Love Me or Miss Me Page 9

  Naleejah stopped dead in her tracks and scrunched up her nose as if she smelt a dead rat. “Where are you going with that?” she asked, pointing to my knapsack like it was the dead rat.

  “What?” I asked, knitting my brows into a blanket of confusion. “I’m saying, what’s the problem now?”

  “You’re a diva now. You can’t be rocking no hobo bag. Get your mind right, Kate.”

  Naleejah crossed the room to attack her closet again. She yanked out tan purses, blue purses, red purses, black.

  “Okay, I’ll take the black one,” I said.

  “Yeah, good choice.”

  I stuffed my keys, headscarf, and a pen inside the purse.

  “Ready to rock?” asked Naleejah.

  “Let’s roll.”

  We bounced out the house.

  Outside on the pavement, I tried to copy Naleejah’s get him girl walk. But I never wore shoes so dang high before. Felt like I was switching my booty on stilts. Three blocks later, I finally got the hang of it. Bang, bang, bang, watch your girl Kate go. My feet hurt like hell, but I was looking mad good while in pain.

  As soon as we rounded the next corner, we came across a posse of guys. They were standing in front of a Chinese food spot, looking like they were waiting for a bus, only there wasn’t a bus stop for blocks. As soon as they spotted us, a chorus of “Yo, shorty! Yo, shorty!” rang in the air. I braced myself for the ambush. Let the games begin.

  Chapter 9

  Out of the posse, a light-skinned guy wearing cornrows in his hair and a bright smile on his face stepped to us.

  He stared at Naleejah specifically and asked, “Can I get your name, sweetheart?” He had a deep voice and a sharply trimmed goatee. He had to be at least twenty years old, and he was definitely a hottie—not as hot as Charles, but hot enough for me to want his attention too. Oh well. So much for my makeover. I stepped back to give the two some room.

  “I’m Tasha, and this is Brandy,” said Naleejah with a straight face.

  “My name’s Daryl … so, um, where y’all fly-looking girls headed?”

  “To a friend’s house,” Naleejah lied again. “And we’re running late.” I could tell she was about to look at her wrist, but she probably remembered—oops—no watch. Then she started shifting her feet back and forth, like she was anxious to leave. But Daryl wasn’t taking the hint. He kept on yip-yapping, wasting his pickup lines on Naleejah. She just smiled and nodded, and I just stood there, wondering why she even bothered to stop in the first place. Maybe this was practice for her.

  “Yo, is she mute?” asked Daryl, pointing his chin at me.

  “Nah, she’s just quiet,” explained Naleejah.

  “Oh, ’cause I was about to call my man over here for her.”

  “No, no, that’s okay. We really have to run, boo,” said Naleejah. “I’ll catch you later, cool?”

  “Well, can I get your phone number?” Daryl called pitifully at our backs.

  Naleejah played deaf and pulled me down the block, hot-stepping in high heels.

  At the next corner, I had to ask: “Why didn’t you talk to him? He was a cutie!”

  “Yeah, he was definitely a cutie,” Naleejah agreed. “But he was standing on the corner doing nothing … not to mention he’s broke.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I could tell by his gear. Didn’t you see that dingy T-shirt he had on, and that wannabe diamond in his ear?”

  “But that doesn’t mean he’s broke,” I butted in. “My homegirl dresses like a bum, and she’s got more cheddar than you and me put together.”

  Naleejah shrugged. “Well, that’s your homegirl—I don’t know what her problem is—but I’m talking about homeboy standing on the corner. If a dude can’t show me cheddar, then Naleejah can’t say cheese.” She busted out laughing at her own joke, and then suddenly grew serious. “Listen, Kate, I know you’re new to the game. But if you stick with me, I can teach you how to play it. See, you have to be picky when it comes to your men, okay? You don’t need to be messing with some dude holding up the wall with his back. You’re better than that.”

  And blah blah blah.

  I blocked out the rest of Naleejah’s rant during the walk to the Stuy Court. All I could think about was Charles’s reaction when he saw me looking beautiful. And if things went my way, Charles could actually be The One to plant the first kiss on my lips. Yes, I said first kiss. Crazy late for me, I know. Growing up a tomboy and forever being vexed about where I’m going to live next, romance had been the last thing on my mind—besides, the few times I felt my heart flip for Charles, I stopped it cold flat. With the way I used to look and feel about myself, I never thought I had a chance with him.

