 
### Cat Eyes

### a novella

### by Regina Desala

Copyright 2014 Regina Desala

Smashwords Edition

### Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

### Table of Contents

Cat Eyes

About Regina Desala

Other Books by the Author

Connect with the Author
The girl sat alone on the ground away from all the happily playing kids. She picked at a loose thread in her sneaker, her lip pouting out. Her eyes were hazel stones, her face a mask.

The boy who watched her held a ball in his hand. He tossed it to one of the other boys he'd been playing with. Ignoring—or not caring—about the air that surrounded her as he walked to where she sat on the ground, he sat down in front of her but she didn't look up.

"My name Demetrius. What yo name is?" he asked, waiting for her to look at him.

She paused, then continued to pick at the thread in her shoe, head bowed.

"I'm talking to you," the boy said loudly, thinking maybe she hadn't heard him.

The girl didn't raise her head, but her eyes beneath their thick black lashes rose slowly, languidly, in the manner of a wary feline, her eyes still, hard, and steady as hazel stones. Demetrius didn't flinch away, returning her gaze and not understanding why it made him feel so strange.

"My name Demetrius," he said again.

She assessed him quietly. This time, she raised her face. A black-blue bruise covered one of her cheeks. There was a cut on her bottom lip.

"What happened to your face?" he exclaimed, pointing.

Her eyes flickered. "My name is Persian. Why aint you playing wit yo friends?"

Demetrius made a face. "Why you got to get a attitude. Maybe I didn't want to play wit them. Maybe I wanted to play with you."

"I don't want to play with nobody," she mumbled, picking at her shoe again.

The boy looked off. "There aint nobody on the swings. Come on , let's go swing."

He got up and held out his hand to her.

She looked at his hand. "Okay," she mumbled after a moment.

Hand-in-hand, they ran to the swings.

Purr sat on a swing, rocking slowly, to and fro, to and fro. The cold air slipped beneath her coat and made her shiver. The swing next to her jangled.

"What you doing?" Demetrius asked, his hands holding the chains on either side of his swing.

"Running," she said, blinking when the wind blew in her eyes.

"We going to the Lounge tonight. You wanna come?"

Purr smiled and looked at him. "So you grown now, lil' boy? Since when do you hang out at the Lounge?"

Demetrius smiled and looked down at his black Tims in the dusty gravel beneath his swing. "You know wit graduation coming and my dad laying all this money down on me, I figured we had some celebratin' to do."

Purr rolled her eyes. "What is 'we', Demetrius? You got celebratin' to do. You got dreams and plans. What I got, baby boy? Nothing. All I got is the streets." She looked out over the playground. They had closed the elementary school she and De attended in their younger years. The windows were boarded up and bomb graffiti covered the walls. The children still laughed on the chill wind.

"You could start your own salon. That's your dream," Demetrius said.

"That's when we was kids, De. You know I don't want to do hair no more."

"Why don't you go to law school, then? A judge is a good job. A lawyer too."

She shook her head. "I don't think I can do it. How can I go to one of them schools? Better yet, how can I get into one of them schools? What if my grades aint good enough?" _I can't take that kind of rejection._

Demetrius stood up and held out his hand. "Come on. Now you know you practically an A student. Let's go home and get ready to go. My mama said 'If you going anywhere, you betta be there before I get home from work. You aint out of high school yet and as long as you under my roof— ' Well, you know the talk." He looped his arm through hers as they walked.

"Yeah," she grinned. Inside, she sighed, and let go of her problems for another brief moment in time.

All the other third grade girls had their Barbie lunch boxes and pretty hair styles, new shoes, and new clothes. Only one sat away from them, clutching a brown paper bag in her hand. Her sneakers were scuffed and her hair hung plainly at the sides of her face, hair she'd straightened herself the night before. She wore the same blue jeans and jacket she wore last year. Her back and legs hurt.

Some of the girls with their shining, permed, brightly ribboned hair look at her and giggle from time to time. The girl ignored them imperiously but rubs the bruise on her arm.

At lunch, she sat alone near the window, blinking slowly. Demetrius, sitting with a group of his friends, turned and looked at her. As she looked back, he glanced at his friends then back at her. She looked away out the window again.

After school, she started her walk back to that place as she had began that morning—alone. Someone ran up behind her and she nearly pulled away. Demetrius took her arm in his own and they walked home together.

When she got to her house and he got to his, she hesitated, reluctant to leave his company, wishing they could stay friends a little longer today. She was alone when he went away from her even when it was just for a little while. She never felt lonely when he was around. Every moment they spent together was like a little bit of eternity that ended too soon.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said, going slowly into his own yard, backing away until he had to turn around and walk straight or trip over something.

Waving, she went to the house next door. Her dad was waiting for her. For once, his eyes weren't red and he didn't sway on his feet. He stood there in his blue striped white machinist shirt with the dark blue oval patch that read _Carl_. The hug he gave her didn't feel right and it made her want to pull away. He smelled like cigarettes and beer and car smells. Inside, she was hissing and spitting at him.

"Yo mama passed away. Cancer. You got to assume the role of the woman 'round the house. Clean this place up and go wash the dishes," he said before going to sit amidst the beer cans on the sofa. He lit up and puffed gray smoke in the flash of the TV. screen.

She went to her room, the neatest room in the house, where everything was in order, and put down her book bag and took off her coat. She went to the kitchen, got a trash bag, and went to clean up the messy rooms. She'd do the sink full of dishes later.

Her mama's room was littered with makeup stuff, skanky outfits, and liquor bottles, smelling of cheap perfume and something stale. Here and there on the floor are needles. A tourniquet. The girl ran her hands over a hot pink feather boa.

In the living room, her dad sat on the couch, watching some movie. She picked up empty and half empty beer cans and cigarette carts. He smacks her on the rear as she walks by the television.

"Get yo ass back in here, girl, and clean this damn house up!"

In a red spaghetti strap dress and the pumps Fy bought her for her birthday last year, Persian tucked her hair behind her ear and put her other arm through her leather jacket. She walked around the passenger side of the new navy blue Escalade Demetrius had gotten for his perfect first semester report card and got in. Once inside, her father's ranting was faint.

In his jersey, loose jeans (never baggy in the presence of his mother) and classic white Air Force Ones, Demetrius sat in the driver's seat, wrist hanging over the steering wheel. An iced-out chain she didn't recognize twinkled around his neck. Other than that, the only jewelry he wore was his class ring.

"You ready?"

"Yeah."

"Where you get them shoes from?" Demetrius asked, glancing at her feet before pulling away from the curb.

Persian moved her feet around a little. "Oh, my friend bought me these for my birthday."

"You gettin' a little too grown for me to handle. And that little bitty short dress you wearing," he said under his breath, his voice irritated.

"My dress is not that small or short. You never complained about that black one I wore to that party. It was much worse than this," she said, pulling the dress down a little to cover her thighs more.

"Yeah that's because I was there to stand over you."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I remember all too well. None of the guys would ask me dance."

"Don't fall and trip on those things," he mumbled.

She sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes playfully.

"Like my mama used to tell my sister 'You betta stop before them thangs get stuck in the back of yo head.'"

"Why don't you be quiet. You got something to say about everything." A smile tugged at her lips.

Rick's Lounge was a club on Park. The music could be heard booming from outside.

Before Demetrius could get around the car, Persian was out, straightening her dress. He shook his head.

The upper floor of the Lounge was all sofas, neon lit booths, tables, and high chairs. The bar was along the left wall. The second floor was a standing area. Down the iron wrought stairs though was the packed dance floor.

De found somebody to table sit while they went down to the dance floor. Missy Elliot "Work It" vibrated through the room. Some of the ladies hated and the brothas watched as Purr worked it against Demetrius. He moved closer to her as they danced, casting warning glances around.

At the end of the song, she kind of wished she hadn't wore the shoes. She yelled this to De over the music, who took her hand and started back up the stairs. He let her go in front of him, leading her by the small of her back. The DJ took a break and the music went faint.

The dance floor had been hot with the crush of bodies, the smell of new outfits, perfume, cologne, and liqueur. On the upper floor, it was cooler. Persian glanced towards the bar.

"Man, I want something to drink. These shoes are killing my—"

As she looked back at him, girl walked up and kissed him full on the lips. Persian stood frozen, kind of shocked. The girl's long fingers with it's manicured nails done up in blue enamel with little rhinestones and glitter liner caressed his face and curved around his neck. He pulled back, looking down at her for a moment.

"Hey, baby. Sorry I'm late. That lil' Chinese girl at the salon messed up my nails and I told her to do them over. You know she tried to charge me. But I set her right." She looked Persian up and down, her lip hitching up. "Who's this?"

Demetrius finally turned back to Persian and said, "Uh, Purr this is Kalah, my girlfriend. Kalah, this Persian. We go way back. We been friends since kindergarten."

Purr gave Kalah the slight raise of her chin.

"Charmed," Kalah said. She moved her thin, curved body with it's high breasts almost hanging out of the dark blue strapless dress she wore. The dress bared her flawless light brown shoulders and long barely covered up thighs. "This is Sean." She put her hand on the shoulder of a tall, light-skinned brother. "He's my cousin."

"What's up," Persian said, shaking his hand when he tried to lay his played-out kiss on it.

Kalah whispered something in Demetrius's ear, her glossy, cream lips barely moving. They went off to the dance floor, leaving Persian alone with Sean. She moved away from him, blinking her hazel eyes slowly. When, she sat down at their reserved table and he followed her, and, admittedly, it irked her a little. There, she spent the whole night with him. Well, trying to get rid of him anyway. Though she made it obvious she didn't want his attention, he continuously tried to touch her hand and move closer to kiss her neck. His hand going up her thigh was the last straw.

"Look, Sean," she said finally, shrugging him off, "I'm really not feeling you so could you please stop."

He did. A girl with a ponytail of ringlets soon asked him to dance and he went with her to the floor, but kept looking back at Persian as he went down the stairs with her.

Purr dabbed at her neck with a napkin where Sean had been kissing. A man with golds in his mouth came over from a table full of guys she'd noticed before and asked her to dance. He was cute with some neat waves in his hair, dressed fresh, but not usually the type she accepted a dance from. She made an exception and he introduced himself as Marco.

The strobe lights lit the air red like streaks of lust on the hot dance floor. The crush of bodies added to the sensuality of movement. Marco took hold of her hips and she danced against him. Luckily, Sean was nowhere in sight. She put her arms in the air.

"What's your name, sexy?" he asked against her ear so she could hear over the music.

"Persian," she said with a little bit more "purr" than she'd meant to add.

"Like the cat," he smiled against the side of her face. "I like that."

"Yeah, like the cat." she said under her breath.

Sweat trickled down her neck and back. Her feet ached. Marco's Burberry cologne smelled hot. His body _felt_ hot behind her, his hands rubbing lightly along her arms. Over her waist, up again. He got close, so close that his warm breath rustled her hair. A folded piece of paper slipped into the already full breast cups of her dress. It was cool on heated skin.

"Call me," Marco said in her ear.

"I just might."

Persian's eyes searched the crowd. Instead of finding Demetrius on the floor dancing, she spotted him on the wall, lip-locking with Kalah. The woman would have wrapped her legs around him if she could.

Persian stalked off the floor, up the stairs, and out the door away from the throb of music. Cars lined the street. A few guys and two woman stood around a car smoking, laughing loudly. The air was cool on her body. She straightened her spine. Walking home wasn't exactly how she'd expected the night to end, but oh well. Strong, hot fingers wrapped around her arm as she was walking down the street. Persian spun around.

"Where you going?" Demetrius asked. He was holding her coat in his other hand.

Persian shrugged him off a little coldly. "I got tired, so I decided to walk home. It's hot in there anyway."

"I'll drive you home. We were leaving anyway. Sean got a ride."

Persian considered saying no and walking. Especially when Kalah shimmied up behind De and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Come on, baby. My parents are out of town. We can go to my place...." Kalah said, kissing his neck.

"I gotta take Persian home first, babe."

"No. Don't worry about it. I'll walk," Persian said and started down the street again.

Demetrius told Kalah to wait a sec, where she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. He caught up with Persian and took her shoulders.

"Come on, Purr. It's cold. I don't want you walking out here alone," he said, standing in front of her.

Persian glanced at Kalah standing a little ways up the sidewalk near the entrance of the club. She shifted from foot-to-foot, feeling the chill in the air now. With a sigh, crossing her arms over her chest to warm her fingers beneath her arms, she allowed him to put his hand on the small of her back and lead her to the car. Demetrius swept her coat over her shoulders and opened the car door. Kalah climbed in the front smoothly before Persian could and slammed the door. Standing there for a moment, trying to control the inclination to open the door and snatch that child out of the passenger's side, Persian got into the back seat.

_Bitch_.

Persian looked up in the front once on the drive back to the house. Kalah had her hand beneath Demetrius's jersey, her head on his chest. She looked out the window again at the passing street.

As soon as the car stopped, Persian was out. A minute later, the car pulled slowly away from the curb and down the street. "So that's how it is?" she muttered, watching it go, the tail light disappearing in the night.

Persian turned and went through the gate, shutting it with a clank once she was on the other side. She took a deep breath in the chill and went down the walkway to the front door.

It was dark inside. She moved without hesitation or stumbling, practically seeing in the darkness. She stepped over beer cans and clothes, whatever else happened to be lying around, without looking down.

"Where...the fuck have you been?" Carl slurred haltingly. There were noises coming from the TV. in his room. There were other people in the room, Carl's friends.

Drunk. Just like he is.

Persian didn't respond. She took off her coat and shoes as she flipped on the light in her neat little space.

There was a bump; the door slamming against the wall. abruptly was knocked against the wall by a weight at her back. Hands grabbed her breasts roughly. She yanked, swung, and kicked violently.

