Challenge accepted.
I get up from my chair and walk over to the stage. As I center myself on it, the crowd begins to turn towards me. I try to think quickly of what I can sing to guarantee this job. I decide to channel the spirit of Whitney and do a bit of “All The Man I Need”. I clear my throat, take a deep breath, and get ready to blow. I’m usually nervous before I get on stage, but never while I’m here. When I’m standing here, it’s like I’m home, and it’s the most natural thing in the world to me. I dig deep into my belly and start nice and slow. “I used to cry myself to sleep at night…But that was all, before he came…”
I rock it nice and gentle, building my momentum. All of the talking in the room dies down, and everybody turns to listen to me sing. The music in the speakers cuts off, and I allow myself to fall deep into the song, as I send it throughout the club. I let a lil’ rasp creep into my voice to really get the feeling of it out, and I let my eyes trail across the room. Once I launch into the chorus, I see a few mouths fall open.
I got ‘em!
I begin moving around the stage, taking the time to lock eyes with different people in the crowd, and making sure they’re with me every step of the way. I move over towards the side where Jo is sitting, and I see that he is totally entranced. No spotlight, no mic, no music, just me and my voice on stage. This is what I live for. I often question whether music is for me, but when I’m actually singing, that’s when I know.
I skip ahead to the bridge, mimicking the sax just like Whitney did, before launching into the chorus for the finale. As I push out, “He’s all the man…all the maaaaaaaaannnnnn…Whooo!”
I leave it there and applause breaks out across the room. People actually get up from their seats to give me a standing ovation. I take a subtle bow and wipe the tears that are falling down my face. I always cry when I sing this song; I miss Whitney so much.
Jo gets up from his seat and joins me on stage. He raises my hand and gestures towards me. He then takes my hand and guides me off of the stage, towards the back area.
I’m still on a bit of a high from my performance. He points me into his office and closes the door behind us, as I take a seat in the chair in front of his desk. I expect him to sit in his chair, but instead he leans on the front of it, just to the right of me. He leans down a bit and looks into my eyes. I don’t know what to say or do, so I just hold his eye contact. He licks his lips and says, “So, Neeci, what are we gonna do to make sure you get on here?”
I don’t like the way he’s looking at me or the tone of his voice. He seems to be suggesting that I’ll have to do some extra shit for the gig. I ain’t with that. Never have been, never will be. I may be young and ready to get going, but I ain’t no dumb hoe willing to lay on my back to get what I know I deserve anyway.
I sit back in my chair a bit and change my expression to blank. I don’t want him to think for a second that we’re on the same page. I’m about to make him explain.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
I hope that he catches the hint, but he doesn’t seem to. His demeanor doesn’t change, nor does his tone. “Well, I’d love to have you, but I might need a bit more convincing.”
I draw my face into a what-the-hell-do-you-think-I-am expression. “Excuse me?”
This seems to jolt him a bit. He leans back and stops looking at me like a pork chop. He studies my face and must recognize that it’s not going down like that, because he walks back around his desk and takes his seat. He presses his fingertips together and stares at me over them. I change my expression back to blank. I think that this has just become another lost cause. I guess I’ll have to go back out there and find something different.
Just as I am adjusting myself to get ready to leave, Jo clears his throat and says, “Okay, Neeci, I’ll try you on. You’re really good, and you could draw a nice crowd here. Plus, I could probably get some of the older people in here when they hear there will be live performances. I’ll give you two nights a week to perform, on a trial basis. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll have to let you go.”
“What about pay?”
He hesitates. “How much do you want?”
“The standard is usually $100 a night, plus tips.”
He lets another few beats go by, then says, “Sounds reasonable. You have yourself a deal.”
He reaches his hand across the desk, and I grab it and shake. I’m excited, but at the same time, I hope I won’t have any problems with him.
As we finish shaking hands, a short, light-skinned woman with long hair and light eyes. walks past. I’m pretty sure she’s mixed.
“Hey Nikki, come in here,” Jo says to her.
