Download Drama

by Celeste O. Norfleet

  “Oh, no, I’m Kenisha Lewis. I’m supposed to be auditioning here today.”

  The other girls sitting around suddenly get interested in what I just said. They look over at me and then eye me up and down. I know it doesn’t mean anything, so I just ignore them. “You’re the new girl.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “I’m Pamela. This is Donna, Connie and my cousin Linda.”

  I smile at the dancers, knowing there’s no way I’m gonna remember their names right now. I’m too nervous. “Hey,” I say. They all speak and seem nice enough.

  “So what do I do, start stretching or something?”

  “Nah, first you gotta go to the office over there and speak with the manager and choreographer. They’ll probably have papers for you to sign.”

  “What kind of papers?”

  “You know, the usual legal stuff, standard release papers.”

  I guess I still look puzzled, because she gives me this really strained look like I’m about to walk into the middle of something crazy totally unprepared. But right now I really don’t care. All I’m thinking about is stepping up my game and making some money to help my grandmother. So I go into the office and introduce myself to the two men there. The manager, Devon, starts asking me all these questions, then the choreographer, Magic Man, interrupts. “Can’t you do that later? I have to get rehearsals started now. Taj is on her way. We’re renting this place by the hour and I need all the time I can get.”

  Devon looks at his watch and nods. “All right, we’ll do this afterward. Here, just sign these,” he says, picking up a large white envelope from the desk and handing it to me.

  “What are they?” I ask, taking the envelope from him. I open it up and pull out about twenty pages. It’s all tiny type that I can barely read, so I have no idea what it says.

  “They’re standard release forms. They primarily state that what you do in here is the sole intellectual property of Taj Enterprises and can’t be duplicated outside this studio.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You can’t do any of my routines outside of these walls,” Magic Man says. “Now, tell me about your dancing.”

  I give him the basic rundown on my skills. He doesn’t seem to be at all impressed.

  “So, you’ve never danced professionally,” he concludes. I shake my head. “Good Lord, I don’t know where Taj gets these people. Everybody wants to be a dancer but, honey, not everybody can.” He grabs his water bottle and a CD from the desk.

  “I understand,” I say quietly. I’m just about to tell him that I’m really good, but I decide to instead show him.

  “Okay,” he says, already apparently exasperated, then rolls his eyes. I know he’s already made up his mind about me. But I need to prove him wrong. “You’re gonna have to audition. Have you ever danced with a professional dancer at least?”

  “Yes, I’ve danced with Gayle Harmon.”

  His eyes light up. He looks impressed. “Really,” he says.

  “Yes, she’s a friend of the family.”

  “Okay, let’s see what you’ve got. Come on.” Magic Man opens the office door and I follow.

  “Wait, we’re not through here yet. She has to sign these papers before she starts.” Devon hands me a pen and points to where I’m supposed to initial and sign.

  “I need to read these, don’t I?”

  “No, just sign,” Devon says.

  “Come on, she can read them on break and sign after we finish practice. If she’s no good, signing a bunch of papers won’t matter, anyway. She’ll be out of here in five minutes.”

  Devon takes a deep breath, then exhales quickly. “Okay, fine. Go. If you get this I want those papers signed today.”

  I nod, then stuff the white envelope in the bottom of my dance bag, then look at Magic Man.

  “Come on, let’s do this,” he says hurriedly. When we get out into the studio he asks me to change, stretch, ’cause he wants to see what I can do. I agree and do as he asks. About fifteen minutes later I step into the center of the room. The other dancers are sitting around watching me. So the music comes on. It’s one of Taj’s songs. It’s hard and loud with a fast upbeat tempo. Magic Man tells me to just do some freestyle dance. I do. After a while I can tell they’re impressed.

  The other dancers start nodding their heads and applauding at some of my steps. Magic Man brings them up to the floor and does a dance step for us to follow. We all get it instantly. Then he adds on more steps to make it a routine. We’re dancing and he’s telling us to do something different or turn a different direction. It’s working out great.

  So, an hour and a half goes by and we’re still dancing. Finally Taj shows up with her entourage of two girls and two guys. She’s dressed in her usual crazy-ass style with six-inch stilettos. She doesn’t speak to me or the dancers and it seems they really don’t care. There’s a conversation with her manager, which quickly turns into an almost-argument. Then Magic Man puts her in front of us and the music plays. We all start doing the routine he just taught us. We hold the line and it looks great, but it’s obvious he’s not happy. He has this perpetual frown on his face. Then it’s all of a sudden plain to see that Taj can’t dance. All she can do is shake her weave around and wiggle her ass.

  We do the same routine over and over again and she’s still not getting it. At one point we’re getting back to the opening position and I just can’t take it anymore. “Damn, is she really this bad?” I mutter.

  “She’s gonna be even worse when we get to the video set.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Linda and Pam chuckle. “You’ll see.”

  We do the routine a few more times. She still misses the mark. But it’s not like it’s at the same place. She misses it everywhere. After the seventh time Magic Man completely changes her part of the routine. Now it looks more like a pole dance minus the pole. She grinds, she gyrates and she aces it. She’s finally happy. Then the door opens and an older woman with green streaks in her hair walks in carrying some bags. She motions toward us. Linda walks over and takes one of the shopping bags. She opens it and starts handing out smaller bags.

