by Aya De León
Sure enough, as she got closer, she saw a silver cord snaking from either side of his head to the back pocket of his jeans. His hands were in the front pocket of his hoodie. As she got closer, she could see his toe tapping in a staccato beat that didn’t blend with the music.
She realized it was more of a tic than a movement with the beat.
He’s nervous, she realized. Nervous to meet me. Looking at her watch, she realized she was three minutes late. The stop for the Popsicle had delayed her.
“Woof!” she called, waving.
He turned, and his cool face split into a grin.
“Hey,” she said, and let him pull her into a hug.
“You smell good,” he said. “Sweet. Like fruit punch or something.”
“I had a mango Popsicle,” she said. Impulsively, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek, leaving the cool print of her lips.
“You seem to have had the aforementioned Popsicle very recently,” he said. “Either that, or you’re part of the undead.”
She laughed. “Very much alive,” she said. “Now let’s go shopping.”
First she took him to a shoe store.
“Cowboy boots?” he asked as the salesclerk brought several tall boxes. “Seriously? You know I’m from the Southeast, right?”
“The whole point is that you don’t get recognized,” she said.
“But it’s supposed to be stuff you find sexy,” he said. “You like cowboy boots?” He lifted a black-and-turquoise snakeskin pair and held them aloft.
She looked him up and down. “I like them on the right brother.”
“Okay, then,” he said, trying them on. “Yee haw.”
Tyesha shook her head. “This isn’t the look.”
They compromised on a pair of black work boots.
“Unlike the cowboy boots, I might actually wear these again,” he said as Tyesha led him into a wig store.
He picked one in curly auburn with bangs. “Uh-oh,” he said. “You’re not gonna dress me up as Rick James, are you?”
“No way,” she said, picking up a shorter black curly wig. “Ice Cube, circa 1991?”
He laughed so suddenly that he almost snorted. “Excuse me while I beg the lord to forgive me for whatever I’ve done and make sure you don’t have me going out in a Jheri curl.”
“No curl,” she said.
“An Al Sharpton press?” he asked, picking up a salt-and-pepper shoulder-length wig.
“Nope,” she said, walking down an aisle that had novelty wigs.
He passed a row of Technicolor bobs. “Blue might bring out my eyes,” he suggested.
“Your eyes are brown,” she said, laughing.
“So are yours,” he said.
“Here it is!” Tyesha reached for a dark brown wig.
“Dreadlocks?” Woof asked. “Isn’t it a bit classic Lil Wayne?”
“Don’t worry,” Tyesha said. “Nobody would ever mistake you for him.”
“I hope not,” Woof said, trying the wig on over his sleek low fade.
“Damn,” he said. “I really do look like someone else.”
“And not Lil Wayne,” Tyesha said.
“You find long hair sexy?” he asked. “I might have to grow mine.”
Tyesha shrugged. “The hair thing is mostly for disguise. Especially the facial hair.”
She walked him to the front counter, where he tried on a full beard and mustache.
“Damn,” he said. “If it was white hair, I’d be Santa Claus.”
“But take off the shades,” Tyesha said.
For the first time since they’d met that day, he took off his sunglasses.
“How does he look?” Tyesha asked the young woman at the counter. She was black or maybe Afro-Latina, with a straight press.
“Looks good,” the girl said. “You wanna get both?”
“Absolutely,” Tyesha said.
Woof handed the girl his card.
“Melvyn Johnson!” she shrieked. “Oh my god, it’s Thug Woofer! Can we get a picture with you?”
“I think the disguise is gonna work,” Tyesha murmured dryly.
Next, she took him to a trendy teen store and had him try on a Count Chocula T-shirt.
“Is this a girls’ store?” he asked.
“Definitely,” Tyesha said. “But the XL should fit you. It’ll be a little bit Incredible Hulk in the shoulders, but in a good way.”
He stepped out of the dressing room. “So, what do you think?”
“I like,” Tyesha said. “It’s perfect how your nipple is right under the Count’s eye.”
