Love Me or Miss Me

by Dream Jordan

  “Mm, sweetheart,” he moaned. “You feel so good.”

  Percy gently laid me down on the couch, and I sank into the leather. My body dissolved underneath him.

  He hiked up my shirt, but the buzzer stopped him cold flat.

  Pizza delivery saved me from some serious temptation.

  When we finished eating, Percy tried me again. Kissing me all over, and feeling me up. This time, he went for my panties. “No,” I said, and pushed his hand away.

  Surprisingly, I only had to say it once.

  “Okay, I can respect that,” said Percy. He got up from on top of me and went into the bathroom. I fixed my clothes and thanked goodness he understood. A lot of guys think you being in the crib gives them the green light to get it. I felt so much admiration for Percy because he had actually respected my wishes without burying me in guilt. Now I was digging him more than before, if that was even possible.

  We watched television for an hour, hugged up like a cute little couple. Then Percy turned to me and asked, “Are you having a good time?”

  “For sure,” I said. Shucks, I was cuddled next to a fine dude, far away from my group home. My guard was down and my spirits were up. Life was good.

  Percy chuckled. “You said ‘for sure’ like a valley girl. It’s supposed to be ‘fo’ sho.” Are you sure you from Brooklyn? I’m saying, with a name like Kate, who you trying to fool?”

  Ha, ha, very funny. People always got jokes about my plain-Jane name; but I’ve come to love my name, plain, and simple, because it’s mine.

  Oh, and by the way, wasn’t Percy the one telling me how pretty my name was earlier? Now all of a sudden he was clowning on me?

  I’d been trying to act extra mature around Percy, so I’d been holding back my playful side. But cracking back was long overdue. He had jokes? Shoot, I had jokes too. “Well, I never heard of a dude from my hood, or this century, named Percy!”

  Percy’s face grew serious. “I was named after my father. Please don’t disrespect my father’s name.”

  “Oh, sorry,” I said.

  Awkward.

  Percy sat in silence for a couple of minutes. I felt like I wasn’t sitting next to him. Like he was light years away. Finally, Percy came back down to earth and said, “I have a surprise for you. Let’s go.”

  He jumped up from the couch, grabbed my hand, his keys, and we left the apartment. We headed down the brightly lit hallway and entered a dark stairwell. He led me up one flight of stairs, pushed open a heavy metal door, and boom, we were on the rooftop. There was a group of white people already up there, standing around talking with drinks in their hands. A few Asians, too. This was my first time being in an apartment building shared by other races. I felt worlds away from what I was used to. Percy didn’t seem to know anyone, so he took me to a spot in the cut, away from everybody else. He guided me to the roof’s ledge and stood behind me, hugging me. His arms felt so good wrapped tightly around me. I felt so wanted, so needed.

  We had a clear view of the East River. Stars were sparkling in the sky. This was such a magical moment for me.

  I didn’t figure out that we were waiting for Macy’s fireworks until the first burst of red, white, and blue pyrotechnics lit up the sky. “Wow,” I exclaimed. “I’ve never seen fireworks up this close!” I looked up in awe at the breathtaking explosives crackling and popping over the ocean.

  “See, baby, I can show you a whole lot if you let me,” said Percy, hugging me. His hug was like a vise grip, so tight and intense, like he never wanted to let me go.

  We watched the fireworks, hugging and kissing at intervals. Dazzling rainbows of light lit up the sky and my spirits, making me feel so alive inside. I had never experienced anything close to this magical moment.

  This was a night wrapped in romance, Percy’s lips so soft, gentle, and warm on my neck. I was overwhelmed. I didn’t want the bliss to end.

  But then I glanced at my watch. Ten o’clock curfew was looming over my head. Even though my group home was mad lax, I didn’t want to take advantage of that. I turned to Percy and said, “Um, I have to go.”

  He looked disappointed. “Why?”

  “I have to be back by ten,” I said, and left it at that. I wasn’t looking forward to explaining my foster care status.

  “Where do you live?” asked Percy.

  “Gravesend.”

  “Sounds depressing.”

  “Yeah, and you don’t know the half,” I blurted. That was all I planned to say.

