Gettin' Hooked (9 page)

“He needed to ask? I'd have thought the digits programmed in woulda been a clue and a half.”

“Guess I'm clueless then.”

“Look atcha, a playa playa with two hella fiiine boys on the hook. Which one you want, Maurice or Darian?”

I laughed, but that nagging guilt started coiling up in my gut. I didn't want Darian liking me like that because I was fo' sho' not going to return it. “Whatevah. Feed me.”

And with that our conversation fell away from boys for a bit, chatting instead about what we were gonna eat and what flick we were gonna put on. And it felt cool just hanging out, just the two of us.

“What's
wrong with you, Kayla? I've been suggesting shit to do tonight for the last hour and you're doing nothing but throwing tude. What the hell?”

“Whatevah, Imani. Maybe I'm just not in the mood to party.”

I took a deep breath and held it for a sec, trying to let some of my tension go, but it was wound so tight that it making me see red and feel nothing but annoyed. “Of course not, Kay, you want to stay here and talk to some guy who lives states away. Sure thang, girlie, makes sense to me.”

Kayla and I had munched down on Ritz crackers and sliced salami, then brushed off all the crumbs and lounged on the sofa in front of her big screen and watched
Step Up
for the hundredth time, admiring the white boy with dance moves. Besides, Mario was in it and it made me want to get up and shake-shake my groove thing.

Usually we laughed and talked and giggled over the movie since we'd seen it so many times, but today we sat in silence, Kayla totally distracted by a flood of text messages blowin' up her cell.

“Nothing's wrong with wanting to stay home and talk to a dude I like. Maybe you should try it.”

I shoved a chenille throw to the side and stood up, turning toward her with my hands on my hips. “Maybe I should try it? Hmmm, lemme think about it. Talk to a fella while dissin' my cousin or realize where my blood is.”

“Whatevah, Imani. I'm not forgettin' you're my blood, but I like this guy. I want to get to know him.”

“And how you gonna do that? With texts? He doesn't even live around here.”

Kayla closed her cell for the first time all night. “So what?”

“So what!” I was losing my temper now, damn irked that she didn't get it. “You met some guy on GettinHooked.com who lives in Arizona. Who's in college. This was supposed to be about Howard and Creekside. Only. A local MySpace, remember?”

Kayla reached for the remote and turned the TV hella loud, then sank back into the cushions and opened her phone when it beeped, proceeding to ignore me.

Aww, hell no.
“That's f'd up, Kayla!” I shouted to be heard over the bass bumping from the surround sound speakers.

“You're not always right, you know!”

“But I'm right about this. GettinHooked needs to be shut down. My friends are fighting, peeps are using it to cheat. This whole frickin' thing was so we could get hooked up with prom dates. How the fuck you gonna go to prom with James Drew, Chicago transplant to 'Zona!”

“Maybe I'm not as obsessed as you. Maybe I don't give a shit about prom.”

I stood there gaping at her, my hands balled into fists, my body trembling, a funky haze of anger straight up tainting the entire room. I took a deep breath, squeezing my lids closed as I tried to put myself in check.

Letting out the breath slowly, I lowered my voice and looked at Kayla as she fiddled a message into text. “We have to shut down the site.”

“Hell no.”

“We
haaaave
to. It's not right. It's not how I wanted it.”

“No, Imani, peeps love the site. They'd be hella mad at us.”

“They're gonna be mad at us anyway, when they find out they're gettin' creeped on. They can go back to MySpace. That was hexa fun, everyone loved it before this site anyway.”

“Not happenin', girl, I think it's hot.”

I clenched my jaw, and felt my nostrils flaring. I was straight up on the verge of a two-year-old tantrum, stomping feet and all. I gulped, trying unsuccessfully not to scream. “Kayla, we have to. This isn't the way it was supposed to be.”

“It's better.”

She shook her head, the smooth strands of her hair coming free from the quick braid she'd twisted up earlier. “No, it's not outta control. It's straight off the heezy.”

“We gotta shut it down. Somethin' bad's gonna happen.” I touched my stomach, trying to show her the knots of dread growing there. “I just feel it.” My hands were shaking, the combination of tension and arguing with my cousin hella bothering me.

“You're trippin'.”

