Dollar Bill

by Joy

  Gary was too damn small. It cluttered his mind and didn’t allow him to think. Dollar liked living in Chicago and wished he had grown up there. It had way more opportunities than little Gary had. Dollar was actually born in Chicago, but his father had convinced his mother to move away with him to Gary. Dollar’s father wanted to get his mother as far away from her controlling, overbearing parents as possible. Dollar’s mother believed in that emotion called love and followed her heart, which meant following her man and his dreams instead of her own.

  Shortly thereafter, Dollar’s grandparents, Grandpa and Grandma Davis, his mother’s parents, passed away. They died in their sleep of carbon monoxide poisoning. Auntie Charlene took over their house and tried relentlessly to get her only sibling to move back home to Chicago. She even said that she could bring her husband with her. Dollar’s father convinced his mother that Auntie Charlene only wanted to pick up where her parents had left off; that she wanted to control their life and would eventually break the two of them up. So, Dollar’s mother decided against moving back to Chicago. Instead, she lived in a one-bedroom, run-down apartment in Gary with her husband and baby.

  Dollar could only imagine what life would have been like if his mother had moved in with Auntie Charlene. So much would have been different. But no, she had to be a down-ass chick and have her man’s back. And in the end, he’d left her hangin’. Define irony.

  It was Sunday morning and Dollar had been out the night before with Mya, the manicurist from the nail salon. He knew it was only a matter of time before he hit that. He could always tell that she wanted him by the way she gave him an extra ten minutes on the hand and wrist massage. Mya had the same unspoken persistence as Kera did, so like Kera, Dollar had to break Mya off a li’l somethin’ somethin’.

  The evening before, Dollar had only gone into the salon for a manicure, but he left with Mya. Dollar had been Mya’s last client for the day and she insisted on taking him out to have a drink. After several drinks, he found himself in her apartment; then he found himself between her thighs.

  As Dollar pulled the cover from over his head, through the cracks of the window blind, the sun screamed, “Wake up, nigga!” Dollar lay in bed wearing nothing but a morning hard-on. He stretched and flexed his muscles as one of them popped, causing an ache.

  “Damn,” Dollar said to himself. “I need to find a gym or something. Get this body back in shape. It sounds like a box of Rice Krispies, all this damn snap, cracklin’, and poppin’.”

  Dollar looked over at his digital clock that read 11:45 a.m. After a night of wild sex with Mya, Dollar was exhausted, and to add to it he had a hangover. He thought back on all the positions he had Mya’s limbs pinned up in during their sexcapade.

  Dollar rubbed his penis as he thought about how Mya allowed him to cum inside of her and then she sucked the juices off of him. The taste of her own pussy was like a delicacy to her. She managed to get all ten inches of Dollar down her throat without even gagging. Dollar felt like he had a starring role in one of his Jake’s Freaks, Hoes and Flows porno tapes.

  What really tripped Dollar out was that, as small and petite as that li’l white girl was, she took it in the ass like a champ. Dollar had never gone there before, and probably never would again, with a sista anyway. It didn’t matter how long he had been locked up in prison, it was common knowledge that a guy had to be extra careful of what sexual acts he asked a sista to perform. Heck, they took offense to all kinds of sexual request. They didn’t even like for a man to ask them to suck his dick. “Don’t ask me to do it. Just let me do it on my own,” they would say. And God forbid a man tried to push their head down to his spot. A sista would straight clown. So, asking a sista for some anal sex might get a brotha cut. They were always talking about they were saving that ass for their husband. But Mya was an exhibitionist. Dollar couldn’t believe half the stuff they had done, and on top of that, he couldn’t believe he had gone up in her raw.

  What in the hell was I thinking? Dollar thought as he lay in bed and rested his body a little while longer. His mind roamed from one thing to the next.

  Dollar’s mind managed to drift into thoughts of his little brother. Ral bringing him up the other day must have struck a chord with Dollar because ever since then he caught himself thinking about his baby bro. He and his brother had been inseparable as kids. They were each other’s keeper, and now here they were living a half hour from one another, yet a world apart.

