Juke Jam | ✍︎

𝖊𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙

𝖏𝖚𝖐𝖊 𝖏𝖆𝖒
❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐈 ❞
𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟕

𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 their elbows onto the glossy, purple table, the boys stared down at the speeding ticket. The fine seemed to loom over them, particularly Amari Anderson who had his personal information scribbled at the top. He ran a hand over his stressed expression, "So, are y'all gon' say somthin'?" he quizzed.

"I mean," James hummed.

"You should've slowed yo' ass down, wanting to show off and shit, Mars." Reggie began to chuckle and Amari shot him a glare. Street racing was just as popular as Rollacity in the Pullman District, the crew would always join Reggie's cousin, Zion, and watch from the sidelines. Though, now reaching eighteen years old and chanting "you only live once", the boys wanted to get in on the action, especially Anderson.

Peer pressure was something that he swore never made a dent on him. Though, amongst his friends, he felt like he was the least approachable: quiet, prestigious and boring. James was exuberant and hilarious, while Reggie was smooth and respected. Could you blame him for feeling pressured to create a solid character for his name? His efforts surely backfired, when he was pulled over and brutally scolded by the cops; getting his face slammed into hood of the car may have been the most embarrassing cherry on top.

"I wouldn't have done it, if it weren't for you dumbasses," Amari tutted.

Reggie simmered his chides, when he acknowledged his friend's tense body language. "Well, I ain't got $100, bro, Pratt is expensive."

"Where do you even go to pay that shit off? Like, the corner store of somethin'. I'on know if Tiny Joe even do that type of service." James interjected, Azryah scoffed into a giggle beside him and he furrowed his brows at her, nudging her arm. "Don't laugh at me, Walts, that was a genuine question."

She lifted her gaze from her BlackBerry and mean-mugged him while shoving him back, "Ain't nobody laughing at you, bruh," she smacked her lips. Concentrating once again, Moreau took a peek at her messages on BlackBerry Messenger to a "Nathaniel", whom of which he'd never heard of.

"Nathaniel, who's that?" he quizzed, the words seemed to leave his mouth before he'd realized. Azryah defensively steered away from him, as Naomi gasped.

"Jay, none of your—"

"No way, you got his pin!" Naomi squealed, almost choking on the potato chips she was eating. "Has he properly asked you out?"

"We just talking, it ain't that serious, Nae," Azryah sighed. It was always difficult to keep secrets about boys with Naomi, since she always got so excited and would accidentally tell the world—including James. Not that she was avoiding him, as it seemed humanly impossible, but she wanted to withhold the information about the people she was talking to, just for his sake. She never liked to see the look it would leave on his face.

That same look began to form, as James's brows etched together, "Oh, that college kid I've been hearing y'all go on about?"

"Kid?" she scoffed, "He's older than you, James,"

"And you too, I bet. What's got you moving onto damn sugar daddies now? Your tuition fees can't be that expensive," he exasperated himself. Azryah rolled her eyes and slammed her cell phone down onto the table.

"Well, what the fuck is it to you, nigga?" she shouted, as soon as she closed the gap between their faces to exaggerate her threat. His jealousy gradually fueled the anger in his words.

"A whole fuckin' lot, Azyrah!"

"Oi! Can you use your fuckin' inside voices?" Reggie loudly corrected. Azryah rolled her eyes again and focused her attention back on her phone, after flapping a dismissive hand in James's face. He kissed his teeth and stood up from the booth. Despite Renee trying to call him back, he kept walking.