We're Going to Need More Wine - Gabrielle Union Page 0,31
so bad that my coach benched me. We lost, of course, and my teammates and I lingered inside as our coach went to bring the bus. Queeshaun paced back and forth, whispering to Angela. We knew that as soon as we left the gym, Queeshaun would follow us out and go in for the kill.
The stalling tactic was becoming embarrassing when suddenly the gym doors burst open. In walked my sister Kelly, in full Foxy-Brown-bent-on-vengeance mode. My hero, she had sped over straight from work, still in her black Limited blazer with the huge shoulder pads. I’d always loved my brilliant, take-charge sister, but never more than in that moment.
“Queeshaun?” she yelled. “You here?”
“Yep,” Queeshaun said, stepping right up to Kelly.
“You so much as touch my sister, I will kill you.”
And that did it. Queeshaun lunged forward. A couple of girls pulled her back. My sister was ride or die. She came over to me and threw her arm around my shoulder. “If you touch my sister,” she said to all of Livermore, “I will kick every single one of your asses.”
“That’s right,” I said, suddenly bold with my bodyguard beside me. “What she said.”
She took me home. In the car, I did impressions of her Action Jackson performance. “I will spit on your grave, Queeshaun!”
The next time I played against Angela was completely a different story. Jason was there. Even better, Queeshaun wasn’t. That let me talk trash straight to Angela, who was having her worst game of the season just as I had my best. I was so pleased with myself.
Jason and I were not at our best point, however. Instead of getting his full name across my nails, I was getting a subtle J and K painted. It was the nineties version of “It’s complicated.”
That spring I was at Kim’s Nails with friends one afternoon, and just as the nail tech started in on the K, in walked Queeshaun. Did this bitch have a homing device on my freaking car? Her eyes snapped open from the surprise of seeing me, then narrowed with fury as she saw the J-K.
“Hold still,” said the tech, as my hand started to shake.
“I told you the next time I saw you I was going to kick yo’ ass, bitch!” My K not even finished, my friends threw down money and hustled me out the back door. It felt like I’d been in a stickup.
That seemed like the end. Cut to: the last day of junior year, and four of us were celebrating by sitting in Paige’s car and oh-so-glamorously drinking Purple Passion in the parking lot of a strip mall. Lucy was in the front with Paige and I sat in the backseat with another friend, Sook, our doors open as we listened to the radio.
The song of the summer, Mariah’s “Vision of Love,” came on, and Paige turned it up loud, probably to drown us all out as we sang along. Just as I was pretending to hit that Mariah note, this meaty hand reached in and grabbed me by the arm, trying to drag me out of the car.
It was goddamned Queeshaun.
“I’m gonna kick your ass, bitch!” she screamed.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I yelled, as Sook held tight to my legs.
Paige pressed the gas, driving off with half of my body out the door. She did circles in the parking lot, swerving to try to shake Queeshaun as Mariah continued to belt. Sook managed to pull me in bit by bit, just like in the movies. It was kill or be killed. I tried to slam the car door on Queeshaun as Paige hit the gas to get the hell out of that parking lot.
Queeshaun started to run, that’s how desperate she was to kick my ass! Finally, she tripped, let go, and hit the pavement. Hard.
“OH MY GOD,” we said in one collective teen scream. Paige stopped the car.
“Is she dead?” I said.
Queeshaun instantly leapt up, and we all screamed. Again. First she moved toward us, then doubled back to get in her car. The bitch was giving chase. What was this zombie bitch?
We stopped at a light and she caught up to us, bumper to bumper. Paige pressed the gas, running the red to get away. Queeshaun stayed right on us. We went into the Meadows development, hoping to lose her in the cul-de-sacs. Paige even killed her lights and gunned it, relying on her knowledge of the twists and turns of suburban subdivisions.