Caught Up (17 page)

“W
here have you been for the last three days, Kennedy? Do you have any idea how worried I've been? I've been calling all around town for you. And why has your phone been turned off, huh?” My mom looks frazzled. And I feel bad for having her worry about me. But it couldn't be helped. Well, that's not true. I could have come home. But I didn't want to. Malik didn't want me to, either. We were having too much fun together.

“So you couldn't locate me,” I say snidely.

It was only supposed to be for a few hours. Our drive down to Atlantic City. Malik wanted to walk the boardwalk, do some shopping at the outlets and The Pier Shops at Caesar's, then grab something to eat at one of the restaurants on the strip. I wanted to go to Buddakan, one of my favorite Asian restaurants. I'd only been to the one in the city, but wanted to try the one in AC also.

Malik protested at first, saying it wasn't real Chinese food unless it was at a local Chinese spot or an all-you-can-eat buffet.

I laughed at that because he was so serious when he said it. But after several minutes of prodding, he acquiesced. And so we went.

For appetizers, I ordered the chicken and ginger dumplings with sesame dipping sauce. And Malik tried the king crab tempura with sweet and sour ponzu sauce. Then for the main course, I had the Alaskan king salmon with miso mustard and a sesame spinach salad. Malik said he didn't want anything. He was just going to sit and watch me eat.

He laughed. “My baby mad greedy. You tryna run my wallet real hard tonight, huh?”

I smiled. “Is that a problem?”

“Nah, baby. It's all good.” He slowly licked his lips. “It's gonna cost you later, though.”

I wiggled my eyebrows up and down. “Ooh, for real?”

He looked around the dimly lit restaurant, then leaned forward in his seat, resting his forearms up on the table. “No doubt.”

By the time dessert came I could barely get a spoonful of my almond bread pudding into my mouth. I was so stuffed. And so was Malik.

“Yo, let's get a room 'n' chill a bit before we take dat long ride back up da parkway.”

“Okay,” I said, excited by the thought of lying in Malik's arms, cuddling. Catching a quick nap. Then driving back home.

The plan was that simple. And I would have been home right before my curfew. With my mom being none the wiser had things not gone awry.

Malik had gotten us a room at the Days Inn. And it wasn't long before we were both butt-naked and he was doing things to my body I never imagined humanly possible. We ended up dozing off. But a few hours turned into the next morning. Then one day turned into two, then three.

Surprisingly, not once did Malik suggest I call home. Not that it was his place to. But out of courtesy, I called her anyway. The second day. I told her that I was okay and that I was out of town.

“Out of town where, Kennedy? With who?”

I hung up on her and shut off my phone before she had a chance to call back and try to spoil my fun.

Then reality set in. I knew I had to come back home eventually. That I would have to answer to her. And, more than likely be grounded until my twenty-first birthday.

But at least I called her.

She blinks. Her eyes roam over me from head to toe, taking in the True Religion teardrop-print skinny jeans and the beaded tank. She blinks again. Glances down at the six-hundred-and-fifty-dollar dollar six-inch Gucci sandals on my feet. Then her eyes land on the Louis Vuitton bag dangling from the crook of my arm.

“Where did you get those clothes and that expensive pocketbook from?”

I toss my hair. “Relax, Mom. I didn't steal them, if that's what you're getting at.”

Her nose flares. A hand goes up on her hip. “
Relax
? You must want me to slap you into next week, talking to me like that.

“And don't you dare tell me another one of your lies that you were out with Hope and Jordan because I've spoken to both of their parents. Now you had better tell me what's really going on. Now!”

“I was with Sasha,” I say nonchalantly.

“With
Sasha
, where?”

I huff. “Out.”

“Out where, Kennedy?”

“It's no big deal,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“What do you mean ‘it's no big deal'? It's a big deal when you've been gone for three days! And it's totally unacceptable!”

I suck my teeth. “Nowhere.”

“You must think you're real grown, don't you?”

“I'm almost grown,” I say, real sassy.

Mom gives me an incredulous look. “Oh, no you're not! And
almost
doesn't count. Not in this house!”

“Fine!” I yell back at her. “I'll go stay somewhere else! I don't have to live here!”

 

The rest of the week I stay locked in my room, out of my mother's sight. She's not saying much to me. And I'm not saying much of anything to her, either. For what? I'm grounded. Well, so she thinks. I'm still sneaking out of the house. Not every night, though. Still... every chance I get I'm with Malik.

This time, instead of climbing out of my bedroom window, I'm sneaking out through the wine cellar door down in our basement. And I'm back in the house way before three
A.M.

She really thinks she can keep me chained in this house. Stuck and bored. I don't think so.

