvious annoyance at the possibility that I’d entertain Jamal’s flirting was cute.
Before Jamal could continue going down Hampton memory lane, Porter interrupted. “Yeah, man, we were just about to finish up. Go order some burgers. So…” He hooked a thumb toward our booth.
I looked at Porter and then Jamal, who looked at Porter, then back at me. Jamal nodded and smiled, finally getting the hint that he’d overstayed his welcome.
“Oh, my bad! Don’t want to hold y’all up. Good to see you, Frat. And good seeing you again, Ari. Tell Bella I said what’s up. I’ll find you on the socials. If you ever need a house, I’m your guy. The market is hot right now.” Jamal slid us both business cards before rejoining a group of friends at the skee-ball machine.