Gettin' Hooked

by Nyomi Scott

  Feelin’ our bodies sway gently in shoes that were too high for two teen girls who couldn’t hold their liquor, we hugged to hold each other steady. We laughed, then sighed, our hands still gripped.

  Turnin’ together, we tipped our heads together so my wild brown curls tangled with her smooth blonde strands, our faces smilin’ and starin’ back at us.

  Lifting my free hand, I traced the shape of my almond eyes in the cool glass, then did the same to my cousin’s. She smiled, the contrast of her blue eyes was so different than mine, but the shape was the same.

  Then I traced the fullness of my lips, the black-girl in me.

  “We look alike,” I whispered. We always had. The shape of our faces, the angles along our jaws, the small bridge of the noses. Since our coloring was so different, sometimes I forgot all ’bout what made us the same.

  “Fo’ sho’, we look the same, we’re cousins.” She raised her free hand and traced the reflection of our eyes just as I had done. “We have my mom’s eyes.”

  Oh, lawdy, there it was, her mom, sister to mine. “And mine, too, I guess.”

  “Yeah, you look like her.”

  My heart skipped a beat, then seized. The breath that’d been in my lungs now burned and the sting of tears threatened at the back of my eyes. “Do you see her?” The words were forced through my dry and closin’ throat. “Do you see my momma?”

  It was the drinks. It was the emotion of pent-up years of wondering. It was learning Kayla wasn’t a virgin. Of being Maurice’s girl.

  It was everythang.

  We were seventeen and I’d never asked my cousin if she saw her auntie, like I saw mine all the damn time. I think maybe ’cause the answer could devastate me, because there was more of me than not that hella didn’t wanna know.

  But she told me anyway. “Yes.”

  Just the one little word. Just three little letters. And everything changed.

  In the reflecting glass I saw my eyes fill with tears, so I lowered my eyes and squeezed them closed. I’d grown up makin’ up excuses for her absence—like maybe she was dead—tryin’ to come up with reasons why she wouldn’t wanna mom me.

  The color of my skin always spinnin’ back to me. The kinkiness of my hair. The wideness of my nose. Brown eyes, unlike her blue.

  My lip trembled, so I tucked it between my teeth. I heard the male voices coming closer, I wanted them there so we couldn’t talk ’bout this no more. I wanted them to stay away so I could know everything. And I wanted the buzz of being halfway-to-faded to go away so I could think. There were questions, so many fuckin’ questions I needed answers to.

  But Kayla spoke before I could put voice to the shattered dreams of girlhood.

  “Not very often, Imani. Just twice a year.”

  “Where is she?” I sounded like a frickin’ toad.

  “San Diego.”

  I opened my eyes, the tears leakin’ down my cheeks now. My voice broke. “How come she didn’t want me?”

  My cousin stood there motionless. Her blue gaze filled with sorrow and sympathy and compassion, but unable to supply what I needed right ’bout then.

  The truth.

  “I don’t think it was you, Imani.” She touched my shoulder. “It wasn’t you. She just didn’t want to be a mom anymore.”

  “After a year? I was just a year when she left me!” I was losing control. “She shoulda thought about that shit before she spread her legs.” It’s what Gram had said. She just said it nicer.

  I swallowed, tryin’ to chill, tryin’ to slow the rapid fire of my heart rate. “Does she ask about me?”

  Kayla was cryin’ now, too. Silver droplets slithered down her peaches-and-cream skin. “No.” It was just above a whisper. “But your Gram sends her pictures sometimes and—”

  “Gram! Gram knows ’bout this?” And then things hella started clickin’ into place. All the bitterness Gram had, even after all these damn years. All along she’d been reachin’ out to my mother, tryin’ to make her part of my life. The pictures on my gram’s lap flashed right quick through my memory.

  The pictures she’d hidden from me. Just like the honesty I needed. All my life everyone had lied while smilin’ pretty in my face and tellin’ me they loved me.

  I yanked my hand away from Kayla’s, betrayal cuttin’ deep, stealin’ the last screwed-up shreds of my control. I stepped back. Away from her. My knees wobbled, but I steadied myself. All by myself. Alone, like I’d always been. Oh, I know my daddy loved me, but he was gone more than home. And I know Gram had done what she could, but all the goodness was dashed away by what she never gave.