I
moan as Malik's tongue slowly slips into my mouth. His hand glides down the small of my back, then rests on my butt. He squeezes it, and I feel myself melting a thousand times over. No boy has ever made me feel the way Malik has.

He makes me feel... alive.

Wanted.

Special.

Loved.

Sexy.

He presses his body into mine and we meld into one. I can feel his excitement. And he can feel mine. I am so hungry for him. He's hungry for me. I don't know how much more of this tongue-dance I can take before I am going out of my mind.

His kiss becomes more intense. His tongue swirls against mine. Once, twice, again and again, he kisses me until I am feeling light-headed and dizzy.

Whoever thought a person could feel tell so much about another person from just a kiss. But this isn't just any kiss.

No. I'm being kissed by a boy . . . I mean, a man.

I love his expressive face when he's in deep in thought, or when he's laughing or angry or, like now, looking at me like I'm the most important person in his world.

I love his bad boy persona. Love his street grit. His take-charge commando ways.

Malik makes me feel like a woman. I feel grown. And like I'm ready to take on the world.

I love the way he wraps his arms around me and holds me tight. I feel so, so safe when he holds me. I love how he puts his almond-shaped eyes on mine, and smiles at me. Love the way his heart beats against mine. And how he tells me each beat is his love for me. I love that about him. I love . . .

All of him; every drop of bad boy blood that runs through his veins.

Malik is my drug.

I'm hooked on him.

He knows it.

I know it.

I love him.

I love him.

I love him.

Three weeks!

And I am in love!

I keep asking myself that question over and over. Yet, no matter how many times I mull it around in my head, I can't seem to come up with an exact moment that
it
(love) happened. It just did. Unexpectedly.

And boy, oh boy, I'm happy that it did.

Malik is the only guy I can ever see myself being with.

He has a good heart.

He's thoughtful. Generous. Caring.

He's my everything.

“I want you so bad,” he murmurs against my lips as if he's reading my mind.

“I want you, too,” I say back. He kisses me again. But just as things start to get hotter and steamier than they already are, one of his three cell phones start ringing.

He groans, pulling away. He tries to fix himself in his sweats. “See what you did?” He shakes his head and grins as he retrieves his ringing cell from off the dresser.

I swallow, touching the bare space his lips have now left on my own.

“Yo,” he says into the phone.

I walk over to his bed, stepping over an ashtray overflowing with half-smoked blunts. I reach for last month's edition of
XXL
magazine lying on the floor beside the bed and sit.

“Nah, Chillin' wit' my girl, son. Yeah, yeah. You know how I do it, fam. Say what? Word? Yo, get the fu—” He cuts himself off. “Yo, babe . . .”

I look up from the magazine.

“I'ma 'bout to step out and finish up dis call, a'ight?”

“Okay.”

He walks over to the bed, leans in and seizes my mouth with another kiss. A quick peck, but it is one that holds promise of what's to come when he returns from his phone call. One I can't wait to collect on.

I idly flip through the pages of the magazine before deciding I'm really not interested in reading anything about Kanye's paranoid rants. I like his music. But I think he's really crazy. Like maybe he hears voices or something kind of crazy. I toss the magazine over onto the bed, get up and pull my iPhone from out of my messenger bag to check my messages.

I have four text messages.

The first text is from Hope:
UM, HELLO
?
CALL ME.

The second message is from Sasha:
THERE'S A POOL PARTY
2
MORROW IN
U
NION.
U
DOWN
?

The third text is from Mom: I'
M TAKING YOUR AUNT
L
ISA OUT FOR HER BIRTHDAY.
T
RY TO BE HOME BY SIX. TTYL.

The last text is from Blaze:
YOOOOO WATZ GUD
? W
EN WE LINKIN UP
?

This is like his third or fourth text over the last few days wanting to
link up,
as he calls it. But I've been avoiding him. Now with Malik in my life, I don't have any room for any other guys in my life, especially since I promised Malik last night that I would cut off any boys who I knew liked me, that I used to date, or have gone out with. He said it was disrespectful. And all they'd be is a distraction from what we have. And I believed him. Not that I have a lot of guys I've dated. Still, I don't want any distractions.

And I don't want to ever disrespect Malik.

I quickly text Blaze back. H
I
. W
E CAN'T.
I
HAVE A BF NOW.

Less than a minute later, he sends a text back. O
H WORD
?
AIGHT DEN.
G
OOD LUCK WIT DAT.

I delete his text messages, then start cleaning up Malik's messy room. I start with the fifty pairs of sneakers that are scattered all over the floor, putting them back into their designated boxes. I empty out his ashtray, then gather all the empty Heineken beer bottles. Sixteen.