And maybe I was. Maybe she was right about that. Things just felt like they were mounting up and then pressing down on me. Everything, from being sick, to missing my daddy, to wondering what my Gram was hiding, to feeling so torn between Maurice and Darian and trying to sort out how I felt about each of them.

Grabbing the remote, I lowered the volume and brought my voice down, too. “Then we gotta at least find a way to keep it local, like it was meant to be.”

“Hell no. We already got folks from all over. What we supposed to do, kick 'em off?”

“Yeah. They weren't supposed to be there. We were supposed to use student IDs to log in.”

“Everyone has student IDs, Imani.”

And that was exactly where we'd gone wrong. We hadn't thought of the possibility that anyone else from any other area would give a damn about out little hook-up site. We'd trade, like I told my dad. Girls would find guys and guys would find girls at each other's schools. This was about prom, nothing else. Nothing more.

If it wasn't meant for locals only, what would be the point? We'd have left it as MySpace if we wanted worldwide. We wanted datable.

“How's a college dude have a high school student ID?”

She smirked. “Oh, so that's what this is all about. You're jealous? I didn't think I'd get that from you.”

“Kayla, I am not jealous!”

“That's right, you playin' two dudes.”

Oh, lawdy, I almost gave my cousin an eye to match my bruised and swollen one. I swallowed, bile rising up from my gut, my pulse roaring in my ears. She didn't mean it. I knew deep in my gut she didn't, that her words were dripping with anger, but they cut just the same.

Still, there was no defending, no comeback to her words. I had to bounce, to get the hell out of there before I said somethin' I'd regret. Before she flapped her lips some more and this argument turned into a fight.

“All righty, then. I'm outie.” And I didn't look back as I retrieved my backpack then split, retracing my usual steps out the kitchen slider. She didn't once try to stop me.

It was dark now, but I didn't give a shit. The cool air felt good on my face, the dampness of the night helped ease the dry ache in my throat and the moisture in the air helped disguise the mist lingering in my eyes.

I can't remember the last time Kayla and I had argued, but it'd been so long ago in all likelihood it'd been about some little-girl junk like who was playing with which Barbie.

Rounding the house, I didn't even bother slowing when I noticed the garage door at Maurice's was open and that I could hear his voice laughing with his boys from just inside, see their shadows and silhouettes.

Pulling up my hoodie, I tucked my hair inside and kept walking hexa fast down the street, fighting hard against the need to scroll through my cell phone, find the number Maurice had put in and dial it. See if he could drive me home. There were plenty of times where I loved this walk, enjoyed the time to cool out and be alone with my thoughts. Tonight wasn't one of 'em.

The darkness poured over me, the low lingering clouds wrapping around me just like my loneliness.

A few houses farther, I slowed to listen to the chirping crickets silly enough to brave the cold, to a car stroll across the pavement someplace out of view, to the low
thump-a-thump
of bass bumping from somebody's ride, the low boom filling the night.

I stood in the shadows, out of reach of the milky light of the streetlamp, and watched his house, my gaze lazily drifting back and forth between his place and my cousin's.

Time hung suspended until my body lost some of the anger, and my heart raced, picking up speed for a different reason, I knew it was time to bounce. Not only was Maurice with the fellas tonight, but I just didn't have it in me to deal with him.

Not with Kayla losin' her mind the way she was. Fa sheezy, when my uncle came back from their cruise I was straight-up asking him for his help to get this outta control site mess untangled. My site idea was a good one, and I was straight-up proud of its success, but maybe because it'd been my idea in the first place I also felt partially responsible for some of the chaos.

And it was just gonna get uglier,
funkier,
I was sure of it.

With my shoulders saggin', I quit glancing at Kayla's and tore my gaze from where Maurice was postin', then moved toward home. Friday night, the start of vacation, and the night was whack.

Though I wasn't feeling the full effects of my cold anymore, I wasn't all the way recovered; the throbbin' at my temples was increasing, along with the pressure holding up on my sinuses.

The mile didn't take long, and after twenty minutes of steady walkin' I was easing my key from my backpack and quietly letting myself in. The condo was dim, lit up only by the pale gray moonlight that worked its way through the clouds and by the changing lights of the TV that shifted across the carpet from beneath my gram's bedroom door.

Dropping my things on the love seat, I moved to her room, and despite it being after ten, I knocked gently on the door, then peeked my head inside. “Gram, just wanted to let you know I'm home.”

