I was in a serious Erykah Badu mode.
I had my hair bound in a pretty pink wrap. My torso covered in a sleeveless white top that showed off my flat stomach and nice arms. My Nubian booty sat high and majestic under a soft and beautiful pink wrap skirt. My accessories were on point, too. Sunglasses that looked like Louis V, but with a cost that fit the average Wal-Mart shopper’s budget. Birthstone rings on several of my fingers. Tortoiseshell sandals on my feet. A fresh pedicure.
And I moved like music.
“Work ain’t honest but it pays the bills.”
You could hear those lyrics from “Otherside of the Game” off Erykah’s debut CD, Baduizm, in my movements. I wasn’t being conceited, cocky, any of that. But I swear, as I walked down the sidewalk on my street, drums played to the sway of my hips. Nah, that wasn’t conceitedness; it was confidence. Black girls need that. I felt so self-assured. I knew I looked good. I felt even better. I was whole. I had it all. I was doing well in school. God had gifted me with a beautiful singing voice. I had more friends than I could count. And most importantly, I had a boyfriend. And not just any boy, either. I had arguably the most popular boy in school. I had Ricky Williams.
And he was waiting at the end of the street for me. My brother had done his best to shut down my life, make it as miserable as his own, but it hadn’t worked. Mama was watching me more closely than usual, but there was only so much she could do. She couldn’t keep an eye on me 24/7. She had responsibilities. Like work. She was working then.
I carried a paperback novel in my hand as I walked, clutched against my side like a baby. Terry McMillan’s Disappearing Acts. Couldn’t do Toni Morrison all the time. I’d gotten turned on to the book because of the HBO movie version of the story of Franklin and Zora. Wesley Snipes and Sanaa Lathan in the lead roles. They just happened to be two of my favorite thespians.
There I go again. Thespians instead of actors. Mama’s influence.
Pardon moi for that digression.
Anyway.
The book was good.
Real good, as it turned out.
Raunchy and realer than anything I’d ever read.
Grown-up.
What I wanted to be. What I was ready to be.
I was going on my first real date.
Ricky waited patiently, and secretly, in his Honda Accord at the end of my street. He looked as good as me or better. He wore a striped blue and white short-sleeve shirt, baggy jeans and crisp white K-Swiss sneakers. A little too much cologne, but at least it was a pleasing one. Curve for Men.
“You won’t be needing that book, Kay.”
“Won’t need,” I corrected him as I closed the door on his ride and buckled my seat belt.
He didn’t object to my grammar lesson. He let me be me. That was what I loved most about him.
“What’s good?” I asked.
He looked at me with those seductive eyes, licked his lips. “Lot’s good, Kay. Lot’s good.”
I could hear Lark’s voice in my head, warning me about giving up the goodies. I wanted that voice silenced. Ricky was so damn fine. Should I? Or shouldn’t I? I kept mulling over the choices that were to come. It looked like Ricky was mulling things, too. There was so much passion in the way he looked at me.
I said, “Why you looking at me like that, Ricky?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re a gamer…and I’m Halo Three.”
“I’m a what…and you’re a who?”
I laughed. “Nothing, boy. Something weird my brother would say. Don’t know why I went there.”
“Two peas in a pod.”
“Whatever, boy.”
“That’s your brother, Kay. He’s a good dude, too. No shame there.”
I didn’t want to talk about Eric.
I asked, “So what are we doing?”
“Donnell’s having a party. Thought we’d hit that.”
“Donnell Tucker?”
“Yep.”
“You know that boy seriously likes me?”
“Yep. Half the school wants to get with you. So what? You with me.”
“You think it’s wise to run up in his party with me? He won’t like that.”
Ricky waved me off. “Donnell’s parties are off the hook. We coming out, we gotta do it there. If he trips, he trips.”