“Girl, you real
stoopid
,” someone says in back of me, startling me. I jump, turning in the direction of the voice. “You prolly da dumbest ho he's been wit' so far.”

I blink. It's his sister, Mercedes, sneering at me. I'm not sure why they call her
Mercedes
since nothing seems exclusive about her current situation.

“Please don't call me that,” I say calmly.

“Don't call you what?
Dumb?
Or
ho
?”

“Both.”

She tsks. “Well, you are
dumb
. And by da time Malik finishes runnin' all up in you like he does da rest of 'em, a
dumb ho
is exactly what you gonna be.”

“Well, I can't speak for anyone else, but I know I'm not going to be anyone's
ho.
”

She chortles. “Yeah, that's what dey all say 'til he gets 'em strung out on da
D
.”

I give her a confused look.

She huffs. “Da dingdong. Da wood. Oh, excuse me. I mean. Da penis.”

I blink.

She snorts. “Li'l girl, you don't know nuthin' 'bout nuthin'. All you are is some young, fresh piece of tail for my brother.”

I take a deep breath, willing my heart to slow its rapid pace. I don't know why, but Malik's sister unnerved me. From the first day I met her I've tried to be nothing but nice to her, but my attempts are only met with glares and snide, nasty comments.

“Malik isn't going to do me like he's done any of those other girls. Your brother loves me.”

She cracks up laughing. “
Your brother loves me
,” she mocks. “He ain't ever gonna do me like he's done dem other hoes. Hahahaha.” She shakes her head. “Just like I said, dumb.”

I blink. And now I immediately feel stupid for letting that last part slip from my lips. “
Love?
My brother
loves
you? You think? Girly, bye. My brother loves anything wit' a big booty 'n' a smile. Why you think he has four baby
muhvers
?”

I blink.

She must see the stunned look on my face.

“What, you ain't know? Oops.” She covers her mouth. “Looks like the cat's out the bag.”

“I already knew about his baby mothers,” I lie.

She shifts her weight from one swollen foot to the other, staring at me as if she doesn't believe a word I've said. “Oh, really? Well, isn't that special. Then I guess you know raw punnany is da only thing my brother is gonna ever love. He doesn't know howta love anything other than what's between yo' legs, li'l girl. But you keep believin' whatever lies he tells you. You'll learn soon enough. That's my brotha 'n' I love him. And trust. I'll beat a
bish
down if she ever tries to play him. But I can tell you not really 'bout dis life so you need to stop pretendin' 'n' head on back 'cross town where you belong. But I know you ain't. So I'ma tell you dis to save you some heartache. Get out now before it's too late. All my brotha's gonna do is dog you out, sex you out, then toss you out like a used tampon. Just watch.”

I swallow.

“Yo, Mercedes,” Malik says, brushing by her as he finally walks back into the room, “what ya picklehead in here talkin' to my girl 'bout?”

I breathe a sigh of relief that he's come back in when he has. I don't know how much more of his sister's sneering I could have taken.

Thanks to her, my mood is ruined.

I am sooo ready to get out of here.

She narrows her eyes at me, then looks over at Malik. “Oh, we was just havin' us a li'l girl talk.” She starts laughing, shaking her head. She turns to leave, then turns back. “Oh, you got yaselfa real winner right there. I can't wait for Big Sexy to meet dis one.”

“Yo, go 'head wit' dat, Mercedes,” Malik says, grabbing her by the arm and pushing her back from out of his door so he can shut it. “Get da eff up outta here wit' da dumb ish.” He slams the door.

I can hear her laughing as she walks off.

I glance over to my right and notice three roaches scurrying along the wall.

Malik kicks off his sneakers, removes his T-shirt, then steps out of his jeans. He stretches out in the center of his bed in only his boxers and sweat socks. He grabs and pulls at his privates until he gets himself excited.

“Yo, take dem clothes off 'n' c'mon over here 'n' give ya man some lovin'.” He pats the space on the bed beside him. “Ya man needs some special attention.”

I swallow. “Who's Big Sexy?”

Malik frowned. “Yo, don't start askin' me a buncha silly questions, yo. She ain't nobody, a'ight.” He keeps grabbing himself. “So chill, a'ight?”

I nod. “Okay.”

He grins. “Me 'n' big man need you to come handle us,
now.”

Reluctantly, I remove my clothes, leaving on my bra and panties. Then slowly I make my way over to him. Each step causes the voice in my head to get louder.

I climb into bed beside Malik.

It's already too late
, I think as I close my eyes, letting Malik's lips and hands wander all over me.

I lose myself in his touch, his scent, his sweet kisses. He has become everything to me. It doesn't matter what Mercedes or anyone else says about Malik.

I love him.