Dance For Me

by Alice Dee

  Being Shamayla’s friend was dangerous so she had very few. She made it clear to Hope what the risks were but Hope wouldn’t be so intimidated. It wasn’t easy: Shamayla’s estranged husband had followed them to a fast food place once and started slapping up Shamayla in the parking lot, in broad freakin’ day light. No matter how hard she tried, Hope couldn’t convince Shamayla to call the cops. Shamayla feared Zefar and claimed it would only antagonize him more.

  Hope and Shamayla spent this afternoon at the mall. She and Shamayla checked out and as they were heading out of the main doors of the mall into the parking lot, they saw Zefar’s car. The girls stopped and stared for a moment.

  “Just get in the car,” Hope said, hurrying to the isle her car was parked in. Zefar either spotted her car or had been following them. He had done it before and it was frustrating to always be looking over her shoulder, trying to spot him, to be sure they weren’t being stalked. Sometimes Hope and Shamayla got careless and didn’t even consider Zefar could be following them. But to frustrate him in return, Hope would drive to the police station which always scared off Zefar.

  Sure enough Zefar wanted to follow them. He didn’t know where Shamayla lived or worked but would do anything to find out. When he turned down the same streets Hope did, Shamayla went into a panic.

  “Drive to the police station,” she said to Hope.

  “And if it doesn’t work this time?”

  “Do it. He’ll keep going.”

  Hope nodded.

  “Oh no, oh no oh no,” Hope said, biting her lip. The light ahead flicked to red.

  As cross traffic proceeded, Hope had no choice but to stop, Zefar pulling up behind her. He got off the car, right there in the middle of the busy intersection. He’d never done this before but then again, Hope hadn’t been stopped by a red light while trying to evade him. Hope locked the car doors as he approached the passenger’s side window and starting smacking it with an opened hand.

  “Shamayla! Shamayla get out of the car! Shamayla get out!”

  “Don’t get out,” Hope said, trying to go over his voice. She saw Shamayla’s hand on the door handle.

  “Shamayla, look at me. Shamayla…” Hope stared at the red light as Zefar became more aggressive, shouting specks of spit on the window.

  “Shamayla!” He punched the window startling the girls. The light finally turned green and Hope floored it. Shamayla couldn’t believe no one got off their car to help.

  “If he catches up to us-“

  “We need to go to the police,” Hope said, speeding on the road. “Do you hear me? Go to the police. Get a restraining order.”

  “Those never do any good,” Shamayla complained. “He’s going to kill me.”

  “No he isn’t.” Hope shot her friend a look. “No he isn’t, Shamayla. Put him in jail.”

  “You don’t understand. You don’t know him. I should go back.”

  Hope shook her head.

  “Why would you do that? So he can beat you, so he can really try to kill you?”

  “I’m tired of running…”

  “Things will only get worse if you go back.”

  Shamayla closed her eyes.

  “You don’t know what’s like. It feels like everyone hates me now, ever since I left Zefar they turned their backs.”

  “And you need people like that why? You have other family who are actually sane and not money hungry.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “He beats you, he made you get abortions. He cheats on you, he’s scum. You’re twenty-five Shamayla, you’re an adult. You need to start living for yourself.”

  “Next time if I see him I’ll call the police okay? I will.”

  Hope stopped in front of the police station, glanced in her rear view mirror making sure she lost Zefar. She asked if Shamayla still wanted to go to the police but Shamayla shook her head. Hope waited while and then started up her car and drove away.

  “Hey,” Shamayla said, breaking the silence. “Did you tell him?”

  Hope’s grip on the steering wheel got tighter.

  “Um, no. Not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “I want to tell him tonight.”

  “Before or after work?”

  “I don’t know yet.

  “Oh,” Shamayla said with a smile, playing with her waves. “You’re making him suffer. I bet he’s going crazy not knowing.”

  “Yeah,” Hope nodded. “I figure I’ll just make him wait a little longer. What’s the rush?”

