Harlem Girl Lost (7 page)

The guy Jesse was dancing with couldn't keep up with her, so Lynn jumped in to show him how it was done. The shit they were doing was so fly, everybody just stopped dancing to watch them get down. Jesse was sure all eyes were on her, including Kenny's, but she purposely edged closer to him so he would definitely see her. She accentuated every toss and step with extra snap and flair. Suddenly, the DJ mixed to a new song, “Trans Europe Express.”

This was the song everybody had been waiting for. It was said that if you danced to the hottest song with the hottest nigger—which was Kenny, of course—you would become a sort of ghetto princess, talked about and envied for months to
come. All the girls rushed toward Kenny for a chance at the title. Jesse, Lynn, and Vonda knew they didn't have a prayer, so they went to the punch bowl for a drink.

“Look at all them desperate bitches,” Lynn said, shaking her head. “They ain't got no class.”

“I'm telling you,” Vonda added, “I am not gonna play myself for nobody.” She glanced over at the commotion. “Oh, shit! Look at Tiny's little ass pulling at him.”

As they watched Tiny go for hers, Kenny was paying her no mind. He seemed to be looking for someone else.

“Yo, you got to give Tiny credit, though. She stepping to her business,” Jesse said.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Vonda said. “That bitch is straight-up embarrassing herself. Look at her—he's pushing her lil’ ass aside like she ain't even there.”

They watched Kenny wave Tiny aside as if she were a bothersome gnat or something. Suddenly Kenny started walking their way.

“Ooh, shit,” Lynn said. “He's coming over here.” She frantically checked her clothing and patted her do.

They all stood still as he approached. When he reached them, he stood directly in front of Lynn and stared at her with his piercing hazel eyes. She looked like she was nearly ready to pass out. Kenny smiled softly. “Can I get some?” Speechless, Lynn could only stare at him in disbelief. “Can I get some?” he said again, and then pointed to the punch bowl behind her. She turned to see where he was pointing, and a goofy laugh escaped her throat. “Oh … oh, yes, I'm sorry,” she stammered. Blushing, she moved out of his way.

He took the silver ladle from the large bowl and poured
some punch into a plastic cup. He raised the cup to his mouth but stopped to sniff it first. He frowned. “Yo, this ain't spiked, is it?”

“I don't think so, Kenny,” Lynn nervously answered. “It didn't taste like it when I had some.”

He looked at her. “Good, ‘cause I don't like no alcohol.” As he drank his punch he looked over at Jesse. “Yo, Jessica, you was fly out there on the floor. I didn't know you could get down like that. You wanna dance?”

Shocked, Jesse couldn't believe what she was hearing.
Is he talking to me? How does he know my name?
she thought.
Am I dreaming? There must be a mistake. But he is looking right at me with those divine eyes.

“Yo, girl,” Kenny said, “you don't hear me? I asked you did you want to dance.”

Oh, shit! He is asking me to dance. Say something—nod, smile, do anything. But I can't … I can't move … I can't …
An elbow jab from Vonda did the trick, and Jesse cracked a broad smile. “Sure,” she said, regaining her composure. Kenny took her hand in his baby-soft one and led her to the middle of the floor. Tiny eyed them narrowly as they passed. As they started dancing, Tiny quickly exited the party, searching her pockets.

Kenny and Jesse were perfect together. They flawlessly fed off each other's rhythm, not missing a beat or a step. An outsider would have thought that they had been partners for years. The other girls stood on the sidelines watching with envy as they laughed and talked about everything from Jesse's shoes to her hair. Jesse knew they were hatin’, but it didn't matter. She knew she was on, and she smiled in their faces as Kenny turned and tossed her to the pulsating groove. After three songs,
Jesse and Kenny were still throwing down when the music stopped.

“Okay, y'all,” the DJ suddenly announced. “It's that time. Fellows, get ya girl, and girls, get your guy, ‘cause it's time to grind to some Al Green.”

Sweating profusely, Jesse shyly thanked Kenny for the dance and was about to leave when he gently pulled her hand.

“Hold up … we ain't finished.” He pulled her into his arms. “You sure can get down, girl. What club you go to?”

Jesse blushed and thanked him. “I don't go to no club. Me and my girls just be inventing shit.”

“So you're a natural.” He smiled. “Is that what you sayin’?”

