1 Night Stand

by Amaleka McCall

  “Really. I don’t—” Harmony shook her head and clamped down harder on the door handle.

  “Wait. Wait,” he called over his shoulder at her. “Just hear me out. I’m not begging. I got stuff to sell. Real valuable stuff. I’m not asking for something for nothing,” he pleaded.

  Harmony’s shoulders slumped. What can he possibly have that is valuable if he’s living on the street? She inhaled and exhaled. She waited like he’d asked, silently kicking herself for being such a bleeding heart all of the time. That same compassion had let her mother and Murray take advantage of her all of these years.

  “I’m telling you I don’t have any—”

  “You remember the show Our Family, Your Family? It was on from 1996 until 2004. You had to have seen it.” He cut her off as he continued to dig deep into his bag.

  Harmony’s brows knitted. Of course she’d heard of the show.

  “I was on that show,” he announced.

  Harmony sucked her teeth and tilted her head to the side.

  “I’m serious. I was the son. Kyle. That was me. My stuff is still worth money. It was the longest running black sitcom on television,” he rambled, finally finding whatever he was digging for.

  Harmony’s lips were twisted sideways.

  “I have proof.” He extended something toward her. “Since you don’t believe me.”

  Harmony looked at his “proof.” She stood stiff, her mouth slightly open. Her hand slipped from the church’s door handle. Our Family, Your Family had been her favorite show growing up. It was the one thing she would sneak to watch whenever Ava didn’t have her practicing dance moves or singing ranges. Harmony remembered wishing and dreaming that she could be one of the kids in the family, and that Ava could be as loving and supportive as the mother on the show.

  “Here. See. This is an original studio audience show program and one of my original scripts,” the homeless guy said, holding his goods up to her face. “I can let this go for ten bucks.”

  It had taken a few blinks for Harmony to realize that he might be telling the truth. She looked at the booklet then back up at his face.

  It is him!

  Even through his scarred and ashen skin, overgrown beard, and wild unkempt hair, Harmony had recognized Ronald Bridges, one of the stars from her favorite childhood show. No matter how terrible he looked, Harmony could never mistake that gorgeous face. She had had such a crush on him when she was a pre-teen.

  “Y–you’re . . . ” Harmony stammered, her mouth fully open by then. He sniffled and used his dirty sweater sleeve to wipe his nose.

  “Yeah, it’s really me,” he said, shame causing him to lower his eyes to his feet. “Ron Bridges. In the flesh.”

  Harmony’s lips turned downward with pity. Ron Bridges. The Ron Bridges was standing in front of her, a complete shell of his former gorgeous, heartthrob self. His filthy, stained jeans, run over sneakers, and dirt-filled fingernails made Harmony itch just looking at him.

  “I . . . I just, um, hit a rough patch. But I got a couple auditions lined up. That’s why I need the money. Carfare.” He sniffled some more and moved restlessly on his legs. “A few bucks and I’ll be on my way. Just need to get to those auditions. Movies. Yeah, um, movies. I moved on from sitcoms years ago, you know. After being on TV for eight seasons, it was time for the big screen,” he rambled.

  Harmony knew he was lying. She could recognize the signs of drug use when she saw them—that runny nose, those wild eyes, the skin lesions, the constant arm rubbing. Harmony knew he had the monkey riding his back, but she still envisioned him as his old self.

  “You don’t remember me, do you?” Harmony asked him. “Kids’ Choice Awards, 2002.”

  Ron halted his jerky movements. “You know me?” He squinted and moved a few steps closer to her.

  “Well, maybe not personally. I was in the group Sista Love. My sisters and I were still trying to get a big deal then, but we got lucky enough to get the gig. We performed for the pre-show, and we did some red carpet interviews. We interviewed you. Well, my sisters interviewed you. I was too star struck to speak to you, but I was right next to you. I’ll never forget it,” Harmony recalled dreamily.

  “Oh, shoot. Um, yeah. Sista Love. That girl group, right? You were like the backup singer for that girl. The real pretty one. What was her name? Uh, Mel . . . Melody Love, right?” Ron said, snapping his finger at the memory.

