"The house is where? On what street?" Desi exclaimed from the backseat of Jordan's mother's Chevrolet Tahoe as the older boys drove him to work. Once again, the bass from Youngboy Never Broke Again's latest track banged through the speakers.
In the passenger seat, Dmitri looked down at Anisa's text on Jordan's cell phone. He hadn't had the chance to get his own since escaping and he had no desire to go home and find his old one.
"Anisa says it's off Myrtle Road. Wherever that is," Dmitri heaved his shoulders, not understanding why Desi was making such a big deal about the whereabouts of the Airbnb.
"You don't know Myrtle Road?" Desi leaned forward in his Jumbo Gumbo uniform, practically pressing his chest into the console.
"Man, hell nah." Jordan's fingers clinched the steering wheel. He exhaled, "No one else studies the geography of the city. If it's not in my 'hood, I don't give a fuck."
His little sister, Zaria, looked up from her iPad at the use of profanity. "Mama said you can't cuss around me."
"Is mama here?" Zaria began to protest, but Jordan kept going, "Nope. So, I make the rules and rule number one is Amahd Jordan can do whatever Amahd wants, especially when Amahd's driving and got your life in his hands."
Zaria slammed her back on the seat, making her beaded cornrows click-clack against each other. "Ugh, I'm telling when we get home."
Jordan turned the music up so loud it drained out all other sounds. Dmitri glared at him and turned the volume to a more reasonable high.
"Man, y'all trippin'," Desi started back. "It's only one house on Myrtle Road. That big house at the end of the street. The one that got to' up in Hurricane Katrina. Nobody has lived in it since. They say the old owners died in the hurricane because no one ever came to get them when the levee broke. The rescuers didn't know people actually lived on that road."
"Oh, yeah, they renovated that place last year. That bitch super live now." Jordan grinned. He couldn't wait to show off for Instagram and Snapchat. "I'm 'bout to flex hella hard for the 'gram and Snap. Niggas gon' be hating so bad."
Desi palmed his face and let out a sigh. "Son, that house is haunted."
"Haunted?" the other three passengers inquired all at once.
"Yes," Desi breathed, glad he had their attention. He sat back in his seat. "My sister says it was haunted before Katrina. It was built on an old slave plantation where some real dirty stuff happened back in the day."
"How would your sister know?" Zaria watched the boy with round eyes and her iPad tight in her small grip.
"Man," Desi started, "apparently her best friend's cousin's sister's niece told her best friend that her great-great-great-great grandpa used to be a slave there. Everybody that's lived there since the plantation owners died left just months after moving in because of all the ghosts and spooky stuff that happens."
"What kind of stuff supposedly happens?" Dmitri teased as the car cruised from lane to lane, only minutes away from the younger boy's workplace. "Do the doors close on their own? Do the lights flicker? Do you feel a cold breeze when the thermostat says seventy-five? What? What happens?"
He'd watched his fair share of Supernatural. Watching Sam and Dean haunt mystical demons, monsters, and ghouls was his guilty pleasure.
"Nah, worse," Desi said. Everyone fell silent waiting for him to prove his point. Youngboy Never Broke Again was the only one brave enough to speak. "Some people say they just be chillin' on the couch or around the house when they see themselves walk by out the corner of their eye. Like dressed the same way they are and looking exactly like them. Almost like their evil twin but it's really a ghost. Then, some people say they get woken out of their sleep by a whip and open their eyes to see a black figure standing over them holding one of those whips slave masters used to use to beat their slaves. They turn the light on and the figure disappears, but they look in the mirror and they have scars and welts from the lashes."
Desi looked over at Zaria who was gawking at him with all the color drained from her face. "And the spirits love little kids," he continued. "Parents say their kids would be in their rooms playing, and they'd hear the kid talking to someone else even when there was no one else home. When the parents would check on them, the kids would be having fun playing with their dolls or playing catch and someone or something would be playing back. Someone would really throw the ball back or move the dolls, even though there was no one actually there."
