From Infinite to Kamikaze: A Novel

APRIL 1995 - LEX (Part 1)

I checked the mirror one more time before answering my front door. "Girl, it's about time!" my best friend Cassandra sassed as she pushed her way into my house, which was basically like her second home. "Don't you know it's still technically winter in Detroit out there??" She slung her purse and coat over the couch, then turned to look me up and down. "Daaamn Lex, you're rockin' that outfit."

I jokingly struck a pose for her. "Ya think?"

"Man, I wish I had curves like you," she whined.

"Whatever, I wish I was tall and model-esque like YOU!" I chimed back. I gave her a quick hug and added, "You look amazing, as usual." She winked at me as she smoothed out the non wrinkles in her short, tight black dress that she covered with a jean jacket. Her black knee high boots showed off her long legs and 5'8 stature. At 5'3, the same boots would have probably made me look stumpy.

Cassandra loved to dress up and took any opportunity to do so. I, on the other hand, preferred a more casual, urban look and loved being comfortable. I wore a pair of black Timberlands, light denim jeans, a black tube top showing off my flat, toned stomach that I had gotten from years of dancing, and a cropped grey zip up hoodie under a black nylon jacket with red stitching. My red leather belt matched my red leather mini backpack which carried my wallet, chapstick, eyeliner, gum, and travel size Cucumber Melon body splash. My chestnut brown hair was parted on one side and fell straight down to my chest and I covered it with a black starter cap. Cassandra's hair was braided to perfection and fell down to the small of her back.

"Okay, quick make-up touch up and let's go," she said as she put on another coat of lip gloss in the mirror. "Last time we were all the way in the back with the worst view."

I glanced at the mirror for the last time. My makeup was way more subtle since I didn't have the patience or desire to deal with all that fuss. A little dark brown eyeshadow and eyeliner, a coat of black mascara, chapstick (in the winter) or lip gloss (when it wasn't winter), and some powder foundation was my go-to.

After our last primp, Cassandra grabbed her coat and purse off the couch and we walked out into the crisp, April afternoon. We were headed to The Hip Hop Shop downtown to do one of our favorite pasttimes: listen to music.

Music had been a part of my life for as long as I could remember. It had helped me through some extremely dark times, including my dad walking out on me and my mom, and my mom's subsequent downfall to and eventually her victory over alcoholism. It was a retreat, a safe haven, a comfort zone. I craved it; all day long, I waited impatiently for the time at night when I could snuggle under the covers of my bed, put on my headphones, and escape into my own world where I could feel any emotion I wanted.

I listened to everything. Every genre had at least one song that touched my soul. I appreciated artists for their talents—singing, writing, producing, playing instruments—not just for their celebrity status. The only thing my dad had left behind was his beautiful red spruce and mahogany Gibson J-45 acoustic guitar. He had taught music lessons at the local high school as his daytime job, but nights were when he did what he loved: performing. He wasn't a celebrity by any means, but he did have a local fan base who came to listen to him play at bars and smaller venues in the city. My mom had thrown out all of his music, but had let me keep the guitar. I taught myself to play at the age of 10 and still loved it more than any other instrument, which may have explained my interest in rock and alternative music. But my absolute hands-down number one love of all...was hip-hop. Something about the wordplay, the beats, the way you could move to the music, and the way it made me feel... It drew me in from a young age and still inspired me to this very day.

And that was what Cassie and I were going to go listen to. Except this music was from local, up-and-coming hip hop artists, which made it so much more exciting. I had met Cassie in dance class at the tender young age of 7. My dad had walked out several months before that and my mom nearly broke down in tears when she found out that I had a serious passion for music, much like the man who had just broken her heart. So instead of paying for music lessons, she put me in dance. At first, I was skeptical. But once I got past the introductory classes of jazz, ballet, and tap and moved into hip-hop at age 8...I was hooked. As dancers whose specialty was hip-hop, Cassie and I loved staying up on all the latest sounds and artists of that genre. So whenever we had the opportunity, we would do just that.

