"Lolani, how have you been?" I asked.
"Fine. So, have you gotten any job interviews yet?" She inquired while resting her laundry on the counter.
"Nope, still no calls back. The college recruiter told me ninety percent of graduates find work in their field within a year. It's going on two years for me."
"Hang in there Duane. You'll find something."
It's the norm for us to reacquaint ourselves with a brief conversation every time she enters the cleaners. I've been longing to ask her out but I'd be embarrassed if she saw the sub-standard apartment building I dwell in. It's the best I can do with a measly twelve hundred bucks a month salary.
After locking the rolling steel storefront shutter doors, I quickly treaded home in the thick of the thunderstorm. While scampering towards the subway station with my head slightly slouched down, I noticed three males standing on the corner ahead of me. I thought it was odd to be outside in this weather. As I approached the individuals, I suddenly noticed the black leather vests they were wearing. Then I caught sight of the black knitted ski masks concealing their identities. A sudden jittery wave of butterflies rushed from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet. I’m almost certain it was the same three ruffians that mugged me.
I decided to sneak past them by discreetly crossing the street. I slowed my pace and waited for the opportunity. When I noticed they weren't paying me any mind I darted across. Once on the other side I hurried towards the train station.
When I reached the corner, I had to make a mad dash across another street. I didn't even bother looking for oncoming traffic. With my luck, however, an approaching city bus driver sounded his deafening horn while I bustled across. I was so nervous I didn't even notice it nearing. I was startled but continued my hasty sidestepping. I hoped I didn't bring any attention to myself. I was too afraid to look back. I just continued towards the subway station. Suddenly, I heard hasty wet footsteps nearing me from behind. My plan failed.
"EY!" One of the hooligans hollered while yanking on the back of my shirt. The other two quickly confined me and blocked my path. "What you got in your pockets?" He demanded.
"Nothing." I responded after reluctantly turning towards him.
"Wait a minute. I remember you!" He said tormenting me. “You’re the guy from the cleaners. You got any more cash?”
He suddenly reached towards my pants pocket. I instinctively jolted my leg back. At that second, I was pelted with something callous on the back of my head. I didn't catch what it was but it staggered me. I was then battered with right hooks and jabs. I tried to fend off the fists but was unable to. Without warning I was bear hugged from behind, hoisted up and hammered onto the concrete sidewalk. The impact stunned me and knocked the breath out of my lungs. As the punches persisted to pummel me, my pockets were once again rummaged through. The second my wallet was snatched one of the hooligans hollered "I got it!" At that moment they concluded their assault and fled down the street.
I propped myself up on the sidewalk as the heavy rain pommeled me. I was wet, cold and in great pain. It took great exertion to get back on my feet. I started sniffling to keep my nose from running. Then I suddenly tasted the coppery flavor of blood. I wiped my nose with my hand and noticed it all over my palms. Without my wallet, which held my fare card, my only way home is a grueling forty five minute trek in this thunderstorm.
After fifteen minutes of walking, my clothes were completely drenched; down to my underwear and socks. A bus careened towards the bus stop and sent a wave of rain water six feet into the air. I lurched just as it came my way and barely avoided it. I glanced at the bus driver and he had a slight smirk on his face. A group of juveniles huddled underneath a storefront awning began to cackle. "Ahhhh ha! He gotta walk home in this rain!" They mocked while bustling onto the city bus.
During my journey I began to wonder if I belonged here. I grew up in a well-kempt middle class neighborhood. Brooklyn was far from perfect but downtown Capitol City was on an entirely new level. This is foreign to me; the unruly and brash tenants and the graffiti that tainted the neighborhood. It's as if anything could be a canvass; from storefronts and apartment buildings to abandoned vehicles to city buses and passing cargo trucks to subway cars. Almost every building had a decrepit fire escape and a sleazy red neon vertical sign fixed to it. Residents tossed their snack wrappers and takeout food cartons onto the streets without regard. Dealers crowd the entrance to the elevated train stations and hustle crack, heroin and marijuana. Ladies of the evening post up in the many back alleys of downtown. The piles of malodorous garbage bags are stacked along the curb while sewer rats scurrying through them. The stench of urine frequents the breeze more than fresh air. The police department is overwhelmed and can only do the bare minimum. They are only a band aid to this dire issue; just a temporary fix.