I’d always heard Donnell’s parties were top-notch. His parents had quite a spread, I was told. And they were always out of town. Donnell had the run of the place. But I’d never gone to one of his parties because I knew how he felt about me. It was deep. Two years ago he’d written me the most heartfelt letter. I kept it for six months before I ripped it to shreds. Didn’t know why I’d kept it as long as I had. Donnell didn’t play sports. He was in all college prep courses. He very rarely came to school dances. It didn’t appear that he cared about fitting in. I didn’t think he needed to bend his own self in half to be what others wanted him to be, but at the very least he should have shown some concern. He never did. And so I ripped that letter. I couldn’t be with someone with such lack of ambition.
I said, “No drama, Ricky.”
He nodded, turned up his car’s stereo, drove off.
Beyoncé held down the airwaves. She could have had another dude in a minute.
I did my best to ride her voice to a good place.
But I couldn’t help feeling uneasy about Donnell’s party.
I said, “Wish Lark could have come.”
“Can’t be having no sophomores up in here. They mess the vibe up. And especially Lark, with her young-acting self.”
Sad to say, I didn’t even put up a fight.
She had said I’d forget her.
I hadn’t. But close.
We parked at the end of Donnell’s street and walked to his house. Ricky held my hand, which set me somewhat at ease. The street was lined with vehicles. Shiny rides the colors of fruits, adorned with sparkling rims and tinted windows. There was no question we’d arrived at party central. It was easy to tell which house was Donnell’s. It was lit up like a Christmas tree. Loud music from inside pierced the air. Several people milled around outside on the lawn. I could only imagine what the neighbors were feeling. Luckily, it was a mixed crowd. A regular United Nations. I spotted two Asians, more than a few whites, even an Indian girl. If it had been an all-black affair, I couldn’t help thinking, the police would have been there to shut it down.
“There’s Diddy’s white party in the Hamptons,” Ricky said, “and then there’s this.”
“Now you’re being dramatic.”
Ricky nodded thoughtfully. “You’ll see.”
And I did.
Donnell’s party was tight. I had to hand it to him.
He had a DJ and everything. DJ Skills. He was a thin dude with dreadlocks down to his shoulders, an easy smile and magic hands. He didn’t just spin records; he became one with them. He had everyone at Donnell’s party entranced. A serious crowd pleaser, that DJ Skills. And he totally played into the hype of the moment. The whole hip-hop world was watching Kanye and 50 Cent. Skills ate that up. He played a Kanye record. Then a Fif. Back to back to back to back. There was a fever in Donnell’s basement, and it had a hold on everyone. I fell in love with Ricky at that moment. All over again. He’d brought me there. He’d introduced me to a little slice of heaven. All night long I was either squeezing his hand, kissing his cheek and lips or running my fingers over his head.
When “Stronger” stopped playing, “I Get Money” seamlessly filled its space.
Everyone erupted like a volcano.
“Oh my God,” I said to Ricky.
“I know,” was all he could say in return.
All the uneasiness I’d felt earlier was gone.
I missed Lark’s presence less and less with each passing second.
“How long you two been kickin’ it?”
That was Donnell.
Ricky and I were chilling on a couch in the corner of Donnell’s humongous basement. Donnell was resting on the couch’s arm, sipping a red drink that looked like fruit punch. I’d stayed away from the punch because I’d heard rumors about what it really contained. But the bug was biting me. It wasn’t going to be long before I was sipping some punch myself. Call it peer pressure. Assimilation. Whatever. I wanted some of that punch myself.
Ricky said, “Can’t even call it. Even when we weren’t together…we were. If that makes sense. Kay’s my heart. Always has been. Always will be.”
My heart swooned at those words. They were even more heartfelt than the words Donnell had written to me in that old letter.
Donnell had a constipated look on his face, but he managed to push out, “Kay is something special.”
Ricky just squeezed my hand. I wanted to elbow him in the side, signal to him that he should ease up on the lovey-dovey around Donnell. Donnell wasn’t looking too good. It was all over his face. He couldn’t even hide his disgust. Boy looked like he needed a shot of insulin or something.