  “Well, let me clean up first; then I’ll take you home.”

  I helped Percy clean up our earlier food mess, and then he grabbed the keys to the Avenger. While sitting in his car, I was busy thinking of an excuse for Percy to drop me off without seeing where I lived. I wasn’t ready to let him fully inside my complicated life. The only guy I’d ever felt comfortable with knowing my personal business was Charles, because Charles had shared his own personal family drama with me many times before.… And speaking of Charles, oops; I had left my boy hanging!

  As soon as I climbed into Percy’s car, I turned to him and asked, “Can I use your phone for a quick second?”

  “Sure,” said Percy. He was about to hand me his BlackBerry, but when I whipped out the pamphlet from my pocket and started searching for Charles’s scrawled number, Percy held on to his phone. He looked at me curiously. “I thought you were calling home.” He jutted his chin toward the pamphlet. “You don’t remember your own phone number?”

  “No, I need to call my homeboy … I was supposed to braid his hair today.”

  Percy chuckled. “Oh, so you trying to call the next man on my phone? You got a lot of heart, shawty.”

  “He’s just my homeboy,” I repeated, not sure if Percy was kidding or not.

  “Yeah, that’s what they all say,” said Percy, his head thrown back, laughter booming at his own joke. I still couldn’t tell if Percy was seriously doubting my word, because he was laughing the whole time. But when the joke was over, and the laughter died down, he still didn’t offer his phone. Maybe he forgot, I reasoned. So I just left it alone. Hopefully, Charles would understand.

  Chapter 9

  The closer we got to the group home, the more anxious I became.

  “Can you drop me off at the corner of my block?” I suddenly thought to ask.

  “But I want to see you safe inside,” Percy protested.

  “You can’t,” I said, shifting uncomfortably in my seat.

  “Why?” he asked, with knitted eyebrows.

  “Because.”

  “Because, why?”

  It was dim inside the car, but I sensed confusion written all over Percy’s face.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, with concern in his voice.

  Well, I wasn’t about to lie about strict parents just to get him off my case. So boom. I caved in. Spilled my foster care story as if he had forced truth serum down my throat. Even sadder, I didn’t stop there. I gushed about all my problems at the group home. My enemies, the dirty house, no privacy, no peace. When I finished blubbering, Percy reached for my hand and held it for a long time. “Sweetheart, nobody should have to go through all that,” he said, wearing a sad expression.

  I loved the way he called me “sweetheart,” and I really appreciated his concern. I just stared at him with hope in my eyes, holding back my tears.

  Percy finally let go of my hand and said, “So if the crib is strict like that, how can I stay in touch with you?”

  I shrugged, dunno.

  He leaned back in his seat, and said, “I’ll figure something out.” Then he reached for my hand again and rubbed it caringly.

  I glanced at my watch. “I really have to go,” I said, reluctantly.

  “Well, when can I see you again?”

  I wanted to ask if he was free tomorrow, but no, that would be too thirsty. “Is Wednesday good for you?”

  “Wednesday is perfect,” said Percy. “That’s usually my day off.”

  “Where should we m
eet?”

  “Give me a second to think.” Percy caressed my arm with his warm, strong hands.

  We sat in silent mode for five minutes straight. I know, because I kept peeking at my watch, feeling antsy about being late for curfew.

  “Okay, I just thought of the perfect day for us,” Percy exclaimed. “Do you know where the Atlantic Avenue Terminal is?”

  “Yep.”

  “Can you meet me at the Starbucks inside the terminal at eleven AM?”

  “Sure.”

  “Cool, then it’s on,” said Percy. “I’m going to show you a good time.” He squeezed my hand tightly.

  “Okay,” I said, excited as ever. I had a second date with the man of my dreams. It couldn’t get any better than this.

  “All right, you better go now,” said Percy. “Don’t want you getting in trouble.”

  “True,” I said, grabbing my gift bag from the backseat.

  At the corner of my block, I jumped out of Percy’s car, and waved good-bye, thinking he would peel off down the street. But Percy slowed his car to a crawl and tailed me to the group home’s front door. At first, I felt apprehension, but the feeling quickly dissolved into appreciation. Percy cared. He really cared.