  The information I needed.

  “I’m the only one who doesn’t know?”

  She nodded.

  “It’s my momma,” I screamed, the words chokin’ me, the tears flowin’ hexa fast now. “And no one told me shit!”

  Confused and hurt, hurtin’ so bad I thought I might die of it, I turned and fled. Ran into the night, caressed by the privacy of darkness.

  I could hear my sobs, hear the clickin’ of my shoes, hear my heart breakin’.

  And I could hear the heavy falls of Maurice’s feet as he chased after me. Maurice came. The only one I could count on.

  CHAPTER 22

  Kayla and James had had sex again. I knew from the first sec I walked back into James’s dorm room. The room was dark, aside from the green digital clock and the glowin’ yellow of the low-playin’ stereo.

  The heat felt heavy, especially compared to the crispness of the nighttime outdoors. And it smelled of sweat and booty-juice like it does at house parties when folks have shaken their asses a little too hard.

  My eyes slowly adjustin’ to the darkness, I stood just inside the entryway of the room, Maurice’s big body warm and solid right behind me. No damn way did I wanna catch them in the act, so I closed my eyes and listened for movements or signs of action comin’ from the bed.

  When I heard nada, I narrowed my eyes as my gaze traveled to the narrow bed they shared, ready to slam my lids shut again if they were smashin’. The covers were wrapped around them and both were asleep. The slow, long breaths gave them away.

  They both had shirts on, but I was hella sure that was for our benefit. Kayla’s blond hair was a ratty mess, one bare leg dangled out of under the blankets. I stared at her, tryin’ hella hard to repress the resentment I felt. The anger over the secrets she’d kept from me.

  Me. Her best friend. Her cousin. Her blood.

  Though I tried to bottle it up, a shiver traveled down my spine. I think maybe my brain was tryin’ to sort out the mess of all the straight-up junk that happened to me tonight.

  Or maybe it was just my body gettin’ used to the heat of the room, slowly startin’ to shed the chill. Or it coulda been the faint odor of what they’d done earlier that was trippin’ me out.

  At least they’d lit a stick of incense, the rose scent leavin’ the odor of sex faint. But still there. My stomach hurt and I had to swallow down my gag reflex.

  My gaze roamed slowly to the bed I’d be sharin’ with Maurice tonight. It was half the size of the one we’d shared the night before, and even with all that space we’d come close doin’ the do.

  Tonight we’d be pressed closer. But we’d also be sharin’ a room. I gulped a breath of air. I was so confused, wantin’ to share myself with my boy, wantin’ him to be my first. I’d wanted that for a long time.

  But I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t scared. My knees wobbled with it. I knew it wouldn’t go down tonight, not with Kayla and James a bed away. Wouldn’t be special here, like it’s supposed to be. But it would happen with us. It was the one thing I was sure ’bout tonight. Him.

  He must have guessed at what I was thinkin’, hangin’ back by the door, my head angled toward the bed we’d be gettin’ in.

  His hand touched my shoulder, now covered in his blue Bape jacket. Gentle, but so reassuring, he held me, then leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “I’ll just hold ya tonight.”


  Like he’d held me for the last couple hours.

  With no place to go after Maurice caught up with me, we’d found a bench tucked away along an unlit walkway on campus. And then Maurice had held me on his lap, his jacket thrown over us, his strong arms holdin’ me tight as my body shook with sobs.

  He kept on holdin’ me, too, with one hand strokin’, sensitive-like, up and down my spine. And he listened as I poured out all the pain of the knife wedged into my heart. Then he’d murmur just the right thangs, tenderly wiping away my tears.

  So we’d sat that way for hours, warm in each other’s arms, but in the cold of deep night. Just me and him, nearly a thousand miles from home, in a cocoon of darkness and understandin’.

  “Hold me, then.” It was just a whisper, just a mere mouthin’ of the words as I glanced over my shoulder at him, his profile so hexa fine in the shadows. Twinin’ our fingers so he fell into step with me when I moved toward the bed, I wanted him to know how much I dug what he’d done for me on this whack-ass night.

  “Hold me, boo.”