Ricky said, “Kay is one in a million, dawg. And out of all the dudes trying to holla…she chose me.”
Donnell nodded. “She chose you.”
I said, “Y’all talking like I ain’t even here.”
I admit it, ain’t replaced I’m not and such when I was around my peeps.
Ricky said, “DJ Skills is nice.”
Donnell replied, “He’s got a baby by one of my cousins. He hooks me up because we’re basically family.”
I said, “Okay. I guess I’m not here,” and got up. “Where’s your bathroom, Donnell?”
He smiled a smile that wasn’t a smile and pointed toward the stairs on the other side of the room. “Upstairs. Hang a right. Straight down the hall. You can’t miss it.”
Four more people entered our space.
Mustafa Coles. His on-again-off-again girlfriend, loudmouthed Renee. Doug Draper. And a kid everyone called Chuck because his teeth were big enough to carve sculptures out of logs. My bladder was about to burst, but I couldn’t move right then. I had to stay by my man and represent for a little while first.
Loudmouthed Renee said, “This party is ridiculous, Donnell.”
He nodded thanks. Kept his eyes on me. I wondered if anyone else noticed.
Chuck said, “That was crazy when he kept playing Kanye and Fifty back to back.”
Ricky said, “I bet you were loving Fif, huh, Chuck?”
Chuck scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ricky shrugged.
Chuck said, “You clownin’ me, Ricky?”
Loudmouthed Renee said, “He sure is. You know you and Fifty Cent got the same big-ass teeth, boy. I got a rhyme for Mr. Vitaminwater’s ass. How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? You feel me?”
Everyone laughed at Renee’s lame joke. Even I did. Nothing could kill your popularity quicker than swaying from the crowd. If everyone laughed, you’d better laugh. If everyone rushed the dance floor for a certain song, you’d better be out there shaking your ass with them. That was just how it went.
Chuck said, “When I’m in the NBA making that paper that’s out of this world…y’all can kiss my asteroid.”
Loudmouthed Renee said, “Corny.”
Chuck had the width of a number two pencil but was built tight with muscle. His b-ball skills were legendary. One of the stars of the school’s team. He held the school’s record for total career points. And he’d bested the old mark at some point during his junior year. A local sportswriter had compared him to George “Iceman” Gervin. Whoever that was.
I loved being with this cool crowd, but my bladder was ready to beat me like Juanita Bynum’s husband if I didn’t empty it pronto. I asked Donnell, “Hang a right, straight down the hall?”
He nodded. His eyes burned a hole in me.
I told Ricky to get me a fruit punch and excused myself.
DJ Skills was playing a Keyshia Cole record. Somebody yelled out, “You got her hands down, Kenya.”
I didn’t turn to thank whoever for the compliment.
I was on a mission for that bathroom.
Donnell’s parents had a really nice place. As bad as I had to wee-wee, I still took a minute for a quick peek around the upstairs. The dining room, living room and kitchen could have been featured in an Ebony magazine spread. Pictures of Donnell were everywhere. I wouldn’t hold that against his parents, though. Truth be told, he was a good-looking guy. Not on par with Ricky, but close enough to make some girl happy.
I thought of Lark, then. I was so confused. I did miss my girl. Wished she were there. Maybe I could use the pull I had over Donnell to convince him to let her come next time. She was the coolest of the cool, as far as I was concerned. She’d liven up the party even more.
But I digress.
I finally stopped looking around Donnell’s home and went to handle my business in the bathroom, which smelled better than any bathroom should. Some kind of berries ’n’ vanilla scent. It was decorated in soothing pastel colors. A magazine rack held enough reading material for a lifetime. I skimmed a Jet article about my favorite actor, Terrence Howard. He was a talented and passionate brother. He spoke in the article about wanting to win back his ex-wife’s heart. I put the magazine down at that point. For some reason it made me think of Ricky’s ex, Monique. I hadn’t thought about her in some time. I didn’t need that downer.