My journey felt longer than it should. Venturing through this downpour after getting jumped by the gang members was strenuous. But I made it. The deafening music from my neighbor's stereo rattled the walls in my bathroom. I noticed more wall tiles have been dislodged because of it. I glanced at my reflection in the pulsating cracked mirror on my medicine cabinet door. My face was slightly swollen. A subtle stream of blood seeped out of my nose and the corner of my mouth. I rinsed a hand towel with warm water and tended to my wounds.
My lack of sleep for the past week has continued to cause me to be weary at work. I was steadily awakened while nodding off at the counter by an unruly customer. One in particular was a routine patron named Bailey. He's an infamous thug in the neighborhood and a known prick. He stands six feet four inches tall and borders a husky three hundred pounds. His hair is jet black and he keeps it slick. He also has a noticeable mole beneath the corner of the right side of his mouth. Bailey has adulation for his gold ancient tile patterned silk shirts imported from Italy. The slightest fade will send him into a frenzy.
"YO!" Bailey barked while pounding the bell on the counter. He startled me awake.
"How can I help you?"
"I need my shirts dry cleaned. A little bit of starch. Ya'll better not mess up my shirts either." He demanded. I rang up the total and printed out his receipt. He churlishly snatched it from my hand and bustled out to his double parked cherry red '76 Stingray. At that moment, Lolani stumbled in with her business attires.
"You know you still owe me a birthday present right?" She blurted while dumping her hefty clothes on the counter.
"Birthday present? Ahhhh... What do you want?" I inquired.
"Let’s go out Saturday! To a movie."
"Saturday? Movie? Ummm... I would but..."
"Nevermind." She uttered cutting me off.
"No, it's not like that. Honestly, I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while now but my problem is... I'm broke."
"What do you mean you're broke? You work here for free?" She sarcastically inquired.
"Of course not. I get paid but not that much."
"So I'll pay for the movie."
“You can’t pay for the movie. That’s my job.”
“Duane, it’s two thousand three not nineteen oh three. Women can pay for the movie.”
"It's more than that. I don't even own a car and my apartment building is a dump. It's embarrassing." I conveyed.
"Your apartment building? Ahhh... Don't you think you're moving a little too fast?"
"You know what I mean."
"You're going to find a great job soon. But just because you aren't where you want to be doesn't mean you can't have fun."
"You're right." I agreed.
"So I'll pick you up and pay for the movie but you'll pay for dinner." Lolani decided.
"All right, cool."
"All right, well you have my number. Give me a call. Let’s go out Saturday night."
"All right, Saturday... It's a... Date?" I stammered as she strolled out of the dry cleaners. I couldn't believe it was finally happening. I've been waiting two years for this.
It's seven o'clock in the eveni
ng. Two hours until our date and I'm eagerly dressed. I’m purposely wearing my slightly shrunken gray short sleeve button down shirt that reveals much of my biceps. Although I haven’t been in the gym in two years, I still have some muscle definition lingering around. I’m also sporting a black pair of slacks and matching leather shoes. I've been uncomfortably pacing about bent on not getting my dry cleaned outfit wrinkled. I got a fresh haircut and purchased cologne solely for our date. I've been longing for this night the second I met her. I can't help thinking how awkward it's going to be when she arrives and sees the cesspool I live in.
I'd better carry my passport to verify my age in case I decide to indulge in an alcoholic beverage. My ID card was in my wallet that was stolen from me. After retrieving it from my dresser drawer, thoughts of her flaking out began to transpire. "Why would she want to hang out with someone like me? She's a receptionist that spends eight hours around dentists who make my monthly salary in a day. She's not going to come."
