by Dream Jordan
“I’ll tell you eventually … just not now.”
“Aw see, you suck!”
“Anyway, I’m early because I needed to get out the house. Our air conditioner broke. I was sweating mad bullets in the crib.”
“That’s not a good look,” I said, careful not to bring up my own home-life situation. No need to be sharing my pitiful business all the time.
Charles rubbed his sexy stomach. “Man, my mom’s been bugging me to get this food all morning. She heard the spare ribs go quick. I gotta be the first in line. Feel me?”
“Yeah, I feel you,” I said.
Mm, I wanted to feel him. Charles’s arms wrapped around me again. Oh man, I was so confused about my outlook on him.
Suddenly, Mr. King spotted me through the gate, and frantically waved for me to come inside. I asked if Charles could come, too.
“Only if he’s here to help,” Mr. King replied hastily. I looked over at Charles. He shrugged and said, “I’ll help, if it means I get to hang with you.”
With every sweet line Charles laid, he was making it so hard for me to act aloof toward him. Luckily, the beautiful image of Percy kept popping into my brain. Percy’s stunner smile and bangin’ body was like whoa. It was time for a change anyway. Charles already had his chance.
But when Charles was ordered to pick up stray trash around the garden, and he said he was doing it “just for me,” my heart skipped three beats. I watched his swaggerlicious moves around the garden, picking up trash just for me. Why were his legs so freaking sexy? Why did the sweat dripping down his face drive me crazy? I was in seventh heaven watching my boy work it just for me.
Then Mr. King busted my bubble by calling Charles inside a shed to break down boxes. From the look on Charles’s face, I could tell he was pissed. I kinda felt bad for dragging him into this.
Ten minutes passed. Now Mr. King had me sitting at another small round table folding garden literature into pamphlets.
Charles suddenly came up from behind and whispered in my ear, “Yo, I swear this dude about to catch a beat down. Tell me why he’s ordering me around like he crazy?” I flinched from feeling his delicious warm raspberry bubblegum breath in my ear. OMG.
Recovering my sanity, I said, “Well, help me with these, please?” I pointed to the heap of paper I had to fold. To tell you the truth, I didn’t need his help; I just wanted his company a bit longer.
“Nah,” said Charles. “Mr. Crazy already told me we can’t work together. He thinks we won’t get anything done. So I’m out. I’ll be back for my food, okay, baby?”
See, why did Charles have to call me “baby” all out of the blue? You know how it gets when it’s been a long time since you been somebody’s baby. You lose your freaking mind. You conveniently forget the bad times and let the same doggish dude back in your life. My mind was such a murky mess right now.
To clear my head, and to take a break from pamphlet duty, I walked Charles toward the exit. Charles stopped short in front of the pond, dug a quarter out of his pocket, and threw it in before I could stop him.
“That’s not a wishing well!” I said, grabbing his arm. “Don’t you see the goldfish swimming around?”
“Oh, my bad,” said Charles. He quickly bent down, fished his quarter out the water, and wiped his hands dry on his shorts.
“What were you wishing for … to choke the fish out?” I joked.
“Nah,” Charles said. “I was wishing for your forgiveness … your one-hundred-percent forgiveness.”
Oh boy. Now where did that come from? It was fine when Charles was joking about “us,” but now I could tell he was dead serious.… Apparently, he knew I was still hurt. Must have been a case of classic Kate: I think I’m hiding my true feelings, acting like everything’s all good, but somehow my innermost feelings always manage to shine through.
“Kate … it’s not the same between us. I can feel it.”
“Look, let’s drop that already, please? What’s done is done. We’re good. Okay?”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Well, you don’t have to believe me,” I snapped, suddenly thinking how funny it is that dudes who do the dirt always try to act so freaking clean. They be on some whodunit, when they done it. Shoot, Charles needed to learn the word “accountability,” just like I had to.
After beating up so many girls with no apology, Tisha had to drill it in my head that I was wrong; that I needed to accept responsibility for my own actions. Nobody made me stomp those girls out; so I fully deserved the trouble I was constantly getting into.