He put his hand over his chest. “I’m not used to the peek-a-boo nipple action. Basically, I’m used to my clothes being either on or off.”
“Well, Clarence feels differently, and so do I,” Tyesha said.
“You’re saying you think I look hot?” Woof asked.
“Not yet,” she said. “But you will as soon as we get you in some different pants.”
At a trendy unisex store nearby, she found what she was looking for.
“Magenta?” he asked. “You want me in magenta pants?”
“And these are still a little loose,” she said. “Can you try them on in a size smaller?”
When he came out of the dressing room, he smiled ruefully at her. “I don’t think any fabric has touched this part of my ass since I was in diapers.”
“As I recall, you’re definitely a saggy boxer kind of guy.”
“How you gonna just refer to information you learned in a professional capacity?”
“The tragic vision of that fine ass going to waste in saggy boxers is an abomination I can’t unsee,” she said, laughing.
“Well, this is certainly making up for it. I might need to buy some briefs to go with these jeans. If not a thong.”
“Thong sounds good,” Tyesha said.
“I’m not buying a thong until we’re on much closer terms,” he said. “And I don’t mean that as pressure, just incentive.”
He bought the jeans, and they stepped out onto the street. “Okay, so I’ve got pants, shoes, and a shirt. Is my disguise complete?”
Tyesha shook her head. “The jeans aren’t right.”
“Thank god you’ve come to your senses, woman,” he said.
She took him by the hand and led him down the street to a small tailor shop.
“You want me to wear a plaid blazer?” he asked.
“No,” Tyesha said, picking up another garment. “Try this.”
“A skirt? Seriously?” Thug Woofer asked, incredulous.
“First of all, it’s a kilt,” Tyesha said. “Second of all, it’s sexy just the same way a skirt is on a woman. Easy access. Third of all, it’ll keep people from recognizing you because it draws attention downward. And you have nice legs.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I never thought I’d say this, but I miss the tight magenta jeans.”
“Oh, no,” Tyesha said. “This is the one.”
Chapter 7
The next evening, Tyesha brought her date to Amaru’s basketball game. “Clarence,” in the dreadlock wig, the beard, the Count Chocula T-shirt, the work boots and the kilt. She also put her fake glasses on him.
The game was in a high school auditorium in Queens. It reminded Tyesha of her own high school, with frosted windows, fold-down bleachers, and the uncontainable energy of hundreds of teenagers.
Tyesha got a text from Deza that they would be on the far wall on the right-hand side. She and Woof made their way through the crowd of loud, brown faces.
Deza saw Tyesha and waved, then her face fell when she saw her date.
Tyesha introduced them.
“Pleased to meet you,” Deza said, and pulled Tyesha aside. “Who is this clown? I thought you were seeing Thug Woofer again.”
“I told you,” Tyesha said. “We went out and I gave him your CD.”
“But you’re gonna see him again, right?”
“Relax,” Tyesha said. “It’s only been a few days. I
t’s not like we locked anything down.”
“I can’t believe you’re out with some fool in a skirt when you could be out with Thug Woofer,” Deza said. “Auntie, you crazy.”
Tyesha smiled. “I’m gonna get back to Clarence, okay? Try not to be rude.”
“So, that’s Deza?” Woof said, when Tyesha returned.
“You passed the litmus test,” Tyesha said. “She’s your biggest fan, and even she didn’t recognize you.”
“It’s the skirt,” Woof said.
“It’s a kilt,” Tyesha said.
“She called it a skirt, didn’t she?”
“She might have,” Tyesha said.
“Unfortunately,” Woof said, “skirt or no skirt, you’ll have to tell my biggest fan that her album didn’t make the cut. Maybe in the future she’ll be ready.”
Tyesha sighed. “I told that girl—” She took Woof’s hand. “Listen, ‘Clarence,’ I knew the first thirty seconds weren’t gonna blow you away. I told her to put her strongest stuff first, but she’s hardheaded. Just listen to track four. Please. Whenever you get a chance. Just that one track. At least hear what she can do at her best.”
