Page 52 of Falling Into Gravity

Still, she had work to do.

With a deep sigh and one last look around the neighborhood, Aku got back to the job she loved.

By the time the sun started slipping low behind the row of palm trees, Crescent Park had turned into a block party.

The Nike team had wrapped the last shot, Zaire hit every angle with precision, and Aku’s styling had him looking like a streetwear God. Not too polished - but just right…like the hood was still in him, but the world was finally catching up.

“I told you,” Zaire said, dapping up a group of old heads sitting on fold-up chairs in their yards. “Crescent made me.”

And Crescent showed out for him. The Nike team was thrilled at how diverse and inclusive this would make them look. With Zaire being the talk of the golfing world, they wanted first dibs on him.

Someone pulled out big speakers. An old head slid up with crates of vinyl and his own little setup. Kids were running around with neon blue snow cones. Aunties were carrying foil pans of hot links and macaroni pie like all this had been planned months ago, but you could tell they all just pulled something together last minute. Teen girls started slow wining barefoot in the grass with lashes long enough to fan butterflies.

And there was Aku…

Still in her work clothes—shorts and a Nike windbreaker knotted at the waist. Her bob had slight curls in them this time, bouncing like the bass in the music.

“You tryna leave?” Niah asked, sipping on a fruit punch freeze cup, her edges frizzed from the heat.

“I was,” Aku said, then paused as Zaire’s assistant passed her a plate of barbecue straight off the grill. “But…”

Zaire leaned over her shoulder grinning, grill showing. “C’mon, stylist of the year. You ain’t got nowhere better to be. We celebratin’ustonight.”

Could she say no to that and a plate of food that had her mouth watering?

“I can kick it for a lil while,” she agreed, biting into a sausage.

Niah wanted to jump for joy but kept it at bay.

Flags waved, but not in warning - just pride. Turf claimed not by war, but by heritage. By kids who grew up watching their older cousins get jumped in and prayed their own route would be different. Crescent Park wasn’t perfect, but it was home to so many. A block full of blue hearts and brown skin, where everybody knew whose mama sold the best funnel cakes, and who was most likely to make it out.

Today, Zaire was proof that making it, didn’t mean forgetting.

When KenTheMan blasted from the speakers, Aku and all the girls in the neighborhood started rapping.

With her hands on her knees, Aku rolled her body to the ground. “I ain’t never met nobody that ain’t crazy ‘bout me…I don’t get my way, swear to God it ain’t gon’ work.”

The young girls started screaming when they saw Aku could really dance. She cut up in that yard, without missing a beat.

Her little booty moved effortlessly, and she popped her body nonstop. It had been so long since she had a good time. Her girls were married and miles away now, so she hadn’t really been going out like that. Plus, business had picked up for her drastically, leaving her too tired to go out much.

Aku rapped word for word with each song the DJ played. It was all female rappers and she was in heaven. It was like they knew she needed the reminder that she was trulythat girlliving out her dreams. It was like a wakeup call, ‘cause Aku had clearly lost herself in the fairytales.

When it came to female rappers, she was in heaven. She loved when women popped their shit and stayed on niggas necks.

“Aye!” One or a few of the girls hyped her up, getting low with her.

They weren’t in competition, really just a group of girls dancing and having fun.

Aku danced with all the girls from earlier—the ones who stared at her with wide eyes like she was made of stardust. She dropped low when the beat told her to, twerking in the middle of a circle while everyone hyped her up like she was one of their own.

“She actin’ bad for real!” somebody yelled.

Aku snickered, accepting the blunt Zaire had in rotation for just the two of them. Niah wasn’t really a smoker, but she had been taking shots with an old man crew that seemed to enjoy her young company— in the most innocent way. Between the music and more shots, they’d dropped gems on her about men and what to avoid.

Zaire laughed. “Let her cook!”

Her skin was warm, mouth sweet from the jungle juice somebody poured in a red Solo cup, and her heart—for once—felt light. Aku smiled so much, her face became numb.

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