"Amahd, I don't want to go to a haunted house!" Zaria wailed causing Jordan to growl and mumble to himself.
"People say they feel a bad energy soon as they step in the yard," Desi finished as they pulled into the parking lot of Jumbo Gumbo Groceries. "And that was before Katrina, so imagine how haunted it is now."
"Man, get the fuck out of here!" Jordan snarled as he pulled the gear shift into park and looked back at Desi with flared nostrils. "You know what's scarier than ghosts?"
"What?" the other three asked in unison, each with a unique attitude behind the question.
"The police," he replied much to the surprise of his passengers. Dmitri rolled his eyes, and Desi only shook his head. Zaria, however, remained all ears. "And if this house is really as ducked off as you say it is, I'll take my chances with the slaves if that means the laws won't pull up and ruin the night."
"You won't be saying that come morning." Desi didn't let up. "Have y'all never seen any scary movies? Does The Conjuring ring a bell? Paranormal Activity, Insidious, hell—A House on Haunted Hill. A Haunted House!"
When no one replied, he continued his monologue, "You know why you never see niggas in those movies? Because we don't do shit like that. We don't go on trips to creepy places, we stay our black asses at home. If we hear a house is haunted, we don't go. We start seeing weird shit, we leave. We don't investigate or chance it, we get the fuck."
Dmitri turned in his seat to face his younger brother figure whose spine jerked upright, his gaze distressed. "Son, the house is not haunted. They basically redid the whole place last year. Walls, floors, everything. Whatever happened before, all went away with Katrina."
Jordan rubbed his hands and laughed. "To be honest, I'm just tryna hit the blunt and that fine Mexicana." He stopped himself when he remembered Zaria was in the backseat, but when he glanced at her in the rearview mirror, she was too busy biting her nails to notice. "If the ghosts want to watch, they're welcome to, because I will be putting on a show."
Dmitri snickered, but his amusement didn't last as memories of him and Anisa in bed came back all at once. He had been the one to take her virginity, and he'd been the one to make her regret it.
"I'm just saying, if y'all see any spooky shit, don't worry about picking me up. I'll catch another ride." With that, Desi opened the car door.
"Yeah, get out my ride," Jordan joked. "Hurry up and don't get fired before you can really start."
Desi popped the collar of his lime green polo and stepped out the truck, pointing at Jordan as he rolled down the window with a mischievous grin. "Remember what I said: any spooky shit, just let me be."
"Yeah, yeah." Jordan waved him off, then skidded out the rocky parking lot, kicking pebbles back at the lingering boy.
Dmitri watched Desi through the side mirror as they sped off. "What if he's right?"
"When is he ever right?" Jordan replied.
Dmitri nodded. "Yeah, you right."
"Now, put the address in the GPS. I gotta warm up before the finale."
"Amahd, I want to go home," Zaria cried out from her seat. "I'm not tryna play with little ghost children. I thought you said this would be fun."
"Yeah, fun for me. Not you," said Jordan.
Zaria gasped. "Ooh, soon as I get WiFi, I'm FaceTiming Mama and telling her everything."
Jordan slammed the breaks. Thankfully, the truck stopped at a red light. "Try me and you'll find your dumb tablet shattered, and I'll give you random wedgies for a month when you least expect them. The kind that makes it hurt to shit."
Zaria pressed her lips together, not daring to say anything else.
"I just want Anisa to look at me without the devil in her eyes. She hates my guts now," Dmitri uttered.
"Dmitri, that girl still loves you. That's why she looks at you like that," Jordan said, slowing down as he took the exit to the east side of New Orleans. "It's not the devil in her eyes. It's betrayal and hurt. She probably looks at you and remembers all the bad stuff you did, but you gotta know, she remembers all the good stuff, too. That's what matters. Just apologize."
"I tried. She wouldn't let me."
Jordan sighed and shook his head left to right. "How many times do I have to tell you? Girls never mean what they say. She might've stopped you, but deep down she wants you to keep trying. So, if you really want her, give her what she wants. But you gotta wait till the right time."
