An Urban Drama

by Glenn, Roy

  “I’m tired. Your body lets you know when you need to rest yourself, so I just took some time to myself. This afternoon my grandmother had a birthday party, so I went over there and I had the best time. It’s fun hangin’ out with old people.” I didn’t want to give up too much personal information about myself. I already had one strung out pest on my hands; the last thing I needed was another.

  “A lotta wisdom goin’ on in there. You can learn a lot from old people.”

  “You sure can. So I hung out over there; stuffed myself like a pig on finger food and cake and pies. It was nice, especially since I really hadn’t been out in a while.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I was goin’ through some shit—excuse my language.”

  “It’s okay. I’ve been known to say a curse word or two, myself.”

  “I know we should be able to express ourselves without cursing, but it does have its place in our vocabulary. Let’s face it, people curse. Some just take it to unnecessary levels. But yeah, I was goin’ through some really foul shit and I just needed a change.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “You just don’t know the half of it.” I really didn’t feel like going into my problems with Cedric. The fact was that I was trying to forget about him altogether, and the sound of Victor’s voice was quickly making me forget all about Preemie Cedric. The way Victor sounded over the phone made me curious, and I began to wonder what the man behind this voice looked like. “Mind if I ask you a question?”

  “Ask me anything you want, Simone.”

  “Anything?” I asked flirtatiously.

  “Anything you wanna know.”

  “You are black, aren’t you?”

  “Last time I checked.”

  “Good. Would you mind describing yourself to me?”

  “I’m six two and my skin is dark. I have no hair by choice.”

  “I’m glad you said by choice.”

  “No, male pattern baldness hasn’t set in yet. I have a beard.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Thirty-four.”

  “I knew it. For some reason, I kept thinking you were thirty-four,” I said.

  “Why? Do I sound thirty-four?”

  “No, silly.” I laughed. “How does thirty-four sound, anyway?”

  “I don’t know. Like me, I guess.” He laughed too.

  “Are you fine?” I asked, bringing an abrupt end to our laughter.

  “I’ve been told that a time or two, but I’ve never thought so. I consider the people who said it to be biased.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “’Cause I was involved with them at the time.”

  “I’ll accept that,” I said; then I got a call on my other line, so I asked, “Victor, would you mind holding on a minute?”

  When I clicked back over Victor said, “I didn’t mind you excusing yourself, but it allowed my mind to wander. Since we were on the subject, I began to give some thought to what you looked like, wondering what kind of person you are. Back in the day, what type of person you were wouldn’t have even been a concern, but those were simpler times.”

  “Oh, really? Why don’t you tell me what it was like back then?”

  “You see a girl; you dig her. She digs you. Only concern at that point was where and when. But things are different now.”

  “Just a little.” I laughed. “You’re kind of funny.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad that I amuse you.”

  “So, I take it that back in the day you were livin’ on the wild side?”

  “I guess you could say that.”

  “Well, what would you say?”

  “I would say that I’ve had my share of women—my share and somebody else’s share, if I really wanted to be honest with you.”

  “Do you?”

  “Can I?”

  “Of course, you can. You can be as honest with me as you like.”

  “Good. I’ve always thought that there was entirely too much pretense in conversation between men and women.”

  “You’re right. There is.” I had to agree since I had dropped a couple of lies in this conversation already.

  “Each one is so busy trying not to say the wrong thing, not really saying what they mean, talking all around what they really want to say.”

  “Not being yourself,” I threw in, because I was guilty of it.

  “Let me ask you something”—Victor said and cleared his throat—“How many times have you said, damn, if I’d known he was like that, I woulda never got involved with him?”

  “One time too many,” I said and thought about Cedric.

  “See, that’s pretense. So, I’ll just be myself and hope that you do the same. Picture that, an honest relationship.”

  “Interesting concept.”

  “I have to try that one of these days,” he said and I laughed.

  “I don’t know if it’s possible for a man and a woman to have a completely honest relationship.”

  “Why is that?”

  “’Cause men lie.”

  “So do women.”

  “Yeah, but y’all take it to a whole nother level,” I said excitedly.

  “Please. Give me a break.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means while we’re down here scheming and lyin’ on level one, a woman is on level five, running a program of lies and manipulation that is so sophisticated that our dumb asses could never even imagine, much less know what’s goin’ on.”

  I had to laugh.

  “You’re laughing, but I bet that you’ve run some sophisticated games on men, haven’t you, Simone?”

  “Yeah. Well, first of all my name is Nina. Simone is the name I used when I danced,” I confessed.

  “The pleasure is all mine, Nina. And thank you for proving my point.”

  “Anyway,” I said, hating to be caught in my own shit.

  “Nina Simone, huh?”

  “That’s what my father used to call me,” I said, and thought about my daddy. It had been a while since I had seen my parents and I missed them. I would have to try to heal the wound that had grown in our relationship.

  “Do you like Nina Simone?”

  “To be honest with you, Victor, I know that she was a jazz singer, but I’ve never heard her sing.”

  “Really?”