“You know what, Charles,” I began, “you really need to stop acting so clueless. It’s really annoying.”
Charles stood in one spot, staring at me with sad eyes. “But you been on my mind for a long time.… I just wish you’d give me another chance.”
Growing frustrated, I didn’t want to prolong this pointless scene, so I finally said, “Anyway, like I said, we’re cool. We’ll always be cool. So can we move on, for real this time?”
“Yeah, okay,” said Charles, staring at the ground. “We can move on.”
“And listen, thanks for helping me out,” I said.
“Anything for you, Kate … but you already know.”
I flashed a smile, and quickly looked away before I got trapped by his hypnotic dark-brown eyes. My crush since the second grade had already crushed me once before. Never again.
“Mr. King is coming our way,” Charles blurted. “Catch you later.” He left the garden, gliding with that smooth walk of his that no one else can duplicate. I swear, his swagger was so official. Too bad his faithfulness was not.
Chapter 5
When Charles returned to the garden, a mob of people were already standing on a long line, anxious to get their grub on. Old-people’s soul music was playing. The sun was shining brightly. It was turning out to be a really nice day. Surprisingly, Mr. King let the volunteers eat first, so I was already fed and relaxing in a chair near the front entrance when Charles walked up to me. “Hey, why didn’t you save me a spot on line?” he asked.
“Shoot, why didn’t you save me?” I countered. “Mr. King was riding my bra strap all day!”
“Well, I hope the food is as good as everybody is claiming,” said Charles. “That line is way too long for it not to be.”
“The food is mad good,” I said, rubbing my belly. “Especially the potato salad. Trust.”
“Mm, can’t wait,” said Charles, licking his sexy lips.
I was glad Charles seemed to get over his “forgiveness” question. I wasn’t in the mood for rehashing old wounds. At the moment, all I could see were sunbeams spreading throughout the garden, all I could smell were burgers, chicken, and ribs simmering on the grill, and all I could hear was soul music pumping out of a nearby speaker.
“Kate, let’s get this party started right,” Charles said, grabbing my hand and hauling me out of my chair.
A corny old-school jam song was now playing, and the next thing I knew, we were dancing to it. Charles pulled me close to him, spun me around a few times, and I couldn’t stop laughing as he sang off tune, jacking up the words to the song.
A trio of women stopped what they were doing to watch us. I heard one of them say, “Aww, they’re so adorable. I remember when I was that age.”
I must admit, we were adorable, and it was so rare for Charles to show his silly side in front of other people. He had a lot of hard-core friends holding him back from playfulness, just like I did … before I met Felicia.
When the song was over, I was out of breath from being whirled around. Charles was busy grinning at me like a schoolboy.
We sat on a long green bench located in the cut. Plenty of space on the bench, but Charles chose to sit so close our legs made delicious contact. Then he touched my hair out of nowhere. “I like your braids.”
I laughed at this. “Picture that. These raggedy braids are almost two weeks old!”
“Doesn’t matter, I still like them,” he
said, touching my hair again. My braids reached the middle of my neck. The warmth from Charles’s fingers brushing against my neck had me going bananas inside.
“Shoot, I wish I had your hair,” I said. “Yours is so much longer than mine.”
“And you’re so much prettier than me,” Charles replied, reaching out to pinch my cheeks.
“Boy, stop!” I said, playfully slapping his hand away.
“I can’t help it if I love your chubby cheeks.” Then Charles started playing with my braids again. “So who did your hair?” he asked.
“Me,” I said proudly. I had mastered doing my own hair two months ago. Before being shipped off to Common Grounds, Lynn had taught me how to be self-sufficient and braid my own hair. Now I could rock cute cornrows without paying a soul. Considering the pitiful allowance the group home gave, this was a really good look.
“So can you hook me up?” asked Charles.
“Of course I can.”
“How much you charging?”
“You don’t have to pay me, silly.”
