by Nick Cannon
“I do, Bishop. I love Maya very much.” I meant it. I had never felt this way before.
He nodded. “Then do di right thing, Tarzan. I still do not tink you are safe here in Jamaica. It seems there are badmen after you. I don’ wan’ mi daughter gettin’ caught up in none of that.”
“I will give my life to protect, Maya, Bishop. I promise you that. But I’m not leaving Jamaica. This is Maya’s home. And, it’s my home now, too.”
He stood up. “Maya is a woman now. She can make her own decisions. I will not stand in di way. But, I want you to know that I got mi eyes on you. If ya hurt mi daughter, Tarzan Brixton, I will never forgive you.”
He walked out, leaving me alone in the silence. I sat there for a few minutes, thinking about everything. When I left, I rode to the beach, anxious to release all of the anxiety I’d built up inside of me. Maya was rehearsing with her dance crew tonight. So, I was alone. Left to my own devices, I thought about what I would usually be doing. Hustling, hanging out with Killa Bean and the crew. Instead, I was on my own, watching the sun set on Kingston as I stood by the shore.
I started to dance. I pressed Play on one of Toasta’s best mixtapes that I’d downloaded to my phone, discarded my T-shirt and my Timbs, and started practicing the moves Killa Bean and I had created the last time we practiced. It had been days since we choreographed a routine. Days since my mind had been released of all its contents. That’s what happened whenever I danced. The harsh reality of my problems melted away, and I became one with the dance. I emptied myself of everything I had been bottling inside. I moved my body until a spirit took over me. I felt inhabited by a force more powerful than I was. I felt swept up in some sort of otherworldly daze as I danced. My legs took on a weightlessness that impressed even me. I knew this was the best I had ever moved in my life. It was like I was in a trance, though I was more aware of myself and my movements than ever before. My dance was powerful, tribal, warrior-like. It felt spiritual. Like a holy force overtook me, and I was moving to the rhythm of an angel’s drum. My arms swung like pendulums. My feet moved so swiftly that the sand kicked up around me. With all my heart, I danced.
Caught up in the spirit, I was completely unaware that I was being watched. While I let the music take me over, Kaydeen approached, slowly, observing every motion. She stood there, silently watching me until the song ended, and I looked around, breathlessly, noticing her presence for the first time.
“Hey,” she said, simply.
“Yo.” I struggled to catch my breath. “How long you been out here?” I found it simultaneously ironic and eerie that she appeared at a moment when I was in such a spiritual daze.
“Long enough for me to see that you’re amazing.” She shook her head in awe. “Tarzan, I mean it. Truly amazing. I’ve never seen anything like that.”
I laughed, modestly. I was a bit embarrassed, honestly. I had been so taken over by the dance that I wasn’t sure my swag had been up to par.
“How long you been dancing?” she asked.
I shrugged. “About six months.”
Her eyes flew wide. “Nah! Ya lie!”
I nodded. “That’s the truth.”
“You dance like the men I study with at Juilliard. If you auditioned, they would surely give you a scholarship, dancing like that.”
I shrugged off her compliments, suddenly shy under her relentless gaze.
“Ya know, it’s not a lot of men around here like you. You’re special, Tarzan.”
I laughed again. “Come on, Kaydeen. You’re just trying to blow my head up.” I began to sing an old reggae song about being too experienced to be taken for a ride.
“Seriously, Yankee boy!” That smile returned that I loved so much. But, I hadn’t forgotten our last encounter.
“Is that why your brother has it out for me and my family?”
She looked away. “I don’t know why Donovan does the things he does. He could be intimidated by you.”
I agreed. The thought had occurred to me, too.
“When Dada is intimidated by someone he lashes out. That’s because he’s trying to flip the script. He wants you to be intimidated by him instead.”
“Well, I’m not. And, I’m going to show him that he’s not the baddest man in the world.”
She looked at me. “I told you he would make things miserable for you. I meant what I said. This is only the beginning. Him nah let up.”
I laughed. “Well, tell him to keep it coming. Whatever you got, I can handle it.”