  Dollar desired to have a good relationship with Klein. He wished they could even ride together in his own mischievous endeavors. He’d never have to worry about trust if his own blood was part of his crew. But he knew that he and Klein were living in two separate universes. Maybe once Dollar went legit he could see to it that things between them were on the up and up. But until then, it wouldn’t hurt to at least try to carry on a decent conversation with him. So, Dollar decided that he’d invite Klein to play a game of ball with him. He was the older brother. He could set an example, be the bigger person, and make the first attempt to warm down the ice.

  Dollar looked up his home phone number as he had done to get his address the night he went to his house with Ral. He grabbed his cell phone and dialed up Klein. Klein answered after a couple of rings.

  “Hello,” Klein said, almost out of breath. He had just walked in the door from visiting their mother’s grave, which was what he did every Sunday after church.

  “Hey, little brother,” Dollar replied. There was silence on the phone. “You busy? You sound out of breath.”

  “I’m just walking in from church. I heard the phone ringing.”

  “Oh, cool. That’s cool. I was wondering if you knew of a gym or someplace with a court,” Dollar asked.

  “Where you staying?” Klein asked.

  “The shore. North,” Dollar replied.

  “Yeah, they got a California Fitness not too far from where you at. It’s about a mile from the pier.”

  “How about you meet me over there for a game of ball?”

  “Man, I haven’t shot baskets in years.” He laughed. “I’d need a doctor if I even attempted.”

  “Oh, you chumpin’ out on me? You sceered?” Dollar joked.

  “I didn’t say I couldn’t play. You know ballin’ for me is like riding a bike. I ain’t forgot how it’s done.”

  “So, does that mean I’m gonna see you up at the gym?”

  Klein paused while he contemplated, then replied, “Give me an hour.”

  “See you then,” Dollar said, hanging up the phone. He took a deep breath and hit the shower to rid himself of Mya’s scent.

  When Dollar got out of the shower, he threw on his black-and-white And1 T-shirt with cutoff sleeves, the matching shorts, and his And1 black-and-white kicks. When Dollar went to leave, he noticed a pink envelope lying in front of his door. Someone had obviously placed it through his living room door mail slot. Dollar picked it up and was greeted by the sweet, flowery scent of the envelope. He recognized the scent as he pulled out and read the letter inside.

  “The Gift”

  Sleep don’t come easy with you on my mind

  I think I’ve found something it takes most people years to find

  You tell me things so smooth and so clear

  You make me feel like I have nothing to fear

  Dreams of giving you my body, all of me,

  the way I thought making love should be

  My insides are burning as I explode in ecstasy

  This feeling I’m feeling is greater than any feeling I’ve ever felt

  Then I feel a sweet release and I start to melt

  Stroking your hand through my hair,

  holding me knowing I need you there

  Kissing my neck, nibbling my ear,

  your arms around me, keeping me near

  I’ve given you all of me and all I want is for you to, at least, think about me every day

  Cherish, adore and please don’t throw my gift away

  Love Always, Ker
a

  Dollar closed his eyes and put his hand on his forehead.

  What he had expected from sexin’ up a young broad was coming to pass. Dollar balled up the note, pitched it into the trash, and then headed out to meet up with his brother.

  “You don’t want none of this. Buuuyaaa. Nothin’ but net,” Klein said as he dunked on Dollar, who was sticking him.

  “Oh, you showing off now,” Dollar said as he dribbled down the court, followed by the other players. Before Dollar could get halfway down the court, Klein stole the ball from him and took it to the hole.

  “Game point,” Klein said, showing his pearly whites.

  Dollar bent over huffing and puffing. He managed to get out, “You da man,” then gave Klein a five. The two shook hands with their teammates, then headed into the locker room to shower and get changed.

  “You wanna go get some grub?” Dollar asked.

  “Nah, I gotta study for my classes I’m taking over at Northwestern.”

  “How many years of school do you have to do?” Dollar asked.

