They talk about people I don’t know and things I don’t quite grasp. I never watched Martin, so when they reminisce about a particularly funny episode, I smile and try to follow. Even without context, it’s hilarious the way Jade tells it. I find myself laughing along.
“What you laughing at, Bristol?” The laughter drains from her face. “Have you ever even seen Martin?”
Busted.
“Um, no.” I bite the inside of my jaw. “It just sounded funny the way you were telling it.”
She rolls her eyes and sucks her teeth.
“Don’t start, Jade.” Grip’s voice holds an unmistakable, quiet warning.
“What?” Jade grabs the Raiders cap off the table and shoves it on her head, leaning back in her seat. “Just didn’t seem like her kind of show.”
The sound of forks and knives scraping over the plates is magnified in the deep pool of silence following the exchange. It’s because of me. Everyone is uncomfortable because I’m here, but I have no idea how to fix it. I’m just a girl having dinner with her boyfriend, as desperate for his mother to like me as you’d expect.
“You missed a great party, Jade,” Amir finally says while serving himself another helping of everything. “Grip’s release party, I mean.”
“Girl, it was incredible.” Ms. James beams with pride, her eyes set on her son.
“Yeah, sorry I couldn’t make it.” Jade doesn’t sound sorry to me. “I guess you supposed to be a big deal now, huh?”
Grip bends a longsuffering look on his cousin and keeps eating without responding.
“Anybody can sell records,” Jade continues. “But is it quality? I mean, is it real hip-hop?”
Grip tightens his lips, but there’s otherwise no sign that what Jade says bothers him. I’m beginning to understand the dynamic between the cousins better now. Knowing about the incident with Jade and the police officer when they were kids, and Jade missing her chance to apply to the School of the Arts, I wonder if she’s jealous. And maybe Grip knows it, but his guilt eats away at him, so he let’s her get away with things no one else would.
“Grip’s shit is legit, Jade,” Amir says. “You still haven’t heard the album?”
“I’m sure I heard everything he has to say before,” Jade says. “No one’s original anymore.”
“Grip is.”
It’s out of my mouth before I think better of it. I really wish I’d thought better of it, because everyone, including Grip, turns a collective stare on me.
“I just meant, um . . .” I bite my lip while I collect my thoughts. “Grip’s writing is excellent. His lyrics are incredible. As a matter of fact, the reviewer from Rolling Stone called the album innovative and revelatory. It’s still the number one album in the country, and actually not just anyone can sell records in this market. In a climate where sales are down everywhere, Grip’s are up. And that’s because his work is stellar and resonates with a wide audience.”
Grip’s mouth tips at the corner, and I know he’s laughing at me the way he and Rhyson always do when they say I love everything Grip writes. I do. And I probably sound like an infomercial, but it’s all the truth.
“It’s good, Jade.” Ms. James addresses Grip’s cousin, but her eyes rest on me, a little softer. “And you know I’m old school. I don’t cut no slack, even for my own son. If it was weak, I’d tell you.”
“And at this party I missed,” Jade says. “Did you perform with Qwest, your girlfriend?”
She throws it out as a challenge, a dare to Grip to explain our situation.
“Qwest and I did perform,” he says simply. “But she isn’t my girlfriend anymore.”
A bubble of silence swells, and Ms. James pops it with her next words.
“What do you mean?” She looks like Grip just kicked her puppy. “But she was just—”
Her eyes meet mine, and she cuts herself off, leveling her mouth into a flat line and pouring another glass of tea for herself.
“Ma, I told you not to get attached like that,” Grip says softly with his eyes on his plate. “It just didn’t work out.”
He looks at me, taking my hand under the table and linking our fingers on his knee.
“I’m with Bristol now.”