“Wow,” said Charles, shaking his head. “See what I mean about you?”
“What?” I asked.
“You’re so sweet.”
“Oh, stop,” I said, but I wanted him to keep going. I love hearing good things about myself. “So when do you want your hair done?”
“Today?” asked Charles, smoothing down his lovely mane.
It didn’t take me long to think about it. The fund-raiser was over at five. I could be in and out of the African Festival before six. I was in no rush to go home. Why should I rush home? I could already picture Charles sitting on the floor in front of me, his luscious arms resting on my lonely little legs.
“Today is good,” I said. “Around six o’clock, no later than seven?”
“Cool,” replied Charles. “Call me when you’re about to come through.”
“Okay, let me get your digits.”
“How you gonna lose my number, Kate?”
“My bad,” I said. “I’m unorganized.” But between me and you, I didn’t lose his number. When Felicia had passed me Charles’s new number, I threw it straight in the trash. Hey, I didn’t want to be tempted.
But now, don’t ask me how, I was kinda open to Charles again, as my make-believe boyfriend: someone I could stare at for hours, drool over secretly, and get my rocks off from a simple touch, or a hug; hey, he was better than nothing. At least I knew not to take the boy seriously anymore. You can never be disappointed when you already know what’s up. Basically, I just planned to keep Charles far away from my heart and enjoy him up close and personal.
Charles grabbed a pen from the table, jotted down his cell number on a pamphlet, and pushed it my way.
I threw the pamphlet in my pocket and said, “It shouldn’t take me too long to get at you.”
“I’ll wait for you forever, girl,” Charles replied, with a wink.
He joined the long line to get his food, came back fifteen minutes later with two paper plates wrapped in foil, and before walking out the gate, he blew an air kiss at me.
I playfully blew a kiss back, thinking how much I missed “us.” I missed us back in the day, how we used to talk for hours sitting on random stoops; I missed us buggin’ out on the basketball court shooting hoops, playing defense—my favorite part—when his sweet chocolate body constantly bumped against mine.
Although Charles and I would probably never work out as a couple, he made me feel so good inside—even as my friend. And who knew.… Maybe we would end up like Tisha and her new husband, Greg. They were friends since grade school, too. Had their ups and downs. Greg acting like a clown, Tisha constantly turning him down. It took them over twenty years to figure out they were meant for each other. First, a reconnection on Facebook. Now they’re married and headed to Paris in August. Such a beautiful love story.…
The only sad part: Tisha was on leave and no longer my social worker. She said I could call her anytime, but why would I? This was the happiest time in her life, and the saddest time in mine. If I called Tisha, I knew all of my new group home problems would be spilled, no matter how hard I tried to keep them stuffed inside.
“Kate, I need you to help me finish breaking down boxes,” said Mr. King, jolting me out of my thoughts. “Your little boyfriend just abandoned me.”
Boyfriend. I wished … well, sometimes, I wished.
I begrudgingly helped with the boxes. Then I sat back outside at the table with a heavy plop. With Charles gone, I suddenly started feeling lonely. I looked all around me. Everybody eating, dancing, and merrily chitchatting with each other. Me? By myself. Stuck at the table and bored to death.
Didn’t last for long, though. Here comes Mr. King again, forcing a bunch of pamphlets into my hands, nudging me outside the front gate. As crowded as it was, he still wanted more people inside. He was raising money for the homeless and he wanted the world to know it.
I stood out front, doing my thing. Passersby either snatched the pamphlets from me, ignored the pamphlets, or wanted to talk for hours about the pamphlets. Growing tired on my feet, I was relieved when I got down to my last pamphlet; I gladly gave it away and called it a day.
I went back inside the garden and found an empty chair near the front gate. My feet thanked me. Ahhh, what a freaking load off! I hoped Mr. King wouldn’t spot me for a while. I needed some time to rest.
A few peaceful minutes passed. I closed my eyes. Then opened them. Instinctively, I glanced toward the front gate.
Then boom.
