In My Sister's House (6 page)

D
uring the day, with all the lights off, the sound system silenced, and its tables bare of fancy and festive coverings, Legends didn’t quite look like the luxurious five-star showroom it was. Less than twelve hours ago, a crowd of two hundred–plus had enjoyed themselves way into the night. Now even the ornate crystal chandelier seemed out of place as it hung in solitude over the limited dining area. Two of the club’s regular dancers, Princess and Lovely, stretched and warmed up on the dance floor. Princess, the smaller of the two, was a little shorter than five feet, with a compact dancer’s build. She sat in a lotus position, with her eyes closed and back arched. Her honey-brown, somewhat curly mane stood at attention all over her head like a light and airy wheat field. Even untamed, it complemented her small oval face and features. Normally, Skylar would not have considered hiring someone so young looking. Princess was twenty-six but looked all of sixteen, and every so often a first-time patron would come into the club, see Princess onstage dancing, and assume that Legends was hiring underage dancers. But her talent was undeniable. There wasn’t any style of dance that Princess couldn’t master. For the last two years, during the fall pilot season, Princess would leave Legends and Philadelphia and trek off to Hollywood, where she choreographed hopeful dancers on the
popular Fox show
So You Think You Can Dance
. She got the job after appearing on the show herself as a competitor the first season, and although she didn’t win, she impressed the producers so much with her grace, style, and beauty that she was asked to come on board as one of the choreographers. The show paid her quite handsomely, so she really didn’t need to return to Philly and her job at Legends, but she did.

Legends and the city of Philly had that kind of effect on you. If you were born and raised in Philadelphia, no matter where you went in the world or what career path you chose, Philly was always home—although in the past few years Philadelphia had not been depicted in the press as the city of brotherly love and sisterly affection, with its almost daily murders. Nonetheless, Philadelphians loved their town, its famous cheese steaks, soft pretzels, and rich American history—there was the Liberty Bell, the Betsy Ross house, the Constitution. So Princess maintained residences on both coasts. The only problem Skylar ever had with Princess was her attitude. Since her instant fame in LaLa land, there were times when she could be unbearable to be around. Nettie would say to Skylar, “Princess believes her own press releases.” But as far as Skylar was concerned, as long as Princess performed well at the club, there was no problem.

Lovely was christened with her name by an ex-boyfriend and was physically the complete opposite of Princess. Standing around five-feet-eight, buxom and proportionately thick, the rich chocolate beauty had a body much like Serena Williams’s. Her athletic build belied a softness and very ladylike presence, and her shoulder-length, bone-straight, toasty-tan-colored hair lightly touched her perfectly round shoulders. Her body stopped dudes right in their tracks whenever she’d walk by. But it was her full, red, juicy lips, like Chaka Khan’s, that drew the most attention. Whether she was talking to you or her mouth was closed, her lips always looked ready to kiss you.

By day, Lovely was a nurse at Thomas Jefferson Hospital in downtown Philadelphia. Her nurse’s salary provided her with more than enough to live comfortably. Dancing was just something she had always
enjoyed. To her it was a way not only to relieve the day-to-day stress of being an active nurse, but also to help her deal with the unexpected death of her college sweetheart, Anthony Davis. Although somewhat secretive about her life, she had shared a little about Anthony’s death with Skylar. He had collapsed while playing an outdoor basketball game with a few of his buddies one very hot Saturday afternoon. Lovely and their two-year-old son, Tony Jr., witnessed the entire event.

Because Tony was a known prankster, no one rushed to his aid while he lay motionless on the ground. His buddies thought he was merely being dramatic after missing a shot that had cost his team the game. However, even from the stands, Lovely knew something was wrong. Taking Tony Jr. by the hand, she made her way down to the court. By the time she reached him, other teammates and a few people from the sidelines were crowded all around him. Handing their son to a friend of Tony’s, she knelt down over him and began talking to him in a frantic tone. “Baby, wake up! Tony, Tony!” she cried. Lightly slapping his face in an effort to revive him, she continued talking to him. “Baby, it’s Lovely and Junior. Hold on, baby!” Tears formed in her eyes—she felt helpless. She remembered hearing a siren in the distance, and the baby crying nonstop, but not hearing anyone shouting to call 911. Just before the paramedics reached Tony, he half-opened his eyes enough to see Lovely peering down at him, her salty tears falling directly onto his face. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said softly and slipped away. Her deafening screams matched their baby’s, as friends pulled her away so that the paramedics could prep him for departure.

Anthony “Tony” Davis had died of a heart attack. It was discovered that the physically fit, strong, gym-conscious twenty-seven-year-old had had an undetected heart problem, and obviously the rigorous ball game in the hundred-degree Philadelphia heat triggered a fatal reaction.