"Ain't no right time."
"Yes, there is. Give her time to warm up to you again. Casually sit and stand next to her and touch her arm and thigh. Do stuff that reminds her of the good times. Trust me it'll work."
Dmitri took a deep breath. "I don't know."
"Just try."
The truck hummed to a low speed. Dmitri observed the dented, rusted green, street sign as they turned onto a winding, crumbling road. Myrtle Road. Aged brown, limp foliage lined the curves of dirt. As the SUV approached the steepest curve, the green of the grass grew livelier. Flowers popped with flirty colors painting the petals. Bees swarmed around the blooms, appearing to be the only conscious life daring to dock the street. Until, they neared the long, curved driveway of the two-story, contemporary home with grand white columns and dark oak, double doors. The modern architecture and landscape were unlike any other home they'd ever seen in New Orleans. The ceiling-to-floor, wall-to-wall windows and custom structure didn't fit the eclectic style of the city. The unfamiliarity rubbed Dmitri wrong, unnerved him for some reason. Yet, he chalked up the uneasiness to the sad truth that he'd never gone too far from The Big Easy, constraining him to be hardened and ignorant to the rest of the world.
"Damn, this bit' is fi-yah!" Jordan didn't hide his admiration as he pulled in behind Anisa's running Hyundai, suggesting that the girls hadn't been there long.
"You ain't never lying," Dmitri responded. His pupils grew in awe. Since when could Anisa afford to rent a place so big and expensive. "Don't look haunted to me."
Jordan cut off the car and stepped out the SUV. He opened the back door to let Zaria out before grabbing both of their overnight bags. He threw his backpack over a shoulder and gripped the handle of Zaria's neon pink duffle bag.
"I need a pic," he said, dropping the bags next to the front tire and pulling his phone out his pocket to hand to Dmitri. "Get a pic of me in front of the crib."
Anisa turned off her engine. She, Ximena, and Nubia stepped out on the same beat, eyes glittering at Jordan as he posed at an angle in the middle of the driveway, careful to get the whole house in the background. He squinted his eyes and twisted his face in what they jokingly called a light-skinned face and raised his hands, making weird symbols with his fingers. Dmitri snapped the camera a few times. Jordan changed his pose with each click. Dmitri had no idea how his childhood friend managed to get over 50,000 followers on Instagram and even more on Snapchat and TikTok making those faces. He guessed people easily attracted to Jordan's out-there personality.
"I tell you about light-skins," Nubia laughed, shaking her full head of texlaxed hair and crossing her arms against her bulging chest.
Nubia stood at four-foot-eleven, but that didn't stop her from walking up to Jordan and laughing at his form.
Jordan rolled his eyes and let out a disgruntled sigh. "I'm the only light-skinned, black person here, so I take offense."
"Hey, what about me?" Zaria inquired in her polka dot romper and jelly sandals.
"You're not light-skinned. You're brown," Jordan responded and pointed to Dmitri. "Take a couple more. I want to make sure I have options."
"What he means is you're beautiful no matter your shade," Anisa cooed in a gentle tone as she walked over and put an arm around the little girl's bony shoulders. Zaria grinned up at her with sparkles in her naïve eyes.
Just then, Ximena jumped in Jordan's photo, emphasizing her curves and pursing her lips as she stood hip to hip with him.
Jordan brushed her away. "Uh-uh, no hoes on my feed."
Every girl's jaw fell to her feet. "Did you just call me a hoe?" Ximena rolled her neck, small fists balled tight by her side.
Jordan turned to face her, holding his hands up in pretend confusion. "Did I say something wrong?"
Ximena shoved his shoulder and swung her flowing hair as she walked away with gritted teeth.
"A'ight, calm down," Dmitri tried to break up the tension as he handed Jordan his iPhone. "Can we check out the crib? It's hot as the devil's sweaty nuts out here."
"Yeah, great idea," Anisa said and pulled out her phone to read the check-in instructions on the Airbnb app.
