Free Uptown Dreams by Kelli London Page A

corner vending cart. Hotdogs, gyros, chicken on sticks topped off by bread. The food she’d once consider unsanitary now seemed delicious, and her stomach agreed, growling. “This is the best one in the city, trust me.” He ordered for them both, then handed her the chicken on a stick that the vendor had sloshed with some sort of spicy barbecue sauce.
    Jamaica almost swallowed the stick; she’d scarfed it down so fast, then licked her fingers. She couldn’t help herself. In gulps, she dusted off the can of soda she and Mateo shared, then let out a loud belch. If her parents could only see her now, they’d lose everything holy about them.
    â€œC’mon,” Mateo urged, pulling her along. “We’re almost there.”
    Almost where? she wanted to ask, but didn’t. So far Mateo had made good on everything he’d ever said to her. She saw no need to question anything he said. She trusted him like a sibling—more than her sibling now that her sister was MIA with the money.
    â€œ Here! ” he said, inflecting his word again. It was still a funny habit that she had to stop herself from laughing at. It was his quirk. Everyone was allowed at least one. “ This is it.”
    Jamaica stood face-to-face with Starbucks, an old favorite from her Connecticut boarding school days. It now loomed in front of her like an enemy, taunting her about being broke and unable to afford the specialty coffees she’d once downed like free water. “Here? Not here ...”
    Mateo pulled her inside, then through the crowd of ‘Buckies. It was as packed as all the others she’d been to, and the smell of coffee reminded her of how good she’d had it at her old boarding school.
    â€œ Hey. ” Mateo waved to someone behind the counter, then walked to the side of it and stood next to the employee door.
    Jamaica noticed that some guy was waving back before Mateo snatched her by the arm, and pulled her with him. Now they both stood in front of the door.
    â€œTerrence! My man,” Mateo said, giving him a pound as soon as the door opened.
    â€œWhat it do, bro?” Terrence asked, walking through the door and leaning against the side counter.
    Mateo nodded toward Jamaica. “This is my homegirl, little sister, best friend . And she has something to ask you .” He turned to Jamaica. “Terrence is my boy, and the manager here. Now what did you have to ask him again ... since you need to pay your way?”
    Jamaica raised her brows, cringed a little, and swallowed her surprise. “Are you hiring?”
    Terrence gave a sympathetic smile. “If you were over sixteen, I could.”
    Her face fell, and she felt stupid. Hurt, even. “Okay.”
    â€œStay right here while I’ll bring you two some iced coffees. I was just getting ready to leave the plantation and go meet my mom at the theater. There’s some chick there who’s digging me hard,” Terrence said.
    Jamaica perked up. “Theater?”
    Mateo smiled. “Forgot to tell you. His mom is my mom’s boss. She’s in charge.”
    Jamaica nearly jumped across the counter when she grabbed Terrence’s hand. “I am old enough to be a stagehand. I’m sure of that. I can even work off the books. Please!” she begged.
    Terrence looked at Mateo. “You said she was determined.” He turned to Jamaica. “Our boy here told me about you. We just had to see how much you wanted a job. If you were only willing to work in theater, I knew you weren’t the type of employee my mom would tolerate. You have to be thirsty to work for her—and not a groupie. It’s not going to be easy. Sometimes there’s toilets, vomiting, fights—things a janitor or police aren’t around for.” He grinned, and nodded. Did everything but give her a verbal yes. But his walking out the door and motioning for them to follow him was all the affirmation she needed.