After two hours of sulking, my cellphone suddenly began to vibrate. It's her. I was so roused my unsteadied fingers could barely answer it. "I'm outside!" She blurted. "All right." I replied struggling to keep my zealousness at bay. I bolted out of my apartment and locked the door. I scrambled down the stairs past the half-dressed floozies, inebriated drunks and neighborhood thugs and bustled to her car.
After setting foot in her tan 1999 Toyota Camry, I couldn't stop myself from staring at her. There are no words that can describe how stunning she looks. Her deep brown curly hair was fashionably bolstered with a stylish tangerine colored pin. Her bronze complexion complimented her light orange eye shadow and lip gloss. She wore a trendy orange sleeveless blouse and white tights with orange platform shoes. I couldn't grasp why she wanted to date me. I was incontestably out of her league.
"I thought you were going to stand me up for a second." I disclosed after complimenting her appearance.
"You think so lowly of yourself." She replied.
We decided to escape the downtown area for the night and catch a movie across the river. The second we made our way over the bridge, the contrast became apparent. The neighborhood was taintless. Free from litter and graffiti. There were no sleazy red neon vertical signs fixed to the buildings. Instead, there were historical street lamps posted on every block that had decorative flower pots hanging from them. They emitted an amber colored light that gave the neighborhood a soft golden hue. A group of individuals sporting Italian blazers, designer dresses, lavish handbags and ritzy wrist watches mirthfully roamed along the sidewalks searching for a pub to lounge in. The residents looked jubilant. It was as if they didn't have any worries in the world.
We drove through a strip of row houses, built in the 1890s, that was tastefully renovated into storefronts and pubs. The streets were constructed with cobblestone. The avenue signs had an early 20th century depiction. The neighborhood perpetuated its historical ambience.
Drivers profiling in their convertible Lamborghinis, Aston Martins, Bentleys and Ferraris brought traffic to a crawl. It allowed me to get a good glance inside the restaurants. They were teeming with animated patrons cheering at the baseball game being shown on the many flat screens. They all appeared to be filled to capacity.
After the movie, Lolani and I stumbled upon a packed Mandarin restaurant next to the theater. There was a lengthy wait to be seated but a jocular conversation made time pass quickly. The chic Asian decor including the oriental lamps and the ancient artwork drew patrons into an Imperial Chinese era. The ambience along with the savory food and live band made for a joyous time.
Even after we fulfilled our appetite we continued to sit in the restaurant and acquaint ourselves with one another. This evening couldn't get any better. I've had many misfortunes since the day I moved to this city; my insolent neighbors, getting robbed of my pay, unable to find work in my field and unruly customers at the dry cleaners. But now, I have now found peace with her.
Eventually the band concluded and expressed their gratitude for listening to their music. We glanced around the restaurant and noticed most of the patrons have left. Soon after the host announced the "Kitchen is now closed for the night." Servers came out with white rags and started wiping the dining tables. Then they flipped the chairs upside-down and rested the seats on top of them. We decided to head out.
While walking along the promenade, holding hands and gazing at the ships in the George Washington River, I looked across at the downtown area. The dull skies, grimy facades of the buildings and sleazy red neon lights gave the divided southern end a dismal feel. I wasn't ready to go back.
"I don't want to leave yet. This has been so fun." I expressed to her.
"I know, I'm having so much fun too. Let’s go to a nightclub?" She suggested.
"Yeah, I'm down for it."
We found a nightclub in walking distance, with no admission fee, and stood in line. The upbeat music seeping outside made the partygoers two-step while waiting to enter. A security guard requested ID. I discreetly flashed my passport and she handed him her driver's license. We were then frisked for weapons then allowed in.