I washed my hands with lavender soap, touched up the little makeup I wore—mostly lipstick and a bit of eye shadow—and headed back out.
I didn’t immediately realize that someone was in the semidark hallway with me.
Until I heard a voice.
“He’s gonna play you.”
I touched my chest, felt my heartbeat pulsing like a drum. “What’s wrong with you, Donnell? You scared me silly.”
Donnell stepped from the shadows. He handed me a plastic cup of fruit punch. I didn’t take it, and yet he didn’t withdraw his hand. I ignored all that. I looked toward the door that led to the basement. I wanted to be downstairs with my boo.
Donnell, reading my mind, it seemed, said, “Ricky ain’t move from his spot. So I went ahead and got your drink for you. Here, take it.”
I took it from him without saying thanks. Good party or not, I wasn’t about to be gracious.
“You’re welcome, Kay.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Oh? Only Ricky can get that?”
“That’s right.”
“He’s gonna play you.”
“Don’t hate just ’cause I don’t want your tired ass.”
“I’m not worried about that,” he said, waving me off dismissively.
“Whatever.”
“You’ll be a free agent again soon enough. Ricky don’t hold on to anyone but so long.”
I thought about Monique again. She’d seemed so comfortable with Ricky that day Lark and I had seen them at the mall. And worse, Ricky had seemed so comfortable with her. But here I was, with him, less than a week after that scene.
I told Donnell, “It’s different with me.”
“Is it? That’s really what you think? I feel sorry for you.”
“You can forget about me being a free agent anytime soon.”
“When it happens, and it will, don’t come crying to me, Kay.”
“I said don’t call me that.”
He put his hands up. “Don’t want to upset you. I’m just glad you came. I’ve been throwing these parties for two years, hoping one day you’d walk through my door. Alone, of course. I never figured Ricky in my dreams.”
At that I pushed past him and headed for the door to the basement. I didn’t want to hear all that romantic mumbo jumbo. I had my hand on the doorknob. I was an inch away from being out of his presence. Sometimes an inch might as well be a mile.
“Kenya?”
I wish I’d ignored him. But I didn’t.
I wheeled around to face him. “What, boy?”
“Girl Monique that Ricky was dealing with…”
“What about her?”
“Heard her moms pulled her out of school and sent her down south somewhere.”
“So?”
“Her moms, my moms, your moms, they’re from the same generation, the same time.”
“So?” I didn’t understand where he was going. Didn’t want to really understand.
“So,” Donnell said, “my moms told me that’s what they used to do to girls back in the day when they got pregnant.”
He disappeared into the shadows before I could reply.
Left me standing there with a million unanswered questions.
“Thanks, baby. I needed that. That party was it.”
Ricky smiled, nodded. “I told you, Kay. Donnell does it up.”
I couldn’t just jump right in and ask the question that was really on my mind. I had to tread carefully. Use strategy. But boy, did I want to just blurt it out.
Ricky was idling by the curb outside Donnell’s place.
I said, “We can chill, Ricky. You don’t have to take me right home.”
Ricky looked over at me with something animal in his expression. I straight brought out the gorilla in him. I wondered if he’d ever looked at Monique in the same way. Then I tossed that thought aside. Of course he had.
I just knew.
Ricky said, “You’re mine? You don’t have to get home?”
I reached over, found a comfortable resting place for my head on his shoulder. “Baby, I’m all yours. My mama’s working the graveyard.”
“Where you wanna go?” The excitement in his voice was next level.
“Somewhere quiet where we can be alone.”
“Word.”
“And talk.”
“Talk?” Ricky looked like Kanye West the night he put President Bush on blast. He wasn’t happy. And he couldn’t hide the fact. That made me feel some kind of way. My boyfriend didn’t want to talk to me. That left only one thing he did want to do with me.