I was hit with my third shock of the day.
Percy. In the flesh. Headed my way. His electrical smile aimed dead at me.
Chapter 6
My head was spinning from the sudden pull of two dudes. Percy? Charles? All in one day? Well, let me pop my collar, ’cause I didn’t know I had it like that. I mean, Charles, I could understand. We had so much history. But Percy? I’m sorry. It just didn’t seem possible that I could snag a super fine guy like him. No disrespect to me … I’m only keeping it real.
“Hey,” Percy said, before grabbing a nearby chair.
“Hey,” I replied, quite baffled.
“I’m on my lunch break so I can’t stay long,” Percy explained. “Just wanted to stop by and say sorry about earlier.… I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that.”
“Oh … it’s okay,” I stuttered.
“Soon as you left, my mother jumped on my case like she always does. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”
“It’s nothing,” I said. “I did what I did back then … I can’t deny that.”
“Yeah, you were a wild child, for real!”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“But you shouldn’t be embarrassed,” said Percy. “Look at you now, volunteering … doing your thing.”
I flashed an awkward smile.
“So what’s your real name?”
“Kate.”
“Pretty name.”
“Thanks.” I beamed.
Percy stared at me deeply with his clear light-brown eyes before saying, “This is my first time seeing you so up-close. Your skin is flawless. You look like a perfect ebony doll.”
I looked down at the grass, blushing. Although Percy’s words seemed like they were lifted straight from a romance novel, I was reading into it big-time, and loving every minute of it. The fact that Percy could appreciate my dark skin tone really made me feel good. I’m saying, turn on any commercial, movie, or music video, and you’re never going to see a thick, dark-skinned girl like me being considered the object of beauty. Point-blank. Period.
Percy touched my hand. “So how can I make it up to you?”
I looked up into Percy’s eyes, so beautiful and intense, burning straight through me. “Make what up?” I asked, in a daze.
“For putting you on blast,” he explained, taking his hand away. “I feel really bad about that.”
I was still so taken aback by Percy’s magical appearance, I jus
t didn’t know what to say.
Percy tapped my leg, breaking me out of my trance. “Well, what are you doing later?”
“Oh, um, meeting my friend at the African Street Festival.”
“Can I come with you?”
What? Could he come? My face lit up like a thousand suns. Of course he could come! Imagine me showing up at the festival with a hottie like Percy on my arm. No more pitiful third-wheeling. I’d be rolling with a serious dime by my side.
“If you want to,” I said, hoping Percy couldn’t hear the excitement bubbling in my stomach like gas.
“Cool,” Percy began. “Let me get your math so we can coordinate.”
“Oh, um, I don’t have a cell phone.”
Percy frowned. “Okay, I’ll pick you up around four. Can you wait for me right here?”
“Yeah, I can wait,” I said in my calmest tone. But oh man, I couldn’t wait. I was too excited for words. The day couldn’t move quickly enough. I wished I had a time machine so I could press fast-forward. Things were finally looking up for me, and it was about dang time.
Chapter 7
When two o’clock rolled around, I was ready to strangle Mr. King. He was on my last nerve, asking me to do every freaking thing when he had other volunteers chilling like villains in front of his silly-looking face. I could no longer take him in my ear, yelling, “Kate, do this! Kate, do that!” True, I’m young. But I ain’t dumb. I don’t let nobody take advantage of me. And if it wasn’t for Percy’s promise to come get me at four o’clock, I would’ve been told Mr. King to buzz off. Volunteering is one thing. Slavery is another.
So when I spotted Mr. King scurrying toward me carrying a large empty trash bag, I said to myself, nope, not trying to be his garbage girl. I ducked him by pretending I had to use the bathroom. After that, I dipped and dodged the terrible tyrant until a quarter to four. When Mr. King zipped one way, I zipped the other. Maybe I was wrong for deserting my duty; maybe he was wrong for treating me like a greasy slave. Whatever the case, I was too busy thinking about my date with Percy to really care at this point.