  “What’s this?” I ask, hoping its swag of something good.

  “It’s our costume for the video.”

  I look at the size of the bag. They’ve got to be kidding. It’s like an elementary school lunch bag. I open mine. There’s a thonglike mini and what looks like two circle Band-Aids on some string. “Are they serious?” I ask. “Where’s the rest of it?”

  “We’ll get the stiletto boots at the shoot.”

  “Seriously, this is all we’re supposed to wear?”

  Nobody answers, then a few seconds later the door opens and this guy walks in. He’s dressed in a perfectly fitted business suit and expensive shoes. He looks around, sees Taj and then keeps looking around. Taj stops dancing instantly and runs over to him excitedly. “Eric, you came. You came!” She jumps into his arms and locks her legs around his waist and starts kissing him. He kisses her once and then sets her down.

  He keeps looking around as she pulls him over to the side. Then he spots us sitting on the side. He seems to scrutinize each of us like he has X-ray vision. When he gets to Linda, he really checks her out.

  “Who’s that?” I ask quietly.

  “That’s Eric Cyrus. They call him Money Train. He’s footing the bill for all this. He’s the guy who hit the mega lotto right after he graduated from high school a few years ago. He became a multimillionaire overnight.”

  “I remember hearing about that about five years ago. I always thought it was just an urban legend.”

  “Nah, it’s real.”

  “So that’s Taj’s boyfriend, huh?”

  “Oh, hell, no, but she would cut of
f an arm to be the one. I have no idea why he puts up with her drama, but he does. I swear she must have something on him.”

  I watch as Taj holds on to him the whole time he is here. When he tries to look away or look over to what we’re doing, she literally stands in his way so that all he can see is her. He tries to walk away, but she constantly grabs and holds on to him. He eventually forcibly shrugs her off. She moves back and starts pouting.

  Magic Man gets us together again. The music comes on and we start dancing. Everything is perfect. Even Taj has her part right. Everyone can see that she’s bumping and grinding for Money Train. Midway into the performance she sees he’s watching us. She messes up and she starts yelling at us about how we’re not doing our job. She rampages and nobody says anything.

  Five minutes later Money Train leaves and Taj hurries out behind him. Magic Man tells us to take a ten-minute break. So I’m just sitting listening to the other dancers complain about Taj and all the changes.

  As soon as we sit down together I have to speak up. I can’t hold it in any longer. “Okay, what the hell was all that?”

  “That was Taj the skank on a good day.”

  I just look at her while the other dancers start laughing and talking about how crazy ass Taj really is. She’s usually drunk or high and it’s everybody else’s job to make her look good. “Just ignore her.”

  “For real, don’t worry about Taj and all her drama. It’s how it is sometimes, especially when Money Train is around.”

  I just shake my head. “It sounds so crazy to me. Nobody needs to put up with all this. I seriously hope the money’s good.”

  “Just do your job and take the money. Pride has nothing to do with this.”

  “So, Kenisha, who have you worked with?” Pamela asks me.

  “This is my first music video. I’m not a professional dancer. Y’all are amazing. I can barely keep up,” I say.

  “Don’t even try it, you definitely keep up,” Connie says.

  “Better than what’s-her-face,” Linda adds. They all start laughing. I know they’re talking about Taj. It’s obvious they’re not friends with her.

  “Oh, my God, for real,” Connie says, rubbing her feet.

  “Please don’t let that no-dancing fool come back up in here,” Donna adds. We all laugh again.

  “So how do you know Taj the skank?” Pamela asks.

  I laugh. They all call her Taj the skank as if it’s her real name. But seriously, it fits her perfectly. “She saw me dance on a YouTube video a friend posted and called me. We have friends in common, but I don’t actually know her.”

  All the dancers start looking at one another. “Are your friends dancers?”

  “Kind of. My sister was engaged to Tyrece a while back and we’re close with Gayle Harmon. She a—”

  “Oh, my God, we know Gayle. I love her.”

  “I know, right, she is so good.”

  “Yeah, and she’s totally professional.”

  “So you danced with Gayle?” Pamela asks.

  “Not professionally. We just dance and play around down at the studio.”

  “Which studio?” Pamela asks.

  “It’s a small place called Freeman—”

  “Freeman Dance Studio, oh, yeah, I know Freeman.”

  “We all know Freeman. Is Ms. Jay still there?”

  “Yeah, she’s still there at least for the time being. She’s having a hard time right now. Unfortunately, the building is falling down on our heads.”

  Pamela and Linda laugh. “It was falling down when we were dancing there, too, remember?” They slap hands and bump fists.

  “You said your sister was engaged to Tyrece,” Pamela says. I nod. “Your sister is Jade?”

  “Yeah, you know her?”

  “Nah, only about her and Tyrece and Taj the skank,” Pamela says, shaking her head. “That’s really messed up.”

  “For real, Jade should have kicked Taj the skank’s ass,” Donna adds.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “That bitch will steal a wet dream if she thought it would get her what she wants,” Connie adds.