She was in bed mostly asleep, but she lifted a hand and mumbled something. I always let her know when I come in, no matter what time. I didn't want her to hear the door and be frightened, especially on a night I'd planned on being gone at Kayla's.

That done, I found my way down the short hallway to my room, kicked off my sneakers and walked in my socks to my bed. No caring about my jeans or my school-pride hoodie, I climbed under the comforter and lay curled on my side.

And no matter how I tried not to, I cried. Turning my face into the pillow, I inhaled, then the tears started coming. A silent pathetic cry, where the sobs shook my entire body and the slightest sound I made was captured in the cotton of my bedding.

Things were so messed up, and I felt so helpless, with no one to turn to. This is the sorta thing most girls would turn to their mommas about, but I didn't have one. My auntie had been there for a lot, but she wasn't here now. Gram was in the next room, but I didn't feel right about burdening her with my junk, and Daddy was flying someplace, with no way to reach him.

So the tears came, leaving my pillow damp and my cheeks slick, and my soul feelin' hella empty. I cried it out. About fighting with Kayla, about my missin' momma, about Maurice first kissing me, then getting bossy, and about Darian, who seemed to like me, but I couldn't find it in me to like 'im back.

Even when the tears had dried and the sobs decreased into sniffles and whimpers, even when my eyes burned and drooped closed and my head ached nearly as bad as my heart did, even when the clock ticked way past midnight, sleep didn't come. Sleep hovered outta reach, leaving me instead tired but totally restless.

Things had gotten jacked and tomorrow I was determined to start settin' things back to rights.

I'm
not sure when sleep finally won out, but I do know it was well after the deep hues of nighttime started to brighten to purple as the sun kissed the distant horizon. And when it finally came, it was the sort of hella hard sleep where I hardly moved and time passes hexa quickly.

Stretching onto my back, trying to untwist the material around me, I wished I'd taken the time the night before to get out of my jeans and sweatshirt.

Rubbing the heel of my palm across my eyes, taking special care of the lingering bruise, I wiped the sleep from my eyes and glanced wearily toward my clock. The green digital display read 9:42 and sun, bright-ass sun, had finally been able to get in through all the clouds and filled my room with golden shimmering beams.

It wasn't much, but at least a couple of hours were better than no sleep at all. Suppressing a yawn with the back of one hand, I reached my other into my pocket and yanked out my cell, flipping it open right quick to call Kayla. Fo' sho', we needed to talk. Bad.

Her phone rang four times, then into her voice-mail. I hung up and dialed again, but the same crazy thang happened: her voice came on tellin' me to fill up her inbox and she'd get back at me.

“Kayla,” I said, then paused to gather my thoughts right quick before going on. “Kay, we need to talk. Holla back.”

Figuring she could still be sleeping, I decided to shower and get something to eat while I waited on my girl. We'd be cool again as soon as we talked, worked shit out, I decided, feeling hella better about things this morning since I'd purged up so much emotion last night.

Still laggin' like crazy, I took my time showering, lingering in the warm spray, lathering in the sweet-scented soap, washing my hair and then letting it sit with conditioner for a bit.

By the time I was out and dressed a couple hours had passed and my stomach was frickin' growling, only having had cheese and crackers for dinner the night before.

I tried Kayla again, but ended up in her voice-mail just like before. I left another message, then went to ask Gram if she wanted something to eat. She said no, but I decided I'd get her some of whatever I was gonna fix myself anyway.

Takin' some pastrami out of the fridge, I placed a heaping pile in the micro. I crossed my feet and leaned my elbows back onto the smooth black granite countertop to wait, and started wondering if Kayla was sleeping hella late or if she was gonna straight up ignore me.

I knew she was mad, I knew she was hexa hyped about this James guy and I had to admit he was hot. The girlie had good taste in dudes, but even as fine as he was, it didn't make up for the fact that he lived too far away to take her to prom. And whether she wanted to admit it or not, that was the point.

Jealousy
…she'd accused me of it, so while I waited for the final minute of heat time to unwind, I couldn't help wondering if just the slightest little piece of her accusation might be true. Not that I wanted the boy she did, but rather, maybe she'd been sayin' I was envious of the fact that she liked someone who liked her back? No more questioning? No insecurity?