  Harmony’s heart sank. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

  Backup singer? That’s what the world sees me as, huh? Always in Melody’s shadow. Her hands curled into fists so tight her nails dug moon-shaped craters into her palms.

  “Yeah. I guess you can say that,” she said. “Backup singer sounds about right.”

  “So, you still in that group?”

  Harmony shrugged, holding his gaze. Her heart thumped wildly, and she had no idea why.

  He smiled at her. “Look at us. Two superstars standing on the steps of a church, cold, wet, and—” He looked down at himself. “As for me, dirty. But you, I’d say beautiful.”

  Harmony’s cheeks got hot. She looked out at the street. She didn’t know what to make of his compliment. Anytime someone called her beautiful, she had a hard time believing it. She’d spent her whole life being called black and ugly.

  “Nasty night for a superstar girl group member to be out here.” Ron jerked his chin toward the buckets of rain coming down just outside of the church’s covered steps.

  “I could say the same thing about a superstar TV actor,” Harmony replied without looking at him.

  “Touché.”

  She turned her eyes back to Ron, her face serious. “I was a big fan, and I know at least ten thousand girls that were too. I always wondered what happened to you,” she said, nodding toward Ron’s corner shelter and his black bag of worldly possessions.

  Ron hung his head again. “The business,” he murmured, tugging at a frayed piece of string hanging from his hoodie. “It chews you up and it doesn’t just spit you out; it violently spews you out like the worst projectile vomit you could imagine.”

  “That’s for sure.” Harmony nodded her understanding. “I guess all we can do is pray for ourselves.”

  With that, she opened the church’s doors and stepped inside. Although she later found out he had never ventured inside of the church, that day, Ron had followed her inside. They had been inseparable ever since.

  * * *

  Harmony drove past the Barclays Center in Downtown Brooklyn and was in amazement at how much her hometown had changed. The Brooklyn landscape reminded her more of the Village in Manhattan now, with the bustling crowds and new, brightly lit shopping center. Even the Atlantic Avenue train station had gotten a facelift. Harmony stared out of her window at all of Brooklyn’s new residents too. There was a time when living in Brooklyn and seeing a white person in that part of town was as rare as a Big Foot sighting.

  “Gentrification is real,” Harmony whispered, still slightly awestruck at how quickly everything had changed.

  Harmony remembered when she was growing up that same area of Brooklyn was off limits to yuppies with their little teacup Yorkies and Schwinn bicycles with baskets on the front. And outdoor cafés? In Brooklyn? Unheard of back then.

  Harmony reached down and pressed a few buttons to find her favorite radio station. Right away, she recognized the voices of the Hot 97 radio personalities. Harmony turned it up.

  “So, we heard that Melody Love will be postponing her 1 Night Stand Tour,” the popular female radio host said, as if she was revealing the best kept secret in town. A collective groan filtered through the radio station.

  “Yeah, her moms passed away a couple of days ago,” the male host added. “Suspicious, I heard. Ol’ girl was some old school eighties backup singer, right? Damn, I was looking forward to Melody’s tour. Her last album was lit, and those collabos with Sly always had the clubs jumping. Damn, I hope it ain’t canceled for real. The Barclays was going to be their
first stop,” the male host said.

  “Well, I’m about to spill the tea on all of that, okay? I heard that Melody wasn’t even close to her moms these days. Sources said they had a big blowup not too long ago. She fired her moms and everything. I also heard she canceled the tour because she attacked one of her dancers in the studio over Sly. Supposedly, Sly was banging one of those dancer chicks, and we all know how jealous the diva Melody is. I heard Melody beat that ass and came out of that whole thing with just a black eye, but the dancer, well, I hear she’s in bad shape,” the female radio personality gossiped.

  “I wonder if Sly will go with her to her mother’s funeral. I mean, they are the couple everyone loves to hate. I don’t know why he doesn’t just put a ring on it already. Every dude out here wants her,” the male host chimed in.

  Harmony exhaled loudly. She definitely knew she was back in New York, because every radio station either played Melody and Sly’s music incessantly or they were the topic of the gossip. Harmony shivered. The dread of going from living a low-key life in a small suburb of New Jersey to being back in the spotlight because her sister was a megastar was going to be a nightmare.