  “Really,” I replied, feeling just a little stupid. I mean, here I was going around using the name, and didn’t know anything about her.

  “You should check out some of her music. She really does have a beautiful voice.”

  “You seem to know quite a bit about her.”

  “A bit. Like that’s not her real name.”

  “Get outta here.”

  “What, you think you’re the only one who can make up a name?”

  “Okay, okay, you got me.” I hate getting called out like that, but he had me. “So, what’s her name?”

  “Eunice Waymon.”

  “Eunice Waymon?”

  “Yup,” Victor said and I giggled a little.

  “Where did Nina Simone come from then?”

  “To support her family, she started working as an accompanist in an Irish bar in Atlantic City. The bar owner told her she had to sing too. So she changed her name into Nina, which means little one, and Simone, which she took from the French actress Simone Signoret.”

  “I never heard of her.”

  “Neither have I.”

  “Good,” I said. “Now I don’t feel so bad.”

  “So you dance, huh?”

  “I used to. I used to dance at private parties, and then I danced at a club for a minute.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Really.”

  “Which did you like better?

  “Private parties. I hated working in a club.”

  “Why?”

  “Too many people. All those men grabbing at me, trying to rub on me; I just didn’t like that. And women hittin’ on me got a little old too. See, at priva
te parties, there’re maybe four, five men. I could handle that a lot better. When I dance for a man, I feel the music inside me, and I move to the flow. I can look into a man’s eyes while he’s watching me, and make him feel me without ever having to touch him. It’s more personal.”

  “Personal, huh?”

  “Yeah, I know what you’re thinkin’, and no, I don’t sell no pussy. I know some girls do. Do it all the time. I knew one that got locked up trying to sell some pussy. You can get hooked on that money. I wasn’t tryin’ to do all that.”

  “Guess you made good money dancin’, huh?”

  “I got a flat fee plus tips. Depending on the crowd, I did all right.”

  “Sometimes the whole dancer-customer relationship amazes me. I mean, think about it, we sit there for hours, giving sometimes large sums of money to a woman whose job is to get your money and make you feel good about giving it to her.”

  “Right. And she can accomplish this most times by making you think that there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, and that tunnel leads to sex.”

  “Most times this isn’t the case. I had a relationship like that. I used to go to this place to be entertained by a woman who called herself Starr.”

  “Starr, huh? At least my stage name showed some imagination, even if I didn’t know it.” I laughed. I couldn’t remember the last time I laughed that much in a conversation with a man; especially a man I’d never met. Of course, that was an issue that I planned to remedy at the first opportunity.

  “It started out like every dancer-customer relationship does. I tipped her while she was on stage, and when she came to thank me, I had her dance for me.”

  “That’s how the club scene works—hustlin’ for every dollar you get. But you really liked her? I mean, beyond just dancing for you?”

  “Yeah, I did,” Victor continued. “She was cool, quite intelligent, and pretty good company. Good enough that I became her regular customer. When she’d notice that I was in the club, she’d leave whoever she was sitting with and sit with me.”

  “You must have been a good customer for her to do that.”

  “I guess. But that went on whether I had money or not. Naturally, on nights when I had no money to spend, she’d leave me when she’d see a mark, but she’d always come back.”

  “Bet she’d have some stories to tell.”

  “She’d always have stories about the things men would say to her. Weak, lame lines. Starr gave me the rundown on all the other dancers—who was trickin’, who got high, which ones stole money, the whole nine. Some nights she wouldn’t feel like being bothered and would dance only when it was her turn on stage, or she’d dance for me when a song came on that she liked.”

  “I guess she really liked you too.”

  “I guess,” Victor said quietly.

  I could tell by the way he talked about her that she really meant a lot to him. “You wanted to have sex with her?”

  “Bad. But for as long as the relationship lasted, there was no sex. Each night some guy in a gold Lincoln would show up to get her. She’d say good night and they’d drive away, leaving me broke and feeling foolish.”

  “She was just doin’ her job.”

  “So what about you, Nina? What do you do now?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “What do you do? Where do you work?”

  “Oh . . .” I laughed. I knew what he meant. I was just trying to decide how I should answer. “I’m in business for myself,” I said quickly.

  “What type of business do you do?”

  “Wholesale/retail business,” I said. “You know, I buy things wholesale and resell them for a profit.”

  “Really? What product, or maybe its products, do you carry?”

  “That depends on the customer,” I answered, trying not to trip over my own words.

  “So, you run a customer-driven business?”

  “Right,” I said. “Victor, would you mind holding on a minute? I got a call on my other line.” I put the phone on mute and left him there for a while.

  When I got back on the phone, Victor was more interested in my life as a stripper than knowing what products I carried.

  Ah, men.

  “Nina, you begin to interest me, and not just ’cause you were a dancer. Although that is a major factor, I am really enjoying this whole conversation.”

  “Well, I’m glad I’m able to amuse you.”

  “You never did say what you looked like. Describe yourself to me.”

  “I’m twenty-five; just turned, in fact.”

  “Happy belated birthday,” Victor said.

