by Dream Jordan
A tall skinny girl dressed in all black stood next to me. Was she alone at this party? Or did she have a whack friend like me? I tried to think of an excuse to talk to her, but I quickly chickened out when she looked over at me and rolled her eyes.
Oh well.
I had no idea why Naleejah even bothered to invite me to the freaking party in the first place. If she was going to have her head stuck up Rahiem’s butt the whole night, what was my purpose for being here? I was so tight about the whole situation. I had to let her know.
I tapped Naleejah on the arm. “Can I holler at you for a minute?” (Yeah, I really wanted to holler at her.)
“What’s up?” she asked nonchalantly.
“Um, can we talk in private for a second?”
Naleejah turned to Rahiem and said, “Honey, girl talk. I’ll be back, okay?”
“Hurry back, baby,” said Rahiem. He licked his big lips, trying to be sexy. Not sexy.
Naleejah and I walked out into the hallway where I could hear myself speak. We stopped in front of the kitchen. Then I got right down to the point. “Listen, I’m not feeling this party, and I—”
Naleejah cut me off. “But you act like it’s my fault Rahiem’s homeboy didn’t show up.”
“I didn’t say it’s your fault. I said I’m not feeling this.”
“Well, at least try to have fun.”
“Yeah, I already tried,” I said. “And I’m not having fun. How long are we staying?”
“Dang, but we just got here!” Naleejah exclaimed. “And it’s not up to me. Rahiem’s our ride, remember?”
Oh yeah.
I was piping-hot pissed. Stuck in faraway Long Island with no way to get home. “Guess you really screwed me this time,” I said.
“Please, nobody twisted your arm to come here,” Naleejah snapped. Then she sashayed away from me. My feet felt like heavy rocks as I followed behind her.
Once we made it to the living room, T-Pain’s song, “Buy U a Drank,” came on.
Yeah, I needed a drink.
“Ohhh, this is my song,” cried a chubby girl with long box-braids. She was standing in the middle of the room, doing a booty-clap. Then she hiked her jean skirt up to her thighs and started humping the air. Two tall guys, dressed in white jerseys and shorts hanging low, sandwiched her and started grinding away, X-rated style. I had to look away. I stood in the corner, hiding, feeling so out of place.
Finally, a spot opened up on the black leather sofa. I collapsed on it, laid my head back, and sadly gazed at the bare beige walls. About ten minutes later, my song came on, so I started bobbing my head to the music, trying to look cool and laidback. “We fly high … no lie,” I sung to myself. “Balling.”
From the corner of my eye, I peeped a light-skinned baldheaded guy sitting next to me, leaning over the glass coffee table about to prepare a fat blunt. He split the cigar with a knife, shook out the tobacco, poured in the weed, licked the cigar, and stuck it back together with his spit. Then he took a lighter and ran the flame along the seam. “Yo, where’s T-Money?” Baldhead called out to no one in particular. “He’s supposed to get the first hit. It’s his party.”
Nobody answered, so Baldhead decided to begin the puff and pass ceremony without the guest of honor. I was the closest one to him, so he handed the blunt to me first. “Nah, I’m straight,” I said, and passed the blunt to the girl sitting next to me. She was a dark-skinned, short-haired, short-skirt-wearing chick. She took a few greedy puffs, passed, then waited a few minutes, and out of nowhere, jumped up singing, “What it is! What it is! Get it how you live!” Then she looked my way and started singing, “Bet cha can’t do it like me. Yeah, yeah, bet cha can’t do it like me!” Then she came up on me and started doing a booty-dance. This girl was out of her mind! Time to vacate. I bounced from the living room.
By now the house was overflowing with people and smelled like weed and strong perfume. Heads in the kitchen, the stairway, the bathroom, against the wall, on the porch—people, people everywhere. Loudness all around me. Now, where could I go for some peace? I wandered around aimlessly.
As soon as I came across a staircase, T-Money was coming down the steps. I knew who he was when a swarm of chicks flew at him, screaming his name, pecking kisses on his cheek and cooing at this five-foot-tall Mohawk-wearing rapper. He looked kinda silly, if you ask me.
