Caught Up

by Amir Abrams

  “Hang out and chill.” I say this as if it’s an obvious answer.

  She smiles. “Then you can hang out and chill here.”

  “It’s not the same,” I argue. “It’s boring here.”

  She tilts her head. “And why is that? Because there’ll be supervision? Because you won’t be able to crawl yourself up in here all hours of the day and night, like your cousins do?”

  I huff. It’s obvious this conversation is going nowhere. She’s not going to ever let me stay any more than an hour over there. So I might as well let it go.

  You can always sneak over there while they’re at work.

  Yeah, that’s true. They’d never know.

  Yeah, right. Aunt Tiny would love nothing more than to have something to smear in Mom’s face.

  I sigh, deflated and defeated. Until I can devise a plan to get out of this castle of boredom, I’ll simply have to grin and bear it. For now, anyway.

  “Never mind,” I say, folding my arms. “Forget I even asked.”

  5

  “Next customer, please,” I quickly say, scanning the crowded area the minute I am logged in to my register. It’s Friday night. And the mall is always packed on Friday nights, especially since the food court is where most of the kids from the area hang out, along with the fact that it’s right across from the entrance to the AMC movie theater. So it’s extra busy up in here. And my feet are killing me.

  I sigh, taking the next customer’s order, then the next.

  “Uh, Special K, you might wanna help get this line movin’ a li’l faster,” this girl Sasha Green says, popping her chewing gum as she breezes by me. She calls me Special K because “you’re real special,” she’d said to me, smirking as she looked me up and down my first day here, after I’d held out my hand and introduced myself to her. “Hi, I’m Kennedy.”

  She stared at my outstretched hand, turning her nose up as if I had dog poop caked up beneath my fingernails. “And I’m not interested.” She turned her head, shifting her body. Her rudeness was not expected, nor was it warranted. But after a month of working here I realize that’s who and what she is. Rude.

  She tosses her hips real hard and nasty-like to make her booty shake and bounce as she walks. Rumor around here is, she doesn’t wear any underwear. Yuck. How nasty is that? Coming to work without underwear on. She’s the shift tramp. The bossy, messy, always-trying-to-be-someone’s-supervisor, who never has anything nice to say about anyone except herself.

  Sasha’s a little older than me, like eighteen. But she acts like she’s a grown woman in her twenties. And she always has something snide to say to me. Still . . . I don’t let anything she says or does bother me. Not really.

  “Next in line, please,” I say, trying not to roll my eyes at her. I hold my breath, looking over at an obnoxious group of guys standing one line over, all wearing white tees, True Religions, fitted hats, and the new Lebrons on their feet. They’re loud, rude, and... disgustingly vulgar. Well . . . not all of them.

  “Yo, suck on dis sac, mofo,” the dark skinned guy with a thick neck says to one of the guys with him while grabbing the front of his baggy jeans.

  His boys laugh at him. “Yo, this cat right here,” the brown skinned guy with long, shoulder-length dreadlocks says, shaking his head. “You stay tryna get someone to suck up on sumthin’. Let me find out you a freak.”

  “Yeah, I’m freakin’ ya moms, son.” He starts rapidly thrusting his pelvis. “Bam, bam, bam. I stays knockin’ dat down. I’m ya new daddy, muhfuckka.” He laughs.

  “Yeah, a’ight, yo,” Locks says. “Don’t get ya chin checked, fam. I done tol’ you ’bout dat dumb ish, yo.” He mushes Thick Neck on the side of the head, causing him to go into a boxing stance, throwing playful jabs at Locks.

  Please don’t even bother coming over in my line.

  “Next in line,” I repeat, holding my breath. I’m not in the mood for any of these stupid boys clowning. No, not today. All I want to do is finish up the next twenty minutes of my shift stress free. Change out of this uniform, which smells like French fries and grease, and take a long, hot shower. No luck, though. I take a deep breath as the tallest of the three steps over to my register. He’s muscular with bronze-colored skin. I try not to notice his fresh edge up, or the way his cornrows neatly zigzag around his perfectly round head, or the way his trimmed mustache and goatee frame his thick, full lips. Or how perfectly straight and white his teeth are.

  I swallow. “Can I help you?”