  He chuckled low in his throat, then kicked off his shoes. I dropped his jacket over the back of a chair. Though I’d brought something to sleep in, I didn’t wanna make a fuss over lookin’ for it. I’d sleep in the small mini and halter top. Heck, it was almost like bein’ nothin’ but bra and panties.

  “Do you want the wall?” he asked, his voice low and close.

  “No.” I pressed a hand to my stomach. It’d been rollin’ and a tad unsettled since the fog of alcohol wore off. “In case I need the bathroom.”

  His laugh broke through the stillness. “I’m feelin’ ya.”

  He settled into the bed, his back to the wall. We’d have had more room if I’d put my back to his chest, spoon style, but I wanted to look at him. Wanted to be able to see the glimmer in his eyes, the cuteness of his dimples, lips that made me weak. So I got in facin’ him, then drew the blanket up over us.

  His arm wrapped around me, the cool night lingerin’ on his skin and clothing, he cuddled me all tender like. It’d be dawn in a few hours. We’d be leavin’ in the mornin’. I knew that and I was ready. Ready to go home and face the mess of thangs left behind there. Ready to deal with my daddy and Gram. Ready to confront the anger of my friends when GettinHooked.com was shut down.

  But tonight? I just wasn’t ready to let it end.

  “Maurice?”

  His eyes were closed, I could see his lashes restin’ on his cheeks. “Hmm.”

  Squeezin’ an arm between us, I touched his face. Like I’d done my eyes in the window, I traced the shape of his lips with my fingertips. But he was warm and hella real. My image had been an illusion.

  His breath caressed my hand as he smiled.

  “I’ve liked ya forevah.” His smile widened, I could feel it in the darkness. My fingers moved from his lips to smooth across the dents of his dimples. The booze was long gone, so there was no blamin’ it for my confessin’. Just showin’ my boo my heart, he’d seen so much of it tonight already.

  “Ya have?”

  “Fa shizzle.”

  He shifted. His hand came up and brushed aside a few outta-control curls, then stroked his palm across my hair. “How come ya never said nothin’ ’bout likin’ me?”

  “I wanted to.”

  “You shoulda.”

  There was a lump in my throat that I had to swallow twice to get rid of. “I was afraid.” The whisper was so low I wasn’t sure he heard me at first. He was silent, his breath even. Maybe he’d fallen asleep.

  I allowed my fingers to slide across his skin, now losin’ the feel of bein’ outside. Through the murkiness of darkness, I stared at his mouth, the smile slightly faded now, his lips full and temptin’. Figurin’ he’d fallen asleep, I resisted the urge to kiss him as I wanted to.

  “Afraid of what?”

  His hoarse drowsy words startled me. Liftin’ my gaze to his eyes, I realized he wasn’t sleepin’ but starin’ straight at me, all intense and unwaverin’.

  “That…” I cleared my throat. “That you didn’t like me, too.”

  “We been marinatin’ for a minute, shortie.” His thumb stroked across my cheek and he brushed aside my hair again. He kissed me, light and unexpected, on my lips.

  “Lots of peeps hang out.”

  “Cup cakin’, that’s what I been doin’ with ya.”

  When we’d come back here tonight, I’d hella thought I’d cried out all my crazy-ass tears. I was wrong. They burned in my eyes now and seeped from my lashes.

  “Don’t do that, Imani.” A tear landed on his fingers.

  “Don’t cry over me, girl. Don’t ever cry over me. I promise, I’ll never give ya reason.”

  Oh, lawdy, I was hexa losin’ it tonight, makin’ a straight fool of myself. I sniffled, figuring that wasn’t much after all the boo-hooing I’d done earlier on his shoulder. “Oh.” Dayum, could that have sounded any more pathetic?

  “I’ve been feelin’ ya, too, for a long-ass time.”

  My heart did this little rat-a-tat beat hard against my ribs, makin’ me wonder if Maurice could feel it, we were that close. My pulse was hella pickin’ up speed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Was ’bout to ask Kayla if you were talkin’ to anyone, but then you started up your site ’n’ I figured you were lookin’ for someone else.”

  A half snort, half laugh escaped my lips. “Can I tell you something?”

  His large hand smoothed across my cheek, his fingers tanglin’ in a few escapee ringlets. “Fo’ sho’, anything.”

  “I started GettinHooked.com for you.”