I walked past the frenzy, stepped over a few more heads, and slinked further to the back, not knowing where I was going but desperate to be anywhere but here.
Finally, I discovered a back door and cracked it open. My eyes met with a huge backyard. Grass looking like a smooth green blanket. The main highlight was the pool, blue-green water sparkling by moonlight and nobody inside of it. If I had a bathing suit, I swear, I would’ve said, “Freak it!” and jumped right in.
My situation was not cool, and the night was chilly. My hands were getting cold, my legs too … This stupid short skirt, this stupid “big-time” party. Man, I wanted to go home so bad.
“Yo, how you doin’, sweetheart?” A deep voice said to my back. I swiveled around to face a brown-skinned guy wearing a black velour tracksuit in the summer. True it was cool outside, but not that cool. He wore sunshades in the dark, and a thick platinum rope chain that was bigger than him. On the spot, I could tell he was a wannabe rapper, or a plain old wannabe, the kind of guy who tried too hard.
“My name’s Keith,” he said, extending his hand.
I shook his sweaty hand and said, “Diamond.”
“Pretty name,” said Keith. Then he leaned closer to me and said, “And you is sexy!”
Oh brother. The T-shirt again.
“Mm, you smell like strawberries,” Keith said, smiling. “Strawberry shortcake.”
“Thanks,” I said flatly.
“Do you have a man?” asked Keith.
Okay, he was quick about it. And stupid too! Couldn’t he tell that I wasn’t interested in him by the way I was looking at everything but him?
To get away from him, I used the most reliable lie I could think of. “Um … nice meeting you, but I have to use the bathroom,” I said, wanting to let him down easy. I was probably the hundredth girl rejecting him that night.
“Do you know where the baffroom is?” he asked. “’Cause I can show you.”
“Yeah, I know where it is.”
“But I can come with you, if you want,” he said, holding my elbow lightly.
“No, no, that’s okay.” I jerked my elbow away. Did Keith have rocks for brains? Shoo, fly, shoo!
He wouldn’t shoo, so I hurried inside the house.
I don’t know what came over me, but suddenly, I wanted a drink. I needed a drink to forget where I was. I was miserable at this party. Didn’t fit in. Didn’t want to fit in. I wanted to go home, but I was stuck like Chuck. I headed to the kitchen and asked a random guy to point out the liquor. I hadn’t touched alcohol in years, but tonight was the night to take a little sip.
Well, I didn’t take a little sip; I took ten big swallows of Alizé. The sky-blue liquid trickled down my throat, and before I knew it, I was light-headed, but feeling nice. I was still standing in the kitchen—or should I say, swaying—when I felt a light tap on my shoulder.
I spun around to face Charles, of all people, looking mighty fine and surprised to see me. “Hey, Kate, what’s up, baby,” he exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
“What’s up,” I replied coolly, trying to ignore just how good he looked.
He paused and tilted his head to the side. “Kate, what’s wrong? Did I do something to you?”
“No, just tired,” I lied.
“You twisted?” he asked. “Let me smell your breath.” He bent down to get near my mouth. Then he pressed me against the stove and blew his hot breath in my ear. His body felt good, but I was still mad at him.
“Don’t worry about what I’m drinking,” I said, pushing him away from me.
Three tall guys stormed into the kitchen, talking loud and demandi
ng drinks. Charles bent down again, this time to whisper ear. “Hey, I can hardly hear myself talk. You want to go out to the backyard?”
“But I just came from back there.”
“Well, let’s go back again.” Charles grabbed my arm and led me out the back door.
Two fly girls dressed in identical pink were blocking the doorway. They parted ways to let us through. A trio of guys in do-rags and white tees were standing poolside, but when Charles and I sat in the lounge chairs close by, the trio suddenly decided to go back into the house.
Charles pulled his chair close to mine, and his face lit up like the moon as he stared at me. “I’m really glad to see you here … looking all good.”
I didn’t return the compliment, even though he looked more than good. Shoot, let me play nonchalant, for a change.
