An Urban Drama (13 page)

“To be honest with you, Victor, I know that she was a jazz singer, but I’ve never heard her sing.”

“Really?”

“Really,” I replied, feeling just a little stupid. I mean, here I was going around using the name, and didn’t know anything about her.

“You should check out some of her music. She really does have a beautiful voice.”

“You seem to know quite a bit about her.”

“A bit. Like that’s not her real name.”

“Get outta here.”

“What, you think you’re the only one who can make up a name?”

“Okay, okay, you got me.” I hate getting called out like that, but he had me. “So, what’s her name?”

“Eunice
Waymon
.”

“Eunice
Waymon
?”

“Yup,” Victor said and I giggled a little.

“Where did Nina Simone come from then?”

“To support her family, she started working as an accompanist in an Irish bar in
Atlantic City
. The bar owner told her she had to sing too. So she changed her name into Nina, which means little one, and Simone, which she took from the French actress Simone
Signoret
.”

“I never heard of her.”

“Neither have I.”

“Good,” I said. “Now I don’t feel so bad.”

“So you dance, huh?”

“I used to. I used to dance at private parties, and then I danced at a club for a minute.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really.”

“Which did you like better?

“Private parties. I hated working in a club.”

“Why?”

“Too many people. All those men grabbing at me, trying to rub on me; I just didn’t like that. And women hittin’ on me got a little old too. See, at private parties, there’re maybe four, five men. I could handle that a lot better. When I dance for a man, I feel the music inside me, and I move to the flow. I can look into a man’s eyes while he’s watching me, and make him feel me without ever having to touch him. It’s more personal.”

“Personal, huh?”

“Yeah, I know what you’re thinkin’, and no, I don’t sell
no
pussy. I know some girls do. Do it all the time. I knew one that got locked up trying to sell some pussy. You can get hooked on that money. I wasn’t tryin’ to do all that.”

“Guess you made good money dancin’, huh?”

“I got a flat fee plus tips. Depending on the crowd, I did all right.”

“Sometimes the whole dancer-customer relationship amazes me. I mean, think about it, we sit there for hours, giving sometimes large sums of money to a woman whose job is to get your money and make you feel good about giving it to her.”

“Right. And she can accomplish this most times by making you think that there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, and that tunnel leads to sex.”

“Most times this isn’t the case. I had a relationship like that. I used to go to this place to be entertained by a woman who called herself Starr.”

“Starr, huh? At least my stage name showed some imagination, even if I didn’t know it.” I laughed. I couldn’t remember the last time I laughed that much in a conversation with a man; especially a man I’d never met. Of course, that was an issue that I planned to remedy at the first opportunity.

“It started out like every dancer-customer relationship does. I tipped her while she was on stage, and when she came to thank me, I had her dance for me.”

“That’s how the club scene works—
hustlin
’ for every dollar you get. But you really liked her? I mean, beyond just dancing for you?”

“Yeah, I did,” Victor continued. “She was cool, quite intelligent, and pretty good company. Good enough that I became her regular customer. When she’d notice that I was in the club, she’d leave whoever she was sitting with and sit with me.”

“You must have been a good customer for her to do that.”

“I guess. But that went on whether I had money or not. Naturally, on nights when I had no money to spend, she’d leave me when she’d see a mark, but she’d always come back.”

“Bet she’d have some stories to tell.”

“She’d always have stories about the things men would say to her. Weak, lame lines. Starr gave me the rundown on all the other dancers—who
was
trickin
’, who got high, which ones stole money, the whole nine. Some nights she wouldn’t feel like being bothered and would dance only when it was her turn on stage, or she’d dance for me when a song came on that she liked.”

“I guess she really liked you too.”

“I guess,” Victor said quietly.

I could tell by the way he talked about her that she really meant a lot to him. “You wanted to have sex with her?”

“Bad. But for as long as the relationship lasted, there was no sex. Each night some guy in a gold
Lincoln
would show up to get her. She’d say good night and they’d drive away, leaving me broke and feeling foolish.”

“She was just doin’ her job.”

“So what about you, Nina? What do you do now?”

“Excuse me?”

“What do you do? Where do you work?”

“Oh . . .” I laughed. I knew what he meant. I was just trying to decide how I should answer. “I’m in business for myself,” I said quickly.

“What type of business do you do?”

“Wholesale/retail business,” I said. “You know, I buy things wholesale and resell them for a profit.”

“Really? What product, or maybe its products, do you carry?”

“That depends on the customer,” I answered, trying not to trip over my own words.

