Uptown Dreams by Kelli London

Author:Kelli London
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2011-10-23T16:00:00+00:00

17

LA-LA

One hundred and twenty-fifth Street had a life of its own. La-La ascended the subway two stairs at a time, trying to keep up with the others jogging by her. Everyone, not just the street above, was full of energy. La-La looked around as soon as she made it to the landing. Ziggy’s vendor’s table was to her right and down the block. That’s what he’d told her. Or was it to the left? She had been so anxious about their meeting that she couldn’t remember. All she knew was that she was there, finally, and she’d find him. She could sniff him out anywhere, that’s how much she liked him.

“Excuse me, young sistah?” a man said to her, sitting on the dirty ground just inches away from where she stood. He was much older, and the gray hair edging his temples had a yellow hue. Hunched forward a bit, his back had a slight hump on one side, and his face was hardened. La-La could tell that he and life had fought, and he hadn’t been the winner. He outstretched a dirty, calloused hand. “Can you spare some money so an old man can eat?”

La-La’s heart wrenched. She wanted to reach in her pocket and give the man what she could, but she knew better. She was uptown after all, and in Harlem you couldn’t just show your softer side to anybody, especially how much cash was in your pocket. She shrugged and lied: “Sorry.”

“That’s right, little sistah. Do not give him anything,” another older man with a head full of whitish-gray hair said. He offered her his hand. “Sandman’s the name, Harlem’s my game. You lost?”

La-La shook her head in the negative. “No, I’m good.”

Sandman walked up to her, hooking his hands through his striped suspenders. “Good? That’s all? You’re here. Breathing. If you need your life any better come see me. I can get my hands on happiness—for a price.”

La-La took that as her cue to walk. She headed in the direction she hoped Ziggy’s table was. Hip-hop rattled her eardrums and the storefront window behind her as a SUV bellowed by, blasting music. La-La nodded to the rhythm, humming low. She didn’t recognize the song, but the beat was hot. And so was the sun, she realized as a streak of sweat slid down her face.

“La-La,” a voice she didn’t recognize called out from behind with a heavy West Indian accent.

Turning slowly, she was cautious. The voice didn’t belong to Ziggy, that she was sure. She’d memorized his with her heart because every time she heard it, it crumbled her self-assuredness and made her stumble on her words.

“Hey!” Ziggy yelled, waving his arms as if he was helping a plane land. “Over here, pretty gal!”

La-La locked eyes with him, smiled, and waved. She perked up, almost dancing her way down the street.

“This ya gal then, Star?” a guy standing next to Ziggy, wearing a ragged and clearly bootleg vending license around his neck, asked as La-La reached the vending table.

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