"Let go of me!"

"Won't you take off...thish dress and lets me get some of that pussy," a voice rasped in her ear. His other hand went up her dress.

"Hey Jeff!" another drunk called from her Carl's room. "Come out that bitch room and hit this shit we got in here! You can fuck her later!"

He was either too out of it to hear or was more interested in what he was doing. "Take off yo clothes. Better yet, get on the bed..." he swayed, letting her go "...and spread yo legs."

"Yeah. I'll give you what you need, baby." Persian took the straps of the dress down with steady hands. She walked to the bed stand, opened the top drawer, and pulled out Mr. Nine. She turned to "Jeff" and aimed the barrel at his forehead.

His eyes cleared for a moment. "Hey, girl! What the hell you doing wit that?" he yelled, stumbling back clumsily.

"Now, Jeff. Get the fuck outta my room. 'kay?" She smiled fleetingly, a quick up and of her lips. When he didn't move fast enough, she cocked the gun in her hand. He scrambled out and she closed and she locked the door behind him.

Persian turned out the light and climbed into bed. Her shoes slid off the side with loud clunks. She pulled the covers up to her chin and put Mr. Nine under her pillow.

She is a light sleeper.

A shadow fell over her. The little girl clenched her fists, but otherwise didn't move. She wouldn't run or cry until it got to the point where she had to.

Carl cussed at her and struck her with his fists until she fell to the floor. Then he began to beat her with a stick, the broken plank that he had taken from the broken box spring in his room.

"You aint gone grow up to be nothing but a whore and a bitch just like yo mama!"

Persian screamed only when she felt something crack in her side. Darkness clouded her vision and took her to a place where she couldn't feel the bruises and cuts all over her body, where she couldn't feel her father's blows.

Demetrius opened his eyes slowly. The room was lit with the first rays of early morning light. Kalah lay next to him, her head on his chest, her leg over his, her body along his side. His arm was around her shoulders. But unlike in the movies, he wasn't thinking about her. He was thinking of a girl with eyes like hazel stones and a slow stretch like a cat.

Where was she? Was she okay? When he dropped her off last night, he'd meant to walk her to the door like he always did. Persian....She had seemed different last night, more distant. He wanted to talk to her, but he didn't know what about.

Kalah stirred, kissed his chest. Her hand went beneath the covers between his legs. His thoughts distracted him even as he kissed her.

Persian didn't see much of Demetrius at school and it was nearing their last week before graduation. When she did see him, he was lip-locked with Kalah. So she started avoiding him. He was grown up now. He didn't need her anymore. She had always known the day would come when he wouldn't need the cat girl anymore.

On one particular afternoon, she was cleaning out her locker. A dried cluster of flowers with ribbons sprouting out from beneath fell on the floor. Purr bent to pick it up. It was the corsage De had gotten her when hey went to the senior prom together. She'd put it in there when he took her to the park afterwards. She remembered getting her gown all wet playing in the fountain with him.

Purr smiled and flicked the dried petals over her nose. The fragrance was still there. She put it in the Gucci bag on her shoulder.

"Persian, where you been all this time? I've been looking for you."

She didn't turn at the sound of De's voice. She put some more crumbled up paper in the trash bag she held.

"What's up? Why haven't I been seeing you?" he asked, standing beside her. She didn't look at him, only continued to put more trash in her bag.

"I been doing this and that. Getting ready to graduate, you know," she said in a falsely optimistic voice.

"I don't get you. What's wrong?" He slammed the locker close so she would stop what she was doing. "I know you got my message on your cell phone when I called you to have dinner with me last week. Why are you acting like this?"

"Because, I get tired of being the third wheel to you and that broad of yours," she practically hissed under her breath.

"What?" he said.

"Nothing. Look, I just think you're getting too old for our friendship. You got other things to worry about and I aint one of them." She threw the bag of trash into a nearby bin.

"How could you say that? We been friends forever. I'm not gone stop because we having some differences."

As much as her mind fought against it, Persian put her arms around his waist. She felt once again the warmth and strength and hardness of him.

He held her. "That's what I thought. Now, let me get you that value meal from McDonalds for lunch."

"I thought you was supposed to be banked," she said as he slipped his arm around her shoulders and they walked to the stairs.

"Well, you know. All this player money can't be spent on no fancy restaurant, kitty cat." He smiled and said, "Besides, it aint nothing wrong wit the dollar menu."

He was worried. He hadn't seen her all day. She wasn't at the fifth grader's assembly with her class. Her teacher said she was absent again.

Tears pricked his eyes. Where was she? He was the last to get off the bus. He was going to her house to make sure she was okay despite the fact that she'd told him never to go there. He leapt off the bus and right into her clutching arms. He held her tight.

"Where were you, Persian?" he asked when they pulled away.

He didn't understand why her face was bruised again. He didn't understand why there were long cuts gauging the skin beneath her clothes.

Blood seeped through the white and light blue striped shirt she wore from the worst cut on her side. He stared at it. Before he could ask her about it, she put her coat over it.

She held out her hand to him. "Come on, Demetrius. I want to show you something."

After a moment, he took it, happy that she was okay, standing with him. "Where are we going?"

"It's not far."

They went through the trees across the street from their houses. Fall leaves rustled beneath their feet. They came to a clearing surrounded by evergreens. A house stood in the middle. It's pink paint peeled and wind whistled and howled in it's broken windows.

She lead him through the creaking door, into what had once been a living room. His mouth opened at the mural of yellow, pink, white, and red roses painted on the walls.

"This can be our secret place, Demetrius. Where there is always summer," she said, touching the fading wall.

"Why?"

"So we can always have someplace to go." She stared out the window. "I learned that when a cat gets hurt really bad, they find a place real dark and peaceful to die. This is where I wanna die, Demetrius."

He walked over and held her and he didn't know why he was sad.

Persian hugged Marco "Fy" Robinson awkwardly. When she wanted to let go, he still held on, his hands sliding down her hips. She pulled away quickly.

"Thanks for coming, Fy," she said. She glanced over at all the presents he'd bought her for her birthday.

"Anything for my girl. I hope you like what I bought you." He looked across the club. "Where that lil' do boy of yours at?"

"He's my friend, Fy." She didn't put much on it since De hadn't showed up for her small party. That didn't even matter. He hadn't even showed up right quick to say happy birthday let alone called to say it.

She studied the man beside her out the corner of her eye. Fy wanted her, she knew. Purr had never really told him off because he was her friend and she didn't know how. He'd always been there when Demetrius wasn't. She also knew that he thought she was going with Demetrius and that made him jealous.

"You know how I feel about you, Persian. Just remember I showed up for your party and he didn't." Fy kissed her cheek lingeringly, then left.

Rick's Lounge wasn't full at this time a day. At a small fee, the owner let people throw their parties there and most did it at this time to avoid the crush of the crowd.

Persian sat down at a table and started to unwrap gifts. Clothes, jewelry, perfume, and some little things that she appreciated more than the expensive stuff. She stopped halfway through them and sipped her drink.

Demetrius hurried in through the club's main door, looked around, spotted her, and came over.

"God, Persian, I'm sorry. I forgot."

"Don't worry about it. You have to forget my birthday once right."

He put her gift down on the table. "I was with Kalah and—"

"Don't worry about it." She ignored the anger seeping into her. "You were with your girl." _Wit her fucking,_ she thought, feeling her face burning.

Demetrius shook his head, not finding the words to express his regret. He looked at the table littered with gifts and wrapping that Purr had neatly folded up. There was a box of Trojans half unwrapped on the table. He picked them up. "Who gave you these?"

At first when Fy gave them to her, the first gift she'd opened, she thought it was funny. Seeing the look on Demetrius's face, it wasn't so funny anymore. She didn't answer.

"That nigga Fy gave um to you didn' he? Man, Persian that boy is trouble. Keep away from him. All he want to do is fuck you. I seen the way he looks at you."

"At least he remembered to come to my party, De," she snapped.

He moved closer to her on the seat in the booth. She moved away.

"I'm sorry, Purr. I told you that already. Let me give you a ride."

"That's okay. Kahlil gone take me home."

She was six when her mother started bringing her to work with her. She stood back stage, watching her mama and other woman take off their clothes and dance and swing on poles for men who threw money at them. They jiggled their titties and slapped their behinds, spread their legs to show the things in between in the sex lights.

One time her mother went to the back room with a man. He slipped a lot of money in her G-string. She had followed them. She watched the man take off his clothes and watched her mama take off the shiny panties she'd been wearing. By this age, there was no naivety in the girl. She knew everything about sex from her Carl's smut magazines and tapes, tapes she'd been forced to sit down and watch with him because he wanted to show her what her mama did at work.

What she would someday be doing.

She watched her mama get down on her knees and put the man's dick in her mouth and suck it up and down, up and down until he told her to stop. The man told her to lay down on the sofa. When she did, he spread her legs wide open and pushed them high in the air. He slid his dick in her and pushed it in and out as hard as he could. He grabbed her titties. Guttural moans filled the room. This was all she knew, everything her parents had taught her.

The little girl closed the door and went to hide. She didn't want a man to take her to a room.

"NO!"

He grabbed Persian and started pulling her pants down her hips. He pushed them down her legs and fumbled with the zipper on his pants. His burning breath smelled like liquor.

Persian drew back her fist and punched him in the face. He yelled and hit her back. The side of her face throbbed and stung. He spread her legs.

She felt under her pillow and pulled out Mr. Nine. She hit him in the side of the head with it. He fell off her. Breathing hard, she got up and pulled her pants and underwear up again. She took a duffle bag from the closet, threw in everything she'd gotten for her birthday, her newest and cleanest clothes, and Mr. Nine inside. She put the bag over her shoulder.

Purr ran from the room.

"Get you ass back in here girl!" Carl yelled drunkenly from the floor. "GET BACK HERE!"

Her face was beginning to swell. It hurt, but she kept going. No time to stop. She was out of here.

Demetrius's glanced at Persian empty seat as Mrs. Oughta passed out the test sheets and booklets. She hadn't been there for eight days.

The day was bright and warm with light, feathery winds. People hugged, some cried, others got yearbooks signed for the last time.

Demetrius stood on the grass in his blue gown and black shoes, holding a cap with a yellow tassel hanging from the middle. He shook hands with the principal and his wife, let them take a picture of himself and their son. Afterwards, he held two rolls of paper in each of his hands.

One of the diplomas was his and the other was Persian's

He let Kalah drag him off to be passed around like a trophy by all her girlfriends. After that, they had another argument. Their relationship was strained lately. Mostly because of him. He couldn't eat, he could barely sleep. All he did was worry about Persian. She'd disappeared without a trace. Demetrius looked up at the sky. There was a lot of sky, a lot of places she could be, none of which were here.

They came back for more every time. They never got it though. Maybe it was the curve in her step, the swing of her hips, or the slight bounce of her breasts. Purr never knew. The men watched her dance in sexy clothes that barely clung to her without ever taking a thing off. They hoped she would, placing all their money at her feet, but she never did. She didn't need a pole or lights. She danced and she got paid for dancing. That was it. In the eyes of all, you were stripper if you got paid for dancing in a club like this one. Not in Persian's eyes. She would never sell her body like that or swing on any pole naked so a man could slip fifty bucks under her titties. She would never be her mother.

Maybe she was worse than the women taking off their clothes for the money—she teased without ever giving. Maybe there was no difference and only pretended there was one.

Demetrius moved out his parent's place later that year. He didn't plan on going to school again immediately so he figured he'd fix up his place in the meantime. Half the time though, when Kalah wasn't trying to decorate the place with pink frou-frous and feather boas, he sat in his brown leather Laz-E-Boy and thought of Persian while he sipped on some Hennessy or some coffee to mull his hangover. He missed her so much. He often got drunk. He'd fell asleep with the picture of him and Purr at the prom in his hands.

Persian often drove back to her home in the car she'd rented. She found out from Kahlil that Demetrius had found his own place so she went to his apartment and propped the window open one night. Actually, she did it often.

Quiet as her namesake, she would slipped beside him and watched him sleep. He never knew she was there, at least not consciously. She ran a hand over the air above his cheek, wishing she could touch him. She would leave before daylight, going out the window again, leaving his warmth behind.

When he woke up each morning, he would feel the imprint where she'd been, feel the fading warmth there. The sheets smelled like night.

One night, when she was sure she had everything together and she couldn't wait any longer, she went back to him.

Wearing her leather jacket, cat suit, and socks, she padded in. She crept into the bed beside him. Her heart broke when she saw his face.

He needed a shave. His eyes were rimmed black. His brow was pinched with worry. An empty bottle of Jack Daniels sat on the bed stand. She noticed it as she glanced over the moonlit bedroom over his shoulder.

Demetrius groaned suddenly in his sleep. He threw his arm around her waist, still asleep, and pulled her closer.

"Why you leave me, kitty cat? I been worried 'bout you," he mumbled without opening his eyes.

His breath was sweet with liqueur, warm over her face.

"Never left you, baby boy. Been right here wit you all the time," she whispered to him.

Demetrius's arm tightened around her and he pulled her into the warmth of his body. "You didn't, did you?" His breathing became even and he dozed off again.

Persian breathed softly and wrapped her arm around his waist. Her fingers spread out flat on his back. For a while, she just lay there, blinking her hazel-gold eyes slowly. Finally, she closed her eyes slowly and fell asleep.

Demetrius woke up in his bed the next morning. Out of absent minded habit, he brushed his fingers over the imprint in the bed. It was warm, warmer than ever.

His head was throbbing and his eyes were heavy and burning. He stumbled as he got out of bed. _I was drunk_ , he thought, _I dreamed her_.

In his boxers, he stumbled into the kitchen and made himself some coffee for his hangover. The sound of water rushing came from the bathroom.