  As we neared the court, I saw many of the same heads from the last game present. And I was grateful to see that Blondie and Burgundy’s frizzy heads were out of sight.

  The game had already started. Unfortunately, my favorite front-row bleacher was filled to the brim. I was pissed. We had to climb all the way to tier number five thanks to Naleejah yapping and taking her sweet time getting ready.… Then again, thanks to her, I was now an official hot girl.

  My eyes instantly landed on Charles. He was decked out in royal blue shorts and a white tank top. Right now, he was rocking Crown Heights on the basketball court. Finesse was trying to ball, but his game was weak.

  It felt like the game was over before it even got started. Just as expected, Fulton Street Park won. Yeah! Bed-Stuy, do or die! I started yelling crazy with the rest of the crowd.

  “Come on, let’s get our men,” said Naleejah, pulling at my arm.

  As she led me toward the players, my stomach dipped down to my wedges. This was it. My moment to shine. Oddly, Finesse seemed to see us coming, but he started walking off. Naleejah released my arm and ran off to catch up with him. I coolly stayed in my spot, waiting for Charles to spot me.

  I exploded into smiles when he finally looked my way. And I would pay a million dollars to see the double take he gave me.

  When he came swaggering up to me, a mob of butterflies flew straight into my stomach and stayed there, fluttering wild.

  “Kate?” Charles squinted like he couldn’t see me clearly—like he couldn’t believe it was me. “Wow … look at you, girl!”

  “What’s up, homey!” I said, grinning, knowing I was too cute for words.

  “Wow, you just made my day!” Charles exclaimed. “Turn around and let me see you.”

  No, I didn’t think so. I was no mannequin to be grinning and spinning around for Charles. I wanted my baby to take in my new look, slowly. Let him revolve around me, see? As he stared, I was feeling like a beautiful ebony princess on display.

  Suddenly Charles reached out to touch my hair and asked, “So who laced you?”

  I jerked my head back. “Okay, Mr. Nosy, did I ask who laced you?”

  “No.”

  “All right then,” I said. “Mind yours.”

  “I’m minding mine right now,” said Charles, winking at me.

  “Since when am I yours?” I asked.

  “Since you’re looking like a lady, for a change.”

  “Ohhh snap, that was cold,” I said, poking my lips into a playful pout.

  “Well, I can warm you up, baby,” said Charles, staring at my mouth with lowered eyelids. “So when you gonna let me taste those juicy lips?”

  Ever see a dark-skinned girl blush? My heart was pounding in my chest; my feet were pounding in Naleejah’s hurting shoes. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I put the capital A in Awkward. Charles was the first guy I was allowing myself to like, like that, and I just didn’t know how to act. So I started making jokes. Well, at least I tried to make jokes. “You probably can’t even kiss, though,” I said, grinning like a doofus.

  “Baby, kissing is for first-graders,” said Charles. “There are so many other things I can teach you.”

  “Teach me?” I said. “Please, you need to let me teach you how to play ball. You did al
l right this game, but you were slipping in the last, and I’m saying shame, shame, shame!” Hey, I had to switch the subject and talk some smack in order to keep cool under Charles’s steady mack.

  Charles stared at me wearing an odd, faraway expression.

  So I blurted out, “I just blew up your spot, huh? Oops, catch your face!”

  Charles snapped out of it and said, “I don’t know all about that.”

  “Well, what do you know?”

  “I know how to ball … and I can teach you if you want me to.” Charles was wearing a sly grin now, making my stomach flip. “I’m good at what I do, baby,” he added. “Trust me, I can teach you some things you won’t forget.”

  “So, let’s see who can make three shots in a row. How much you want to bet?”

  Charles creased his eyebrows in confusion. He ran the palm of his hand across his wavy hair and said, “Okay, why are you acting so random right now?”

  “I guess you’re too scared to bet me, then,” I continued. “Three shots in a row. So, what’s up?”

  “Come on now, girl, you already know,” said Charles, wearing a bored expression.