"Yeah, before I have to knock NBA Dumb Boy upside the head with my chanclas," Ximena added.
Nubia snickered as Anisa typed in the code on the door pad. "That might just make him dumber, and we don't need that."
Dmitri's hand gripped Jordan's bicep, stopping him from a rude retort. Jordan narrowed his eyes and shook his head with an exhale as Dmitri gave him a knowing look.
The security pad beeped. The lock clicked from the inside.
"Wait, let me record our reaction for the vlog," Ximena said as she pulled her high-tech camera from her bag and hit record.
Bit by bit, the grandiose doors parted, almost if they were giving them access to an exclusive club. Anisa gave one of the doors a soft push, giving her room to walk in.
"Whoa," she said as she did, taking in the open space of high ceilings and a well-thought out interior design of the foyer and surrounding areas. White, cylindrical columns adorned the foyer and held the roof up with prestige.
"What made you rent such a big house just for Mardi Gras when most of the festivities happen outside?" Dmitri asked Anisa who was standing next to him, taking in the wonder. Growing up in the 'hood had never allowed any of them to see a house so grand, and the fact that they had it to themselves for a night made it even grander.
Without looking his way and instead focusing her attention on the large, intricately sculpted, wooden cross that hanged dead center in the foyer with a Jesus figure on top that had been crafted with pristine details, Anisa said, "Ximena and I had a bit of money left over from our financial aid refunds, and we're not doing anything for Spring Break, so we figured we might as well go all out."
"Laissez les bons temps rouler," Ximena attempted a French accent, then cheesed at Anisa. "Did I say it right?"
"Psh," Jordan blew air and hissed, "I can barely understand your English let alone your French." He was obviously still salty from their previous interaction.
"Keep this up and you won't ever be able to understand anything again, cabrón," Ximena hissed back.
"Alright, alright, you two." Anisa rolled her eyes. "Let's go check out the rooms. I call the master bedroom!"
She started towards the left side of the double staircase and the others followed closely behind. As they moved past the wooden cross, creaks seeped from the aged wood. Dmitri's ears picked up on the sound. He looked around to figure out where it originated. Bit by bit the holy work of art budged until completely rotating down in a clockwise motion. The others stopped in their tracks at the strange occurrence. Jordan held his fists up ready to fight whatever had moved the cross, but nothing else was out of the ordinary.
"Okayyyy. Not strange at all," Dmitri commented, one eye squinted half expecting to see his doppelganger manifest in the foyer.
The girls braced themselves, anticipating the wooden sculpture to fall the ground with a loud pang. Bringing the shelves of candles and art canvases down with them. When nothing happened or made a peep, everyone's eyebrows arched.
"Dang, I wish I would've caught that on camera," Ximena said as her heart eased up from her stomach. "Paranormal videos get a lot of views."
Nubia shook her head. "I'm lowkey scared now. Not giving me good vibes at all."
Anisa rubbed her shoulder. "Don't freak yourself out, cuz. Good vibes only." Then, she pulled her into the lounge area.
"Ooh, they got a big Bluetooth speaker," Jordan said as he noticed the high-tech gear in the den area. "Allow me to DJ for y'all."
"No one wants to hear Youngboy," Ximena huffed.
"Too bad, so sad for no one," he responded and stomped over to the speaker to connect his phone.
Within seconds, Youngboy Never Broke Again's rhymes and flow drained all other noise from the house as Jordan turned the speaker up as loud as it could reach.
"I'm not going to make it through the night," Ximena murmured under the music and stomped up the stairs. Nubia and Anisa followed after her.
Dmitri watched as the young ladies left and shared their annoyance with each other and wondered how Jordan expected Ximena to sleep with him after being such an ass to her. Then, he couldn't help but wonder if he should listen to Jordan when it came to advice for fixing his relationship with Anisa. The disrespect towards women and the obsession with asserting masculinity that Jordan practiced were two of the ways Dmitri messed up in the first place. He wanted to heal Anisa, not break her down again. He'd just have to find his own way.