Demetrius made a face, then rolled his eyes. He closed them tightly and raised his face heavenward. He should never given her a key to get in here. It was enough she dropped by to drag him out and to fuck whenever it suited her, but, damn, she couldn't be here every morning. He didn't need this right now. Demetrius put his hands over his face.

"Kalah!" he called over the kitchen bar.

The door to the bathroom opened and closed. Persian stepped around the corner. The handle broke off his coffee mug as it slipped from his hand and into the sink.

"Purr," he breathed.

Maybe he was still drunk or sleeping. Demetrius shook his head a little.

"Hey baby boy," she said, smiling a little. "What you been up to?"

Slowly, he came from around the bar, down the short stairs. Demetrius swept his arms around her and lifted her off the floor. "I wasn't dreaming all those times. You were here. Why did you leave without telling me?"

She eased away. "You were doing fine without me. I needed to get my life together, De. Get out there on my own." She ran her finger along the table next to his armchair. She touched the worn spine of his business book. "Getting at your dream, I see."

A muscle flexed in his jaw. "Where were you? What were you doing?"

Purr shrugged. "This and that." When he stood there, obviously waiting, she said, "I worked as a dancer in downtown Atlanta."

" _What_? You were stripping in some club for dollars?" he said incredulously and with more than a little anger.

Her hazel-gold eyes turned hard. "Not stripping. Dancing. I wasn't fucking any of the guys down there either. I know you was gone ask about that too, wasn't you?"

Demetrius relaxed. "I'm sorry, Purr. You said you was dancing and I should have believed you. But why?"

"I wanted to make the money myself even if I had to dance. Fy offered—"

"Fy? You still associating wit that nigga?"

"He's. My. Friend. Demetrius he might want to have sex with me—"

"Not just have sex with. Fuck three ways to Sunday."

"—or maybe be more than just friends, but he is my friend. He helps me when I need him to."

"Why didn' you come to me? I would have helped you," he snapped jealously.

"I told you, I wanted to do this on my own." She was silent a long time before saying, "I got me a place downtown. A nice apartment. I'd love for you to help me fix it up."

After a long moment, he took her hand and said, "Anything, kitty cat. We can go look at it some time this week. Right now, I need you to help me get my place together."

"You doing a pretty good job of it yourself." She spotted a bottle of pink fingernail polish and hairspray on the mantle of the fireplace. She let go of his hand and looked at the floor. "How is Kalah?" _She still a gold digging broad?_

Demetrius noticed her sudden change in attitude. "Oh. She's cool. She keep trying to mess up the masculinity of my crib though."

Persian laughed, then stretched. Slowly. Demetrius stared at her as she did it. He shook his head.

"You still didn't answer my question about why you left."

She didn't say anything.

"I got your diploma," he said, accepting her silence.

"Thanks. You know I came back to take my tests and everything. I didn't want you to try to stop me from leaving so I avoided you."

He chose not to say anything about that. "Go make me some breakfast, woman. Done had me up worrying about you all these months. A brotha be tired." He went and stretched out on the sofa.

She raised an arched eyebrow at him. "You not talking to me."

"Oh but I am. Now get me some breakfast. Gone now, with yo lil' tight ass." His tone was playful but he really did sound tired.

Persian grabbed a pillow and smacked him with it. They had a pillow fight. He won and she had to make breakfast. She laced his eggs with hot sauce and held him down so he couldn't get any juice.

On Thursday, after Demetrius went to Kalah's parent's house for dinner, Persian showed him where her apartment was downtown. It used to be a dance studio. The "living room" was large with a set of big arched windows.

It's condition wasn't too satisfactory to Demetrius so he decided to hire someone to clean the dirt and grime from the window panes and paint the walls. Despite Purr's vehement displeasure, he paid anyway. When the arrangements were done, they were going to polish the floors themselves. Obviously, the spacious place would need a lot of work to please him.

"Kalah's going out of town so I want you to stay at my place 'til your place is fixed up," he was saying to her on the way back home.

"No, I can't. I don't want to bother you. I'm sure Kalah wouldn't like it anyways." She hesitated before adding, "Fy said I could stay at his place for a while."

"No," he said flat out. "You stayin' at my place, kitty cat. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. I don't want you hanging around him. He's—"

"Trouble. I know, I know. I'll just tell him I'm stayin at a friend's place."

Seeming satisfied, Demetrius smoothly turned a corner.

The girl stood in the doorway of her mama and Carl's room. Three men were taking off their clothes. They got on the bed with her naked mama. One tied a tourniquet around her mama's arm and shot some stuff through a needle into her. Her mama's eyes rolled, then closed. She looked happy suddenly, but blank. Carl grabbed her when she tried to go back to her room.

"Let's see what mommy does for a living." he said.

He closed the door and sat in a chair behind it. He put the girl in his lap, wrapped an arm around her so she couldn't move even as she struggled and put another over her mouth.

The bed springs creaked. Grunting and groaning filled the room.

The men put their things in every hole they could cram it into. In her mouth, between her legs, behind her. They grabbed her breasts. They all moved on her.

The girl closed her eyes. Carl held them open with his fingers and made her watch. His dick pressed against her bottom through his pants.

"I'm gone let them get you next," he sneered in her ear.

Persian bolted up from her bed with a cry. Her hands clutched the sheets. Sweat beaded on her face and the back of her neck. Her heart was thumping.

"What's wrong, kitty cat?" Demetrius said sleepily, but alert. He walked quickly into the room in his black boxers and sat on the edge of the bed.

She threw her arms around him and closed her eyes tightly. "I just had a...bad dream," she said, her throat aching.

"That's it? You sure you okay?" he asked in her hair.

"Yeah, yeah."

The embrace lingered a little longer before he got up went back to his room.

Purr dropped back on the pillows. She stared at the blank white wall of the guest bedroom until she fell asleep again.

Fy had been asking her for a date every month for three years now. Saturday, she finally said yes. Why not? She hadn't been very big on dating and she'd never had a real boyfriend before. Who did she have? Demetrius had Kalah. That alone was enough to make her accept Fy's offer.

Demetrius had left earlier that morning on business or something. She didn't have to answer to him anyway. Why should it matter?

Persian put on a stretchy blue dress with glitter made into it and strappy black heels. The dress was short and strapless so she had to do a bit of work to keep the top up at first.

Fy picked her up at eight and took her to a real classy restaurant. They talked and laughed a lot. Persian figured that he was pretty cool to be with. He was thuggish at times, but that was okay with her.

Fy poured her some wine. "So where you been all this time, girl? I been missing you"

"I been around. I bought myself a new apartment downtown. De is helping me renovate it. It's windows are being cleaned and the walls are being painted."

"So you been wit that nigga. That's why you turned down my offer."

"Don't be like that. Yeah, I'm stayin' with him, but we can still hang, you know."

"So your do boy gotta nice place?"

"He's not my do boy, Fy. You know he aint. He's my friend. De just helping me out till I get my place together."

Fy called for the bill. He took a thick clip of cash from his pocket and put some money on the table. "Let's go," he said.

As they left lead her by the small of back, as De oftentimes would. His hand felt hot there. When they reached his ride, the limo with the black tinted windows on the curb, the chauffeur opened the door. Fy said something to him and they got in the back.

Purr sat away from him in the dimly lit car but he took his time moving closer. She knew what he wanted. Persian took a deep breath. Why shouldn't she? As much as Carl had threatened to do it and let multiples of men do it to her at the same time, she'd never done it before of her own will. Why not see what it was all about?

Very close to her now, Fy kissed her cheek, then her neck. His hand went to her waist, wrapping almost all the way around. He kissed her lips and she turned to face him and her lips met his in turn. Her movements were awkward to her, but perfectly teasing to him though she didn't know it. Fy put her arms around his neck. Purr's legs were locked together. His hand moved down her waist to push the dress up her thighs. He spread these thighs, gently coaxing them open as the two of them kissed. He moved to wrap her legs around his waist. Purr's back was pressed up against the locked door. His erection pressed against her. Fy pushed down her dress top.

Persian shuddered, whether from pleasure or disgust, she didn't know.

Carl and three of his friends sat at the round kitchen table, smoking, drinking, and playing cards. He'd smacked her for not doing the dishes the other day so she did them now, hurrying so she wouldn't have to be in the room when they got drunk. His friends were worse.

"We need some entertainment. Tell that girl of yours to dance or something, Carl," one of them said.

Carl took the cigar out of his mouth. "Girl, go put on that green dress of your mama's."

"I don't want to dance," she protested.

He reached out and slapped her hard across the face. "Do what I said!"

She went down the hallway, rubbing her cheek. She looked at the locked door and locked windows. Only he and his friends had keys.

The girl went into the bedroom and took off her clothes. She put on the short, whorish green dress with the sparkling sequins that her mama used to wear to the strip club.

Even at her age, she was more tightly curved and fuller in breasts and rear than her mama who had spent years wasting away from cancer and needles until she finally died. The dress was short and uncomfortably tight.

She inched down the hallway and back into the kitchen. One of Carl's friends whistled. He pointed at the high heels in the corner.

"Put those on."

She looked at them. They were the last shoes she had seen her mama wearing. That was before two guys came and fucked her on the table one night. She didn't want to wear them. Her mama had worn them and danced on this table, the way they wanted her to. Always at the end they would have a turn with her mama, each of them.

The man who had spoken before slapped her in the head. "Put the damn shoes on and get yo ass on the table."

She did not wanting to be hit again. She climbed shakily onto the table and started to move her body stiffly. One of them smacked her on the rear.

"Work it, girl!"

She tried to move with a little bit more bravado, but her will wouldn't let her. A fourth man came in and sat down, almost missing the chair.

Drunk.

She tried to climb down from the table, but that man grabbed her legs and flipped her over onto her stomach on the table. She started to claw out and scream. He ripped the dress open at the hip and tore her underwear away clumsily. She moved wildly, knocking the deck of cards off the table. The drunk man was undoing his pants. He pressed her legs wide open.

"Come on, Carl, tell him to stop that," one of them said over the struggle.

Carl only flipped one of his cards over and put it on the table, puffing on a fresh cigar.

The man who'd spoken got up and left. The screen door slammed behind him.

The drunk man moved back a little to stroke his dick. She felt him doing it. It was in this moment, that she drew back her leg and kicked him in the stomach. He yowled and fell back into his chair.

"Get that little bitch!"

It was night, dark and wet. She sprinted across the lawn. The heel broke on her right shoe, causing her to thud on the ground. Still, she got back up and ran, letting the shoes slip from her feet. She ran to the side of the house next door. She propped open the window and stumbled inside.

In the dark room, Demetrius jolted awake. Persian jumped on the bed and got beneath the covers. She put her wet, tear streaked face against his bare chest. He wrapped his arms around her as she started to cry unrestrainedly. He was so warm. Her teeth chattered in her own cold.

"What's wrong, Purr? What happened?"

She sobbed, clutching at him. "Keep me safe, keep me safe..."

Persian braced her hands against Fy's shoulders.

"Please, stop. I can't do this." He didn't at first, like he was under a spell where he just had to get in her panties or he'd die. "Stop, Fy. I can't."

His shoulders slouched and he jerked himself away from her. Purr closed her legs tight, straightened her dress, pulling the top over her breasts and pushing it down her legs. She clasped her hands in her lap.

"Please don't be mad with me, Marco. I just can't do this with you. I don't know if I can do it with anyone."

He glared at her. "You get me all hot, get my dick all hard and ready to fuck, then you leave me hanging. Why the hell shouldn't I be fucking mad?"

"Let's just be friends, Fy. Please," Purr said. She didn't want to lose him, but she didn't want this kind of relationship with him either.

"Whatever."

At his call, the chauffeur pulled off from the curb. When they reached Demetrius's place, he took her hand before she could get out of the car.

"Call me."

She smiled a little. "Yeah."

Persian unlocked the door with the spare key De had given her. She pushed it open slowly and toed in. It was dark with shadows inside. The fire burned in the hearth, crackling in the silence. Immediately, she saw Demetrius laying on the sofa asleep, a book on his chest. Purr smiled, then toed over to him. She lifted the book and put it aside on the coffee table. She leaned down and kissed his forehead. Demetrius groaned and his shoulders shifted beneath his dress shirt.

"Wake up, De," she said, shaking him gently.

His eyes opened slowly. He looked at his watch, then back at her. He was full awake when he saw what she was wearing. "Dang, girl where you been dressed like that? It's pass eleven."

"I was out with a friend," she answered honestly. That's all she and Fy were. Friends.

"Oh." He squinted his eyes at her skeptically like he knew there was something she wasn't saying.

"Come on you," she said, hauling him up. "Off to bed."

The apartment was painted sky blue. The windows were clean to a shine. All she needed now was the furniture. Against her wishes, she was dragged to furniture stores by Fy and Demetrius at different times of the day. Most of the time, Demetrius knew what she wanted by what she lingered over but said nothing about and just ordered it behind her back.

By the end of the next week, she had a king size canopy beds with sheer hangings, curtains, suede sofa, a dinette set, a long kitchen table, silverware, matching plates and bowls, cups, long stem wine glasses, goblets, candles and candelabras, everything she could think of. Even a full refrigerator from De and a stocked closet from Fy. They were both too much. And she didn't feel like she didn't deserve or want it either even if she wished she could have made her own money to get it.

They polished the hardwood floors and put everything in order. It went so well that Purr decided to throw a house warming party. She asked a close friend of Kahlil's to make the banner that would go across the windows.

It ended up saying HAPPY CRIB WARMING SHORTY!. Rhonda loved her slang and nothing in the world could change that telling by the way she'd looked at the original design of the banner.

Persian invited everyone she was close with. They invited friends and it turned into something big. Kalah was back in town and though she didn't want to, Purr even invited her.