* * *
She comes in and gives me a cordial smile. “I saw what you just did out there. You have an amazing voice.”
“Thank you.”
Jo cuts in. “Yeah, I just hired Neeci here to perform two nights a week. We’ll have to iron out the details, but I want you to show her around and then get her information so we can get the paperwork together. If you’ll excuse me, ladies, I have to go out. But Neeci, I will be seeing you back in a few days so we can make it official.”
“Thank you for the opportunity,” I say, putting the formal tone back on.
“I have the feelin’ this is the beginning of something beautiful.”
I just smile as he leaves the room and turn to Nikki, waiting to see what’s next.
“Well okay, Neeci,” she says. “As he said, I’m Nikki. Jo is the general manager, but I am the one that usually handles the employees. We both report to the owner Jermaine, who is back in his office now, but he’s busy, so I’ll introduce you later. We draw a nice-sized crowd, mostly from the university, so it’s usually pretty busy here. We’ll have to figure out how to organize it for your performances. Follow me, I’ll introduce you to some of the staff.”
I follow her back out to the general area, and she introduces me to Val again, a few of the waiters and waitresses, the baristas, and a bartender. Just as she’s about to show me into the kitchen she gets called back into the owner’s office. She tells me to hold tight for a minute, and I take a seat by the counter to wait. A few people come by to compliment my performance.
I strike up a lil’ conversation with a couple of the waitresses. They seem cool.
Just as we’re getting along fine, I turn my head, and my jaw damn near drops.
I can’t believe it! It’s that damn Sha’quan.
Sha’quan Long. I ain’t seen his ass in a year. I met Sha’quan at a local rapper’s concert a year back. He was fine and suave as hell. I got caught up and ended up spending one freaky-ass weekend with him, holed up in a hotel room. I thought we was all good, until I woke up at the end of the weekend by myself. His ass left me to pay for everything. Worst of all, I saw him a week later, and he tried to play me like he didn’t even know me. It took everything I had not to slap the shit out of him. I just let it go, but I hadn’t seen his ass since. Now here he comes, swaggering his ass in here.
He walks over and greets the waitresses I was talking to. I look down and realize he must work here cuz he has on a uniform.
Damn! He’s the last person I wanna see. He looks over at me and smiles.
Before he can say anything, I say, “You gonna act like you don’t know me again?”
He keeps his smile and his cool. “Naw, how you been? You look good.”
“I know. Do you even remember where you know me from?”
“Yeah. It was that concert, right?”
“Yeah and do you remember what happened next?”
“We had a good time.”
“A good time on my dime.”
“My bad, sweetheart. I had to jet really quick. Something came up.”
“Bullshit!”
The waitresses start backing up. Sha’quan’s smile fades. “Aye! You knew what it was. That was just a weekend. Don’t try to play the victim.”
“You coulda at least paid.”
“What, you wa
nt your money back?”
“It’s not about that. It’s bad enough you ditched me, but then you acted like you didn’t know me the next time we met. Like I was some type of cheap hoe or something.”
“You definitely weren’t cheap,” he laughed. “But you know that, because you paid.”
“Nigga, what?”
Sha’quan reaches into his apron and pulls out some money. He pulls a few of the bills off and tosses them in my direction.
“Nigga, you done lost yo mind!” I holler, jumping outta my seat. “Don’t toss money on me like I’m some fuckin’ stripper or something. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
At that, we start going back and forth. I completely forget where I am for a moment. I have no sense of anything but this fuckboy standing in front of me, who just had the audacity to throw money at me like I’m some type of prostitute. We go at it tough until Nikki comes running in with a man right behind her. I take it that he’s the owner, Jermaine.
As soon as I see him, I come back to reality. Fuck! I may have just let this idiot ruin this for me. I immediately shut up and take a step back. Sha’quan turns his head to see what I’m looking at, and his expression immediately changes. I’m sure we’re both looking like lil’ kids with our hands caught in the cookie jar.
There is a heavy silence.
The man steps around Nikki to stand in between us. “What is going on here?” he asks.