  He licks his lips, eyeing me. His hazel gaze slowly drops down to my name tag then onto my breasts before flickering up to the menu overhead, then back at me. The air around me heats up, causing me to feel flush. “Yeah, Kennedy, let me get a triple Whopper, a Sprite. And a side order of you; you real sexy, Kennedy.”

  The way he’s said my name almost causes my knees to buckle.

  He smirks.

  I quickly recover without allowing myself to get caught up in his little flirt game. “Would you like to try one of our mocha or caramel frappés?”

  He licks his lips again. “Nah. I’d like to try you, Kennedy . . .”

  I swallow. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah, let me get ya number.”

  “I’m not on the menu. And you’re holding up my line.”

  “I’m sayin’, ma, I’d rather be holdin’ you. But you frontin’.”

  Sasha pops her hips back over to me. All eyes are on her momentarily. And I’m glad. This guy standing in front of me is making me dizzy with all of his fineness. Sasha plants a hand up on her hip and wants to know why my line isn’t moving. I give her a blank stare, tell her maybe she should help out, then go back to doing what I’m doing. “Will that be all?”

  Hazel Eyes glances at Sasha, then back at me. He grins, sliding his hand down into his pocket then pulling out a wad of money. “Yeah, I’m good, for now. But I’d be even better if you’d let me take you out to dinner ’n’ a movie, then”—he licks his beautiful lips again—“if you act right, we can check into a telly ’n’ I can give you da business.”

  Telly?

  It takes me a minute to realize what he’s referring to. A motel room. Ugh!

  I frown. “Thanks, but no thanks,” I say.

  Thick Neck laughs. “Yo, you wildin’, fam. You got that li’l girl scared.”

  I ring his order up. Tell him his total. Then wait for him to pay.

  He hands me a fifty. Then tells me to keep the change when I try to hand it to him along with his receipt. When he refuses the money, I lay it on the counter.

  “Next in line, please.”

  “She clownin’ you, yo,” Thick Neck instigates.

  “No lie, son,” Locks says, cutting in front of Thick Neck, glancing over at Hazel Eyes. “She bad, yo. I’d like to beat that thing-thing up, too. But, eff her, my nig. She prolly can’t handle none’a da D. She ain’t ready for it, fam. You can look at ’er ’n’ tell. She a youngin’, yo. You know dem li’l girls ain’t ready for no real work, fam.”

  I blink.

  Hazel eyes winks at me. “Nah, she a good girl I wanna turn bad. She ready. Ain’t you, ma? I see it all in your eyes.”

  I suck my teeth.

  “Yo, let me get two classic chicken sandwiches,” Locks continues nonchalantly. “Cheese and ketchup only. And a thing of onion rings.” He looks over at Thick Neck and asks him what he wants. “And let me get two double stacker combos for my manz.”

  “Anything else?” I ask, irritation rising in my tone.

  He eyes me. “Hold da attitude, ma. You too pretty to be actin’ all stank; feel me? All I’m tryna do is order my meal. And all my peeps was tryna do is holla at you, yo. But you wanna be all stuck up ’n’ shit. You lucky I don’t smack you in ya frontz.”

  I blink.

  “Yo, dawg, chill da eff out, for real.” Hazel Eyes elbows him in the side. “That ain’t cool, yo.”

  “Nah, eff dis stupid beyaatch.”

  I frown. This is the first time a b
oy has ever called me the B word to my face. And I feel like I’ve just been sucker-punched in the gut.

  Before I can say anything, Hazel Eyes checks him. Tells him he shouldn’t disrespect females like that. Then pushes him out of the way. “Yo, my bad,” Hazel Eyes says apologetically. “That mofo ain’t always playin’ wit’ a full deck when he ain’t on his meds.”

  I raise a brow. He’s staring at me with puppy dog eyes holding his heart, feigning hurt. “But I’m sayin’, babe. You got me feelin’ some kinda way. Let me get dem digits so you can make it up to me.”

  I roll my eyes. “Your orders will be up momentarily.” I shoo him over, making room for the next customer. Hazel Eyes keeps his stare on me, while Thick Neck walks off to harass two females sitting at a nearby table with his flirty.ways. Hazel Eyes winks at me, again, then glides the tip of his reddish tongue over his bottom lip. And for some reason this whole encounter has my insides shaking. “Next in line,” I call out. And all I can keep thinking as I take my next customer’s order, trying to keep my attention on the task at hand while slyly cutting my eye over at Hazel Eyes as he and his two disrespectful friends finally walk out with their food is, Dang, I should have given him my number. If I see him again, I will.