“Well, who are you here with?” he asked.
“Naleejah.”
Charles shifted his eyes away from me and stared at the ground.
“Well, how do you know T-Money?” I asked.
Charles was still staring at the ground when he explained. “T-Money is down with my brother. Everybody knows T-Money. Who doesn’t?”
“I don’t.”
“Well, that’s because you’re special,” said Charles, finally looking back up again.
I shrugged. “Apparently not that special.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I thought you were supposed to call me,” I said, staring at him accusingly.
Charles paused for what felt like five minutes, and then he spoke. “Well, I did try to holler at you.… I had called Nagee—”
“Na-lee-jah,” I corrected.
“Whatever her name is—I called her—but um, she wasn’t picking up her phone.…”
“Well, did you pay your phone bill yet?”
“Oh yeah!” exclaimed Charles. “I finally got a new cell phone—pay as you go.” Charles laughed, dug a pen and piece of paper out his pocket, jotted down his number, and gave it to me. “Use it.”
“Unlike you, I will,” I said.
When Charles noticed I was softening up, he pulled his chair so close, our arms touched. But before he could get romantic, a posse of chicks in skimpy bathing suits came pouring out the back door, laughing and screaming as a gang of guys followed behind in hot pursuit. Next thing you know, splash. One by one, the girls were being thrown into the pool.
“Mm, this is a bit extra,” said Charles. “You want to go back inside?”
“Yeah, okay.”
Charles and I went back inside and were met with rap music pumping louder than before. He shook his head in disgust. “Man, I can’t even hear myself talk.… Let’s go upstairs to my man’s bedroom where it’s quiet.”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so.”
Working pretty fast, ain’t cha?
“Come on, now,” said Charles. “You can trust me. We’re not going to do anything—”
“Just to talk?” I asked. Didn’t want him thinking I was easy.
“For sure,” said Charles. “Just to talk—I promise.”
* * *
Charles and I did very little talking. Once we made it upstairs and into a large dimly lit bedroom, he sat me down on the king-sized bed and apologized for not trying harder to get in touch with me. Still feeling a nice light-headed buzz, I accepted his apology. No more beef between us. Then Charles grabbed my hand and fiddled with my fingers as if trying to feel every bone. The warmth from his hand set my whole body on fire. I let out a soft moan, hoping he didn’t hear me. He heard me, because the next thing I knew, Charles released my hand, got up from the bed, then click went the light.
Charles came back to the bed and groped for my face in the darkness. He gently caressed my cheeks, my eyebrows, like I was a precious work of art. He kissed my neck. Behind my ears. I was going crazy inside. I couldn’t believe I had the boy of my dreams, someone I thought I could never get next to like this, making sweet music with me.
Charles laid his warm body on top of mine and searched for my lips. Mmmmm. Electrifying. When our lips met for the first time, it was a pleasure I’d never felt before in my entire life. Our kiss was so warm and sweet, like chocolate pudding just off the stove, like a blanket on a cold winter day, like red roses in the summer, like champagne and light rain, like anything that makes you feel giddy and alive and all good inside.
On the smooth tip, Charles slowly lifted my shirt over my head and I let him. As he fumbled with my bra strap, he whispered my name like he was in pain. “Kate … I been wanting you for so long.” He couldn’t get the strap undone, so he gave up on it. Then he grabbed the back of my head and crushed his lips to mine. He started tonguing me down like crazy. He was so, so passionate, it felt like we were making love already. “Mm, you smell so good, baby,” he whispered. “I want you so bad.” Then his hand started creeping inside the elastic of my thong.
That’s when I had to stop him. “No,” I said, removing his paw.
“Please?”
“No.”
As hot as I was, there were still too many questions crowding in my mind: Should I go all the way with Charles tonight? Was he officially my man now? Would it hurt? Would he care about me afterwards? I wanted my first time to be special and romantic. But where were the candles? The roses? Why were we laid up in someone else’s bed? I felt my first time should be much more magical than this. But with Charles’s every touch, I was growing weaker by the moment.… I was about to give in.