  “I know that’s right.”

  “Wait, so it’s true about Tyrece and Taj the skank?”

  Magic Man walks out of his office, clapping his hands to get our attention. “All right, all right, enough resting. Let’s get this wrapped up.”

  We all stand up and get back into position. “Connie, is it true? Was something really going on between Taj and Tyrece?” I ask as we stand up.

  She looks at me and nods silently. “Taj says it is. She also says that they’re still together on the down low.”

  “What? How?” I stammer.

  Magic Man claps his hands repeatedly. “Connie, Kenisha, let’s go. You’re still on the clock here.”

  Shit. I get in line as the music gets ready to start. “Pamela, how long do these rehearsals usually last?” I whisper.

  She glances up at the clock. “Probably another hour or so.”

  “Shit,” I mutter to myself as the music starts and we begin again. I know Jade has no idea about any of this and there’s no way I’m gonna let Taj make a fool out of her. I need to tell her what I know. An hour later, Taj and Money Train return and Magic Man calls it a wrap. He tells us to meet back here the following day at three o’clock and to be prepared to rehearse a few hours longer. I change into my street sneakers, put on my sweatpants, hoodie and jacket, then leave.

  No lie, my body is hurting, my leg muscles are tight, my feet are sore and my head is throbbing. I’ve never danced so hard in my life. But with everything I still feel good, like I’m a part of something and really doing something special even if it is with Taj the skank.

  I still think I’m doing the right thing. It’s money and we need it. Then I think about the stupid costume. I don’t know what I’m gonna do about that. There’s no way I can wear it. My grandmother and Jade would kill me.

  We all go outside. It’s darker than I thought. “Oh, wait, I forgot to give the paperwork back to Devon,” I say.

  “Go ahead. We’ll wait here for you.”

  I pull out my cell phone and hurry back upstairs. I text Jade that I’m on my way. Then just as I end the text and I walk into the studio, the first thing I hear is this loud bang and then this muffle of voices. It’s dark except for the office lights still on. I don’t see Devon or Magic Man, but I see Taj and Money Train.

  She’s in his face yelling because he won’t give her more money. Then all of the sudden the argument turns physical. She pushes him and then slaps him. He turns to walk away. She goes at him again. He grabs her wrists and holds her still. She keeps jerking around. She’s screaming and crying and he tells her that she has a problem and needs to get help.

  My heart starts racing. I can’t believe I’m seeing this. She’s crying hysterically now, then she turns and looks out the office window seeing me standing here in the studio. Money Train turns and sees me, too. “What are you looking at? Get out,” she yells. I quickly turn around and hurry downstairs.

  “You ready?” Pamela asks.

  “Yeah, let’s get out of here,” I say nervously.

  Connie and Donna carpooled. Linda, Pamela and I head to the Metro station across the street. We take the same train for the first three stops, then they get off and I’m alone all the way to the end of the line.

  By the time I get back to the neighborhood I feel like I’m a sleepwalking zombie. I start walking down the street to my grandmother’s house. A block away I see Darien sitting in his car with a few other guys. There’s a loud discussion going on, but I can’t tell exactly what they’re saying, not that I really want to know.

  Darien gets out and heads in my direction. I know
he’s gonna say something to me, but I’m too damn tired to even care, so I just keep walking. He stops and waits. I keep walking past him, so then he walks a few steps behind me. “So you acting all new, like you don’t know me now, huh?”

  I ignore him. I’m too tired to deal with his stupidity.

  “I’m talking to you, Kenisha,” he kinda growls, then he grabs my hood and pulls to get my attention.

  My head and shoulders jerk back and I stop instantly. I whip around quickly and he has no choice but to let go of my hood or get his arm twisted. He looks surprised, like he didn’t expect me to respond. “What do you want?” I snap at him. “You got everything already. You got your stupid trophies back, your freedom, so what could you possibly want with me now?”

  “You broke my arm, bitch,” he grates out.

  “You put your hands on me, bitch,” I snap right back, louder than I expected to. His boys turn around and start looking at us. He glances up and sees them.

  “I should kick your ass,” he threatens.

  My heart jumps, but I’m not going out like that. “We all know what happened the last time you tried that.” I hurt Darien once and I can do it again.

  He looks down at the big bag on my shoulder. It’s heavy and he has no idea what’s in it. So he just stands there a second and regroups. “You know you cost me a lot of money with your stupid shit,” he almost whispers.

  “Oh, please, are you serious?”

  “What the hell do you think, yeah, I’m serious. I got people on my back because of your ass.”

  “Well, maybe if you left my ass alone you wouldn’t have people on your back. Now, is that all you got?”

  “You screwed up my life,” he accuses.

  “No, you screwed up your own life and it was done a hell of a long time before I moved here. When we first met I actually thought we’d have a lot in common because our fathers are ex-professional football players and even played on the same NFL team, but I was wrong. We don’t have anything in common. You’re a spoiled, self-centered brat and you need serious anger management classes.”

  “You haven’t seen me angry yet,” he says, stepping up right in my face. “Don’t think you really run this neighborhood. You don’t. I do.”