  6

  So I got what I wanted. I did see him again. Hazel Eyes, that is. Two weeks later, but it happened. And I gave him my phone number. Right after my shift, he caught me walking through the food court toward the escalators heading down to the second level.

  “Yo, ma? Wait up,” he called out, jogging over toward me carrying three Macy’s shopping bags. He looked so good. I tried to keep myself from smiling as he approached me. “So, what’s good? Where you off to?”

  “Home,” I told him.

  “Word? Home already? Yo, it’s mad early, ma. And you too fine to be goin’ home alone. You want some company?” He licked his succulent lips. And I suddenly felt my knees getting weak.

  My mother would have fainted on the spot if I’d walked through the door with him in tow. “I can’t have company like that.”

  “Oh, a’ight. It’s all good. You feel like chillin’, though? You can come through ’n’ we can chill at my spot.”

  It was almost nine P.M. And as tempting as it sounded, I was hot and tired. And knew I wouldn’t be able to go off to chill with him. Not unless I lied to my parents about where I was going. And that wasn’t something I’d ever done. Telling them one thing just so I could go over to some guy’s house, particularly one I’d only met standing in my line, ordering his food.

  Besides, I wasn’t allowed over to any boy’s house without my parents having already spoken to his parents first. And definitely wouldn’t be at this time of night. No. If I were going to be allowed over at a boy’s house it had to be during the day, with a parent or another responsible adult—one my parents deemed suitable—home to supervise us. And we’d have to be sitting in an open area.

  “I can’t. I have to go home and take a shower.”

  He grinned. “Nah, you good, babe. You can shower at my crib. I got my own bathroom in my room.”

  I blinked, shaking my head.

  “Yo, come on, Blaze!” Thick Neck yelled out, spreading his arms out holding up a bunch of shopping bags. “Leave dat li’l girl alone. We tryna roll out.”

  Hazel Eyes sucked his teeth, waving him on. “Yo, relax, fam. I’ll be dere in a minute.”

  “You better go before they leave you,” I said, pulling out my cell as it vibrated. It was a text from my mother telling me she was outside waiting for me.

  “Nah, we good, yo. Them ninjas ain’t goin’ nowhere. I’m da one wit’ da keys; feel me? And it’s my whip so dey move when I move. I’m sayin’ though. I been sittin’ out here waitin’ for you to clock out, ma. So what’s good? You gonna let me get dem digits? Or are you gonna keep stylin’ like you don’t want me to have ’em when we both know you do?”

  I felt myself heating from the inside out just listening to the way he spoke while watching him lick his lips in between each sentence. “I wasn’t styling,” I said defensively. “I was at work and you and your goons were being loud and embarrassing. Besides, I know you probably have a bunch of girls’ numbers in your phone already so it’s not like not having mine is going to be the end of the world for you.”

  “Nah, it’s sumthin’ light. I ain’t even on it like dat, feel me? I’m checkin’ for you; period, point blank. So what’s it gonna be?” He pulled out his shiny new iPhone. “Bless a ninja wit’ dem numbers, yo.”

  My mother sent another text. Without much thought, I sent her one back. Lied and told her I was finishing up my shift and was punching out in five more minutes. I felt bad for lying, but whatever guilty feelings I might have had were quickly dismissed as I watched Hazel Eyes type in my number, then call me.

  “A’ght, bet. You can’t get away now. You mine now. I got you on lock, Kennedy.” He smirked. “Yeah, you thought I forgot ya name, huh? And I ain’t even have ta look down at ya nametag.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, right.”

  “Yo, check it. Since you ain’t tryna chill tonight, I’ma get ready to bounce. I’ll hit you up later tonight, a’ight?”

  I nodded. “Okay. If you want.”

  “A’ight, bet.” I eyed him as he turned to walk off.

  “Wait. I don’t even know your name.”

  “It’s Blaze, babe.”

  I tilted my head. “Blaze? Why they call you that?”

  He winked. “Why you think? ’Cause I’m hot like fire ’n’ I gets it in like dat.”

