Page 3 of When You Dance
“Seneca.”
“I know you fucking lying.”
“I wish I was. I’m gon’ approach his ass about that shit. That’s my sister, and he ain’t finna slut her out and leave her like she some kind of ho. I’m more than sure he done got the goods from her.”
“That’s fucked up. What Kaysyn want with that nigga?” After thinking for a split second, I said, “Never mind. Don’t even answer that.”
“Ax gon’ flip if I tell him this shit.”
“Don’t tell him until you know what’s up. And talk to Kaysyn first.”
“I’m just tripping though. Seneca was the last nigga I thought she would have been attracted to. My sister is a superintendent of a school district. This nigga has a record. She’s risking her reputation.”
“Again, talk to her. Maybe that nigga different with her. I would never guess that he would even be on a date with a woman.”
“Me either. Maybe that’s why they are in Houston instead of Atascocita where she lives and works. She didn’t want to risk any of her coworkers seeing her. I’ma call her later and ask her what’s up. She obviously didn’t want us to know, and he surely ain’t said shit about that.”
“Yeah. That shocked the hell out of me.”
“Me too, nigga. Well, I’ll let you go. You proly about to go to bed, huh?”
“Yeah, after my shower.”
“A’ight. Oh! Before I go… I talked to somebody that used to be Obsession’s manager at the strip club. She doesn’t do private parties either.”
“Figures. Thanks for looking out.”
“A’ight. I’ll holla at you tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
I ended the call and continued to the shower. I didn’t know how he found out who to ask, but we’d talk about that tomorrow. That woman haunted my dreams most nights, and I knew now that he’d brought her up, it wouldn’t be any different tonight. The way she danced held me captive. Her body moved like it had no bones. Her dark skin was smooth looking, and I was more than sure that it felt the same way.
I could tell that she had slanted eyes under that mask. We’d made eye contact a few times, but since that first time, she never held my gaze for longer than a couple of seconds. I tried to always have a front-row seat whenever I was there, just to make sure that she saw me. But shit, she may have thought I was a stalker and was afraid of me. Hopefully that wasn’t the case.
After washing up and grooming my beard, my phone rang again. When I saw my boss’s number, I answered immediately. “What’s up, Tony?”
“Hey. Change of plans for tomorrow. You have to get recertified. Your expiration is next week, but they have an opening for tomorrow. I figured we better get you in while we can.”
“Shit. A’ight. What time I have to go?”
“Eight. They are going to evaluate you and everything there. Otherwise, I would have had you do it online.”
“Okay. So that’s an all-day thing. Might as well go get a drink now.”
He chuckled. “Might as well. Have a good weekend.”
Now I was off until Monday. I slid on some sweats and a T-shirt to go to the liquor store and reup on Crown and Henny, my drinks of choice when I was at home. As I left my room, I laid my hand on the door of the room across the hall. It was something I did whenever I was home alone. It was the room my dad slept in when he lived with me. He was here over a year, and we’d gotten close, despite his past. Drugs had taken over his body and ravished it until there was nothing left. He’d done so good while he was living with me until I’d gotten into that car accident.
When he saw my mama and realized the damage he’d done to his family, it was too much for him. Once he knew she’d moved on and was with a man that was making her happy and treating her like a queen, he fell off the wagon. He didn’t overdose. He’d been clean, and when he copped again, his heart couldn’t take it. He had a heart attack.
That hurt me more than I could admit. DJ could barely stand him, but I felt like I could help him be better, and for the most part, hewasbetter. He would cook every day, and we would have long talks. I understood him and where he went wrong. We as black men seemed to have a problem with seeing a counselor or therapist, especially older ones like my dad. They saw it as something only white people did and thought that it made them look weak.
That mentality was passed through generations because back in the day, those were services our people had no access to. We were taught to deal with shit ever since slavery, and that slave mentality was destroying us. It destroyed my dad. Had he gotten the professional help that he needed, I believed he would still be here.
Hearing him speak about how much he loved my mama nearly brought tears to my eyes. Watching his torment at first was hard, but watching him beat his addiction daily and on his own was inspiring. He was proving that I could do anything I set my mind to. Removing my hand from his door, I went to my pocket and pulled my wallet out, retrieving a letter from it.
Jamel,