She wore a long, slinky black gown, strapless, with modest slits up the sides. She had to stretch it in places where it was tight, but it was all good. She figured it would be tight. It was a gift from Fy. He had asked her to wear it specifically for the party.

She braided her hair up into a ponytail and started welcoming guest. She even let them poke around in the bedrooms.

"Hey kitty cat," De said, hugging her tightly as soon as he was in the door. "Why don't you tell everybody where you got all this good taste from."

Purr sucked her teeth. She turned and Kalah, who was decked out in pink with rose quartz jewelry, and gave her the fakest, phoniest smile she could come up with.

"Kalah! You look more radiant than ever." She turned and gagged on the words as she walked away.

Kahlil came with her boyfriend, Alex. He was the only white guy there, but hey, there's a first time for everything. He was quite charming and he saved Persian a dance.

She was sipping on some champagne by the door when hands slipped over her eyes. There was a kiss on her neck.

"Guess who, baby."

"Fy, what are you doing?" Persian laughed, taking his hands off her eyes.

"You go girl! I see you over there getting yo mac on," Rhonda called from across the living room as she danced with Andre.

She turned to Fy. "I thought you couldn't make it."

"You know I wouldn't miss my girl's party. Dance wit me?"

"Why not?"

Fy led her to the dance floor. Pretty soon everyone was dancing. Fy and another guy danced on Purr, making a sandwich.

"GO PERSIAN! GO PERSIAN!" they chanted as she moved her hips.

She was having so much fun, she didn't notice De leave.

Demetrius didn't know when he just grabbed Kalah and left. Somewhere between the soul train line and Purr dancing all over Fy and that other guy. She'd jiggled and booty-shaked before.

But it was always on him.

When he got home it was even worse. He couldn't stop thinking about her. He was hot and bothered when he got to bed. Kalah lay next to him, trying to get his attention. She straddled him and started to push his boxers down his hips. Demetrius, more than a little annoyed, eased her away from him to her side of the bed.

"I'm not really feeling like it tonight Kalah."

She flipped the bedside light back on. "What is the matter with you? That's all you've been saying lately."

"I'm just tired," he said absently and he flipped the light back off again.

Kalah flounced back down on her pillow and turned on her side.

Demetrius didn't sleep when he closed his eyes.

The party broke up around one. Persian said goodbye to people, accepted their gifts graciously with a smile. She searched the crowd, then caught Andre by the arm.

"Have you seen De?"

"He left about two or three hours ago wit Kalah. Why?"

"Naw. Nothing. I didn't see him go that's all."

She closed the door behind the last of her guests. She started to clean up, but thought, forget it, I'll do it in the morning.

She went to her bedroom and undressed, slipping into a pair of shorts and a tank top. The new sheets on the canopy bed were cool against her skin. She turned her face into the pillow and inhaled that new scent that it had. She tossed and turned until she just lay on her back and stared up at the ceiling.

Why would De just up and leave like that without even saying a word? Purr glanced at her cell phone on the bed stand.

His cell phone almost vibrated off the table from beside the clock. Demetrius grabbed it and looked at the glowing screen.

KITTY CAT.

He glanced at Kalah, who was lying on her back, snoring now. Demetrius answered and spoke softly.

"Hello."

"Hey, it's me," came Purr's soft voice.

"What is it?"

"Why did you leave like that last night? You didn't even say goodbye or wave or tell anyone anything."

"We all have our lil' secrets, don't we?" he said, full of spite.

"What?"

"You keep yours and I'll keep mine." He hung up.

De didn't exactly sound thrilled when she said she was coming over to get her bag, which she'd left in the guest bedroom. Fy drove her there, insisting that she not take the bus. She needed to get there anyway she could. She needed to talk to him.

Demetrius watched the car pull up to the curb. His fists clenched and his heart skipped when he saw Persian get out.

With Fy.

He watched through the window as the other guy kissed her. A quick chaste kiss, but a kiss all the same. Fy watched her walk into the building, then he got into the car and drove off.

"De? Where you at?"

Persian saw him standing by the window near the kitchen. He didn't turn around. She slid the spare key on the mantle of the fireplace. "I'm leaving the key. So...what's up?" She could tell Kalah wasn't there by the faint and not heavy scent of expensive perfume in the air.

When he didn't say anything, she rolled her eyes, annoyed. Persian practically stomped into the bedroom and got her stuff together. When she came out again, he had turned around. She ignored him and started to go out the door. She stopped, then turned to face him.

"You know you got some nerve, nigga. How you gone get mad wit me and expect me to know what the hell is wrong wit you when you can't even speak? What's up wit that shit?"

"If any-damn-body, I should be the one that's pissed off," he said, equally angry. "You don't have no right to be mad wit me."

Persian narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh I don't?"

"No," he snapped. "I wasn't the one rump shaking on them thugs at the party. I'm not the one who keeps secrets. Even when you weren't lying to me, you wasn't telling the truth neither. What kind of friendship is that?"

Comprehension dawned on her like the rising sun. She could feel her eyes widen. "I can't tell you everything, Demetrius. Haven't you ever thought about how it might hurt me if I told you everything? But anyway, that's not the point—"

"That's always been the point! Friends are there to help, Persian. I want to know more about you, but you won't let me in!"

"That's not it," she said, her voice low. Her eyes narrowed some more. "You're jealous. That's what it is."

For a moment, Demetrius was taken aback. He seemed to be realizing this for the first time himself.

Persian tossed her bag aside and stepped to him. "Get over it because you know what? I'm jealous too damn it! I hate it when you kiss her and touch her. I hate it when I smell her on you or when I walk into the bedroom and smell the fuck y'all just had on the air, in the sheets when I held you at night all those times. Don't look so shocked. Yes. I'm jealous." _Jealous that Kalah is—_ Cutting the thought off, Persian yanked up her bag again and walked out, slamming the door enough to make the pictures rattle on the wall.

Out of trying to avoid Demetrius, Persian spent a lot of time with Fy. It was wrong of her to hang with him like this, torment him when she knew he wanted her. That's why Persian let him kiss her, touch her sometimes and get away with it. But it never felt exactly right with him.

Friday night, the week after her and Demetrius argued, she went the Lounge. It was packed as usual at this time a night so it wasn't hard to find a whole bunch of guys to dance with. Girls lost their boyfriends and boys got their hearts broken as soon as she walked into the room. She went looking for trouble tonight. Now that Demetrius wasn't her warden anymore, she could do whatever she wanted to do.

Demetrius saw her when she walked in. Instantly, heads turned her way, including his own. She wore tight stretch bell bottoms, shimmering pants that clung to her thighs, hips, and ass. The strip of cloth she wore over her front bared everything but her breasts, a sparkling something with a deep V that stretched nearly to her navel, revealing every inch of skin in between. There were heels on her feet that made her look like she could break her back in them.

He felt like he had the day she came back to him, when she stretched and he couldn't take his eyes off her. He didn't see her as that girl he grew up with, the girl he had fallen asleep with in his bed so many times with without thinking dirty thoughts. Even during the harsh heat of puberty, he'd managed to keep his mind pure about her even while warning off the boys at school who stared at her mature breasts and backside, the tight curve of her waist. Now he was a beast.

She was the prey.

Persian was dancing with at least five guys at the least every time a song came on. Five because she seemed to have built up a queue, dancing with two with the other ones waiting on the sidelines. Their heat was her heat. They whispered promises of hot sheets and cool days in her ear. The sultry fingers of seduction curled themselves around her, made her tease. They'd give her anything she wanted that they had to give up. All she had to do was ask. She put her hands in the air and put her hips in it.

She didn't notice when they moved away from her. Persian kept dancing, her eyes closed. For her the intensity was still there, everywhere. She opened her eyes. She saw him coming like dark heat through the crowd.

Persian didn't stop him as his fingers wrapped around her throat. They squeezed slightly without pressure as he forced her backwards against the wall. She didn't recognize her Demetrius as she shuddered with pleasure from his touch. His brown eyes seared black as he stared down at her, weighing her down with all his seductive powers. He lowered his head and kissed her full on the lips. Persian shoved him away.

Those were the same lips that had kissed Kalah, the same hands that touched her, the same body that had been inside of hers.

Persian pranced back onto the dance floor. Her head raised, her eyes closed, and took a shuddering breath when he slid up behind her. Her back arched in a wave and her fingers entangled with his as they smoothed up her waist. Then she remembered again who those hands belonged to and shoved him away again.

"Why don't you back off!" she yelled at him.

She started to dance again and again it was he who danced behind her, it was he who kissed her neck. Persian danced hard, forgetting the subconscious innocence and restraint of the way she'd danced on him before. He wasn't her baby boy anymore. He was just another guy, a man. So she jiggled and writhed her hips to entice him. She danced without giving. He gave off heat, the kind of heat that he'd never given her before.

A guy danced in front of her. Demetrius's eyes narrowed and he felt rage shoot through him. He shoved the man. Over her shoulder, he got shoved back and an altercation broke out on the dance floor.

That red haze that had taken control of Purr vanished. She watched as Demetrius and the guy who'd been dancing in front of her started shouting and getting in each other's faces. She'd never seen such hot fury explode out of him like that. Persian backed away, wondering what seduction had led to this. What had she done to him? She turned and ran.

She was down the street with her coat in her hand, the heat seeping from her slowly with each panting breath she took. The club's neon lights and noise finally started fading slowly as though she wasn't walking fast enough, as if it had dyed and imprinted behind her eyelids and in her skin and only putting distance between herself and Rick's would make it go away.

It had taken a moment for Demetrius to realize that Persian was gone. Without another word to the simple ass brotha he'd almost decked for touching her, he rushed out of the club. She was a block away before he caught up with her and by then he felt like he was going to burst from all the adrenaline and emotions running through him.

"Persian!"

She spun around on her heels. Her eyes seemed to glint to him. They stared at each other in silence and Demetrius wanted to say something, but it wouldn't come.

Without a word, she turned and fled into the night, disappearing from his sight.

Persian sat on her sky blue suede sofa, picking at loose thread in her bedroom shoe. Scooby Doo eyes stared at her upside down. De had given her these. She smiled at the thought, then glanced around. The only thing in the living room that didn't match was the brown leather Laz-E-Boy De had gotten her to match the older one in his own living room. Persian hadn't sat in it since she walked out his place that day and left the key.

Their hot dance at the club seemed like a dream now. Purr touched her lips, wishing she could forget what she'd done. Everything changed then in that moment when she walked into Rick's. Now all she wanted was to put everything between them back to the way it was. But she knew that things would only move forward now. There couldn't be a going back or a do-over, none of that. She picked at her bedroom shoe again.

The air was clearer now that she'd admitted her jealousy towards. She didn't feel so stopped up now, like her head had a bad cold. And, besides, the look on De's face had been priceless.

There was a hard, brisk knock on the door. Persian stopped picking at her shoe and got up to answer it. The bolts took a moment to unlock.

Demetrius bounced on in. Purr was so shocked that she barely had time to jump out of his way. She stared at him. He paced the hardwood floor like a hound. His deep brown eyes looked up at her every once in a while, holding the same dark fire they had at Rick's and at his apartment that day.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

She'd never seen him this angry before. So they'd had a fight, the first real fight of many childhood squabbles.

"I think you need to leave," Persian said when he didn't answer, opening the door and next to it. Her hand clasped the knob.

Demetrius stopped pacing. He slammed the door closed with the flat of his palm and shoved her up against it. "Are you fucking him?" he yelled at her.

She jumped at the bark in his voice, a skittish kitten cornered by a wild dog. Then her eyes narrowed and she shouted back, "NO! Even if I was, it's none of yo gotdamn business!"

"Tell me the truth Persian!"

Her lips drew firmly together. She pushed him hard. "It's none of yo business what I do!" She shoved him backwards into leather armchair. "It's none of your business who I fuck!"

She straddled him in the chair, pushing her body close to his. "You know what? I am having sex with Marco." She took a deep breath. "We do it all the time. He touches me like this." She lifted his hand and slid it up her thigh to her rear and held it there. "And he grabs me like this." She took his other hand and slid it beneath her shirt to squeeze her breast. Then she kissed him, slipping him tongue, mimicking the kiss he'd given her at Rick's.

Purr felt him get hard between her legs and something in her froze. She stopped moving. Demetrius continued to kiss her and feel. When he noticed her stillness, he made her look at him.

"I don't want you passive, Persian, I want you hot and burning. You don't have to be scared. I won't hurt you," he whispered, his voice low and deep.

She shuddered and put her hand on his shoulder. _I can do this, I want this._ Persian brought her lips down on his and they were kissing again.

Demetrius picked her up and carried to her to the bedroom. Persian clung to him, kissing his neck, trying not to freeze up again. She wanted this with him.

He set her down on the edge of the canopy bed, sweeping back the sky blue hanging. She watched him as he took off his coat and toed out of his shoes. His shirt came off next. She stood up, ran her hands over his hard chest and torso. Persian undid his belt and tossed it aside. Demetrius slid both his hands under her shirt to her back and to unclasp her bra. When he did, he swept her shirt off and slid the bra down her arms, letting it fell to the floor.

He made her sit down on the edge of the bed again, then kneeled down and pulled her drawstring pants and lacy underwear down her thighs. Persian started to shake as the material scrapped down her legs, then disappeared, leaving her bared to the cool air.

Demetrius tried not to make her feel uncomfortable by staring too much, but damn. He kissed her again and again, one hand brushing her breast while the other pulled back the covers. Just like that, Persian found herself lying on her back. Her legs were locked together.

Demetrius took off the last of his clothes, pants and boxers. He lay down next to her and caressed her, kissing her neck and her lips. He tasted her nipples, making her back arch and rousing moans. Slowly, he eased her thighs open, then climbed between them.