Beep, beep, beep.
The time had gotten away from me, so the shrill alarm startled me. My heart jumped into my throat, my hands shook all crazy like for a sec. Taking a deep breath, I tried to chill, then slowly reached for the plate of hot food and filled two rolls with the steaming meat.

After filling up a couple of glasses of Gram's sweet tea, I took her a plate, then took mine to my room to try e-mailing Kayla instead of calling.

I checked GettinHooked again, too, and saw the numbers had risen, but at least not as freakin' much as before. Scrolling though the profiles, I peeped fellas from all across the country, a few as far away as Alaska, all hyped on getting with a skeeza.

Waiting for Kayla to reply, I moved through the pages until I landed on James Drew, and found all the pics that Kayla had printed scattered across his profile. I read over his profile, from the info on his high school back in Chicago to where he was talkin' about his college major.

He was cute, and if his profile was legit, he didn't seem like that bad a guy for Kayla. Except he lived in another state, too far to be her man, and fa sheezy too far to be the right date on prom night.

I was sitting there reading over James's info and like and dislike lists when I spotted a mention of spring break. Looking closer at the dates Arizona State were out, I realized they had pretty frickin' close to ours.

And this hella funny feeling came over me. “You wouldn't,” I mumbled, dialing Kayla's cell again, but getting nothing. “Please tell me you wouldn't.

Following through with my gut feeling, I hit the contact page on James's page and sent him an e-mail right quick, and hoped like mad he'd get back to me soon.

It was nearly five in the afternoon, the sunshine already starting to fade, clouds silently rolling back in and I still hadn't heard a peep from my cousin. And still, after exploding her box until it couldn't hang with any more of my messages, she hadn't responded.

And neither had James.

But panic had started.

Sliding my feet into some Jordans and grabbing my house key and cell, I stepped out of my condo, moved across the street, then straight started to run, dusk hella heavy now, the shadows lengthening as the sun caressed the skyline.

I was breathing hecka hard by the time I rounded the corner into her cul-de-sac about a mile away from my place. The streetlights had just clicked on, but inside Kayla's was completely dark. Jogging around the side, I moved the slider and found it locked tight.

I banged a couple of times, yanking hard on the handle and knowing damn well even if I'd gotten it open I didn't know the code to the home alarm.

I gripped my phone, my hands shaking so bad I could hardly hit the button for speed dial. The “System full” message played, telling me she still hadn't checked messages.

I ran around front, smacking the door, ringing the doorbell over and over. “Kayla! Kayla!” I hit the door again, kicking the frame as fear and frustration gathered hot liquid in my eyes.

“Kay, please! Open the door.” I knew she wasn't in there. Using my hoodie sleeve, I wiped tears from my cheeks, then turned and sat down on the cement front steps, my knees shaking too bad to keep me upright.

“Shit,” I hissed, scrolling through the numbers in my phone, looking for their grandma's where Brandon was stayin', but it didn't take long to realize I didn't have it anymore.

“Shit, Kayla, please tell me you didn't.” Desperation made me dial her line again, then hit Redial as soon as her box came up. I bit down on my bottom lip to keep it from quivering, to keep the sobs from cuttin' loose.

The light was fading quick, and I sat there with no idea what to do. My heart was racing, my body trembling as I struggled to reason out why she'd have bailed, wondering how long she'd been planning this.

Unsure of what else to do, I decided to tell Gram, because I had no idea what I could do to get Kayla back—and I knew fo' sho' she'd taken off to 'Zona to meet that dude.

And the scariest part of all: who knew if James was really who he said he was? He could be a grown-ass man with a thing for underage girls, fa shizzle, I'd heard the same sort of story enough times on the news.

Now Kayla could fall victim, lured to another state all thanks to my site, and if I'd had any itty-bitty doubt before, it was gone now. That whacked-out site had to get shut down. It was too freakin' damned dangerous.

The tears continued to fall, making my vision blurry. I fiddled with my cell for a sec longer, knowing I had to do something and now. I stood up quickly and turned down the path, smacking hard into someone.

He
hmphed,
my forehead making sharp contact with a lean, muscled chest. I stumbled, my phone
clank-a-clackin'
to the ground, my hands coming up to grip the shirt of the person I'd slammed into.

Large hands landed on my upper arms, helping to steady me. “You okay?” The voice gave his identity away. Along with the spicy scent of his cologne.