“So, you run a customer-driven business?”

“Right,” I said. “Victor, would you mind holding on a minute? I got a call on my other line.” I put the phone on mute and left him there for a while.

When I got back on the phone, Victor was more interested in my life as a stripper than knowing what products I carried.

Ah, men.

“Nina, you begin to interest me, and not just ’cause you were a dancer. Although that is a major factor, I am really enjoying this whole conversation.”

“Well, I’m glad I’m able to amuse you.”

“You never did say what you looked like. Describe yourself to me.”

“I’m twenty-five; just turned, in fact.”

“Happy belated birthday,” Victor said.

“Thank you,” I said. “I’m brown-skinned with long, shoulder-length hair. A lot of people think I’m Puerto Rican ’cause my hair is wavy. I’m about five-seven, taller in pumps, and I won’t tell you how much I weigh.”

“A woman thing, I guess.”

“You know that. But I assure you that you won’t be disappointed when you see me.”

“I consider this a good thing. I’ve been on blind dates before. Most turned out to be nights I’d soon forget.”

After a bit more small talk, I told Victor I was tired and I would call him the next day, and maybe we could get together. Victor, on the other hand, didn’t seem too excited about meeting me in person. He kept saying that he had some business to handle the next day. If I’m nothing else, I am persistent, and I wouldn’t give up until I got my way.

The next day, I was on the phone with Victor, and I was talking about him coming to get me for dinner, drinks, or whatever. I was going to meet the man behind the voice.

“Victor?”

“Nina?”

“Come on in.”

“Thank you.”

“Well?” I said, standing with my hands on my hips.

“Yeah, I can see where you could pass for Puerto Rican. You’re very pretty. No, that’s an understatement too. You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you, Victor. You’re a very handsome man yourself. Have a seat. I’ll be ready in a minute,” I said and went into the bedroom.
Very handsome
was an understatement too. This man was sexy as hell. His voice was just the tip of the iceberg.

We rode around for a while and talked. Once we settled on a place, we went inside and took a seat at the bar. I ordered my signature rum and Coke; I had to cut loose
them
Blue Muthafuckas. Victor ordered Remy Martin, neat. That means straight, if y’all didn’t know. I didn’t.

We had the usual amount of uncomfortable, getting-to-know-you conversation over the first drink. The conversation turned back to the night before and his lack of enthusiasm about meeting me. “That’s because I’ve had blind dates before and they never turn out to be about anything. But I’m flattered just to be here. Women that look like you don’t usually do this. Getting a man definitely ain’t your problem in life.”

“I tried to tell you,” I said with attitude. “I knew you wouldn’t be disappointed.” But the truth was, I didn’t have a man and I was lonely.

“I don’t think that
disappointed
is a word that applies to anything about you, Nina.”

The way he looked at me when he talked, the sound of voice, and the way he ran his tongue over his lips was moving me in ways that only Lorenzo had. We ordered a second round of drinks and a very interesting, not to mention tasty, spinach dip. “I’m glad I decided to call you today. I needed this. I’m enjoying myself.”

“I’m glad you called too,” Victor said and reached for my hand. “And I’m glad I came to meet you, Nina.”

The whole time we were there, Cedric was blowing up my phone. He’d started calling again when he got a hold of my new number.
 
He told me that he broke into my mailbox every day waiting for my cell phone bill to come, so he could get the number. I didn’t know if that was true or not, but he had it. Each time I felt it vibrate, I’d look at it and keep talking. Except once. “Excuse me, Victor. This may be some money calling.” I walked out to the lobby and answered the phone. It was Cedric calling from another number.

“’Bout time you answered your phone, Nina.”

“What do you want, Cedric?”

“I wanna see you.”

“I don’t hear from you for a month and now you start blowin’ up my phone, talkin’ ’bout you
wanna
see me?” I cursed him out quick and went back inside and rejoined Victor at the bar. My phone rang again. I looked at the number, and rolled my eyes before returning it to its resting place. I looked up and caught Victor staring at me.

I smiled. “What?”

“What you doin’ to that man, Nina?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, right. You’re not doing anything to him, but he can’t go twenty minutes without calling you.”

“I talked to him,” I fired back with an attitude. “I told him I was busy and I’d talk to him later.”

“Well, you know later means different things to different people. I guess to him, later means in twenty minutes.” I rolled my eyes and took another sip of my drink. “No, Nina, you turned that man out and now he can’t stand the thought of anybody being anywhere
near
you. So, I will ask you once again. What did you do to that man?”