“I got a rule,” Woof said. “One listen only. I been drilling that into aspiring emcees for over a decade. Do you know how many mad mediocre rappers would be knocking on my door if it ever got out that I gave someone a do-over?”
“First of all, it won’t get out,” Tyesha promised. “I won’t even tell her you made a first pass. And second of all, somebody here broke her rules—not once but twice—for you.”
“Okay, fine,” Woof said. “I’ll put it in the bottom of my listen pile. You got fast-tracked before, but the second chance goes to the back of the line. I should get to it by this time next year.”
“Think of it this way,” Tyesha said. “As long as Deza stands a chance, she’ll push me to keep dating you. It’s like an insurance policy.”
“That’s fucked up,” Woof said. “You’d keep dating me just so I’d listen to her demo?”
“No,” Tyesha said. “I’d keep dating you because I like you. I’m just saying she’s on Team Woof. She even got mad at me for going out with Clarence instead of you.”
Woof laughed out loud. “I always said that when you’re the best, you’re your own biggest competition.” He stretched out an arm and put it around her.
“Whatever, Clarence,” Tyesha said, but she leaned back against his arm, even as Deza walked back to her seat and glared at them.
Then they just watched the game.
Amaru was great. She scored forty points, including several three-pointers. She didn’t dunk, but had a vicious lay-up. She was the don’t-give-a-fuck kind of player, who hurled herself after the ball as an offensive player and into the way of it on defense.
Halfway through the game, Jenisse finally made it.
“Mama, where you been?” Deza asked.
“Your daddy was supposed to bring me, but we got into a fight,” Jenisse said. “I was waiting for a taxi, then traffic was bad.”
“He’s not coming at all?”
“I’m here,” Jenisse snapped. “What? That ain’t good enough. His fucking majesty needs to come or it don’t count.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Deza said, and sat back, folding her arms.
As Deza no longer blocked Tyesha’s view of her sister, Tyesha leaned forward. “Hey Jenisse. This is my friend Clarence.”
Jenisse looked “Clarence” up and down.
“Of course it is,” she said. Jenisse folded her arms across her chest and leaned back in her seat.
“And now you know why I moved to New York,” Tyesha murmured.
* * *
Fortunately, Amaru never lost focus. Toward the end of the game, she was fouled while shooting a basket and got a pair of penalty shots.
She stood at the free throw line, dribbling with her eyes closed. Tyesha could see her chest rise as she breathed in and then shot the ball effortlessly into the hoop. Swoosh. Both times.
It had been ages since Tyesha had been on a date like this. Comfortable with the guy and around her family? Maybe not since high school. Maybe never.
After the game, Amaru came running up, flushed and sweaty. “Auntie Ty, you came!”
“Of course,” she said, and introduced Clarence.
Amaru shook his hand absently. “I want y’all to meet my mentor, Sheena Davenport.”
“From the WNBA?” Tyesha said. “Damn.”
Sheena walked up to them, over six feet and powerfully built. She grinned at Tyesha with a gorgeous, full-lipped grin. Even though she was tall and strong, she wasn’t exactly butch. She had on eye makeup and a slick gloss on her lips. Her hair was swept back from her face in long, tiny dreadlocks.
“So you’re the auntie that Amaru’s always talking about,” Sheena said, taking Tyesha’s hand and hanging on to it. “I didn’t expect somebody so young and hot. Although I should have known, sexy as they mama is. How you doing, Jenisse?”
“Fine, thank you,” Jenisse said. “You got my daughter a scholarship yet?”
Sheena laughed. “Almost,” she said. “I’m about to introduce Amaru to some coaches from Syracuse and Boston College.”
“So,” Sheena said, turning back to Tyesha, “Amaru tells me you’re in New York now. But if you’re ever back home to Chicago, look me up.”
She handed Tyesha her card, and walked off with Amaru.
“Damn, baby,” Woof murmured. “You so fine, even the women trying to holla.”