  “I’ll show you what’s up,” I said. “Wait right here.” Before Charles could protest, I snatched off my heels and ran up behind Finesse. I was about to ask to borrow his ball when I overheard him telling Naleejah, “… but don’t be blowing up my cell phone like that.”

  I timidly tapped his shoulder. He swiveled around, wearing a screw-face.

  “Um, can I see your ball for a second?” I asked.

  Naleejah was already frowning at me, but when I took the ball from Finesse, she looked even more troubled. But really? She needed to mind her own business.

  As I walked up to Charles, my feet were screaming ouch with every step. The asphalt was hot and hard. What a stupid idea this was. But I already had the ball in my hands, so it was time to get busy. I dribbled the ball with one hand and pushed Charles off with the other. “Defense, baby,” I said. “Watch me work.”

  Snatch. The ball was in Charles’s hands within a split second. Then he fended me off by sticking out his butt (I was in my glory) and circling around me, making my head spin. And swishhh, he made the hoop.

  “Where you at?” asked Charles as he made his third and last hoop.

  Where was I at? In heaven. I couldn’t care less about Charles winning.

  When I went back to give Finesse his ball, I overheard him telling Naleejah, “… but you’re not even my girl, though.”

  Oops, sounded personal. Better get back to my baby.

  I rushed up to Charles like I was afraid he’d disappear.

  Charles tilted his head to the side and asked, “Tell me why you’re sounding like you just ran a marathon?”

  “True,” I said, laughing.

  “Come sit down with me,” he said. When I bent down to pick up my shoes and put them back on, Charles craned his neck to watch my backside. Since the ice had been broken by us balling, I relaxed a bit more under his steady stare.

  As soon as we sat down on the bleacher, Charles reached over to rub my thigh. And can I tell you? His warm hand felt so good even through my jeans. But I quickly brushed him off. “Stop,” I said.

  Of course, I wanted Charles to continue. But I felt the need to play hard to get … for a little bit. The more you hold back, the more they want you. Tisha taught me that.

  Unfortunately, before Charles could try me again, I heard yelling from across the court. The voice belonged to Finesse. I looked over to see Naleejah and Finesse standing in the middle of the basketball court in each other’s faces. “You need to back up off me!” roared Finesse.

  But Naleejah was steady getting closer to his face.

  “I said back up off me!” Finesse yelled again.

  At these words, Naleejah jumped up as if to say, You’re not going to ignore me this time! And the next thing I knew, Finesse shoved Naleejah so hard, she fell back—boom—flat on her butt.

  “Ohhh snap!” I said.

  Before I could turn to Charles to ask, Did that just happen? Charles was already on his feet, sprinting up to Naleejah. He helped her up off the ground, and then he called out to Finesse, “Yo, man, you were wrong for that!”

  Finesse flipped Charles a whatever-wave and stormed off the court, bouncing his ball like he was trying to shatter the cement.

  I snapped out of my shock and ran by Naleejah’s side.

  Tears were rolling down her cheeks. She looked confused.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, brushing off the back of her skirt.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” she said slowly.

  Then Charles suddenly felt the need to throw his arm around Naleejah’s shoulder and guide her toward the bleachers. What was his deal? Why was Charles being so attentive, like some play-play doctor on call? The girl was okay. No broken bones. It wasn’t even that serious.

  I followed behind them, simmering like an unwatched pot. The minute Naleejah’s butt hit the ground, pop goes my fantasy? Shoot, maybe I needed to fall down on my behind so I could get Charles’s attention back where it belonged.

  Now that Naleejah was in our picture, I didn’t dare go back to our juicy conversation. I’d have to quench my thirst for Charles some other time.

  I turned to Naleejah and said, “Well, I better get you home.”

  “Want me to walk with y’all?” asked Charles.

  “No, we’re fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, we’re sure,” I snapped. “Later, bye.”

  Charles took one last look at me with knitted eyebrows. Then he shook his head and bebopped off the court, slow and sexy, side to side. I hated to see him leave. But I had to let him go. Bad enough he already had unnecessary body contact with Naleejah. If we stuck around this court any longer, he’d have his tongue down her freaking throat.

  I took Naleejah by the hand and dragged her off into the opposite direction.