  He chuckled low and husky at the back of his throat. It made me smile. “Oh, yeah? For me, shortie?”

  “Yup. For you. So I could figure out a way to get hooked up with you.”

  He kissed my brow again, the caress of his lips so sweet. The heat of it lingered for a sec; the memory will last. “Imani, don’tcha know, all ya had to do is look at me ’n’ I was yours. You wanted to get hooked, I’ve been hooked on you since the first time I saw you going to your cousin’s.”

  There’s this hella whack place between laughter and tears, and I was crazy mixed in it right then. “Boo, you tellin’ me I did all this for nothin’?”

  “Nah. For this.” And those soft lips of his landed on mine. He slanted, swipin’ his tongue across mine, pressin’ in a little deeper. But the kiss eased off just as my bones were gettin’ set to melt. “There’s gonna be a time for that. I’m holdin’ ya tonight, remember?”

  He chuckled as he tightened his hold on me, then laughed again when I yawned.

  “It’s been a fucked-up night.”

  “Yep.” He kissed the corner of my eye. “But it’s gonna be chill, you’ll see. It’ll be all gravy, shortie.” The way he whispered the words into the air so close to my ear, the flutter of his breath shimmered across my skin and made me feel like I could believe him.

  “Folks are gonna be mad ’bout Gettin’ Hooked being shut down. They been diggin’ the hell out of it.”

  He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. I already knew he agreed with me, our wild chase after my cousin to ’Zona had proved it, no matter how it’d turned out. “We’ll figure…it out…” His words were coming more spaced out, his breaths lengthening, sleep comin’ on as fast for him as it was for me.

  Curlin’ my fingers into his shirt, I pulled myself just a tad closer, his warmth chasin’ the night away, his heat makin’ my eyelids hella heavy. And as Maurice’s even breathing washed across my cheek, my mind went to mush again, like earlier when I was faded. My thoughts drifted from our journey home, to my friendship with Kayla, to all Gram had done for me, then exhaustion won and sle…

  CHAPTER 23

  It wasn’t fixin’ to be an easy mornin’; actually, the entire day was gonna end up whack. I knew this from the first second I opened my eyes and glanced at the clock. It was pushing noon, but the single small window in the dorm room was covered with a blackout d
rape. No sun had crept in and the room was still dark and cool.

  We’d all overslept despite wantin’ to be up so we could creep out of ’Zona just as we’d crept in—quick ’n’ be done with it. Except on our return trip we had planned on leavin’ early enough that we wouldn’t have to spend the night out on the road. That plan was probably shot to hell since Maurice was our only driver and the day was half gone already.

  And with Kayla along for the return journey, I hella dreaded spendin’ a night in a telly again. I clenched my jaw, my body filled with tension, the remainin’ resentment I was havin’ trouble gettin’ over.

  How could my girl do me like that? How could Gram?

  My shoulders were a little stiff, the need to stretch tuggin’ hard at me, but with Maurice’s big muscular body takin’ up most of the narrow bed, there was no place to move without fallin’ smack on the floor.

  The weight of his arm had grown heavy on my waist, long fingers seepin’ down to curve over my hip. Once I’d fallen asleep it’d been a warm cozy haven in Maurice’s arms, but that hadn’t been till near dawn. Not enough time to actually feel rested, I thought as I stifled a yawn with the back of my hand, then swiped away the escapin’ tears from my eyes.

  Easin’ a foot to the floor, I shimmied from my boo’s arms and out of bed, finally able to stretch my achin’ shoulders and back. Then a right quick trip to the little girls’ room to relieve my poor bladder that was hexa taxed after last night’s booze. Something that still had my tummy doin’ waves.

  Back in the dorm room, I turned on James’s computer, then waited for it to warm up. There was somethin’ hella strange ’bout sittin’ there in the room listenin’ to the three of them sleep, knowin’ all that I now knew.

  There was this big part of me that didn’t even feel like the same person I’d been before all this business with GettinHooked.com and my momma, who never really wanted to be my mom anyhow.

  Glancin’ at the computer screen as Windows loaded, I caught the reflection of my image, wild untamed curls bouncin’ every which way around my face, light brown skin, and eyes I knew came from Kayla’s side of my gene pool.