Jesse felt heat flame her face. “Thanks, Kenny. I wouldn't say that—I just like to dance.”

“So what block are you from?” he asked.

“Up on 138th Street,” Jesse replied.

“What, Lenox and Seventh?” He spoke the words as if they were a curse.

“No,” Jesse whispered. “No, Seventh and Eighth.”

He smiled knowingly and shook his head. “You from the Row?”

“Yeah. Why do you ask?”

Kenny spoke frankly. “ ‘Cause you got to be a rich motherfucker to live over there.”

Having heard this all her life, she downplayed it. “I ain't rich.”

“Yeah, but your parents must be.”

Not wanting to appear stuck up, like most of the kids from her block, Jesse hastily said, “My father works for the post office, and my mother is a schoolteacher. That's not exactly the best jobs in the world, you know.”

“Chill down, baby.” Kenny smiled. “You should be proud that you live in a nice neighborhood, and don't let nobody tell you different.”

She looked in Kenny's eyes. “Can I ask you something, Kenny?”

“Sure, baby. Your fine self can ask me anything.”

Jesse felt heat flame in her face again. “Is it true you father is Ron O'Neal?”

Kenny laughed. “Naw, baby girl, that's just a rumor.”

Jesse smiled. “But you look just like him, only better, and you dress in all those nice expensive clothes.”

“Well, I can't change the way I look, and the reason I dress well is because I got my own lil’ business, if you know what I mean.” It took Jesse a moment to get the hint, and when she did she put her head down because she hadn't known he was a scrambler—a dealer.

“Nigga got to do what a nigga got to do to survive.”

But just as Jesse was about to ask another question, he stopped her. “Listen, can we talk about that another time? I just want to enjoy this moment with you.”

Jesse looked up at him and saw that he was dead serious. She placed her head on his chest, closed her eyes, and let the music captivate her soul. Never before in her young life had she experienced such feelings—she was in love!

Inside a phone booth
, Tiny dialed Jesse's number. A woman answered. “Hello, Mrs. Jones? Can I speak to Jessica?” she asked in the most innocent voice she could conjure. “Who is this?”

“I'm sorry, this is Tiny—I mean Claresse. Jessicas friend from school.”

“Oh, yes. How are you, Claresse? Jessica's not here, if that's what you're calling about.”

Tiny spoke with false disappointment. “Darn it!”

“What's the matter, dear?”

“Oh, nothing,” Tiny said. “They must already be at the party, ‘cause they're not at Vonda's house, either.” Tiny had to force herself not to laugh.

“Party? What party? They're supposed to be at the movies tonight!”

Tiny said nothing.

“Claresse, is there something you're not telling me?”

“Mrs. Jones, please don't be mad with me, but I'm not sure I'm suppose to be telling you about the house party they are having at 1132 St. Nicholas Avenue, apartment 3B.” She hung up.

On the dance floor
, Jesse felt Kenny's manhood rise as he thrust his hips from side to side to the rhythm and his hands explored her entire body. She felt an overwhelming guilt as she began to get moist, unable to control herself. After the third slow song ended, Jesse was too wet to continue, and stepped away from him. “Thanks for the dance, Kenny.”

Kenny held her hand and stared down at her. “Here, girl, I want you to take my number and call me sometime.”

He wrote it down and gave it to her. She noticed that his friends were waving their arms, trying to get his attention. He looked up and acknowledged them with a wink and a nod. She
grew puzzled when she saw a couple of them waving money around, but paid it no more mind as he turned to talk to her.

“Listen, Jesse, is it all right if I talk to you about something?”

Kenny led Jesse into a back room, and Jesse looked around nervously. “You think it's okay to be back here, Kenny?”

“Yeah,” Kenny said. “This is my man's pad. His parents are gone for a week … it's cool.”

Not wanting to act uncool in front of Kenny, she decided to stop asking stupid questions.

“The reason I ask you to come back here is because …” He paused. “You opened up some things in me I ain't talked about in years. You talking about your parents and all made me think of my parents.”

“What, your parents don't live together?” she asked softly.

“Girl, please. I never knew my daddy, and my moms died five years ago in a car accident. I only wish I had a family like you.”

“Oh, that's so sad. I'm sorry that I asked.”

“No, it's all right; I'm okay with it now.”

She felt sorry for him. “But how did you take care of yourself ?”