  When Harmony pulled up in front of her childhood home, her stomach immediately twisted into knots. She reached over to her passenger seat and fished around in her purse for her pocket-sized container of Tums. Harmony put two of the antacid tablets on her tongue and looked out the window at the house. Her mouth hung open slightly at the sight.

  “What the hell, Ava?” Harmony whispered as she took in the rusted and broken wrought-iron front gate, several cracked windowpanes, and the dilapidated front steps. “Not you, living like this.”

  Ava’s house was always one of the best kept brownstones on the block, but from what Harmony could see, Ava had let things go for too long.

  After driving up and down the narrow, tree-lined Brooklyn block, Harmony finally found a parking spot. After six tries at parallel parking, she’d finally managed to wedge her car between a van and a tiny smart car.

  “Thank you, Jesus, for my driveway,” Harmony whispered, worn out from the effort it took to park.

  Before she got out of the car, Harmony punched out a text message to Ron.

  I made it to Brooklyn. I’m okay. Miss you already. Kiss my baby for me.

  Harmony smiled when she got a kissy face reply from Ron. As she exited her car, Harmony said a quick prayer for strength.

  “Here goes nothing,” she mumbled, grabbing her purse and locking up.

  When she made it to the front of the house, Harmony lifted the broken gate so that she could push it open without it scraping the ground. She could tell by the scratches on the concrete that not every visitor had taken the time.

  Once inside the yard, Harmony stood at the steps and looked up at the dirt-covered windows, the chipped paint and shattered glass panels on the front door, and the cracked cement on the stoop. She hadn’t expected her mother, the great Ava Love, to be living like this at all. It didn’t surprise Harmony that Ava had died alone, but it did surprise her that Ava hadn’t kept up appearances, since that was what she’d preached to her daughters all of their lives.

  “Don’t any of you ever leave this house looking raggedy, poor, or broke. I don’t care if you don’t have a dollar in your pocket; you better look like you do. Your hair always needs to be combed, pressed, laid down neatly. Your clothes always need to be pristine. And your faces—beauty is all women have most of the time. You should always have a flawless face,” Ava preached.

  Harmony reached out and held onto the rickety stair railing as she climbed the uneven steps. She walked up to the front door, closed her eyes, held her breath, and used her fist to knock. After few minutes, Harmony could hear shuffling on the other side of the door. Each time a lock clicked, more hairs stood up on her neck.

  “Ah, Harmony. I knew you’d be the first to come,” Murray greeted her, smiling sunnily.

  Harmony didn’t return the smile. She had already promised herself she was not going to pretend with him. “Murray.” She nodded, standing at the door’s threshold like a stranger.

  “Come on in. This is still your home,” Murray sang, stepping aside slowly.

  Harmony’s heart sped up as she crossed the doorway. She could smell remnants of Ava’s signature scent, Anaïs Anaïs perfume. Harmony held onto the wall for support as she moved through the darkened foyer. Her teeth chattered, although it was probably 90 degrees inside the house. Harmony’s head swirled and her stomach cramped. She felt out of place, like she’d been bound, gagged, and dragged there against her will. As she moved on unsteady legs, Harmony clumsily bumped into the tall, silver cylindrical vase that Ava kept umbrellas in, sending it toppling over with a crash.

  “Harmony, are you okay?” Murray turned around as fast as his old, hunched body allowed.

  Harmony was already on her knees, cleaning up the mess of umbrellas, when suddenly that corner of the house, Ava’s scent, and the contents of the umbrella holder brought a memory crashing down on her.

  Brooklyn, New York

  September 2001

  “Harmony. Harmony, wake up,” Melody whispered, shaking Harmony’s shoulders.

  Harmony groaned, exhausted from another entire day of dancing and singing practices. She was too tired to be bothered.

  “Harmony,” Melody hissed in her ear.

  Finally, Harmony opened her eyes a crack. “What?” she whined, shrugging her shoulders in frustration.

  “Wake up. Look what I got,” Melody said, pushing something toward Harmony’s face.

  Harmony scrunched her face and opened her eyes a bit wider. “What is that?” she asked, her voice still gruff with sleep.