  Shamayla smiled. “You are so bad. I love it.”

  Hope pulled up in front of the house Shamayla was staying at. The girls were pretty sure they lost Zefar but you could never be too sure.

  “I’ll be here at six. Be ready. And hey, if you see him again, call the police.”

  “I will, I will.” Shamayla wished Hope luck and got off the car.

  ***

  Hope lit up a cigarette though she didn’t smoke and sat on the hood of her car. Shamayla sat beside her and lit up a cigarette herself.

  “My legs are sore. I can’t believe what a asshole Hammer is. This double shift bullshit he’s always pulling,” Shamayla complained.

  Hope pulled her hair back with a scrunchy and puffed smoke into the clearness.

  “It’s more money.”

  “It’s that Mercedes bitch. Her and that cunt Marisol, lazy whores. They always call off weekends and Hammer lets them get away with it. So here we are filling in for them. Fuck them.”

  “It could be worse, Shamayla. I mean at least we’re not taking our clothes off.”

  Hope worried about offending Shamayla, and regretted saying that. Zefar forced her to strip after they wed.

  Hope looked at Shamayla. Her hair was in loose waves, almost down to her elbows. Her makeup was smudged and she resembled a hooker.

  “Yes it’s true,” Shamayla admitted. “But I don’t know. Look at this shit we’re wearing.” Shamayla leaned back on the hood. “We’re barely wearing anything and we’re dancing for tips like dogs do tricks for treats. Can you honestly say you like this?”

  “We’re making an honest living. No one’s taking off her clothes; no one’s blowing anyone in a bathroom stall.”

  Shamayla looked down at nothing was pensive expression on her face.

  “I thought this was supposed to be easy money and a lot of it.”

  “Maybe things will pick up by summer.”

  Shamayla lay back with a folded arm behind her head.

  “Did you tell Michael?”

  “I called him earlier.”

  “What did he say?”

  “What do you think he said?”

  Shamayla inhaled the smoke and shrugged.

  “He thanked God. He said he’d been so nauseous he couldn’t eat all this time.”

  Shamayla’s mouth was open.

  “What a prick.”

  “Ten minutes later I got my period.” Hope sighed. “Anyway, it’s for the best. I’ve always known he doesn’t love me and a baby wouldn’t change it.”

  “All that time you were together…”

  “We weren’t really together.”

  “You could do better,” Shamayla said with a half-smile. “He’s not even cute.”

  Hope stared into the atmosphere. The panoramic sky was deep indigo and Hope wanted to get home before the sun was up.

  “Let’s go.”

  Shamayla flicked her cigarette away and the girls went back to Hope’s apartment. Hope drew the navy blue curtains in the living room to shield all the light away and the girls crawled into bed while the AC hummed. They exchanged a few sentences of mindless gibberish and fell asleep in the room that mimicked nighttime, while the sun rose and lit up the whole desert with day.

  6... Zefar

  “Baby, wake up!”

  Tristan rocked Dominic’s body to and fro but he wouldn’t budge. She climbed out of bed and crept into the living room. She couldn’t see anything from the window but she could he
ar a man outside, pounding on the neighbor’s door.

  “I know you’re in there! You better open the door Jezebel!”

  Tristan’s eyes widened. She ran on the tips of her toes back to Dominic’s bedroom.

  “Something serious is going on outside, get up!”

  The shriek in Tristan’s voice irked Dominic to consciousness. He was blurry eyed and it felt like someone blew sand under his eyelids. Tristan dragged him out of bed.

  “You hear that? Do you think we should call the cops?”

  With his pants in his hands, Dominic went to his front door and pressed his ear to it. It wasn’t necessary as the shouting started up again.

  “Open the door or I break it down!”

  Dominic crinkled his brows. Tristan, standing a few feet away in one of Dominic’s shirts, nodded her head and wrapped her arms around herself.

  “I’m going to call the police, okay? Should I?”

  “No, just wait here.” Dominic got into his pants and then slowly turned the bolt lock.