Neither of us bother to speak. The man turns to Nikki. “Is this the girl you were just telling me about? I can’t have this up in here. If there’s gonna be problems, she’s gonna have to go.”
My heart drops, as I scramble for something to say, but before I can say anything, Sha’quan speaks up.
“Aye, Jermaine, my bad. This was on me. I was out of line with her; she had every right to go ham on me. I apologize. Imma just go on back in the kitchen. Don’t hold it against her. It’s on me.”
I’m stunned. I can’t believe he just did that. It doesn’t make up for his foul-ass behavior, but it was cool as hell of him to take the bullet for me. Jermaine looks back and forth between us before turning to Sha’quan and saying, “You always into something with some woman. Are y’all gonna have problems working together? Let me know right now.”
“Nah, man,” says Shaquan “My bad, Neeci. I was disrespectful, and I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too,” I reply, then turn to Jermaine. “It’ll be fine, sir. There will be no more issues. I apologize for the disturbance.”
Jermaine nods., “Alright, Neeci. It’s okay, just this once. Don’t let it happen again. Allow me to introduce myself, I am the owner—Jermaine Watson. It is lovely to meet you. I heard you singing all the way back in my office. You’re good. I look forward to working with you.”
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate the opportunity. And again, I’m sorry.”
Sha’quan is walking back into the kitchen, but before he goes, he turns back and looks at me. I try not to glare, but it’s hard. He holds the look a moment longer before heading on back. I refocus on Jermaine, who is reaching out his hand for me to shake. I take it and smile. I’m glad to be working at the Coffee Cat Club, but I just hope Sha’quan stays the hell away from me.
Chapter Two
Seeing Neeci again was tripped out, especially how she went off on me. But I can’t even blame her because I was dead-ass wrong. I left her high and dry in that hotel, and then played her to the left the week after. I don’t even know why I did that shit. It was foul, but she ain’t the only chick whom I’ve done something like that to.
I mean, I’m Sha’quan Long. The ladies have always been a fan of mine. I’m six foot two inches tall and two hundred pounds of raw muscle. I got my mama’s hazel eyes, got the bald head, and keep my mustache and beard perfectly trimmed. The girls see me and go nuts—and I always take full advantage. I could tell you some wild-ass stories about how I get down.
I mean, my parents were pretty cool, but they were boring as hell. You could literally set your watch to them. They always did the same shit, and they didn’t even look like they enjoyed it. They ain’t really have no sense a humor, well not together. My mama’s funny as hell, but when it was them together they were all serious. That’s why I decided early on I wasn’t gonna be like them. I was gonna live my life and have a good time, especially after my dad got caught up one day in a shooting and wound up dead. I knew life could be over in a second, so you gotta have a good time while you can.
And shit, I’ve lived up to that. I’ve done all types of cool shit, especially when I was boxing. I wasn’t on Mayweather level, but—around Baltimore—I was the man. Everybody just knew I was about to be on pay-per-view television and fighting out in Vegas and shit. I was pretty damn good. Naw, fuck that, I was amazing. My footwork was crazy; I was fast and strong; and these dudes couldn’t get me down for shit. I was undefeated in all of my bouts. And the ladies were always waiting just outside the ring.
I got in trouble a few times cuz I didn’t keep the fighting in the ring, but I was having a good time for a little minute. Then one of these niggas found out I was fuckin’ around with his girl and came after me with a hunter’s knife. He sliced me up a bit and, at one point, I thought he was really about to get me. I was able to get the knife away from him and beat his ass, but that shit shook me.
It really made me think. Dude, I gotta do something different.
That’s when I said fuck it and went to culinary school. It’s a major switch from the ring to the kitchen, but I had always enjoyed cooking. At first, I just did it for the chicks, but then I started buying cookbooks and watching the Cooking Channel and shit, and I really got into it. So I’m like, fuck all that other shit. Boxing was cool, but that shit is temporary and can leave you fucked up.