  I swung open the front door, looked back at him and waved. Percy beeped twice, and the Avenger roared down the block.

  Wow, the perfect gentleman, I marveled.

  I walked—no, floated—into the house. I was hanging on cloud nine with Percy heavy on my mind. But as soon as I signed myself in, and went upstairs to my bedroom, I crashed right back down to earth.

  Chapter 10

  Oh. No. She. Didn’t.

  I stood frozen in my bedroom’s doorway, staring at a disturbing sight: A new girl was sitting cozy on my bed with her back leaned up against my wall. She was a tall girl. Even sitting down, I could tell she had some height to her. She wore a tight yellow tank top and a light-blue mini jean skirt that barely covered her thighs. A smattering of red pimples covered her tan skin, and honey-brown hair flowed down her back. Her turquoise and pink Pastry sneakers hung over my bed, almost touching my doggone sheets. Pretty girl. But pretty bold. Her silly butt stretched all up in my spot, for what?

  I glanced over at Tracy, who was sitting on her own bed, paying my presence no mind. Then I peeped a random twin bed squeezed into the far corner of our bedroom. I wondered why New Girl couldn’t park her behind there, where it belonged. But then I quickly told myself: Kate, calm down, get a grip. I had no reason to trip. Technically, my bed was not my bed. Nothing is really your own in foster care. I been in this game long enough to know how it goes down: We run out of room. We get moved around and squeezed together like a can of freaking sardines. Tracy was already a problem. Now I simply had another one.

  New Girl stared at me waiting for me to say something. But my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth.

  “Kate, you can come in now,” she finally said in a hoarse voice.

  I hesitated.

  “I don’t bite,” she added, wearing a smirk.

  Since she knew me by name, I could already imagine what mess Tracy and crew been spittin’ about me. Shoot, I was surprised New Girl even bothered to greet me in the first place.

  “Hey,” I said, awkwardly stepping inside the bedroom.

  “I’m Jeselle,” she offered, finally jumping up from my bed.

  Tracy didn’t say a word to me. At least she was keeping it real.

  “Night staff is out like a light,” said Jeselle. “We about to go out on the back porch and get twisted. You coming?”

  Tracy sucked her teeth, swung her burgundy weave, and leaped from her bed. “I’mma be outside,” she squeaked to Jeselle and bounced out the room.

  “A’ight, ma,” said Jeselle. Then she turned to me and asked, “So what you did for the Fourth? You got a man?” She jutted her chin toward my gift bag.

  “I volunteered for a community garden,” I said, wanting to add, “but I might have a man soon.”

  “Volunteering on a holiday?” Jeselle jerked her head back. “The hell made you do that?”

  “My homegirl gave me the idea.”

  “Shoot, couldn’t be me working for free … but good for you.” Jeselle knitted her eyebrows and started shaking her head. “I didn’t get to do anything today. Too busy getting kicked out my momma’s house and moving here. My voice is mad froggy from yelling at her. She act so freakin’ stupid sometimes … hitting me for no damn reason. She didn’t think I’d hit her back this time. Well, she thought dead wrong.”

  I wasn’t shocked by Jeselle’s random confession; in foster care, you get used to the same sad stories volunteered out of nowhere. Some girls don’t care who they tell their stories to; they just want to get it out of their system, out into the open.

  But since I didn’t know Jeselle like that, I kept my mouth closed.

  Jeselle unzipped the large black tote bag sitting beside her. “See, that’s why I’m ’bout to sip me some Henny and get real relaxed. You coming?”

  “Nah,” I said, quickly leaving out the part about me being public enemy number one at the group home. I also left out the part that I don’t drink anymore; somehow it always sounds like I’m trying to be high-and-mighty when it ain’t even like that. It’s like this: I get stupid when I drink, and I don’t find vomiting and hangovers enjoyable, so I don’t care what people think. I don’t drink. Period.

  But Jeselle seemed anxious to include me. “Aw see, I’m trying to toast to my new roomies.” She jumped up and started singing, “Party, party, party, let’s all get wasted!” Then she plopped back down on the bed, smiling at me, waiting for me to give in.