  “Don’t go out there!”

  “I’m gonna see what’s up. Stay right here.”

  “No!” Tristan got in between the door and Dominic. “He could have a weapon! You never get involved in this stuff!”

  “Get out of the way.” Dominic physically moved Tristan aside, though she asked him to not open the door.

  “Dominic, no! Dom- damnit!”

  Dominic cracked the door and poked his head out. There was a dark skinned man standing in front of his neighbor’s door, wearing dress pants and a blazer over a white shirt. He was tall like Dominic, had gold rimmed dark glasses on the top of his head and a thick banned gold watch on his wrist. He was at least forty and looked really pissed off.

  “What?” He barked at Dominic.

  Dominic was baffled at how the man came out; dude’s got balls.

  “What do you want?” Dominic retorted.

  “I’m not knocking on your door mother fucker,” he said defensively in a thick accent Dominic wasn’t familiar with. The man turned his body in toward Dominic, even taking a step in his direction.

  Dominic opened the door wider. The stranger saw that Dominic was a big guy too, at least six-something with broad shoulders and a thick chest. It wasn’t enough to intimidate him.

  The pounding on the door was so loud it beat through Hope. Her eyes shot open. She hesitated for only a moment and then sat up and shook Shamayla.

  “I think he’s here.”

  Shamayla sleepily sat up, swaying from side to side. Her eyebrows were lowered in concentration as she listened.

  “I know you’re in there! Open the door Jezebel!”

  Shamayla gasped.

  “Shit!” She jumped out of bed, her black hair falling flat over one side of her face.

  “How did he know you’re here?”

  “I don’t know!” Shamayla backed away from the bed and cornered herself.

  “I’ll tell him you’re not here.”

  “No! No, no no!” Shamayla shook her head wildly. “Don’t open the door. Don’t even talk to him!”

  “My car is here, he knows I’m here.”

  “You don’t know what he’ll do!” Shamayla put her hands over her face. “I should call the police.”

  “Open this door or I break it down!”

  “He’s going to break my door down.” Hope tied her hair back and walked across the living room and went into the kitchen, opened a drawer.

  “Please Hope, don’t open the door!”

  “Shamayla!” He shouted, beating the door with even more force. “You better get out here bitch!”

  Hope slammed the drawer shut.

  “What is that?”

  Hope shrugged. “Mace?”

  “No! Do you know what he would do to you?”

  “I think he stopped.” Hope was unnerved, the little black can tightly gripped in her small, shaky hand. “Maybe he left,” she whispered.

  “I doubt it. It’s never that easy.”

  The girls crept up to the door and listened. At first they heard nothing. Hope put the mace aside. Shamayla was almost convinced herself.

  “I wish I had a peephole,” Hope mumbled. “Go look out the window. Peek, but make sure he can’t see you.” Hope put a hand up which stopped Shamayla in her tracks. “I hear him talking to someone.”

  “Talking to who?” Shamayla went back to the door and tried to hear what she could.

  “I think he’s talking to my neighbor,” Hope whispered.

  “Your neighbor? Who’s your neighbor?”

  “That…guy…You’ve seen him. Big, tall, curlyish hair but he keeps it short…you know, that guy.”

  Shamayla shook her head.

  “Big?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Can he beat him up? Can he beat up Zefar? You think he will?”

  Hope could hear the voices sharper now; they were arguing and their voices were getting loud. Hope told Shamayla to stay put and stepped out of her apartment, closing the door behind her. She kept her hand on the doorknob. Her neighbor and Zefar looked about ready to get physical.

  “She’s not here,” Hope said to Zefar. He turned away from Dominic and started moving her way.

  “Yeah she is in there,” he said, giving her a murderous look. Hope remained expressionless but inside she could feel her urine piercing her, wanting to come out. Once at his house he punched a girl in the middle of the face and broke her nose. Hope saw it with her own eyes. Later Shamayla revealed to Hope that the girl was Zefar’s own cousin. And Hope couldn’t forget about the time Zefar slapped up Shamayla in the parking lot of Burger King. He slapped her face, the sides of her head, shoved her to the ground. Hope shouted for help and when some men headed their way, Zefar booked it. He was a mean, heavy blooded type of person.