I repeated, “Talk.”
“I don’t have much to talk about, Kay. It’s been a long night.”
That moment in my bedroom, Ricky reciting the Toni Morrison passage to me, it seemed like years ago. That disappointed me. I wanted to believe the best about Ricky. Our situation was too new for me to be having these problems, these doubts. I hated doubt. And I was full of it. But Donnell had kicked a rock and jarred loose an army of hungry ants. They needed to be fed as badly as I needed answers. There was no turning back now.
I asked Ricky, “So what happened to your ex? I heard she moved.”
Ricky frowned. “My ex?”
Playing dumb. I didn’t like that at all. More points deducted.
I said, “Your tall friend…Monique.”
He shrugged, took his gaze off of me and started playing with his cell phone. He had a Sidekick. All of a sudden it was the most important thing in his world. He started thumbing text messages to someone like text messaging was going out of style, as my mother would have said. I wasn’t even in the car with him anymore. I was an afterthought. Forget the cell phone; I wanted to be his only sidekick.
I said, “Ricky?” in my sweetest voice.
“Holeup, Kay. Donnell’s hitting me up.”
Donnell was the source of my impending pain. I hated him. I wished he would disappear like Karl Kani clothes.
I said, “What that fool want?”
Ricky didn’t answer.
“Ricky?”
“Said holeup, Kay.”
He stayed busy typing with his thumbs. Mama always told me a smile and a quick batting of the eyes was enough to turn any man from any emotion back to love, or at the very least, lust. I reached over and gently took the Sidekick from Ricky’s hands. He turned on me, surprised and obviously angry. I smiled and batted my eyes. When I saw his shoulders ease, I plugged his cell phone into the cigarette lighter so it could charge.
Ricky sighed long and hard. Seemed to consider something and then said, “Okay, Kay. What are we talking about? I see you ain’t gonna let me chill.”
“Monique.”
Ricky sighed again. Long and hard, of course. “I left her for you, Kay. I’m done with that situation. What we need to talk about her for?” His forehead was lined like that of a man three times his age. Worry was in his eyes. His posture was tense. There were probably knots in his neck.
I wouldn’t let this all go, though.
I said, “I heard she moved suddenly. You know where?” I paused to let my next thought sit on its own. “You know why?”
“No and no. Now drop it.”
Like I said, I had to tread carefully. Use strategy. I glanced at Ricky’s cell phone in the cigarette-lighter charger. Then I looked at Ricky. I smiled and batted my eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m tripping.”
“You are, Kay. You know it’s all about you. You and only you. Apple of my eye and all that jazz.”
He was laying it on too thick. But whatever.
I said, “Thought I said let’s go somewhere we can be alone.”
“Shoot, you don’t have to tell me twice.”
Ricky put his key in the ignition. R. Kelly’s song was probably playing in his head. That was too bad. He’d blown it and didn’t even know it. Ricky Williams probably would never get to put his key in my ignition. I was a mixture of sad and angry.
“This night is gonna end on a beautiful note, Kay. It’s gonna be lovely.”
A 50 Cent Negro trying to talk like Will Smith. Yeah, he definitely thought he was getting my goodies. Wasn’t happening.
“Stop at the 7-Eleven.”
Ricky stopped the car but didn’t pull in. “For what, Kay?”
“So you can run inside and get me a Slurpee.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“You don’t want to get your baby a Slurpee?”
“I want to get somewhere alone with my baby.”
I leaned over and kissed him with all the bottled-up passion inside me. I loved him and I hated him. He had me so twisted up. I was an emotional pretzel thanks to this boy.
When I pulled back from the kiss, Ricky said, “What flavor?”
“Surprise me.”