  “Well, you know I skipped my senior year. Hell, I earned college credits my junior year.”

  “Get out of here,” Dollar said.

  “Yeah, I got to graduate with the current seniors while I was a junior. Man, Ma was so proud.”

  “I’m proud of you too, man,” Dollar said sincerely. “I just wish I could have been there. My brother, an MD.”

  “Yeah, I still have a lot of schooling left before I can put an MD behind my name, but I’m getting there. I’ll be an MD in no time, and it will all be worth it.” Klein smiled. “That’s why I gotta hit the books.”

  “Oh, all right then. Well, maybe we can go some other time.”

  As the two continued to get dressed, Klein noticed the disappointing look on Dollar’s face. He’d just enjoyed spending time with his big brother, but a game of basketball was different from having to sit across the table from him. He could handle constant activity between the two, but he didn’t know if he could hold a conversation with Dollar without it turning sour. As Klein focused on Dollar’s expression, he found himself staring at Dollar and noticing how much he looked like their mother.

  “You’ve got her nose,” Klein said to Dollar.

  “Huh?” Dollar replied.

  “Sadie. You’ve got her nose.”

  Dollar didn’t reply to Klein’s comment. He grabbed his gym bag and pulled out his keys. “I guess I’ll talk to you whenever,” Dollar said.

  “Yeah, I guess so. Take care, man.”

  The brothers gave each other pound and Dollar headed toward the locker room exit.

  “I guess it don’t make sense to try to study on an empty stomach,” Klein said on second thought.

  A huge grin took over Dollar’s face as he replied, “Fat’s BBQ.”

  “And you know this, man,” he said as he grabbed his belongings and followed Dollar out.

  Dollar and Klein talked and laughed over their quarter chicken BBQ dinners. Holding a pleasant conversation didn’t turn out to be such a hard feat after all.

  “So, Doc,” Dollar asked, tearing a piece of chicken off the bone with his teeth. “You got a woman in your life?”

  “You mean a girlfriend?” Klein said.

  “Yeah, man.”

  “Nah, don’t have the time. Relationships take too much time and effort. I only have enough time and effort for success right now.”

  “But I thought every man needed a good woman in their life.” Dollar smiled in a suggestive manner.

  “I do have a woman in my life,” he replied. “Mama. I visit her every Sunday, just to talk. Her spirit guides me, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean,” Dollar said, staring off in thoughts of his mother’s loving spirit.

  “Mama pushed me to this point and supported me to the end. I’m not going to let anything stand in my way.”

  “Mama was always there backing up every one of our big dreams,” Dollar said. “Remember when we set up that lemonade stand? Mama helped us with the sign and everything.”

  “Man, do I remember. We used to do some crazy stuff trying to get money,” Klein replied.

  “What about that time we tried to sell decorated Easter eggs for a dollar each?” Dollar laughed.

  “Yeah, and you forgot to boil them.”

  The two laughed hysterically. Dollar almost choked.

  “The things a little nigga gotta do to make it out of the hood,” Dollar said after clearing his throat.

  “Tell me about it. I remember when Mom wouldn’t buy you that Michael Jordan jersey. You were set on getting it yourself so you sold sips of Canadian Mist to the drunks in the hood from an old bottle Dad had left behind. You charged them one dollar a sip. You got your name honest, Dollar. You probably would have sold nickels for a dollar if you could have. Selling sips of liquor for a dollar . . . you was crazy. I thought Ma was going to kill you when Old Lady Parker ratted you out. Man, Ma was heated. I remember her saying how if Dad were still around she would have had him beat your tail black and blue. But then she thought about it and said, ‘Boy, if your daddy was around, all he’d probably want to know was how much money you made so you could split it with him.’”

  Klein began laughing. He found himself laughing alone.

  “I don’t have a dad, and neither do you,” Dollar said as he stood up and walked over to the trashcan to throw away the remainder of his meal. He had suddenly lost his appetite.

  Dollar returned to the table where silence was still present.

  “What are you going to do with yourself, Dollar?” Klein asked with sincerity. “You just gonna walk around mad at the world, holdin’ grudges?”