She shook her head. “What do you mean ‘you’? I have nothing to do with it. I want to protect you.”
I shot her a glare. “I don’t need your protection.”
She seemed wounded by that. “Well, even if you don’t need me, I won’t let him hurt you.”
It still felt like she was implying that Dada was more than he truly was.
“He can’t hurt me.” I looked at her, sincerely, as I said it.
She shook her head again. “I tell him ‘no.’ But, him wan’ kill you.”
I laughed. It amused me the way that people spoke about Dada. Like he was the baddest man in the whole land.
“A lot of men have many wants,” I said. “But, achieving those goals is an altogether different ting.” My attempt at a Jamaican lilt fell short. But, she got the point. “Dada doesn’t scare me. That’s all you need to know.”
“So, the Yankee boy is some kind of badman, eh? Zeen.” She nodded, accepting it at last.
“Call it whatever you want. I just live my life without fear. You have to be fearless to get through each day. I learned that back in Brooklyn, by the way. A place a lot worse than Kingston. Just in case you were wondering.” I shook my head. Kaydeen had no idea who I was or where I was from. She didn’t know that I was capable of far worse than Dada had ever imagined.
“If today is my last, so be it.” I looked her dead in the eye. “I ain’t scared of nuttin’.”
She narrowed her eyes at me like she was trying to figure me out. I realized that Kaydeen wasn’t used to encountering guys like me. Here, everyone treated the Davidson family like they were gods. But, I was not impressed by any of their money, power, or prestige. I was Tarzan Brixton, a fearless young nigga from Brooklyn. Not the yardies she was used to.
She stepped closer to me, catching me off guard.
“I like you, Tarzan.” I could smell the cinnamon scent on her breath.
I laughed, a bit uneasily. “I like you, too.”
She leaned in even closer now. I could feel the heat of her body, as intoxicating as her smile.
“But, you’re dangerous,” I added.
She recoiled a bit when I said that. Then, to my surprise, she nodded in agreement.
“Ya damn right, I’m dangerous.”
My eyes widened. I was pleasantly surprised by her honesty.
“I was under the impression that you like danger,” she said. “You have no fear, right?”
I nodded. “No fear.” Her body was so close to mine that I could practically feel her nipples pressed against my bare chest. “But, I have a girl.” I was reminding Kaydeen, and reminding myself at the same time.
She laughed. “Oh. The sweet little bishop’s daughter.” She sucked her teeth like she wasn’t buying that act.
“That’s her,” I said. “The woman I love.”
“Zeen,” she said again. She was learning a lot about me today it seemed. “Well, the woman you love may not be as innocent as ya think. Ya know what dem say. ‘Everything that has sugar ain’t sweet.’”
I thought about that phrase, and about how it related to Maya. I looked at Kaydeen. Dada’s sister. I shook my head. Couldn’t trust her point of view.
“Don’t hate,” I said. “It’s not attractive.” I took a step back. Suddenly, I realized we were a lot closer than we needed to be.
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to shatter your little image of your sweet likkle girl.”
“Don’t worry about it. You didn�
��t shatter my image of her at all. You can’t. There’s nothing you can tell me about Maya that I don’t already know.”
She looked at me, her eyes dancing. She looked like a woman who loved a challenge.
“Okay. So, I guess she told you all about who she was before she met you.”
I thought about that. Sure. Hadn’t she? Maya loved dancehall. She was the bishop’s daughter, saving herself for her king. She was Peta Gaye’s little sister. My baby. I nodded. I knew everything I needed to know.
“She told you how she rolled before she met you?” Kaydeen looked ready to burst at the seams.
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that question. It seemed loaded.
Kaydeen sucked her teeth. “Like I said, she wasn’t always so sweet. Ya know what they say. That dem church gals are the biggest freaks. Especially a bishop’s daughter.”
I felt my heart racing. My thoughts turned to making love to Maya, holding her sweet, innocent body in my arms. “What are you talking about?”
Kaydeen frowned a little. “So, you don’t know the real reason my brother doesn’t like you, nah?”