He pulled into the lot and jumped out before his car stopped moving. He wanted my goodies in the worst way. He would do just about anything to get at me. I waited until he was safely inside before I picked up his cell phone and scrolled through his contacts list. I found Monique’s number with little trouble and saved it into my phone. There was also another number with Monique’s name attached to it. In the contacts it was named MoniquesCuz. I saved that one as well. Then I checked for Ricky’s text messages.
He had none.
He must have deleted them as soon as they came through.
Just another reason I had to leave this situation alone.
But that was going to be difficult. Ricky was my drug.
I put the phone back in place when I noticed Ricky inside the 7-Eleven at the counter. He paid and headed back outside, one hand behind his back as he moved toward the car. He walked toward me with the biggest smile on his face. I wished I could return the smile but I couldn’t. My insides were churning.
He slid in the driver’s side, closed the door.
I forced a stricken look, said, “My mother just called me. She wants me home. Now.”
The smile left Ricky’s face. “Thought she was working. How she find out you were out?”
“Don’t know. Maybe my brother told. He is a hater.”
Ricky said, “Kick his lil’ narrow…” but let the thought drift.
He was disappointed and angry. I wondered which emotion would eventually dominate. One had to.
I reached over and touched his leg. “Some other time, baby.”
He put my Slurpee in a cup holder, dropped a single rose on the console between us. The rose was what he’d had behind his back.
Any other time I would have been excited.
Other things were on my mind then.
Monique, for the most part.
But I didn’t lose sight of one fact as I reached over and picked up my Slurpee cup: that was the second time that night Ricky hadn’t handed me my drink.
Ricky pulled onto my street. Parked at the end. He left his engine running. He didn’t look in my direction.
I said, “Penny for your thoughts.”
He hadn’t spoken the entire ride.
“Dunno. Ain’t really got none, Kenya.”
Kenya.
“You don’t have any,” I said, correcting his grammar.
“Yeah, whatever you say, Kenya.”
All the love was gone from his voice. I wasn’t Kay any longer. I was Kenya.
“Are you upset, Ricky?”
“Why would I be upset? Because my girlfriend has to be home before Power 105.1 stops playing hip-hop and puts on slow jamz? Because I thought my girlfriend was gonna actually act like a girlfriend tonight? No. Not me.”
“What do you mean ‘act like a girlfriend,’ Ricky? Give you some? That’s what it’s all about?”
“You know it ain’t all about that, Kenya. But that’s important. Don’t sleep on that.”
“Let’s talk about this.”
He shook his head. “Go on in the house. We talked about this when we were kicking it before. I’m tired of talking about it. That’s why I lef—”
He caught himself.
“Go ahead and finish it, Ricky. That’s why you left before. That’s why you hooked up with Monique. I don’t have sex with you and you start tripping. That’s all that matters to you.”
“Don’t matter, Kenya.”
“Doesn’t,” I corrected, pushing my luck, I knew.
Then it happened.
He looked at me in a manner I’d never seen before. The distance between us at that moment couldn’t even be measured in miles. I should have been happy, considering all I suspected regarding Ricky and Monique. But I wasn’t. I still loved the boy. Too much.
He said, “I gotta go. So do you, Kenya.”
I leaned over to kiss him. He turned away. I still planted one on his cheek.
I got out of the car, closed the door and leaned down to speak through the passenger-side window. “Call me?”
He looked at me for a brief moment without speaking and then put the car in drive. I leaned away so he wouldn’t decapitate me as he pulled off. At least one of my questions was answered: anger was the more dominant of his emotions.
I stood at the curb and watched his taillights wink at me as he got to the end of my street. He turned left.
I swallowed a pound of regret.
The way to his place was right.
I turned and looked at my own place. I didn’t want to go inside. I really didn’t. As difficult as things were outside, they were even more difficult once I walked inside. Life was difficult. Life was troubling. Sometimes life didn’t feel worth living.
Mama was right.
I’d messed up big-time.
I’d given my heart to a boy.
And he’d broken it.