Persian gasped at the contact of their flesh, his hardness on her softness, his hardness on her wetness. He felt so hot, his skin branded her. She felt the thick, long, hardness, the "thing", between her legs and she knew it was no joke. This was really happening.

Demetrius tried not to put all his weight on her. He reached between them and rubbed the head of himself between the lips of her sex. Kissing beneath her ear, he sank into her.

Persian drew a sharp breath and her nails dug into his back. Her arms tightened around him. He popped in so suddenly that the pain was immediate, big and momentarily breathtaking. The stretching and throbbing hurt. Tears pricked her eyes. "Ow, ow," she gasped, tears now welling up, "stop, it hurts."

Demetrius froze, went as still as he could get. Sweat broke out on his body from the effort. He gazed down at her wide, pained eyes in surprise.

"You're a virgin."

She closed her hazel eyes, swallowed, and nodded.

"God, why didn' you tell me? Persian, look at me." He moved a little, not believing it. Her muscles clenched around him, so tight. He should have gone slower and he might have known.... Demetrius cussed at himself.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, and her nose. "I can't stop," he whispered. He trembled there above her, continuing to hold as still as possible for as long as he could. "I'm sorry..."

She took deep breaths, relaxing in degrees. After a few moments, the pain eased up. Persian moved her hips Taking his face in her hands, she kissed his lips then his jaw, saying, "Don't stop then."

Persian's eyes slowly cracked open. The first things she felt was the sweet throb in her lower body, the ach in her muscles, and the wet trickle between her thighs. And of course she felt Demetrius behind her, his arms around her. One hand curved around her breast. The other was wrapped halfway around her waist. He was so close and tight to her that his breath feathered across her cheek and neck.

It was night out. The window was open. A cool breeze drifted in, billowing the sheer hangings around the bed.

It felt right, but weird. She'd just slept with her best friend and the thought made her smile. It was strange and right to have his warm, solid body at her back. He had always been there for her, an anchor in murderous seas. Is this what guy-girl friends are supposed to turn out to be? Lovers? Her fear of sex was gone, as gone as it would ever be. Demetrius, her friend, was the one who helped her dig out the courage. Or put the courage in me, she thought, shaking her head at herself. There was only one thing that kept her from enjoying this.

Kalah.

Warm kisses rained down on her neck. Demetrius moved beneath the covers with her. He lifted her leg up and slid his cock slowly into her. He got upon one elbow to watch her face.

Persian's coherent thoughts evaporated and she closed her eyes tightly and moaned.

"Girl, don't close yo eyes when I'm giving it to you. Take it."

Persian burst out laughing even as continued to make love to her.

"What? I meant that," he said, laughing a little too. He grew serious and he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "I want your eyes open so you can feel me in you."

Soon, Persian's laughter died away. Demetrius thrust into her harder. She gasped and grasped the pillow beneath her head.

They didn't wake again until the next morning. Sunlight shined, golden, into the room. The early birds rose to sing and they almost missed them, enveloped in their bliss.

Persian lay on her back. She stared at her cell phone glowing feebly in the morning light. The screen had a name on it.

MARCO.

Purr closed her eyes and turned over on her right side. She stared at Demetrius's sleeping face, the sexy faint smile about his lips. She moved a little closer and kissed him softly. His eyes opened slowly, dream brown like rich silk.

He gave a satisfied groan and a little stretch. "Hey kitty cat."

"Why did you think I wasn't a virgin?" she asked. Way to ruin mood but she wanted know.

Her hazel-gold eyes were molten and soft. Demetrius shrugged. "I assumed you had boyfriends before...or at least slept with Fy. I guess I wanted to make myself believe it because I was so angry when I came here."

"I didn't sleep with Fy, Demetrius."

He gave a half smile and looked down at her body. "I know that for sure."

She pursed her lips at him then hummed a little of "As We Lay", running her finger over his lips. "What are we going to do?" she whispered, sliding closer so he could wrap his arm around her.

He stroked Purr's hair, ran his hand down her smooth back. "We gone do what we wanna do."

"It's over, Kalah." He picked her hands off his shoulders and set her away from him.

She looked at him blankly. She blinked her blue eyes, made so by contact lenses. "What?" Kalah said incredulously.

"It was never really working in the first place. It was straight, being wit you, but it wasn't enough. It aint never been enough," he said, thinking of Persian.

As if compelled, she said, "It's that bitch, aint it?" She rolled her neck angrily, stomping her foot like a spoiled brat, her face growing enraged. "I shoulda known. You gone fuck me, ditch me, then go wit that ho!"

Demetrius stepped up to her, so close he could see the contact lenses over her irises, feel the air coming from her nostrils. "You betta watch yo mouth. You talkin 'bout my girl."

"I was your girl the day before yesterday," Kalah said, quailing her uncertainty, her eyes narrowing.

"She was my girl way before you." He stepped away from her. "Now leave."

She stood there.

"Leave, Kalah, please."

She stared at him for another moment, her lip trembling, then snatched up her purse. The door slammed loudly behind her.

"When is your birthday, Purr?" he asked as they lay on the their back staring up at the stars one night.

"March 9th." It had passed now.

"Oh." His eyes moved across the sky distractedly.

"Why?" she asked quietly. Not that it mattered. Christmas. Thanksgiving. Birthdays. They were just another day out of the year for her, another day she managed not to get starved, beaten to death, or raped. There wasn't any reason to celebrate.

"Nothing."

The Big Dipper winked down at her from above. Crickets chirped in the silence. The stretching growl of a car on the street. She sat up, propping herself up with one hand. He did too.

"You should go back to your room now. Your parents might step in to check on you or something."

He kissed her suddenly, quickly on the lips. She stared at him.

"W-Why did you do that?"

He was looking just as shocked as she felt. "I don't know. Let's forget about it. Shake on it?" He held out his hand.

"Yeah." They shook quickly and let go.

"Bye," she said, getting up.

"Wait!"

He scrambled up from the grass and pulled something from his pocket. In the pale moonlight, they both gazed at the small box he held in his hand. He opened it, taking from inside a shimmering gold chain with a teddy bear dangling from the end. It had little glittering rose diamond eyes.

"Turn around."

She eyed him suspiciously. "Why?"

He looked annoyed. "Girl, just do as I say."

She glared at him, her eyes glinting hazel slits in the light. After a moment of her usual thirteen-year old's defiance, she turned her back to him.

He unclasp the necklace. She could feel his warmth at her back. The metal felt warm like him around her neck. She brushed her fingers over the teddy bear.

"Thank—"

Lights flipped on in the house to their left. A loud hacking cough came from inside.

"Girl, get your ass out here!"

There was banging on the door of her bedroom. She stroked the necklace again before sprinting across the grass on her bare feet to her window. He caught her arm and pulled her around.

"Promise you'll wear it always and think of me."

She pulled frantically to get her arm out of his grasp as her Carl's ranting grew louder. "Please, let go—"

"Promise!"

She didn't want to promise him anything and break his heart because she could never belong to him. She didn't want to hurt him. She struggled, tugging her arm almost violently. She glanced from him to the window. "Please!"

"Promise!"

"I promise, Demetrius, I promise!"

"Forever. Say it."

"Forever and ever."

He let her go and she bounded away immediately across the grass to scramble back through her window.

Persian stroked the skin on her chest few inches from her neck, remembering. "Forever and ever," she muttered under her breath absently.

"You ready to go, baby?" Demetrius asked, kissing her cheek.

"Yeah," she said distractedly.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, sitting on the next to her. "What you thinking about?"

Purr scooted on over into his lap. She kissed his neck. "You remember the first time you kissed me? We were thirteen and you asked me when my birthday was."

Demetrius frowned, thinking back. "Oh, yeah. I thought we were going to forget that?"

"You knew we wouldn't."

"I know. I never forgot. I didn' want to mess up our friendship with that."

She put a look on her face. "And you're not doing that now?"

"It's different now. I didn't know how much I needed you then. When you went away before graduation, I couldn't even think straight," Demetrius said, stroking her arm. "I wanted you then too. And speaking of that—what happened to the necklace I gave you? I gave you that matching bracelet for your last birthday too, remember?"

Persian's hazel-gold eyes grew stony and distant. "I left it at my dad's house. God, I can't believe I forgot it. I used to hide it in the closet so he wouldn't take it from me."

"Don't worry about it, baby. We'll just go get it when we go to my mama's for dinner—"

Persian stiffened. She pushed away from him. Breathing became a challenge and the room seemed to grow small. She scrambled into a corner, gasping for air, her hands arms locked around her knees. She started to shake.

Demetrius got up and ran the little distance to her. "What's wrong, Persian? Stop that! Please talk to me, damn it!" Fear ran through him. He took her wrist, tried to pull her up, but her rigidness held her tight and heavy like weights of steel. Her eyes were wide and glazed. She started to rock.

"What's wrong? Tell me."

"I can't," she sobbed. "I can't go back there. I can't see your family."

"Why? My mama and sister always wanted to meet you."

"Yo mama'll hate me. Yo family'll look down on me," she cried, shaking her head.

"Why? Why would you think that?" She only shook her head and rocked slowly. "What happened to you there, Persian? Tell me. I have to know. You've been keeping this from me since we was kids. You never talked about it. In a relationship we shouldn't keep no secrets like this!"

She stood up and snatched her wrists from his grasp. She pushed around him and turned back in front of the bed. "I can't tell you."

"Why?"

Persian put her hands over her face. "God, because you won't want me anymore!"

Demetrius leaned his forehead against the wall. His fists came down on it hard. "You won't tell me anything!" He turned, grabbed his coat from the bed. "I'll come back when you ready to."

She heard the door slam as she sank to her knees and cried.

"So he left you for that ho?"

"Yeah," Kalah said almost tearfully, stuffing a spoonful of low fat yogurt into her mouth. "I mean, you would think a man knows a real woman from gutter trash like her."

Sheila filed her nails, then spit shined the dust off. "You really had him for a little while, huh?"

"I can't believe it! Where I'm going to find money and a big, long, hard dick like that again? He was perfect. Then that old broad had to come along."

"Were you even in love with him?" Ashley asked, sipping lightly on her sugar free tea.

"Yes," Kalah said somewhat hesitantly.

"Were you in love with him or the big, long, hard dick and his money?" Sheila said, breaking down the meaning of Ashley's question.

"Does it matter?" Kalah snapped. "The point is, I had him first."

"Why don't you do something about it?" Sheila said absently, pushing her breasts up and patting the weave ponytail in her head.

Dusty, pink fluff covered wheels began to turn in Kalah's head. "I think I will..."

"You two aren't speaking?"

The mall wasn't exactly the place she wanted to talk about it, but Persian sniffed and nodded. She could feel the tears welling in her eyes.

"I can see why you wouldn't want to tell him," Kahlil said softly, placing her hand on top of Persian's trembling one. She herself didn't know what secret her friend was keeping, but she wanted to help. "You have to find it in you to tell him or he won't come back. I'm saying this as someone who doesn't know what it is but..."

"She right, Purr," Tania said, smacking on her gum.

Persian laughed a little bit. Where would she find the nerve? Demetrius came from a wealthy family. A good family. What would his sister think of her? Or his mama? They'd think she was a ho. That is if they ever found out. Demetrius might break up with her right on the spot. And going back to that house.... Purr stroked the skin of her neck where her necklace should have been and the skin on her wrist where the bracelet should have rested. When it came down to it, the question she had to ask herself was this: Am I willing to risk everything?

"I'm gone try," she said.

Kahlil hugged her. "That's my girl. Come on, we going to that new store on down there."

The sun shone through the narrow street, gleaming on the shop windows, a sharp glare to the eyes. The strip of sky was spray painted with fluffy wisps of cloud.

As usual, Persian didn't feel comfortable in the clique. These people were her friends. Yet she'd rather be prancing the shade alone or prowling the dark _alone_. The only person she wanted to join her or would have allowed to join her was Demetrius. Maybe she was just used to him poking around.

She passed a woman in a flower dress and brushed shoulders with a man in a charcoal gray business suit. Tania, Rhonda, Kahlil, and Mia laughed and talked around her. Her stomach growled and she looked around. It was Saturday; the vendors should be around somewhere.

A man in purple and white stripes pushed the Minute Maid cart up the street. Persian tapped Kahlil as the others went into the store.

"I'm gonna go get me some ice cream or something," she said.

"Cool. I'll wait for you."

Purr jogged to catch up with the vendor. He turned to her with a smile.

"Hey young lady. What can I get for you?"

Persian reached in her pocket to get out some money. A hand swung forward and slapped her in the face. With a startled cry, she stumbled backwards, grasping her stinging, throbbing cheek. She was really tired of people going for her face.

"That's what you get for stealing my man, you stankin' trifling bitch," Kalah said coldly.

Seething rage boiled in Persian and her eyes became hard, hazel stones. She pushed Kalah. "He obviously doesn't want you if he's with me." Despite their problems, or whatever had split them up after things seemed to finally be going right, Persian knew this for a fact.

"You keep the hell away from Demetrius. You think you can give what I gave him? You poor black trash." She glared and waved her finger in Purr's face, one hand on her hip. "You aint got nothing."

"Miss, don't let her provoke you," the ice cream man said softly, his hat in his hands, casting a worried glance between the two of them.

However, these words went unheeded on principle.

"There's no way in hell I'mma let this stupid, fluff-for-brains bimbo, Barbie wannabe hit me and get the fuck away with it!"

Persian slapped Kalah in the face then grabbed her hair, sure the girl saw lightning with the strike. Stiletto pumps kicked her legs, but she didn't care. She slammed her into a brick wall between two stores and punched her in the jaw. The girl grabbed Persian's shoulders and they rolled as Kalah scratched at her. Persian hit her again.