I’d always wanted Charles to be my first anyway. We had history. I trusted him. I was deeply attracted to him. Never said I was saving myself for marriage, did I? Um, then again, we were moving kinda fast … weren’t we?
“Please, Kate?” Charles continued to beg. “Don’t you want me too?”
Of course I do. That’s what I wanted to say. Instead, I stayed quiet, still thinking should I, or shouldn’t I?
Then Charles brushed my lips with his and said, “Baby, I’ll be careful.… I can control it.”
Oh no. Hold up. I didn’t think so.
Control it?
Charles must’ve bumped his head if he thought he was getting some without wearing protection. If he lost control of a single drop, I would be in big belly trouble.
No condom, no coochie, no exceptions to the rule.
I grabbed his hand and said, “If we’re going to do something, you have to wrap it up … I’m sorry.”
Charles kissed my neck, trying to take my mind away, but I was fully alert by now. I wasn’t doing it raw. Period. Guys always want the sex, but they never want the baby. So I was steady guarding mine like I had Fort Knox between my legs.
“But I’m clean baby,” Charles whispered. “I took a bath.”
“It’s not about that,” I said. “I don’t want to get pregnant, and I don’t know who you been with before me.” I didn’t mean to be so blunt, but Charles was trying to open a case that was already closed. If I hadn’t taken so many trips with homegirls to the abortion and cootie clinic, I might not have been so strong. But I’ve seen too many girls suffer while the boys be carefree and moving on.
Charles finally realized I wasn’t budging, so he got up in a huff and said, “I’ll go get a condom. Be back.” He closed the door behind him.
* * *
I lay waiting in the dark, anxious, nervous. Tonight was the night. A wave of excitement raced down my spine. Oh man. It was about to go down.
When Charles opened the bedroom, I saw a crack of light behind him, and then I heard a girl’s voice. A familiar voice. Naleejah’s voice? Yes, the voice belonged to her.
“Charles, why are you avoiding me?” Naleejah screamed. “You got some booty from me, now you got some other ho up in here? Who is she?”
At first I thought I was hearing things. Then I swallowed Naleejah’s words and their meaning. I felt like I had just been punched in the stomach. Quietly, I laid in the dark, staring at the outline of Naleejah’s body in the doorway, unsur
e whether I wanted to get up and bust her stuff, or stay right where I was until I calmed down.
“Get out of here, you’re drunk!” Charles yelled, and pushed Naleejah from the doorway. He shut the door and locked it: bam, click.
I sat straight up, calmly slipped on my shirt, and waited for Charles to explain himself.
Well, he was taking too long to say something, so I set it off. “You can’t even keep it in your pants, huh?”
“No, it’s not like that—see I—”
“See you what?” I butted in. “First of all, you lied to me. You said the broad wasn’t picking up her phone, but you were the one busy picking her up.”
“Kate, listen to me, please.… I did call for you, but … well, let’s just put it this way: She showed up at my house instead of you.”
“Wow,” I said, shaking my head. “Such a dirty dog.”
“But why are you mad at me for?” asked Charles. “You weren’t trying to give me any.”
“Oh, so now I’m just a piece to you?”
“Of course not,” said Charles, trying to grab at my hand.
“Get off of me,” I snapped.
“Kate, come on, now,” pleaded Charles. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry for you.”
“Listen, she meant nothing to me. Just a quick hit and that’s it. I thought you already knew how she was living.”
I felt my eyes narrow into spiteful mean slits when I said, “Yeah, I do know how she’s living, so you better get yourself checked. The grimy broad probably got more crabs than Red Lobster … and she ain’t even all that. Fake hair, fake eyes … y’all deserve each other. A couple of fake hos.”
“Kate, wait!” Charles called at my back. Too late. I was already up and on my way to settle the score with Naleejah. I was so angry, my head hurt. It was hard to breathe. My anger was in control instead of me.
“Kate, hold up!”
“Don’t follow me,” I warned Charles. “You better fall back, for real.”
* * *