I stared at her, waiting for her to say more. But, she remained silent.
“Tell me.”
She looked like she felt sorry for me. I hated that look more than anything.
“Your sweet little love used to be Dada’s girl.”
Those words hit me hard, playing on a cruel repeating loop inside my head. My heart shattered into a thousand tiny fragments. I felt hot and like I needed to sit down. I thought of Dada—a man I hated more than anyone—and I thought of Maya. My baby. Against my better judgment, I imagined him touching her, kissing her. I thought of her virginity, and wondered if that had all been a lie. In my head, I thought back to the night I made love to Maya for the first time. I tried to recall the details. Had there been blood on the sheets? Had I felt the barrier break when I entered her? In reality, I had felt like a born-again virgin myself that first time. It had been so long since the last time I had held a woman in my arms. I looked at Kaydeen, my heart crushed. I struggled to find the words to speak, but I came up empty.
“Yeah,” she said. “I figured she didn’t let you know that, eh?” The expression on her face was some twisted cocktail of pity and gloating.
I couldn’t respond.
Kaydeen touched my arm gently. “I’m not trying to hurt you. I just think you deserve to know the truth. You said you knew everything about Maya. But it’s obvious you didn’t know that.” She shook her head. “I’m not one to break up a happy home. But, you’re special, Tarzan. And, I feel like you should be treated as such.”
I was speechless.
Kaydeen touched my face. Her hands felt soft against my skin, and it comforted me. I needed some comforting at that moment. Everything I thought I knew about the woman I loved was a lie. I thought about the bishop and the hell he had given me since the moment he met me. I wondered if he had given the same hell to Dada—a man far more evil than I had ever been.
Kaydeen caressed my cheek gently. She leaned in and kissed me. I let her. I completely let go and kissed her back with all the intensity I was feeling. She pulled away moments later. Staring into my eyes, she nodded, slowly.
“Yeah. You’re special.”
She walked away without another word, leaving me alone with the truth.
I felt like a fool. Just when I thought I had found somebody I could love, it turned out she was a fraud. My mind was wracked by thoughts of Maya with Dada. I imagined him laughing at me when I wasn’t even in on the joke. I had finally let my guard down, trusting Maya and giving her my heart. And she had lied to me. Or, at least she hadn’t told me the whole truth. Which in my mind was worse. I was vexed.
I thought about leaving Jamaica for good that night. Fuck it, I thought. I could go back to Brooklyn, try to find a job somewhere and start over again. By now things had calmed down, and surely it was safe to return to New York. I had a little money tucked away at Aunt Cheryl’s. It was my emergency fund. I had given it to her for safekeeping when I first started hustling with Farmer. It wasn’t much. Just enough for a plane ticket out of town, maybe some new clothes. Back then, I had set the money aside in case I had to get on the move quickly. I thought I might meet some resistance from the other marijuana dealers in the area the way it was back in Brooklyn. I had anticipated a turf war. But, I never imagined finding myself in the midst of a twisted love triangle that I wasn’t even aware I was a part of. Dada had come after me with a vengeance, and it all made sense now. It wasn’t just the fact that I was some Yankee boy intruding on his turf. It was the fact that I was loving his girl, taking over what he thought was his dancehall, and doing it all with my usual arrogance.
This wasn’t the life I had come to Jamaica searching for. When I got on that plane and left New York, I was running away from my demons, looking for a new start. I thought I’d found that in Maya. In the dancehall. Now, I had to question everything. Part of me was tempted to go home. I could leave now and forget all about the life I had started building here.
But that felt like quitting, which was something I never did. I thought about all the times in my life that I’d been knocked down, only to get back on my feet again. Even when shit looked bleak and utterly impossible, I would press on toward my goal with a stubborn determination. This time would be no different.
I dusted the sand off my clothes, swallowed my pride, and got on my bike. There was no way I was going back to Brooklyn now. Fuck that.