The club was dimly lit. Indigo fluorescent lamps gave the establishment a violet hue inside. The patrons were all well-dressed. The men sported tieless suits with butterfly collars; but not as ridiculous as the ones during the disco era. Some of the women wore skinny designer jeans and tops that revealed much of their cleavage. Others wore fashionable mini-dresses that exposed their backs. The DJ was spinning mixed tracks on an elevated stage. The servers looked as if they could be runway models. They were all slim, lean and muscular. They wore fitted black silk shirts and matching slacks. The females’ outfits were tighter. A colorful array of flickering lights, reflecting off the vapors from a smoke machine, illuminated the dance floor. It made the dancers appear as if they were an animated cartoon in a flip book. "Let's get a drink!" She hollered over the deafening music. I clenched her hand and maneuvered through the vibrant dancers towards the bar.
The bar was crowded with patrons waiting to be served. After jostling my way to the counter, I immediately caught sight of a lofty mirror wall, behind the bartender, holding a vast amount of liquor on its shelves. After gesturing for the bartender, I placed our orders for drinks. "I'ma have a Long Island Ice Tea and she'll have a Strawberry Daiquiri!" The bartender retrieved several liquor bottles and concocted our drinks by tossing, spinning and flipping the bottles and shakers. The showboating alone warranted him a valuable tip.
After we finished our drinks, she grabbed my hand and pulled me to the dance floor. She disclosed during dinner she developed delectation to dancing as a child. We stumbled upon an unoccupied spot. She stood before me and her hourglass figure began to sway correspondingly with the music. She caught glimpse of me admiring her body and flirtatiously spun around so I could see the rest of her curves through the white tights.
After every song our bodies drew nearer. Soon we were embraced and rocked to the rhythmic blends from the DJ's mixes. While holding her I slid my hand up her blouse and massaged her lower back. She clenched me tighter and gazed up at me. I leaned towards her and we started kissing.
"This is the first time I have ever slept with a girl on the first date," I thought to myself after waking up in her queen size bed. My head was resting on the fluffiest white pillows I’ve ever felt. Actually her entire bed was cozy. Her matching sheets and flocculent comforter were warm and cushiony. They had a fresh scent of sweet-smelling fabric softener. It was the best sleep I’ve had since moving to Capitol City.
Our chemistry was strong. At no time in my life have I ever been so fond about someone. I rolled over just as she walked into the room with a glass of orange juice in her hand. She was wearing a white t-shirt that came down to her thighs.
"I think we got carried away. I never slept with a guy on the first date." She disclosed.
"Yeah, I was just thinking that. This was my first time too. I don't have any regrets though." I responded.
&nbs
p; "Of course you don't, you're a guy."
"No, seriously. It just felt right. Our chemistry."
"Yeah, I know. I don't know what that was about but I felt the same connection."
Lolani retrieved a fresh toothbrush from her medicine cabinet and handed it to me. While I was brushing my teeth, she ordered breakfast from a neighboring café that delivered. It wasn't too long before they knocked on her apartment door.
I lingered at her place for a few more hours before leaving. I commuted home on the subway because I wouldn't be content with having her venture into my neighborhood again. During the entire ride I thought about our night together. Our date couldn't have been better. It was flawless. After exiting the subway station, I headed to my apartment.
Oddly, the hustlers weren't outside laying money on a dice game. There were no cups with Vodka on the steps. The front was actually the cleanest I've seen it since I moved here. After setting foot inside my building I was surprised there wasn't any deafening music playing. There were no floozies frolicking about, no alcoholics stumbling in the hallway and the stench of urine and marijuana was barely noticeable. Could my life have been reformed this drastically overnight? I paced up the steps to the third floor. While sifting through my pockets for my keys I noticed my apartment door was ajar. It was baffling. "I thought I locked my door." Then I perceived the footprints and dents in it. It was kicked in. I reached inside and felt for my light switch. I was then suddenly taken aback. My apartment was ransacked. I’ve been burglarized.
The crime scene technicians sifted through my apartment with a forensic fingerprinting bush and powder. They stole my thirteen inch box television, laptop and my watches; a combined value of a mere two hundred bucks. Officers canvassed the building for witnesses however no one was willing to answer the door knocks. I'm sure my neighbors were present during the break-in but have absconded because they don't want to get involved.
The Legend Page 2