  “You have to get up to see,” Melody whispered, climbing onto Harmony’s bed.

  Harmony sucked her teeth and sat up. Her pink chenille quilt fell down around her waist as she sat up and leaned her back against her tufted headboard.

  “I got this while Ava wasn’t looking. Today, at the store,” Melody whispered excitedly, shoving her secret contraband toward Harmony’s face.

  Harmony blinked a few times to make sure she was seeing correctly. She smiled weakly.

  “How did you do that?” Harmony reached out tentatively to take the forbidden item from her sister’s hand.

  “Easy. I just put it in my pocket when she wasn’t looking. Ava never watches me. She is always too busy watching you,” Melody told her, snatching the goods back before Harmony could take it.

  Harmony tilted her head and twisted her lips. “Why did you wake me up if you weren’t going to give me any?” she grumbled. She should’ve known better.

  Melody chuckled evilly. “Who said I wasn’t going to give you any?” She stuck her tongue out.

  Harmony rolled her eyes. “Because I know how you are. Everything is for you. I’m going back to sleep. We are not supposed to have that anyway,” Harmony said, gathering up her blanket.

  “Okay. Okay.” Melody tugged at the blanket to keep Harmony from pulling it over herself.

  “Well, are you going to open it or not?” Harmony asked impatiently.

  Melody smiled slyly. “Not this one. I got this one for you,” Melody announced, pulling another forbidden item from behind her back.

  Harmony’s eyes went wide like a kid at Christmas. “Oh my God. My favorite,” Harmony whined. “I’m really not supposed to have this kind, but I love it so much,” Harmony whispered, conflicted.

  “Hurry up and eat it while Ava is ’sleep.” Melody looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was there. Harmony snickered. Melody tossed the little treasure to her. Harmony picked it up and eyed it like it was a shiny, freshly cut rare diamond. She sniffed the tiny package.

  “Oh my God. Cherry, my favorite of all.” Harmony sighed.

  “Eat it. Hurry up,” Melody urged.

  Harmony darted her eyes toward their bedroom door. “Okay, but you have to look out for Ava,” Harmony said apprehensively.

  “I will,�
� Melody assured, climbing off of Harmony’s bed. “I’ll go outside and listen out.”

  “No,” Harmony whispered harshly. “If you go out there she might hear you and wake up. Just stand inside, right by the door, so you can hear her footsteps.”

  “No. I will pretend I have to pee and make sure she’s not coming,” Melody said.

  Harmony’s shoulders slumped.

  “I’m telling you I won’t let you get caught. I pinky swear promise.” Melody held up her right pinky finger.

  Harmony played with her bottom lip with one hand and clutched her secret treasure in the other. She looked down at the shiny package. It was calling out to her. She looked back over at Melody. She wanted to trust her sister.

  “Okay. I’m going to eat some of it,” Harmony relented.

  “Okay. I’m going to go look out. Eat up,” Melody whispered.

  Harmony watched as her sister carefully opened their bedroom door and tiptoed out. She took a deep breath and took one last leery look at the door before she tore open the wrapper on the long, red Jolly Rancher stick. She held it up to her face and smiled. When Harmony put the candy on her tongue, the flavor explosion gave her chills. She hadn’t had a piece of candy in years. She wanted to savor the moment and the candy for as long as she could. It was like being in a dream. Harmony bit off a piece of the hard, sticky candy and folded the rest into the wrapper. She was sucking on the sweet piece of heaven like it was the last piece on earth.

  Harmony slid out of her bed and slid the leftover piece of candy under her mattress. She already had it planned out that she’d eat a tiny piece each night after Ava went to bed until it was gone.

  Harmony was dancing around with her candy in her mouth when the door to her bedroom swung open. Harmony whirled around, smiling.

  “It is so—” Her smile quickly faded into a terrified grimace.

  “What is it that you have?” Ava snarled, rushing over to Harmony like a hurricane-force wind.

  Harmony was frozen with fear. Her entire body trembled. She darted her eyes toward Melody, who was standing in the doorway, moving her hands and shrugging her shoulders as if she had no idea how Ava knew about the candy.