"HEY! HEY!"

The ice cream man lifted the still fighting and screaming Kalah away. Purr slapped her one more good time before he was at a safe distance, his arm wrapped tightly around Kalah's waist.

"You bitch! You ho!" Kalah yelled.

By now, a few spectators and cat fight lovers had stopped on the street to watch. Kalah was a mess. Her hair was sticking up and her dress was pulled up indecently. Her face, which was light in color and easily red, was flustered and rapidly swelling. Blood trickled from her nose and her makeup was smeared.

Kalah jerked away from the ice cream man's hold. "Get your hands off me, pops." She her dress down. Her clique ran up behind her. They started to close in on Persian.

"You betta step the hell away from my home girl, bitches!"

Kahlil, Rhonda, Tania, and Mia ran up behind Persian.

"Let me handle this ho, Kalah," one of the clique said.

"You betta watch yo mouth, _sista_ ," Tania said, her Mexican roots had sprouted; Persian realized she had automatically translated a familiar Spanish slang word for "sister".

"Naw," Kalah said. "They aint worth it." She looked Persian right in the eyes. "Watch yo back, bitch."

The bystanders started to clear off as Kalah's clique left. Rhonda took her hand out of her waist band.

"Damn! I was 'bout ready to put some heat on that heifer." Her trigger happy fingers went into her pockets.

"Aint no need to pull out no gun for no ho like that one. It's a waste of bullets. Yo fists is all you need for that," Mia said.

"Right, right," Rhonda said, giving her some dap for that.

"Here you go, honey," the ice cream man said, handing her a Minute Maid cup. "Free of charge."

"No," Purr said, shaking her head. "I can't.---"

"I insist."

Giving up because she wasn't in the mood to argue, Purr took the sherbet treat to her throbbing cheek. She winced. "Thank you, sir."

"No problem, baby." He pushed his cart on up the street.

Purr thought of Demetrius and sighed heavily.

Demetrius opened a second bottle of Jack Daniels and pressed it to his lips. The liquid burned down his throat.

Kalah had called once, twice, four...wait, five, no seven times? He shrugged. Couldn't remember anyway. The empty green bottles on the floor blurred before his eyes.

Tomorrow, he thought haltingly, _I'm gone go see Persian...make her tell me everything._

He passed out on the floor. Sometime during in those drunken hours, he lost his grip on what was really bothering him...

The fact that if it was something she was keeping from him, that scared and hurt her so much she couldn't even tell him, maybe it was something too hard for him to know. Maybe it was something that he shouldn't demand to know.

This was the first time. The only other time she'd been to the hospital after this was when Carl nearly beat her to death and broke her rib.

The girl was scared of all the white rooms. She didn't like the way they looked. She didn't like the little orange box on the wall with the bloody needle in it.

They made her put on a gown that tied up in the back. She didn't like it. A man in a long white coat told her mother to leave the room. He listened to her breathe with a cold metal thing and poked a thing with a black tip in her ear and looked in her mouth. His touch made her cringe.

He told her to get on the uncomfortable table with the hard pad cushions. He put her feet in two metal things and spread her legs. He slid on elastic white gloves. They made a slapping noise against his hands. She jumped at the sound and her eyes closed tight. She screamed when he put his fingers in her. It hurt. Two of them. He pushed them up further and she screamed louder. She cried, but he didn't stop. She cried...

Persian jolted awake, bathed in sweat, her hand clasped tightly between her legs. "DEMETRIUS!" But he wasn't there. She trembled and fell back into her pillows, crying.

"So you fucking him? I knew it! What, I'm not good enough, Persian? You need to get yo shit straight!"

"You know it's not like that, Fy—Marco. I've known De since I was in kindergarten. I didn plan this shit. It just happened," Purr said, frustrated. She wished she could make him understand.

Fy's shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry. I shouldna blew up like that. I'm happy for you, girl. You deserve somebody good," he said rather reluctantly.

Persian looked out over the street. A car drove by, a blur of red in the morning light. "Thanks, Marco."

He took her hand. "You still my home girl, right? As soon as he go actin' up, you'll come to me?"

She hugged him. "You know it, baby."

She couldn't wait any longer. Purr had Fy drop her off at Demetrius's place. She had to tell him now or never.

The elevator ride up seemed shorter than normal, the hallways were more silent. Persian calmed her breathing, taking slow baby steps to De's door at the end of the hallway. She knocked, but the door creaked open. Her heart pounded.

"De!"

She rushed in to find him on the floor amidst the empty liquor bottles. She kneeled down and shook him.

"De, wake up!"

At first, he didn't. Then he groaned and grabbed his head, swaying to his feet. He kicked an empty bottle across the floor and leaned against the sofa. Demetrius didn't seem to notice she was there at first. She stepped back.

"What you doing here?" he mumbled when he did see her. He stepped close to her and ran his hand gently along her slightly swollen face. "Who did this to you?" He stepped away from her quickly as though remembering he was supposed to be mad at her.

That didn't matter. She didn't need Kalah's attack to make this any more complicated than it already was. "I wanted to talk to you. Fy dropped me off—"

"Fy," he said. "What the hell you doing wit him? I thought I told you...not to 'ssociate wit that nigga."

Now she wished she hadn't said anything. Demetrius was taking angry steps towards her. Though he obviously knew what he was saying, there was still a drunken glaze about his eyes. Anger seeped into her too.

"Yeah," Persian said, nodding, "I asked him to bring me. I wanna talk to you. I figured I'd get here quick and early in case you might be going somewhere."

"Did you sleep wit him to getta ride? Did you fuck him with what belong to me?"

"You know what? I'm leaving. Your ass up here getting drunk like a common nigga. For what? 'Cause you couldn't get yo fucking way, nigga?!"

Demetrius raised his fist in anger, not thinking, not to punch but—

Persian flinched in alarm but stepped to him, ready to take it. "You gone hit me Demetrius Jones? That's right, hit me like my daddy used to! Hit me!" she cried out at him.

Demetrius stopped. All vestiges of drunkenness faded from his features. His anger froze for a second. He stared at her.

Persian started to cry, tears of blind rage. "You wanna know something, you wanna know too much. But yeah, I said it. My dad hit me. Like I was a fucking man! He beat me black and blue. And-and-and he grabbed me and touched me the way no child should be touched," she cried, her voice trembling. "You want to know the fucking truth? I'll tell you everything." She looked at the anger, the rage, in his eyes, but she knew she couldn't stop.

She dropped down on the sofa and started to talk. It flowed from her, one foul detailed story after another. She didn't know how long she talked. It just came. Every wound was reopened and bled out to him. When she finished sometime later, the silence stretched between them. She dared a glance at him.

Demetrius stood there motionless, fists clenched at his sides. He'd been standing like that the whole time. His face was blank, his bloodshot red eyes staring into the empty fireplace.

Purr wanted him to hold her. Anything but this silence. _Hold me_ , she screamed in her head, wishing he could hear her. The other half of her was trying to hold strong, without him, stand alone. If he didn't want her anymore, she would need that part of herself.

"Say something," she finally whispered brokenly.

Demetrius gave a savage grunt of rage. With his fists, he swept everything off the mantle of the fireplace. A crystal vase smashed on the door, a picture broke on the floor.

She jumped with a startled sob.

All this time. _I should have done something_. Demetrius leaned his forehead against the wall and his fists clashed against it, clenching tightly. Somewhere in him, he had known or guessed what the bruises were about when they were children. As horrible as it was, it was true that it wasn't uncommon. But then...when Persian was alone with him she was different. Happy. He had been her haven. Even then when he knew, he couldn't take that safe place away from her by prying. They never talked about it. But at what cost? He was so angry with himself for not doing something. Anything. She had been hurting all that time. Even when they were together, that knowledge had always been in her eyes. Those steady, stony cat eyes.

Now he wished he had never pressured her about this. He just had to know, had to know she trusted him enough with her secret. He'd opened up wounds, so many wounds. A part of him wanted to take it back.

Demetrius took a deep breath and turned back to her. She sat there, molten, hazel eyes glistening, losing their hardness. She trembled visibly at his glance. Calm as he could get, he walked to the sofa , slowly, worried he'd scare her. He sat beside her...but Demetrius couldn't find the words. He couldn't find them inside him. He didn't know what to say to her.

Persian turned slowly to face him on the sofa. "Don't be angry with me. I didn't know what to do so I took it. That was the only way I knew how to live, taking whatever was thrown at me and handling it." _Or not handling it, whatever_.

Demetrius collapsed into the corner of the sofa, putting a hand to his brow.

She cried now, knowing she was going to loose him. _Please, I need him._ The one thing she never thought about anyone. All her life, all the resilient Persian Renita Daniels had needed was herself. Now with him, she felt weak. She had to keep him, anyway she could.

Even if it meant giving up a piece of herself.

Shaking, she crawled over him on the sofa. Her knees rested on either side of his hips. Her hands shook as she reached for his face. She cradled it and he looked at her. Brown silk, deep and dark. Persian kissed his sweet, liquored lips. Her hands slid down to work the buttons on his shirt.

Her kisses tasted like tears to him. She was trembling against him. Her hands ran over his bare chest. They shouldn't do this. He didn't care. He was weak for her. He wanted to know that this didn't disgust her, that she still wanted this physicality with him.

Purr nearly gasped when he began to respond. He kissed her back gently, lingeringly. His hands went to her hips beneath her skirt. They undressed each other until there was there was as much skin between them as they could bear then she joined their bodies as they had before.

It hurt. A stretching, filling hurt that had her rubbing against him, wishing they could flow into each other. Persian wanted him to give her this hurt for the rest of her life, this sweet pain.

Their pace picked up. Her breasts bounced in his hands beneath her unclasped bra and shirt. Stars burst behind her eyelids. Once, twice. His hands encircled her rib cage and he came one last time. Persian collapsed on his chest, crying herself to sleep. Stars danced behind her eyelids.

Persian blinked once...twice. Slowly, her eyes opened. There was a warmth at her side and a heartbeat near her arm. Demetrius stared down at her. They were both naked as the day they were born.

She blinked away tears. "I'll go." She started to slid from the warmth of the bed.

He grabbed her waist, crossed a leg over her thighs.

"Stay."

"I thought—" she started, confused. Her heart flared with hope.

"You thought wrong. You thought I wouldn't want you anymore if I knew about all that. You didn't trust me completely," he whispered.

Persian remained silent.

"Tell me you trust me."

"I can't." She didn't trust anyone. _I won't_ , she told herself.

He slipped a hand between her legs. Two fingers slid inside her and his thumb massaged her clitoris. Purr moaned, tossing her head and clutching the sheets.

"Why did you let me do that?" he asked when he was finished and her eyes were on his again. She didn't answer. "You trust me now. Completely. You're scared because you can't take it back."

Demetrius pulled her on top of him as he lay flat on his back. He cradled her against his chest.

"You still want me?" she whispered. She couldn't believe.

He made her look at him. "I don't know if you're ready for this, but I'm going to say it anyway: I love you, Persian, and nothing aint gone change that. Do you hear me?"

"I hear you," she said, voice a little thick, tears wetting her eyes .

"You can't say it back, but you will. Or I might have to tie you to this bed and make you." He was half serious.

Purr laughed a this, seeing it in her mind's eye. She wouldn't mind come to think of it, might be fun. She laughed again, snuggling against him, resting her head on his chest again.

"Listen, kitty cat. You aint got to meet my family Sunday if you can't handle it. We can go another day—"

"No," she interrupted. "I want to."

He went still. "Are you sure, baby?"

"Yes."

"Okay then.... Don't worry about it now. I got something else we need to do," he said and lifted her face to kiss her.

"Oh really?"

"Most definitely," he said, then paused. "I think I'm starting to like Fy."

Persian frowned at him and squinted an eye. "What you talkin' 'bout, Willis?"

Demetrius reached to the bedside table drawer and pulled out the box of Trojans he'd lifted from her penthouse. "We haven't exactly been being careful. I intend to have some memorable moments wit you, babe. A whole lot of moments, especially today, starting now."

And, soon, the bed was a-rocking and a-shaking.

The long, flaring blue skirt and beige peasant blouse she wore seemed heavy, oppressing even. Her heart was ready to explode from her chest with anxiety.

The walkway to he front door of Demetrius's childhood home was short to her. The door opened up too soon.

Mary Jones eyes seemed to pierce her very soul. Her face held no smile as she examined Persian.

Demetrius cleared his throat. "Mama, you remember my friend that you never met. This is Persian Daniels, my girlfriend."

For a moment, the older woman did not react. A smile broke out across her face and her deep brown eyes suddenly seemed to say "There you are!" as she continued to stare into Persian's own eyes. She gave her a strong but gentle hug and kissed her cheek. "Hey, baby. I'm so happy to finally meet you. You so beautiful."

"Thank you, Mrs. Jones," Persian said, face heating with a blush. "It's an honor to meet you."

Mary waved her hand in a dismissive fashion. "Girl, hush yo mouth. Call me mama, baby." She looked at her son. "She a whole lot better than all them other hoochies you be brangin' around here. Betta, loads betta, than that last heifer too. Why your daddy'll fall over this girl. I'll have to slap the taste outta his mouth to get him to look at me again."

Demetrius put his arm around Purr's shoulders. "Naw, he know betta." He smiled at her as they went inside.

At the table, Mrs. Mary Jones showed Purr all four albums of Demetrius's baby pictures much to his annoyance and boyish embarrassment. They talked and talked like two matrons setting on the porch. By desert, Persian had loosened up and stopped thinking she was going to get slapped by a handbag or something.

"I remember that old foul mouthed daddy of yours yelling next door. I had a right mind to knock down the door wit my switch in my hand and quiet him down. I woulda knocked that no good nigga's block clear off his neck."