  “So you gonna let me get up in dat, right?” Blaze asks in between large bites of his grilled turkey sub from Charley’s. We’re at Bridgewater Commons up on the third level sitting at one of the tables eating. We’ve been talking on the phone for the last three nights, and this is like . . . a date, I guess.

  But I had to tell my mom a small fib last night just so I could be with him. I told her I was riding to Connecticut with Jordan and her father to pick up her sister, Amina, from Yale. Well, it wasn’t a complete lie. Jordan and her father are picking up her sister from college today. I’m just not riding with them.

  After three nights of texting, Skype, and talking on the phone, I was ready to get my summer rolling. So when he texted me last night and said he wanted to spend some time with me today, I had to see him. The tricky part was trying to figure out how I could get out of the house for the day. So I lied.

  And now... here I sit on a Saturday at two in the afternoon staring at this boy with greasy, oil-slicked lips and a mouthful of food, chomping away.

  I furrow my brows. Give him a confused look. “Huh?”

  He tilts his head. “Yo, c’mon, ma. Don’t front. You know what it is, yo.” He reaches for a napkin and wipes his mouth. “I’m sayin’. We gonna hit up dis movie real quick, then . . .” He rubs his hands together. “We gonna go back to my spot ’n’ make it do what it do.”

  It takes a few seconds for it to register. Get. Up. In that. Ohhhh. Get up in that. He wants to crawl up on top of me and have sex.

  I roll my eyes. Disgusted. Now, wait. I’ll admit, I am boy crazy, like most girls my age. And, yes, you already know I am highly infatuated with guys from the hood. Okay, okay, thugs. But I’m not fast like that. I’m still a virgin. The most I’ve ever done is kiss a boy. Okay, okay, and let him feel up on my booty and play with my boobs a little. But that’s it. And that was with only one guy. My ex-boyfriend Jake Lester who cheated on me, like five months ago, with this blonde-haired, blue-eyed Becky who didn’t mind going all the way with him. Anyway, who cares? He was corny anyway.

  Okay, wait. That’s not completely true. Jake wasn’t really corny. He was really a nice guy. And smart. And athletic. And he was really horny, like most boys. Still, he wasn’t for me. But what he was is corny for cheating on me instead of just breaking up with me first. He didn’t have to cheat.

  I hate cheaters!

  But, whatever. He’s going off to Morehouse in a few
weeks on a full academic scholarship to play tennis, major in journalism, and pledge Kappa like his grandfather, father, and his three older brothers. Good for him.

  I’m over him.

  But this boy right here. Mmmph. I don’t know what kind of girl he thinks I am. But he has me confused. I am not easy. Therefore, I have no interest in letting him or anyone else getting up in anything over here.

  I knew this was a terrible mistake! I should have never come out to meet this nasty dog!

  “Apologies. But I’m not that kind of girl,” I tell him, shifting in my seat. “If sex is what you want, you’ve got the wrong one.”

  He raises his brow. “Nah, it’s not all about da sex. But I’m sayin’ . . . you lickin’ da dome, though, right? ’Cause I ain’t wit’ wastin’ my time on no broad who ain’t tryna treat a muhfuckka right. I got needs, yo. And I need dis snake drained, nah mean?”

  I blink. I hear the question, but I don’t answer. Not right away, anyway. I am too stunned, like he’d just slung snot on me. I know lots of girls at my private school who sleep around with different boys, or who will sleep with a boy just so he can spend time with her, thinking that’s going to get him to like her more. That’s not me.

  I know I’m from the suburbs and all, but that doesn’t make me some dizzy, dumb girl either. My parents may have some silly rules that half the time make very little sense to me. But the one rule that I won’t ever question is saving myself for that special someone. Although the waiting until I’m over twenty-one and finished with college part is debatable. But that’s neither here nor there, because this boy is real special if he thinks I’m giving it up.

  “No, I don’t know what you mean.” I set my fork down on my tray. And wait for his explanation. I glance at the big-faced designer watch on his wrist, then back up at him as he chews his food, swallowing.

  “I’m sayin’ . . . I’m tryna see what’s really good wit’ you.”

  I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.

  “You already know what it is, so don’t front. You stroke mine, I’ma stroke yours.”