The copper tint of blood filled my mouth and I realized I'd chomped down on my lip. “Think so,” I replied, pressing my fingertips to the slight cut that seeped red, trying not to look up at Maurice.

I took a step back, but he followed, moving with me. One hand slid upward from my shoulder and cupped my cheek, his thumb swiping gently below my eye and catching up silver droplets.

“What's goin' on, Imani?”

He was standing close enough that I could feel the warmth of his breath as his husky voice broke into the silence. Unable to resist, I glanced up at his face. He was staring at me, not into my eyes but rather at the tears that had gathered on his fingers.

I stood quietly, absorbing the comfort of standing so closely, enjoying his heat, lost in the intensity of his look. My gaze dropped to his mouth, to perfect plump lips that last weekend had touched mine.

And then the tears welled again, and my bottom lip trembled at the memory. His dark brows came together, concern etched across his features. His hand stroked lower, his fingertips trailing lightly across my mouth.

He angled his head, came closer. “What is it, shortie?”

“Kayla.” My hands curled into his Reggie Bush jersey.

“I heard you yellin'. What happened?”

“She's gone.”

He looked confused. “Gone where?”

Shaking my head only helped a little bit, my thoughts muffled by his nearness. “Arizona.”

“With her parents?”

“No, they went to Alaska on a cruise. Kayla met a guy online and I think she went to meet him.”

“On GettinHooked?”

I nodded. “It's all hella jacked up. There's people from all over, just like MySpace.”

“I noticed.”

“Now Kayla—” I released his shirt and stepped away quickly so his hands fell. I was straight trippin, lost my damn mind, standing here diggin' Maurice's closeness and touch when my cousin could be gettin' raped and murdered.

I shook my head, trying to gather my thoughts, completely stunned how easily I could be distracted by this hella fine boy. He did something juiced to me, but I could not allow my reaction to him to overshadow what I had to do to protect Kayla. To get her home safely.

“I gotta go.” I turned, skipping out of his reach as I attempted to move around him and head for home.

“Wait, Imani,” he said, grabbing my shirt to stop me. “Whatcha goin' to do?”

Shrugging, I glanced back at him over my shoulder, then took in a shaky breath as the heat of a fresh flash of tears burned in my eyes. “I gotta go home and get stuff to go after her.”

“How you goin' to do that?”

I paused, my breath suspended, the pulse rushing in my ears the only sound. I hadn't thought of that—hell, I could hardly think at all; all I wanted to do was go after her. To bring her back.

“I don't know.” My voice cracked, sounding hella scratchy. “Maybe a bus.” I'd be able to catch a flight for free if I called my daddy and had him book it. Forget that, no way would he allow me to fly off to another state looking for Kayla. He might call the authorities, but he wouldn't let me do it, that was for damn sure.

“I'll drive you.”

Gettin' a lift home would save me about fifteen minutes and with night settling around me, I'd be happy to take the ride, my knees still feeling jiggly. I nodded. “You know where I'm at, right? It's not far.”

“Nah, shortie, I don't just mean home. I meant after Kayla. To Arizona.”

I shook my head, thinking right quick how hella hard it'd be to spend so much time alone with him, being so close and remembering how we'd kissed, and knowing, too, that he'd probably banged Brie. “It's far,” I whispered.

“I know, but Imani, I can't letcha go alone.” He put up his hand, already knowing I was about to dispute his right to be telling me what I can and can't do, with or without him. “It's not like that, girlie. I'm not tryin' to boss ya, but I gotta look out for mines.”

Mines? There he was, puttin' down some sorta claim again, but there was something sweet and tender in his voice, something intimate about the two of us standing alone in the darkness.

And with my brain hella foggy from lack of sleep, from fear and from the heat of his touch and gentle caress of his gaze, I was straight trippin', close to agreeing with whatever baby-boy said.

I nodded. Riding with Maurice would be safer than taking a bus, not to mention hexa faster and more comfortable. Not only that, it made more sense I not go alone considering that was exactly my fear for Kayla. “Your momma will let you?”

He grinned, flashin' me a pair of dimples. “I'll work it out.” He tilted his head toward his place. “Lemme grab some shit and we can bounce.”

“Aiight.”

His hand slid down my shoulder to take mine and I dropped into step beside him.