To Demetrius's surprise, Persian laughed. The sound was loud and she nearly choked on it herself from surprise.

"Oh, Mrs. Jones, you shouldn't," she said, almost in tears with her laughter.

Mary looked at her sharply. "Mama, baby. Call me mama."

"Mama," Persian said softly.

Mary smiled.

The door opened and closed in the living room. Boot heels clicked on the hardwood floor, then were muffled by thick carpeting.

"Sorry I'm late, ma. The ride down here was longer than I though it would be."

A tall young lady with eyes like Demetrius and clear brown skin walked into the room. She pulled off her coat slowly, looking at the table. She looked at Purr.

"You must be Persian." She walked over and gave her a hug. "I've hear so much about you."

Persian took a deep breath as she pulled away. So far no one hated her.

"Come on. We can go to my room." She walked over and kissed her mama on the cheek, who mumbled about her breaking her neck in "them damn shoes". "I haven't got my own place yet, but I figure I'll just dump all my stuff over at De's place for a year or two. My room's this way, Persian."

Demetrius made a disagreeable noise. He stood up with his mama as they slipped off to the room on the left side of the hall.

"I got a feeling about her, baby," Mary said, taking his arm. "You thought about a ring yet? Get her something nice like your daddy bought me."

Demetrius frowned. "A ring? Mama, what are you talking about?"

She smacked his arm. "Don't you go mess this up boy. That girl is gone be my daughter and you gone marry her."

"Mama, don't be makin' no plans for me."

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"How you know she wanna marry me? We haven't even talked about marriage yet," Demetrius said, doubtful.

"I know, baby. I just know."

The door closed.

"Listen: One, don't hang around my brother if you're not serious. Two, if you break his heart, I _will_ come after you. I will hunt you down, cat, you got that? I know your type—hit and run. I won't see my little brother hurt."

Persian's eyes grew hard like stone and ice. "Save the speech. I'm not going anywhere. I wouldn't leave him." _I need him._

The other young woman pulled back, some of her sternness and attitude draining away. "You're not like that other broad I met, um, that Kalah. I think we'll get along just fine."

Persian nodded, but didn't say anything.

Danitra Jones looked at her deeply for the first time. "You love him, don't you?"

Purr's heart began to beat hard in her chest. She turned and left the room.

"Baby, I'm sorry my old fool husband didn't show up for dinner. You can meet him next time you come by," Mary said as she led them to the car.

Persian walked to the gate of her father's house. It creaked open as though welcoming her back. Demetrius came up behind her. She put an arm out to restrain him.

"No. I go alone."

He tried to protest, but she was already walking. She took the key from her pocket and everything seemed to go still around her. Her heart pounded in her ears. Her steps felt awkward to her.

She turned the key in the lock, It was shady inside. Purr felt like she was ankle deep in beer cans and other trash as soon as she was over the threshold. She walked silently through the house, her feet making no sound. The TV, was on in the master bedroom. Bed springs creaked and popped.

She pushed open the door to her room. The air inside was still. Dust was building up on everything. Persian slid open the door to the closet.

"Girl! That you in there?"

Persian quickly pushed around old clothes, one or two coats, and boxes until she found the one. A shoe box. She took from it a black box. She opened it up. Inside was a gold chain with a teddy bear with rose diamond eyes and a gold charm bracelet with crystal bears dangling from it. Persian clasped the box tightly in her hand and started to leave. Nothing else there was of any importance to her.

Her daddy stumbled out into the hallway, clutching an almost empty whiskey bottle in his hand. She didn't look back at him.

"Get yo ass in there and clean this house," he mumbled drunkenly. "Trash been piling up round here! Where have you been!" he raged.

She walked out of the front door. Pride was the only thing that kept her from running to Demetrius. A smooth black Cadillac pulled up behind the Escalade on the curb. She concentrated on the street beyond it. Mary and Danitra stood by watching, at the ready.

Carl grabbed her arm, swaying on his feet, bloodshot red eyes blinking blearily. She snatched her arm from his grasp.

"You aint nothing but a filthy whore just like yo trash mama!" he yelled at her. "Now get yo ass in there and clean up that house!"

She quailed but shouted, "I am better than you! You're the trash, you drunk bastard! I don't need you! I never needed you! You're the trash, you no good bitch!"

His eyes cleared for a moment and he seemed to understand. Before she could turn away, he slapped her so hard that she fell on the ground.

Demetrius was on Carl before he could take another breath. The drunk got one good jab out before De began to pound him. His fists were everywhere and anywhere, coming down in an avalanche of knuckles and pure fury.

"DEMETRIUS! NO!"

He beat the man bloody and unconscious. Carl Daniels lay still on the ground. His face was wet with blood.

Demetrius's own father hauled him off fighting. He knew that all his son wanted was another reason to hit the knocked-out man lying on the ground.

"Calm down, son!" he yelled, holding the younger man's arms.

Demetrius stopped fighting and went still. He shrugged his father off and went to Persian on the ground. She lay on her side, clutching her face. Stunned not because she had been hit but because this was really happening in front of everyone. Her breathing was shallow.

Her mind was blank. Demetrius took the hand away from her face. The skin was swelling, hot and throbbing.

"I'll kill him," Demetrius growled murderously.

His voice brought her back to herself. "No, please. Let's just go." Her own voice sounded weak to her. She allowed him to pull her onto her shaking legs. Persian tried to smile at Demetrius's father. "I'm sorry we couldn't meet under better circumstances, Mr. Jones."

He gave her a very strong, very fatherly hug. "Call me dad, beautiful."

"Dad," Persian laughed tearfully.

Demetrius hugged around her shoulders and walked her to the car. He went to his family, kissed and hugged his mother then his sister. He spoke a few brief words to his father, then went around to the driver's seat.

As soon as they were back to his place, he took her to the backseat and held her in his lap. They stayed there for a long time, not speaking. Just sitting. Holding each other in the silence.

Kalah slipped into the guest bedroom of her parent's house. Rays of sunlight bent over the whiteness of the room through the blinds. She put the pink cell phone to her ear.

"Yeah. Look, look. I don't care how you do it. Just do it immediately. Do it fast. And don't link it to me. I paid you to do this."

She paused, listening to the raunchy voice on the other end of the line.

"Great. That bitch is going to pay."

She smiled at her words, kissed the picture of Demetrius shining from her background screen, and hung up.

Demetrius had to go out of town again to help his father with the business. Persian didn't like this clingy side of herself but she didn't want him to leave. When he did though, she had no choice but to accept it. _He'll be back soon_ , she told herself.

Kahlil and Mia took her to the mall, insisting that she spend "some of that baller's doe".

"I don't think so, Mia," she said, looking at the Victoria Secret lingerie. Wearing that little bit of clothes in front of Demetrius...didn't exactly make her feel comfortable. The little lacy silk hot pants and bra, the tiny tight-looking strips of cloth couldn't cover a Barbie doll.

"You'll drive him crazy. Look at it! It's tiny and it's tight. Men love hos in hot pants," she said, picking at some skimpy lace material on another rack.

"Shut up," Purr said, hitting her on the shoulder. To make Demetrius loose his cool....She cocked her head at the outfit. "You really think?"

"Yeah. I hope it's not too expensive though; he'll probably tear it off you and then where would your money have gone?"

Purr laughed and picked the outfit off the rack. She actually felt herself blush. Another something she wasn't use to yet.

Kahlil bought something even more scandalous to make her feel better.

"The way I see it, it's make 'em hot or screw 'em not. It's just a rule. Make them crazy."

"Dick-whipped heifers," Mia muttered under her breath.

"I heard that!" Kahlil said.

"What?" Mia said, feigning innocence.

"Come on. Let's go buy something he doesn't have to take off you."

Demetrius didn't come back until late the night after. Purr wasn't at his place so he went to hers.

He set his bags down next to the door. Silently, he toed off his shoes and laid his jacket on the arm of the sofa. It was dark blue in the faint moonlight and shadow.

The candles around the bed in their candelabras were burned down slightly. Persian lay in the big bed surrounded by the satin and sheer hangings, a brown-skinned temptress covered only by the silken sheets pulled up over her chest. He could tell she was naked by the outline of her body.

She slept silently, her chest rising and falling softly. Her hair was crinkled and he figured she'd just taken it loose from braids. It fanned out over the pillows, framing her face. Just the sight of her made his heart melt. Then again, it also caused a quickening in him below the belt. Persian stirred, moaning in her sleep. A smile curved his lips. He could just imagine what she was dreaming about.

The same thing he was about to make happen.

Demetrius stripped down and eased into the bed. Moving as motionlessly as he could, he planted his palms on either side of her head, bracing himself above her and easing between her legs. Her breasts pressed against his chest as he leaned to kiss her, easing into her heat.

Persian gasped into his mouth, her eyes popping open.

"No!" she gasped.

Demetrius pushed deeper, making her give a little scream. "Yes."

She moaned and grabbed the rods of the headboard tightly.

Neither of them woke until late the next afternoon.

Persian grimaced at the bright sunlight shining into the room. Demetrius slept next to her with that sexy half smile on his lips. She kissed him gently, then swept back the hangings and eased out of the bed so as not to wake him.

She didn't want to go slamming drawers and closet doors so she didn't exactly have a choice in what she wanted to wear. Persian put on the jersey she bought the other day with Kahlil and Mia. It hung to her knees. Wearing the only clothes she could get without waking De in the bed, she limped from the room.

When Demetrius did wake up a few hours later, she was there, placing her hands over his eyes and leading him from the bedroom.

"Ta-da!" she exclaimed, uncovering his eyes.

On the table was a perfectly round pepperoni pizza. A bottle of Welch's sparkling juice bubbled in goblets next to their baby blue plates.

Demetrius made an agreeable noise in his throat, then turned around to kiss her. "You made this, baby?"

"Yep."

"Looks good."

They sat down opposite each other. Persian had pre-sliced the pizza. Demetrius chewed on a piece.

"I was never mad at you, Purr," he said suddenly. He'd been thinking about it and he just needed to tell her. "I guess I knew all along...but you never seemed to want to talk about it so I let it go." Avoided it, really.

"It's fine. It's over."

"No it's not. I could have killed him I was so angry. He shoulda never touched you. Ever. If my father hadn't pulled me off him...."

Persian actually considered voicing that tired line—It was my fault. I shouldn't have provoked him. She quickly changed checked herself. He had no right to do those things to me, she reasoned firmly. A father should be better than that.

"So...are you going to college next year?" she asked.

"Yeah, that's my plan. What you gone do? Have you decided yet?" Though Demetrius wanted to, he didn't say "You don't have to do anything. I'll take care of it." He knew Persian wouldn't accept but he had to offer anyway.

"I'm going to college, De, but I can't decide what I want to do. I want to do something that allows me freedom, you know. I want to make my own hours."

Demetrius nodded. That sounded like something she would want for herself. He became hesitant suddenly. "Um, what do you think about marriage?"

Purr almost choked on her sparkling drink. She set the goblet down and clasped her hands together. "I'm not sure." She'd avoided the thought for a long time and now here it was to bite her in the ass. Her butt, which was bare beneath the jersey, wiggled against the chair.

"I love you, Persian. I do intend to marry you even if I got to carry you kicking and screaming and scratching to the altar."

Persian remained silent. Her eyes fixed on the crescent pepperoni on her plate.

"Tell me you love me Persian," Demetrius demanded softly.

Persian smiled saucily at him and stood up. She took both plates and held his empty goblet between her fingers by the stem. She took the dishes to the sink and dowsed them in washing liquid.

She felt Demetrius's breath on her neck and shivered. He pressed her against the counter, slowly drawing the jersey up her thighs. Cool air met her backside before it was replaced by his warmth of his body. His knuckles brushed her as he unzipped his pants.

Her left leg went up over the counter. Purr drew in a sharp breath as he slid his rock hard length inside her. She bent over a little. He pounded so hard that her lower body thudded against cabinet doors under the sink.

"Stop," she uttered in a small voice. "You can't." She screamed when he pounded harder.

"I can. Tell me Persian."

Her teeth snapped together and her fists clenched. He was punishing her.

He unbuttoned the jersey to expose her breasts. He squeezed them in his hands and pinched her nipples. "Tell me."

She bit her bottom lip and shook her head.

He pounded harder and harder until she was screaming and crying out and begging him to stop. He grabbed her hair and turned her head to look at him as he continued as hard as he could. Her eyes were closed as he swallowed her moans. Demetrius yanked her hair roughly until she opened her eyes.

"Concentrate," he rasped. He made her look into his eyes. "Tell me."

She realized he wouldn't stop and her stubbornness broke. "I love you, Demetrius!"

They came at once, both their wills breaking.

Purr's legs felt weak. "I love you," she said again. He tried to let her leg down, but she winced. Taking a hint, he withdrew from her body. Her jersey dropped back down her legs.

Breathing hard, Demetrius zipped his pants back up. Purr limped over to the sofa wide-leggedly. He watched her, smiling. She lay down and clasped a hand between her wet thighs. Demetrius walked over and sat down beside her. Purr eased into his lap sideways and spread her legs. She grabbed his hand and slipped it between them. Her eyes closed as he slipped a finger, two inside her to massage her aching soreness. She relaxed.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Only in the best possible way, baby. I'm not made of glass, Demetrius. I want you to be...rough with me sometimes, especially when I need it. It felt good," she mumbled, eyes still closed.

"I just needed to hear you say it."

"I love you, Demetrius," she said, staring into his eyes. She closed her own eyes again. "Deeper please."

Persian lay curled up at Demetrius' side. He turned a little when she trailed two fingers down his smooth, bare chest. His arm curled around her waist.

Next month, he'd going back to school. She figured she'd going back too. Persian still didn't know what she wanted to do.