  As Zefar got closer, Hope kept her eyes on him but could peripherally see the blurry outline of her neighbor. She would never presume a stranger stick his neck out for her, but she hoped he’d step up before things went too far. The fact he was standing there comforted her but not enough. Zefar liked knives and Shamayla said he carried them all of the time.

  “Let me see for myself.”

  Dominic crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t like how close the man was getting to the woman.

  Tristan cracked the door open, but Dominic mouthed the words “go inside”.

  “Hey,” Dominic called out to Zefar who simply ignored him.

  “If you have not a thing to hide let me go inside and I take a look for myself?”

  Hope tensed up. Zefar had his chest pushed up against hers. She didn’t even realize his hand was on her throat until she smelled dentine in his breath.

  Dominic had two options. He didn’t know what was going on or who the man was, or even who his neighbor was so he could let the two settle it out on their own, or he could beat the guy’s ass. When he saw Zefar move up against his neighbor the way he did, he decided he didn’t like it. He moved up a few steps and put his hand on Zefar’s shoulder. Zefar doesn’t like to be touched. He swung around all hostile and told Dominic to fuck off- at least to fuck because Dominic cut him off with an elbow to the brow. Zefar was caught off guard and Dominic punched him in the upper face so hard, Zefar’s brain wiggled. His legs wobbled but before they could completely give out, Dominic grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and kept busting him in the face.

  Hope’s jaw dropped as she watched the rapid power fists dominating Zefar’s existence, right at her feet. She didn’t know whether she should try and stop her neighbor or not. Zefar was curled up in a ball against the rail while Dominic beat the blood out of him. When he was through, Dominic’s chest was heaving. He had smeared blood on his hands like an animal, using his forearm to wipe sweat off his hairline.

  Hope closed her mouth and looked at Zefar, whose bloody face was glistening in the sunlight. His blood was so bright, almost neon. Hope rolled her eyes to her neighbor, his thick upper half rhythmically heavin
g in and out. Their eyes met and neither knew what to do or say. It was the first time they ever really looked at one another face to face. His eyes pierced through her, strange attraction appearing with such abruptness she looked away. Tristan opened the door wide. Her voice was like a rubber band snap to his brain. Dominic quickly looked away from his neighbor.

  “Is he alive?” Tristan asked.

  Hope absently grabbed the doorknob and sunk into her apartment, closing the door.

  Tristan grabbed Dominic’s arm but he pulled out of her grip, still heated. It took Zefar a minute to get on his feet. He limped a few feet to the top of the staircase. Dominic had given him a jab to the ribs that knocked the wind out of him. It felt like someone hit him with a car; every time he took a step down, it was like taking fifty percent of the hit.

  “Was that necessary?” Tristan loudly whispered. “That man was like fifty! What happened?”

  Dominic watched the man get into his car and get on the phone.

  “It’s none of our business! What if he calls the cops?”

  Dominic licked his lips and went inside.

  “Did you have to get violent with the guy?” She went into the kitchen and came back with an ice pack.

  Dominic took the icepack and pressed down on the knuckles of his right hand.

  “Do you even know who that was?”

  “It doesn’t matter; he had his hand around her throat. Okay? Around her throat!”

  Tristan didn’t know what to say for a moment.

  “He looked like a pimp. Maybe he’s her pimp. You don’t get involved in this kind of stuff!”

  Dominic threw the icepack on the coffee table.

  “I did what I had to! If I hadn’t kicked his ass he would keep coming back and coming back, bothering those girls and what kind of man would I be if I just stood by and watched? Huh?”

  Tristan crossed her arms. She didn’t know whether she should be jealous or proud of Dominic for what he did. She decided she was a little of both.