  “Thank you,” I said. “I’m brown-skinned with long, shoulder-length hair. A lot of people think I’m Puerto Rican ’cause my hair is wavy. I’m about five-seven, taller in pumps, and I won’t tell you how much I weigh.”

  “A woman thing, I guess.”

  “You know that. But I assure you that you won’t be disappointed when you see me.”

  “I consider this a good thing. I’ve been on blind dates before. Most turned out to be nights I’d soon forget.”

  After a bit more small talk, I told Victor I was tired and I would call him the next day, and maybe we could get together. Victor, on the other hand, didn’t seem too excited about meeting me in person. He kept saying that he had some business to handle the next day. If I’m nothing else, I am persistent, and I wouldn’t give up until I got my way.

  The next day, I was on the phone with Victor, and I was talking about him coming to get me for dinner, drinks, or whatever. I was going to meet the man behind the voice.

  Ten

  “Victor?”

  “Nina?”

  “Come on in.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Well?” I said, standing with my hands on my hips.

  “Yeah, I can see where you could pass for Puerto Rican. You’re very pretty. No, that’s an understatement too. You’re beautiful.”

  “Thank you, Victor. You’re a very handsome man yourself. Have a seat. I’ll be ready in a minute,” I said and went into the bedroom. Very handsome was an understatement too. This man was sexy as hell. His voice was just the tip of the iceberg.

  We rode around for a while and talked. Once we settled on a place, we went inside and took a seat at the bar. I ordered my signature rum and Coke; I had to cut loose them Blue Muthafuckas. Victor ordered Remy Martin, neat. That means straight, if y’all didn’t know. I didn’t.

  We had the usual amount of uncomfortable, getting-to-know-you conversation over the first drink. The conversation turned back to the night before and his lack of enthusiasm about meeting me. “That’s because I’ve had blind dates before and they never turn out to be about anything. But I’m flattered just to be here. Women that look like you don’t usually do this. Getting a man definitely ain’t your problem in life.”

  “I tried to tell you,” I said with attitude. “I knew you wouldn’t be disappointed.” But the truth was, I didn’t have a man and I was lonely.

  “I don’t think that disappointed is a word that applies to anything about you, Nina.”

  The way he looked at me when he talked, the sound of voice, and the way he ran his tongue over his lips was moving me in ways that only Lorenzo had. We ordered a second round of drinks and a very interesting, not to mention tasty, spinach dip. “I’m glad I decided to call you today. I needed this. I’m enjoying myself.”

  “I’m glad you called too,” Victor said and reached for my hand. “And I’m glad I came to meet you, Nina.”

  The whole time we were there, Cedric was blowing up my phone. He’d started calling again when he got a hold of my new number. He told me that he broke into my mailbox every day waiting for my cell phone bill to come, so he could get the number. I didn’t know if that was true or not, but he had it. Each time I felt it vibrate, I’d look at it and keep talking. Except once. “Excuse me, Victor. This may be some money calling.” I walked out to the lobby and answered the phone. It was Cedric calling from anothe
r number.

  “’Bout time you answered your phone, Nina.”

  “What do you want, Cedric?”

  “I wanna see you.”

  “I don’t hear from you for a month and now you start blowin’ up my phone, talkin’ ’bout you wanna see me?” I cursed him out quick and went back inside and rejoined Victor at the bar. My phone rang again. I looked at the number, and rolled my eyes before returning it to its resting place. I looked up and caught Victor staring at me.

  I smiled. “What?”

  “What you doin’ to that man, Nina?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Yeah, right. You’re not doing anything to him, but he can’t go twenty minutes without calling you.”

  “I talked to him,” I fired back with an attitude. “I told him I was busy and I’d talk to him later.”

  “Well, you know later means different things to different people. I guess to him, later means in twenty minutes.” I rolled my eyes and took another sip of my drink. “No, Nina, you turned that man out and now he can’t stand the thought of anybody being anywhere near you. So, I will ask you once again. What did you do to that man?”

  I still didn’t offer an explanation, but I did smile a confident, yeah-I-got-the-nigga-pussy-whipped smile. Quietly, though, I wished I didn’t.

  “You should be careful who you throw that monster on. He might start stalking you,” Victor commented casually.

  “I been stalked before. Not by him,” I quickly lied again, “but I’ve been stalked before.” It was becoming a pattern, but if I wanted to be honest, I would have to say that Cedric was a stalker. For some reason, I felt compelled to lie to Victor.

  “Somehow, I’m not surprised,” Victor said, sounding disappointed.

  “I know what you’re thinking, and it wasn’t like that.” I smiled and shook my head. Suddenly it was important that he understood and not be disappointed in me. I really liked Victor, and not just because he was so damn fine. When I was in college, Victor was the kind of man that I said I was going to marry and spend the rest of my life with. “For real, I never even kissed him. I was just fourteen. He was just obsessed with me. Callin’ me all the time and shit.”

  “So, what you’re telling me is you never even kissed the guy, but he was stalking you? That’s strong, Nina.”