He shrugged. “Well, since my mother's family was from all over the South, they couldn't contact nobody, and even if they did, they was so poor they couldn't feed another mouth anyway. So they put me in a group home, and if you know anything about group homes, you know that ain't no place you want to be. So I ran away, and been surviving on the streets ever since.”

“Oh, baby, I'm sorry … I didn't know,” Jesse said, full of concern.

“No, it's okay. But you know what? You're the only person I ever told that story to, and now I'm thinking, why was it so easy to tell you, out of all the girls I know, about my deepest secrets?”

He had her full attention, and Jesse silently listened to every word he said. He suddenly rose to his feet and walked over to the dresser.

“See, all my life, I've managed to hold on to my feelings ‘cause too many people has let me down, so I decided not to trust anyone. That's when you came along. That stuff you said about family made me think how much I miss having a family of my own. Now, I know we just really met, but I feel something real deep inside of me for you. Tell me you feel it, too.”

She looked at him and nodded.

“I knew you did! See, all my life I had to make choices. Some was choices I was right about, and some choices I was wrong about. That's why I know I'm making the right choice now.” He turned around, walked over to her, and got down on one knee. “Jesse, can I trust you?”

“Of course you can trust me,” she said.

“Now I'm gonna ask you a question I ain't ever asked anybody.” He grabbed her hand. “Will you be my lady?”

Jesse could hardly believe it as she searched his face. “For real, Kenny?”

He smiled widely. “For real.”

As if she were dreaming, she answered him. “Yes—yes, of course, Kenny!”

Kenny dug into his shirt pocket and pulled out a folded ten-dollar bill. She watched curiously as he unfolded it.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked.

She looked down at the white powder inside the bill. “No, not really.”

Kenny put the bill on the table and looked deep into her eyes. “That there is what keeps me looking good.” Standing up, he opened up his arms and turned around slowly, like he was modeling. “I look good to you, right?”

Jesse blushed. “Yes, Kenny.”

He got down on his knees again. “Well, I think you are fly, too.” He picked up the bill. “And this stuff here will tell if you are down with me.”

Jesse didn't know what he meant by the comment and was afraid to ask. She cursed herself for being so unhip and lame. If only Vonda were in the room with her, she would know what to do. She watched Kenny take out a matchbook, tear off the cover, and crease it, making it into a scooper. He scooped up a small amount of the white powder with the match cover and put it up to his nose. Jesse watched him closely as he ferociously sniffed up the white powder. He smiled at Jesse and then fed his other nostril.

“Yeah, that's what I'm talking about. Smooth as ice, baby, ain't nothing to it. Now you try it.”

Reluctant, Jesse shook her head. “I don't know, Kenny … I don't be digging on no heavy drugs.”

Kenny looked offended. “Heavy drugs? This ain't no heavy drug, baby,” he said with great assurance. “This here is a feelgood drug. Shit, everybody takes a toot every now and then … well, at least everybody I hang with does!”

She didn't move.

“Let me ask you a question,” he said. “Did you ever take an aspirin for a headache?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Well, what you think this is? It's the same as an aspirin, only this is in powder form.”

Jesse still felt leery. “But it's still a drug.”

“What you think aspirin is? It's a drug! When you eat dinner, what do you put on your food for taste? “

“Salt?”

“Now what do you think salt is?”

“A drug?” Jesse said, still unsure.

Reacting as if she'd just correctly answered the million-dollar question, he slapped his hands together. “Bingo, baby! It's the same thing. I tell you what—just take two hits. If you don't like it, you don't have to do no more, okay?”

Looking in his innocent face and eyes, she submitted. “Okay. If I don't like it, I'm stopping.”

He smiled again. “Cool.” Not giving her a chance to change her mind, he dug into the powder, pulled up one big scoop, and raised it up to her nose. “Now sniff this real hard to make sure it goes all the way up.”

Jesse looked into his eyes one final time. He nodded to her, and in an instant she took a deep sniff of the powder up her nostril. She sneezed, but Kenny already had another mound of the powder in front of her.

“Good girl. Now one more.”

To get it over with, Jesse quickly snorted it again. She sneezed again as the strong powder burned the inside of her nose. The powerful drug immediately started taking effect, and
she suddenly felt dizzy and queasy. Kenny quickly raised a paper bag to her mouth as she started throwing up. After she finished, Kenny gave her a tissue to clean her mouth and sat her on the bed.