"Trey is working today, right?" Cassie asked as we walked close to each other to keep warm. It may have been early spring, but it was Michigan so it was around 50 degrees. The bus stop was just up ahead. We both had our driver's licenses but neither of us had a car, so public transportation was our friend.

"Yeah, he said he was. He better be..." I answered. My cousin Trey was a bouncer who worked at various places in the city, but most Saturdays he worked as a sales associate at The Hip Hop Shop. It was actually a clothing store, but on Saturday afternoons it transformed into a battleground for local MCs to show off their lyrical skills. It was usually packed full so, because of fire codes, they would close the doors once they met capacity, which was around 60 people. He was the only way the two of us could get in without having to get there super early. We started coming to the shows 6 months ago when he first got the job, but had missed several weekends because both Cassie and I worked and then of course there was always an endless stream of homework assignments, dance classes and competitions, and household chores. But today, we were both off and had no other obligations. So we were excited to check out some of the new local talent.

The 35-minute bus ride from Ferndale to Detroit was packed. Everyone from the suburbs was making their way into the city for some weekend fun. The bus dropped us off at 7 Mile and Greenfield, which was only about a minute walk away from our destination. It was 3:45, 15 minutes before start time, so of course we walked up on a line. But we went right up to the front where Trey was waiting for us at the door. He opened it just for us, which initiated a string of salty comments from the people behind us who were mad that we got in before them. We ignored them and welcomed the warmth inside. Of course, it was packed.

Inside, the clothing racks and shelves had been moved aside to make standing room. We made our way to the back where the employees' lounge was to use the bathroom before the battle started. I didn't see him until he was directly in my face and by then it was too late. We bumped into each other hard, spilling the bottle of water he held all over ourselves.

"Shit, my bad," he said nervously, bending over to pick up the now-empty bottle.

"Damn, Em, you a'ight dawg? You wanted to meet lil shawty, you shoulda just asked!" I'd have recognized that voice anywhere. It was DeShaun, otherwise known as Proof. He'd been hosting the battles since forever, and was good friends with my cousin Trey.

I surveyed the damage and wiped off the little bit of water that had gotten on my arm. "Hey DeShaun," I smirked, then turned to his friend. "It's cool, you didn't get me too bad. Luckily my shirt is black so..." I stopped talking as soon as our eyes met. Jesus Christ, those were some blue eyes. And a cute face. He wore a black backwards starter cap, a grey hoodie, dark baggy jeans, and the black and white Jordan IX sneaks. Our eyes locked on each other for so long that it started to feel awkward, so I finally broke away and realized I hadn't finished my sentence.

"Uh...yeah...so it's fine. I mean, if I was wearing a white shirt we might have a problem but it's not so....yeah...." my voice got quieter with every word. Just shut up Lex, I said to myself. The cute guy half-smiled at my awkardness right as Proof jumped in to break the ice.

"What you up to girl? I was hoping I'd see you today. And you brought your fine ass friend, that's what's up. How you doin' Cassandra?" he gave us both daps but jokingly zoned in on Cassandra who rolled her eyes with a smile. He'd been fake-trying to get with her for months, but she wasn't interested in him that way and he knew it, but he still liked to mess with her head.

"Em, these are my girls Lex and Cassandra. They both cool as shit and some talented ass dancers. This one especially knows her hip hop and is a sick ass guitarist," Proof pointed to me and then mimicked a rock and roller strumming a guitar. Cassie and I giggled as I threw him a playful eye roll. "Y'all better be ready cuz my boy Em here's about to spit some serious shit on the mic," he boasted, slapping his friend's back.

I half-smiled at the new guy. "We'll see," I said coyly.

"Ohhh!" Proof instigated. "That sounds like a challenge! Well y'all just stick around for the show. You won't be disappointed." Proof put his arm around his friend's shoulder and they walked back to where we had just come from. "Sorry again about that. Hope you won't hold it against me," Em said, flashing us the peace sign as they walked off. But just as Cassie and I were about to walk away, I saw him look back and flash me the sexiest grin....