I decided I wanted to open my own restaurant, so I went to school and started working in a few kitchens along the way. I got a pretty decent job working in the cafeteria at Johns Hopkins, but that wasn’t the food I wanted to be cooking. So when I found out about the Coffee Cat Club and the food they were gonna be serving, I put in my bid for the job. A nigga so good they had to hire me.
I enjoy the work, and people enjoy my food. Our food is getting quite a lil’ rep, especially our Philly cheesesteak and cornbread. These college kids are in here ordering cornbread by the pan. That’s cuz it’s a mix of my grandma recipe with some cool shit I picked up along the way. I’m just tryna stack my money, so I can get my own spot. I won’t pretend like I don’t still get with the chicks. Bitches love a nigga that can throw down in the kitchen, so just like they were waiting outside the ring, they’re waiting outside this bitch for me. Women will do some freaky shit after you make them some bomb-ass fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, and greens. Then you fuck around and make them some gourmet pancakes, an omelet, and my silky cheese grits—and their ass be in love.
So yeah, I’m still out here, but shit, it ain’t my fault. These women want me, and shit, I’m single, so they all get a turn. But every now and again I think about some of the shit I’ve done, and I know I gotta do better. I don’t want that shit coming back on me. That’s why I just had to apologize to Neeci.
I ran out on Neeci after getting a call from Lila. Me and Lila go way back, since teenagers. She went off to college in New York and stayed, but she still comes back to visit. When she does, I make sure to get with her. I think she was my first love, plus probably the best sex I’ve ever had. So when she hit my line, I lose all fucks and go to her immediately.
Obviously, I can’t tell Neeci that. She’d flip. I still remember spotting her ass at that concert. And I do mean her ass. There it was, swaying to the music and shit. She was there with her cousin, who was cool too, but there was something about Neeci that got my attention. It was her whole swag. Like, she knows she bad as hell and she ain’t afraid to show it. I mean, she’s beautiful. Not just regular neither, like you’d think she’s a model or actress or something. Then, she had body to go with it.
I was on
that shit as soon as I saw her. Walked up to her, gave her a lil’ conversation, then spent the whole show grinding on her and whispering in her ear and shit. As soon as that shit was over, her cousin crept off with some other nigga, so I took her ass to the hotel and wore it out. Now Lila is still probably my best, but Neeci threw that shit down for real. That whole weekend was crazy, which is why I almost stayed, even when Lila hit me up. But ultimately, I had to make that move.
Part of me wishes I woulda, at least, taken care of the room. But shit, ain’t nothin’ I can do about that now. Somehow though, Neeci looks even better now than I remember. Still fine as hell, still stacked like a library. I was hoping she would play the shit off cool, and then I could work my way back in, but she went off on my ass on sight.
And now she’s gonna be working at the club with me. Maybe there is hope after all. She stirs something up in me, but that’s a bad and a good thing. I know we’ll probably drive each other crazy, but I also know Jo is gonna be on her ass like white on rice every chance he gets. I might have to step in just to save her.
I wonder if she’s still out in the dining area. I can’t tell from the kitchen. As soon as I got in here, it was a frenzy. It stays packed in this motherfucka, so the moment I get to work, it starts. I’ve already made up two pans of cornbread, and Imma have to start throwing the steaks on for the Phillies in a minute.
Time is flying by fast because I’m working so hard. I don’t even really realize it’s time to go until the orders start slowing down, or when Luiz lets us know it’s almost time to close the kitchen down. I slide over to the doors and peak out to see if Neeci left. Sure enough, she has, but she’ll be back. And I’ll be ready for her.
The next day, I kick it around my apartment for a bit. My ol’ crazy-ass ex Shaniqua pops up tryna start some shit. I’m not even about to go through this shit with her again, so I just remind her that if I call the police on her again, she going to jail. She leaves, but I know she’ll be back. Either that or she’ll pop up at my job. See, the thing about me is that I drive these bitches crazy, both figuratively and literally. They be on my ass every chance they get. I don’t blame them, but I want them to chill.
Caught Me Dreaming Page 2