“Sorry I didn’t introduce you,” Tyesha said. “I didn’t expect to meet Amaru’s mentor tonight.”
“I don’t know,” Woof said with a chuckle. “You sure you ain’t gay at all? You seemed pretty mesmerized. That sister had serious game.”
“I thought you were your only competition,” Tyesha said.
Woof laughed. “If I call you next week and they tell me you took an unexpected trip to Chicago, I’ll know what happened.”
Tyesha laughed. “I don’t think so,” she said. “Come on, Clarence. Let’s get out of here.”
* * *
An hour later, they were sitting on Tyesha’s turquoise couch. The orchid sat on the coffee table, between two glasses of wine.
“Your niece can really play some ball,” he said.
“I’m so proud of her,” Tyesha said.
“And your sister can really throw some shade.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Y’all don’t really favor each other at all.”
“That’s because we have different fathers,” Tyesha said. “I met her dad once. He’s really light-skinned and slim. I never met mine.”
“But your two nieces look so much alike,” Woof said. “They gotta have the same dad.”
“That’s the official story,” Tyesha said, “but you never know in my family. For years, my mama told me I had the same dad as Jenisse. Then she acted like she’d never said it. And because she got saved by Jesus, she said all that was behind her and not to talk about it.”
Woof shook his head. “Sounds like some of my aunties,” he said. “That’s what I like about you, Tyesha. You’re up here in this big city, doing your badass thing, but underneath it all, you’re just a country girl from Chicago.”
“Country?” Tyesha said. “I’m a city girl.”
“But where was your mama born?” he asked.
“Chicago,” Tyesha said.
“And your grandmamma?”
Tyesha rolled her eyes. “Mississippi, but she spent her whole adult life in Chicago. Not that it matters.”
“It does matter,” he said. “You got the South on you like only folks from Chicago can,” he said. “Like a little piece of it was sealed up in a time capsule from 1952 or something. And now you wear it like perfume.”
“What does it smell like?” Tyesha asked. “Mules and burlap?”
“No,” Woof said. “Like red dirt and honey. I never been able to resist it on you.”
He leaned in to kiss her. This time she could smell the lotion on his skin, feel the tickle of stubble on his lip. He wrapped his arms around her and she felt the strength of his hands, the tightness of the embrace.
She could feel herself getting heated. She pressed against him all the more insistently.
“Tyesha,” he said, “I want you to know I really care about you.”
“I know,” she said, running her hands up and down the ridges of his back and arms.
“I really am sorry I was such a dick back when we were dating before,” he added.
“Apology accepted,” she said. “Moving on.” She began to unbutton her blouse.
“Hold up,” he said, and closed his eyes. He was breathing hard, but slowly.
“What the hell?” she asked.
“I just needed a minute to meditate,” he said.
“Now?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “I mean, do I want to have sex right now? Yes, definitely. But I need a minute.” He straightened up on the couch and put both feet on the floor. He rested his hands in his lap and took a few deep breaths.
Tyesha couldn’t believe it.
Eyes still closed, he said, “I don’t want to fuck this up. There’s too many conversations we haven’t had yet.”
“Like what?” she asked. “Birth control? Condoms? I got it covered.”
“No,” he said, opening his eyes. “Like are we exclusive? Other than Clarence, I mean. Because I don’t want you to be with anyone else, once we’re together.”
She was taken aback. “Woof, we just started—”
He put a finger to her lips. “I don’t expect that from you right now,” he said. “Which is why we can’t do this yet.” He buttoned each of the buttons back on her blouse.
As his fingers grazed her breasts, she could barely breathe.
“So we’re just dating,” he said. “Til you really trust me. And if it takes a hundred dates, I’m in. For real.”
“A hundred dates?” she asked.
“Speaking of dates,” he said. “Do you wanna be my date to Nashonna’s album release party?”
“Are you kidding me?” she asked. “Nashonna? Yes!”
“Good,” he said. “One date down, ninety-nine to go. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get out of here and try to meditate some tranquility and non-attachment into my dick.”