  “Why not?” Dollar replied. “Ain’t that what you doin’?”

  Klein sighed and continued. “Why don’t you go to school, man?”

  “Me, go to school.” Dollar laughed. “School ain’t for me.”

  “You’ve got a brain, don’t you? You’re capable of thinking, aren’t you? So, why isn’t school for you?”

  “I don’t know nothing but the street, Doc. I mean, I read a lot, but even the majority of that is just some ol’ gangsta shit,” Dollar said.

  “You know just as much as me.”

  “Yeah, right.” Dollar laughed.

  “I’m serious, man. Remember when I was younger, before you went to j . . . Well, anyway. You used to ask me all of those questions and pay me twenty-five dollars if I answered them correctly. A couple of times I gave you the wrong answers and you made me find out the true answer. I used to give you the wrong answers on purpose just to see if you even knew the answers to the questions yourself. And you did know.”

  “Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” Dollar said, grinning proudly.

  “Yeah, you did.”

  “Well, that was then and this is now,” Dollar said, becoming more adamant. “School is not an option for me. That’s your thang.”

  “And what’s your thang?” Klein said, waiting for Dollar to respond. Dollar simply looked away. “Oh, let me guess, the thug life is your thang: big ballin’ and shit. Fuck that street life, man. Fuck the streets.”

  “Fuck the streets,” Dollar repeated angrily. “The streets is all I got. I love the streets and the streets love me back. Besides, I don’t see you inviting me to come live out there in the ’burbs with you.”

  Klein couldn’t say anything. Dollar had shut him down.

  “Well, I guess I better get going,” Klein said. “It’s getting late and I, uhh . . .”

  “You have to study,” Dollar reminded him.

  “Yeah, I have to study.”

  Dollar stood up and took his brother’s trash to the garbage. He walked back over to the table where Klein was preparing to leave.

  “You always been a friend to the streets, Dollar. I know this. I know you missed your freedom on the streets, but it ain’t the answer,” Klein said. “The streets don’t love nobody. I’m stitchin’ up bullet wounds, knife wounds and treat
ing AIDS patients daily. Do you think the streets love them? Look at Stephan Crouse. He sleeps with the streets every night. Does it look like the streets love him?”

  Dollar looked away from his brother in silence.

  “Look, Dollar, man. I’m not trying to end this on a sour note,” Klein told him as he turned to leave. “So let’s just squash it. It was good kickin’ it with you.”

  “Yeah, me too, man.”

  “You got a number or something?” Klein asked.

  Dollar, surprised he’s asked, responded, “Yeah, I have a cell phone.”

  “No home phone?”

  “Naw, all I need is a cell phone. The feds can’t tap that,” Dollar joked.

  “You staying over by the shore. That must mean your job is panning out pretty good for you. Those places over there are high as hell. You gettin’ lots of gigs?”

  “I can’t complain. What about you? How’s work at the clinic?”

  “Oh, it’s good. We just got a new grant from a private donor.”

  “Well, that’s good. Hell, free money is always good,” Dollar said.

  “Not always,” Klein replied. “Not always.” There was dead silence. “Well, uhh, I guess I’ll holler at you later.”

  “Yeah, man.” He gave Dollar a hug, a passionate, brotherly hug. He looked up at Dollar then walked away.

  “Yo, Doc,” Dollar called to him. “What athlete was on the cover of Sports Illustrated more than any other athlete?”

  Klein stood and thought for a minute. “I don’t know. Who?”

  “Muhammad Ali,” Dollar replied.

  “Oh yeah, that’s right,” Klein said, winking, knowing the answer all along. “Muhammad Ali.”

  Dollar smiled and watched his little brother until he was out of his sight, taking in the words his brother had just spoken to him. Perhaps Klein was right. Maybe the streets didn’t love nobody. Dollar’s ego wouldn’t even allow him to entertain this concept for long. Of course the streets loved him. Didn’t they?

  CHAPTER 18

  No Sex in the Champagne Room