  I wasn’t about to. Instead, I decided to share a snippet of my situation. “Real talk, I don’t get along with nobody up in here, so I’m not trying to get in where I don’t fit in. Feel me?”

  “Girl, don’t let these crazy chicks intimidate you,” said Jeselle, waving her hand in the air. She unearthed a big bottle of Hennessy from her bag. “Are you really gonna let them make you miss out on the good stuff, ma?” She put the bottle to her lips and pretended to sip. “Mm, mm, good!”

  I cracked a smile, and then quickly grew serious. “Nah, I’m just not in the mood for nobody’s bull right now.”

  “Now that’s some bull,” Jeselle teased.

  “Nah, for real,” I countered. “I already know what time it is. In my old group homes, I barely gave new girls a chance, either … now I’m getting it all back.… Karma ain’t no joke.”

  Jeselle chuckled. “Yeah, I been in plenty group homes, too … used to boss them broads around like they was on my payroll. Girl, pimping wasn’t easy!” She fanned her face and pretended to wipe invisible sweat from her forehead. I busted out laughing over her dramatics. Jeselle joined in at the sight of me cracking up.

  Once our laughter died down, I thought, Wow, I don’t even make friends this easy. In less than ten minutes, Jeselle had managed to defrost the icy wall I usually put up with new girls. Don’t get me wrong: We weren’t official homegirls yet, but there was something about her, something so real and upfront about her. I was impressed and cautious at the same time … you never know what folks are really up to. Only time would tell.

  “Karma can’t catch me here,” said Jeselle, out of the blue.

  “Yeah, I can see that,” I replied. “You got Tracy on your team mad quick.”

  “Please, girl, Tracy and her goons knew they couldn’t start none with me. I don’t play that. Soon as I walked through the door they already knew. But they was talking mad smack about you, especially Tracy. I told them chicks straight to their face: I’m not trying to pick sides. I’m just here to do my time with no drama. I got enough drama at home.”

  “I feel you.”

  Jeselle held up her pointer finger and added, “If I don’t work things out with my mother, then I only got one more year in the system. When I turn eighteen, I’m out of here … but hopefully, my mother will take me back.”

 
“Why would you go back?” I wanted to ask. A mother physically fighting with her daughter is not a good look. But minding my own business, I simply said, “Five more years for me … and I don’t have any family to go back to.”

  “Wow, that’s tough,” said Jeselle, as she dug in her bag again and unearthed a stack of plastic cups, followed by an empty orange knapsack. She stuffed the Henny bottle and the cups inside of the sack, hopped up from her bed, and headed toward the door. Before leaving, she stood at the doorway and said, “If you change your mind, come outside and get twisted with us.”

  “Okay,” I replied. But yeah right, no, I wasn’t.

  I was already drunk with thoughts of Percy. He was still heavy on my mind. Had me floating on cloud nine. All I wanted to do was repeat the details of our romantic night in my head and then hit Replay all the way until the next day. Percy was so remarkably fine and kind. He made my night … maybe one day, my whole life.

  Man, I was so hot for him. I needed to cool myself off with a shower. But no showers were allowed past ten. So I washed up real quick, threw on the pretty pink cotton nightgown Lynn bought me, climbed into bed, and pulled the sheets up to my neck. I drifted to sleep dreaming of Percy. I couldn’t wait to see him again.

  Chapter 11

  On Wednesday, at eleven o’clock on the dot, I stepped inside of Starbucks, anxious and excited. Percy was already sitting at a table near the window, caught up in his BlackBerry. He didn’t see me. So I decided to try my hand at flirting, since I was so brand-new at it. I snuck up behind him, and wrapped my arms around his neck. Bold of me, but hey, I wanted to step my girly game up.

  Caught by surprise, Percy swiveled around in his chair, looked up at me, and his face broke out into a smile. He stuffed the BlackBerry in his back pocket. “Hey, baby,” he said, then brushed my cheek with his soft lips, grabbed my hand, and we headed for the number 3 train. I walked tall with my handsome hottie by my side, proud as I could be.

  While standing on the sweltering station’s platform, Percy turned to me and said, “Sorry I couldn’t pick you up in style, but parking in Manhattan is a pain, especially on a weekday.”