The cell phone with the fuchsia cat face plate vibrated on the bed stand. She turned over and grabbed it.

MARCO.

She answered. "Hello."

Fy's voice sounded strange. "Hey Persian. Meet me at the park. I need to see you."

Persian frowned. She eased Demetrius's arm from around her and slipped into the silken lacey bra, hot pants, and matching robe Mia had convinced her to buy; she actually bought two a black one and a red one. She was wearing the red one. The robe was cool against her skin. Persian put the phone back to her ear. "Why do you want me to come to the park?" she asked suspiciously as she slipped from the bedroom.

"I need to see you. Please come."

"It's five in the morning and it's chilly outside!" she hissed.

"Just come. I need to talk to you." Again, his voice sounded strange to her.

"Okay," she said finally. "I'm on my way."

Persian put on the stretch black pants and sports bra she'd worn last Saturday when she went walking in the park. She pulled her hair back and put on Demetrius's furry little black cap. She threw on a jacket and closed the front door softly behind her. Maybe she needed a little walk.

A note on the table said GONE TO THE PARK, LOVE PURR.

Outside, the sun was slowly rising over the gray morning sky by now. Later, it would warm up, but now it was chilly and a little foggy. It covered the ground in a white smoke.

Persian power walked down the street. When the park came into view, she pulled her cell phone from the clip on the waist of her pants, then pulled the coat around her midriff.

"Fy, where are you?"

"By the fountain in the park. The one of the angel." He hung up.

The park was quiet. One or two walkers and pedestrians hurried to work or jogged on the sidewalks, but other than that, the park was vacant. It was also very big. She wandered around for half an hour after trying to see through the foggy glass surrounding the park maps. Without that help, she had to find it on her own. It took another thirty minutes to do that.

The tinkling of water spewing from the angel's pedestal filled the silence. Purr looked around and saw no one. Not a soul. She put the cell phone to her ear after dialing his number.

"Fy, where are you? I'm at the angel fountain in the park."

He cleared his throat and grumbled sleepily. "What you talkin' about, Purr?" She the bed springs creak over the phone.

She laughed a little. "Are you joking? You just called me an hour ago and told me to meet you in the park at the angel fountain."

"Purr, I didn't call you. I been asleep at my place all morning."

She looked at the cell phone's memory, thinking this must be some kind of prank. Then she saw what she hadn't noticed before. The first digit of the number that had called her that morning was different, a seven instead of a four.

She felt the gunshot before she heard it.

Persian screamed and fell to the ground. There was an agonizing pain in her waist. Something warm and slick flowed through her fingers when she put her hand there. Her eyes began to roll.

"I told you I was gone get you bitch," Kalah said spitefully, standing over her.

A second voice reached Purr's ears, one she didn't recognize. "I have done what you paid me for. My job is through. But I advise you not to linger here over your petty jealousies. It may come back to haunt you. You shouldn't have come here anyway. Just to have the last say so."

Kalah ignored him. Persian gasped, hardly able to breathe, looking up at her. Blood seeped over the stone beneath her. Kalah raised the heel of her stiletto pump and pressed it slowly into the bleeding hole in Persian's side. She screamed at the burning, aching pain and pushed her foot away with all her might. Kalah stumbled backwards.

"Bitch." She kicked Persian in the stomach.

Persian curled up, doubling into a bleeding ball on the ground. The click of Kalah's shoes faded away.

The last thing she thought of before darkness obscured her vision was Demetrius and the nice warm bed she'd left behind..

He'd gotten her message when he woke up later that morning. His first thought was to go join her at the park, but then Demetrius thought that this was the perfect opportunity to go get his surprise for her.

So he drove down to the jewelry store where Nick was supposed to meet him.

"You sure you want to do this man? You might be pushin' her to get ready for something she don't wanna do yet," Nick said as they waited at the counter.

Demetrius shook his head. "I'm positive man. I love her Nick." He looked his friend in the eyes. "All these years... I don't know what I'd do without her."

"All right then. I get to be the best man though. You'll keep her distracted while I chase after all her lil' friends, spit that old school game and tape a mirror to my shoe." Nick popped his collar and spun in a smooth circle.

"You full of it," De laughed. "No mirrors."

When they left the store, Demetrius clasped a velvet ring box in his hand.

"Yo, Demetrius!"

He turned and saw Marco coming up the street towards him. Despite Persian's friendship with the man, Demetrius still couldn't stand him.

"What you want?"

"Hey, man, look. I don't know what beef we got wit each other, but we need to set all that shit aside. I been driving around the block trying to find yo ass."

"What the hell you looking for me for, nigga?"

"It's Persian. I think she's in trouble."

Demetrius's heart stopped, then pounded in his chest. "Where is she?"

"She called me from the park a while ago. Something about an angel fountain."

"I know where it is." Demetrius jumped in his car. Nick had to hurry to get in before he off.

The park was just down the street. He got out and started running.

There was no one at the angel fountain. Breathing hard, Demetrius walked around the side.

Blood, a shallow puddle of blood covered the granite stone on the other side. It smeared across the ground as though the wounded person had crawled. Purr's cell phone was broken into pieces, lying next to his furry black cap.

God, where was she?

Demetrius sank down on the edge of the fountain. His eyes teared up as he grasp his head in both his hands with his elbows on his knees. He wondered if Nick or Fy had found her. Only that hope kept him from going crazy.

He heard a purr, a soft mewling noise. A cat strutted by, a furry kitten in it's mouth. The kitten mewled. It looked at him, then trotted off.

I learned that when a cat get hurt real bad, they find a place real nice and peaceful to die. This is where I wanna die, Demetrius.

He was off through the trees on the south end of the park before he knew it. The trees on the path here were thick. Their branches scratched and caught his clothes as he hurried though them. The path was longer than the one across the street from their childhood home.

The door was open when he reached it, after what seemed an eternity of being lost in the trees. The living room was dimly lit by sunlight. At first he didn't see anything and his heart dropped.

"Oh God!"

An unmoving something was stretched out in the corner with a moan of pain. Dim blades of light slanted over the trembling, racking being curled slightly. Wide, pain-filled, hopeless, hazel-gold eyes gazed at him blindly. She held a bloody hand to her waist.

"Look at me Persian. Stay with me, baby." He picked her up and wrapped her limp arm around his neck. She felt very cold. "Hold on to me." She remained unmoving, taking sharp breaths every now and then. "Hold on to me, Persian!" Finally her fingers clutched the handful of shirt on his shoulder.

Demetrius carried her, praying.

He held her hand during the surgery to remove the bullet. He held it now, praying for a response in her. Her breath was shallow through the clear mask cupping her nose and mouth. Black rings surrounded her closed eyes. Cuts covered her hands from crawling on the ground.

The hospital room made him shake. Demetrius hadn't thought to be here again, not after the time Danitra had broken her leg playing football. He had been a boy then, scared for his sister, not knowing exactly what death meant. He'd promised, sworn, that no one else close to him would be hurt again. Now, here he was in a hospital room again with the one he loved the most in the bed beside his chair. Demetrius had only been a boy when Danitra broke her leg. Now he was a grown man and the fear was twice as bad.

After he'd come out of the woods, he'd gone to his mama's house and called for an ambulance. His mama had cried while he had fought to restrain his own tears.

"Purr, look at me."

Her eyes were blank and she stared beyond him.

"Look at me." His voice broke. He took her jaw and turned her eyes to his. She grabbed him hard, her eyes focusing suddenly.

"Take me back. I'm---I'm gone die anyway," she had panted, wincing.

"No. Stay with me, Purr! Stay with me! The ambulance is on the way. Just keep looking at me..." he whispered brokenly.

Now, he took the gray velvet ring box from his pocket. He clutched it tightly in his fist, closing his eyes briefly. The box creaked open as he parted it at the seam with his thumb. He took up the glittering diamond on it's gold band and slipped it on her finger. Demetrius took her hand again.

Persian took a deep breath. Her head turned to him. Her chest rose and fell.

This time her fingers curled tightly around his.

He was pretty sure the ring hadn't done that. Demetrius could almost laugh with his tears.

She slammed her textbook closed. Persian rubbed her eyes distractedly. Demetrius was off to college. Now that she was too, she couldn't concentrate because all she could think of was him. She reached beneath her shirt, rubbed her index finger over the scar on her side.

After she'd gotten out of the hospital, Kalah had been arrested, given a trial, and sent to the pen. Apparently, the hit man she'd hired to take Purr out had tipped off the police.

Sooner or later, Demetrius had to stop treating her like a piece of glass doomed to break at any moment. While pleased and overly satisfied, she kind of wished he hadn't come out yesterday, the day before he left again. Somewhere on that college campus of his, she knew there was a very satisfied man walking around. He'd kept her up all night and now her legs refused to operate properly. She had an appointment with her gynecologist and every doctor she'd never seen during her years living in Carl's house.

Fear dried her mouth and twisted her up inside.

The white halls didn't look any friendlier than the other three times she'd been. A nurse with burgundy highlights in her black hair handed her one of those gowns that tie up in the back and leave your ass out in the cold. Reluctantly, Purr put it on. Nervousness made her hands shake and fumble with the ties. She pushed away the bad memories, kept pushing them away. She hopped up on the examination table and listened to the crisp white paper crinkle beneath her butt.

A black woman in a white doctor's coat walked in, tucking a pen in her coat pocket. She held a folder in her hand. The sneakers on her feet were scuffed as if she walked around a lot. The air as she passed smelled like coffee.

"Hello...Persian. Like the cat? It's a pretty name. Your eyes are gorgeous by the way," she said benignly.

Persian was at a loss for words. Maybe she was just tired from running to doctor to doctor to get her medical issues straight but shock came easy for her. "Thanks. You're a...woman."

"Yes, I am."

They got a few preliminary questions, answers, and other such out of the way. "I'm sorry. It's just that a man the last time I came to the hospital as a girl—he...." She trailed off, looking away. Heat suffused her face and an old fear took her.

The doctor put on her gloves slowly, looking at Persian from the corner of her eyes. She went over and rubbed her shoulder comfortingly. "It's okay, sweetie. He can't hurt you anymore."

Persian took a deep breath and nodded. At Dr. Jackson's gentle direction, she laid back and spread her legs, placing her heels in the stirrups.

Dr. Jackson laughed suddenly. "I don't mean to pry, honey, but what has your man been doing to you?" She chuckled knowingly. "Sore, are you?"

Purr blushed. "...Yes," she said hesitantly, having a flash back of last night between the sheets. She winced as a finger gently prodded the tender flesh between her legs.

"The nurse said you've been feeling ill."

"Well, morning sickness and mood swings. Mild mood swings. I threw up on a new sweater yesterday before Demetrius, my fiancé, we—well yesterday...." She left it at that.

Dr. Jackson stood up from her rolling stool. "Well, you're all clear. I don't see anything unusual. I think I have something you might want to try though. You can put your clothes back on while I get it, sweetie." She left the room.

Puzzled, Purr started to dress. A few moments later, Dr. Jackson came back.

"You might want to try this," she said softly, smiling.

Purr gazed open mouthed at the box in her hands.

Her face drained of blood. Tears welled in her eyes. Persian sat on the edge of the sofa, bathed in sunlight from the large arched windows in her living room, but yet she felt no warmth. Demetrius wouldn't be coming home for a while. They'd both agreed to stay at school for a few months despite how much they would miss each other. He didn't know she'd come home early.

Her numb fingers clutched a positive test.

It seemed like forever since Demetrius had last held his fiancée. He couldn't wait to feel and touch her again. He had been confused when he called her dorm and her roommate said she wasn't there, that she'd gone home.

He picked up some roses on the way. The sun was setting and he wanted to get there before nightfall.

"Hey kitty cat, I got something for you," he called, pulling the key from the lock and holding the roses behind his back.

She stood before the arched windows in the orange, red, and pink glow of sunset, still, her back to him. The white tank top and long loose flowing white skirt she wore changed colors in it's light. Her ebony hair was in corn rolls. Purr continued to face the window overlooking the street below and the towering buildings of Lady Atlantis above it.

Demetrius walked towards her with slow steps. His smile faded. "What's wrong, Persian?"

Tears fell from her eyes and she gave a little sob. There was only one way to find out what he would do. She slowly turned around to face him.

The roses fell to the floor. It only took a second, one sideways turn of her beautiful body to see the slight bulge of her stomach.

"You're pregnant." He breathed the words in a whisper.

"Demetrius---" she started.

But he was on her, his arms around her gently. He kissed her in the fading sunset.

There is a picture on the fireplace mantle now. There is a bride in a flowing white dress. She is beautiful with gold-hazel eyes. The groom is handsome, smiling, his arm around her waist. Between them, balanced on the bride's hip and circled by their arms, is a baby girl with deep dark hazel eyes. Cat eyes.

Thank you for reading my novella/short story! Obviously, I love cats :-D. A little inside information about this story is that I wrote it by hand in high school—is it obvious? Does it smack of naiveté or something? I was more than a little hesitant about publishing it. Feel free to offer comments or reviews on the book's page or e-mail me if you'd like.

–Reggie

About Regina Desala

Regina Desala is from Atlanta, Georgia. She loves 90's music, hates ranchero, and spends her time stockpiling crafts for the online store she hopes to open when she can finally afford a good camera to take pictures of said crafts.

Regina's dream is not only share her stories but to see Black girl and women characters featured across fiction genres equally and more often. As a womanist/Black feminist, she writes towards this goal. For more about the author, read her Smashwords Interview.

Books by S.T. Rucker

Acier {Ah-Cee-Ay}

The Taker

Connect with Me

**Follow Me on Twitter** : <http://twitter.com/STRucker3>

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**E-mail me:** s.t.rucker@gmail.com