  Chapter 10

  We headed down Lewis Avenue in silence. Naleejah had nothing to say. I didn’t know what to say. I was too upset and frustrated. Charles and I seemed to be finally getting somewhere, only to be interrupted by Naleejah’s drama. No disrespect to her, but dang, would Charles and I ever get to first base?

  Six blocks away from Naleejah’s house, she stopped short, leaned against a nearby telephone pole, and blurted out, “I don’t want to go home.”

  “Well where do you want to go?” I asked, trying to hide my irritation. I had to keep reminding myself that if it wasn’t for Naleejah, I wouldn’t have come this far with Charles; she had turned me into a certified hottie. I had to be grateful and patient with her.

  Naleejah dug into her bag for a cigarette, stuck it in her mouth, and lit up. “Don’t know where I want to go—I just don’t want to go home right now.”

  “Okay, then, we can take a walk,” I said. “You need to walk off what just happened to you anyway.”

  “Yeah, good idea.”

  “Finesse is a total punk,” I offered. “He shouldn’t have put his hands on you like that.”

  “Yeah, I know,” said Naleejah.

  “And you don’t need no crazy dude like that in your life, feel me?”

  “Yeah, for sure.” Naleejah took one puff, exhaled a circle of smoke, and then threw down her cigarette and squashed it with her heel.

  “And you know if he put his hands on you once, it’s bound to happen again, because—”

  “Okay, okay, enough about me,” said Naleejah, throwing up the stop signal. “Now let’s get to you.”

  “Why? What did I do?”

  Naleejah tugged at my shirt. “Tell me why you were playing basketball in your diva clothes … like you crazy?”

  I jerked my head back. “What’s crazy about me and my homeboy shooting a couple of hoops?”

  Naleejah stopped dead in her tracks. “Okay, Kate, let’s stop it with the ‘homeboy’ crap. It’s easy to see you like Charles. I’m not blind.”

  I was ab
out to deny it, but my eyes couldn’t lie. I paused then said, “Okay, I do like Charles. You got me.”

  “Well, if you want to get him, you can’t be looking a hot mess. Peep your underarm pits.”

  I lifted up my arms and checked underneath. Then I wanted to sink into the sidewalk. I had two sloppy wet circles blotching up my beautiful lavender T-shirt. Oh no. Did Charles notice? Was I stinking?

  “Never let him see you sweat,” said Naleejah, wagging her finger at me. “And you need to start acting like a lady for a change,” she said. “Have some mystery about you.”

  “But Charles and I go way back,” I explained. “There’s nothing mysterious about me.”

  Naleejah didn’t understand. Charles and I had history. He had already witnessed me at my worst, had already seen me growing up in the system, sometimes dirty, sometimes clean, shirts too big for me, sleeves hanging off my fingertips—he’s even been there for me through rough times. Once, I lived with a foster mother named Ms. Phillips, a nasty old bag who was cheap with her food. She used to put a lock on her fridge and dared me to ask for seconds at the table; she had me feeling like a roach wanting to sneak food in the dark. I was only nine years old and not yet the outspoken bad-butt I was to become, so I let her get away with this mess.

  One day, she told me I wasn’t getting any dinner because I didn’t move fast enough when she called me into the dining room. I was the only kid she picked on like this. Late that night, I snuck out the house, which was easy to do since Ms. Phillips had four other kids in care she didn’t care about. I sat by myself, five stoops away, crying from hunger pains. I was starving like Marvin. Charles happened to be passing by with his older brother Jermaine. When I didn’t return his “What’s up?” greeting, he stopped short and asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I said. He heard the crackle in my voice and told his brother to wait up.

  “Kate, what’s wrong?” Charles repeated. I looked away from him. Embarrassed. I was starting to feel like a problem child.

  I didn’t want to tell him what was going on, but my stomach did the talking, the growling, sounding like a monster inside my belly. I let out a nervous chuckle to play it off. But somehow Charles understood my situation. Next thing I knew, he went over to his brother, whispered something in his ear, then pulled me from the porch and announced that we were headed to his building three blocks away. Charles waited with me outside while Jermaine snuck out a paper plate filled with warm rice, beans, and delicious fried fish. I’ll never forget that night—never forget what Charles did for me, and there was no way I could act brand-new with my dude from way back.