SPELLBOUND
I spent the next few hours getting wasted with some bottles of liquor Uncle Screechie had given me after the raid on his restaurant. He had handed them over hoping they might bring me some comfort from the guilt I’d been feeling. Now that guilt was compounded by the hurt I felt knowing that the woman I loved was a fraud.
Maya still had no idea that I knew the truth. She had already called my cell phone several times, wondering where I was. I was sure the bishop had told her about our conversation at the church earlier. Judging by the desperate voice messages she left on my phone, she was anxious to see me again. But I didn’t return the sentiment. Right now, I needed to be alone. I was crushed.
I kept thinking about Dada. I wondered what a man like him—a man with every woman in Jamaica at his disposal—would want with sweet Maya. The woman I knew was regal, full of wisdom and class. Dada was a savage.
“Your sweet little love used to be Dada’s girl.”
Kaydeen’s words still echoed in my mind. I thought of what it would mean, being Dada’s girl. Imagining the other side of Maya that must surely exist, I felt like a fool. I thought of my cousin, and wondered why he’d never told me. I felt confused, and the liquor had me feeling anxious.
Eventually, I called my cousin, expecting to find him at home with Peta Gaye and the kids like he said he would be. Instead, I learned that he was at the dancehall. So much for being a man of his word.
I pulled myself together and sobered up enough to ride my motorcycle to the dancehall. I arrived at The Jungle just as it was closing for the night. It was just after four in the morning, and the dancehall parking lot was crowded with people spilling out. Police cars with their lights flashing sat parked outside. People trickled out, their outfits seeming more outrageous than usual at this hour. In the sea of colorful Mohawks, neon outfits, and lots of spandex, I saw my cousin. Toasta walked out of the dancehall holding his equipment and heading for his old rusty car.
I greeted him, and Toasta smiled.
“I thought you were staying home with Peta Gaye tonight,” I said.
He shook his head. “Couldn’t keep that promise. Casanova said he needed me. Expecting a big crowd tonight and all that. Peta Gaye was pissed, ya hear me?” He shook his head. “But, I’m happy I didn’t pass it up. Brethren! Ya missed it. Tonight was a mash-up party!” His eyes were wide just talking about it. “I looked for you all night, expecting you to walk in the door with Killa and the crew.”
I shrug
ged. “I got some more bad news today, believe it or not. Got sidetracked.”
Toasta seemed disappointed. “What about all that shit we was talking ’bout earlier? I thought we were gonna get the crew together again. Get ready for di dance clash. Where ya been?”
“I know, bro.” I shook my head. “I need to get my head back in the game. Word.”
It was true. I needed to get focused on the right things. What Kaydeen told me had hit me hard. I had been wallowing in my sorrows, drinking, smoking hella weed, and losing time. My mind definitely should have been on dancing. But, I was distracted.
I saw Killa Bean approaching with the rest of the crew. Killa sported a large bandage across his face, courtesy of Dada’s enforcers. He wasn’t letting it get him down. He already had plans to get a tattoo over the scar Dada’s crew had carved into his chest. We popped bottles, and smoked ganja together in the parking lot. For a while, it felt like we had won. Just being there alive despite all that we had already endured, we were victorious.
Killa and the crew rehearsed a dance move while I stood off on the sidelines swigging a bottle of Hennessy. I tucked a bag of weed that Killa had given me down deep inside one of my Timberland boots for later.
I looked over at my cousin, chilling nearby.
“Listen, Toast. I need your ear for a minute.”
We stepped away from the crew a bit. Toasta was tearing up some jerk chicken from the food cart.
“I’m bugging out right now,” I explained. “We need to talk.”
Toasta looked at me, seriously.
“What’s wrong? You look like ya got sum’n on your mind.”
Indeed I did.
“Yo. Why didn’t you tell me that Maya and Dada used to be together?”
His face dropped.
“She nah tell you?”
I looked at him, searching his face for signs of deception. Instead, it was clear that Toasta was genuinely surprised. He shook his head. “Cousin, I thought she tell you a long time ago. Truly.”
I shook my head. Part of me still couldn’t believe it was true.