It was now three years after that dreadful life-changing day, and Tony Jr, the spitting image of his father, was a daily reminder of her lost love. In fact, looking at their son at age five, Lovely’s family
often joked with her that she’d had nothing to do with his birth but to push him out, because the boy not only bore a direct likeness to his father but inherited almost every one of his traits. Not one week would go by that the handsome little boy did not point up to the eight-by-ten portrait of the three of them taken shortly before his father’s death, and declare, “That’s my daddy.”

At times, out of nowhere he’d ask his mom, “Where is Daddy at?” Lovely’s unchanging response—that Daddy was in heaven—only satisfied him for a moment. Other times he would ask her, “How come we can’t go see him?” or “Could we visit him in heaven?” The exchange was so painful some days that Lovely had considered taking Tony Sr.’s picture down and putting it away. Of course she always decided against this, deeming it selfish. She never wanted to erase memories of the man who loved her and his son more than life itself.

Lovely and Tony Sr. were not legally married, though toward the end of his life she had finally decided to agree to the idea; after all, he’d been asking her about it almost from the very beginning of their relationship. She never really knew why she hadn’t said yes sooner. She planned to. It was inevitable that the two of them would spend the rest of their lives together, but Lovely just didn’t feel like they needed a piece of paper from City Hall saying they had a commitment. Many a night she beat herself up for not doing it sooner. Tony had always been supportive of anything she wanted to do in her life. If going through the formality of obtaining a license and making things legal meant so much to him, why did she have to be so selfish and deny him that?

Some of her girls thought she was crazy. “Girl, you’re gonna lose that man, keep it up,” they warned. “Tony is gonna leave you one day.” Tossing back her head in laughter and with a wave of her hand, she dismissed their innocent warnings as girlfriend gossip with no merit.

“Tony ain’t going nowhere, chile! He loves me too much.” If she’d only known that these words would come back to haunt her.

Anthony Davis was a rare man. Most brothas had to be coaxed into matrimony. She remembered telling him that her secret passion
was to become a dancer. He never laughed or thought she was crazy. He would simply say, “Well, baby, do it if it’s what you want. Take classes on your evening off. Me and the little man can hold down the fort until you come home.” Holding her close to him one evening while lying in their bed, watching the burning flames of the fireplace, he said, “You know, babe, you don’t want to wake up one day and feel sorry for not going after something you want. So I say, go for it!” And with that he pulled her to his chest tighter, gently rubbing her arm up and down, as she inhaled the sensual blend of amber and tropical fruits in his cologne, before melting in heavenly bliss.

Some nights after putting little Tony to bed, she would spray one or two spritzes of that scent on her pillow and lie awake in their bed quietly crying herself to sleep. Longing for the closeness of his body and his comforting touch, she’d often prop two or three pillows directly behind her like security barriers and lean back against them, pretending that he was still there holding onto her, protecting her, loving her. Dreaming of yesterday lost.

Not long after his passing, Lovely vowed that she would never put off anything that she wanted to do or say ever again. She decided that she would dance. But where? How? When? It was while she was out on a rare evening after work that she decided to join a few of the nurses for happy hour at Legends. Although she had only been there twice, both times with Anthony, she remembered it being a very nice spot. Her sister agreed to watch Lil Tony and told her to go and have a good time. She read a flyer that was placed on each table announcing upcoming auditions for dancers. Examining it more closely, she thought,
Why not?

Assuming the girls coming through would most likely all be professional, Lovely shrugged her shoulders and dared herself to do it. Imagine her surprise when she got a call from Nettie, informing her that Skylar would like to see her again. She couldn’t believe it. She imagined Tony smiling down on her and saying, “Do your thing, baby!” That was a year ago. Lovely was now one of the top dancers at Legends. And she loved it!

Unlike a few of the other girls, she didn’t complain about the salary. Each dancer received two hundred a night, for no more than two hours each night. And tips weren’t allowed. Little did anyone know, but Lovely would have done it for free. Once she took to the stage and heard the music, she’d let her body’s inner rhythms take over.

Legends dancers were no strippers or go-go dancers. There weren’t any lewd or overtly suggestive dance moves either. These ladies were more like Vegas showgirls. Theme nights would find them bejeweled in extravagant costume jewelry, with boas and feathers, moving to the sounds of salsa, reggae, hip-hop, and Broadway tunes. This eclectic mix, coupled with the large percentage of female clientele, dashed the illusions of any man expecting Legends to be a gentlemen’s club. Such notions dissolved almost as soon as they walked in the club. In fact, Skylar had mentioned on more than one occasion to Sidney and Nettie that maybe they should hire a couple of male dancers as eye candy for the women—a suggestion that brought frowns to both of their faces, for almost the same reason. Neither Sidney nor Nettie looked forward to seeing men dance at the club. After a little coaxing, Skylar got them to at least agree to the possibility, and today she hoped that a few brothas might respond to their open call.

Princess and Lovely were overseeing the audition process today. Skylar had a hair appointment at Zenora’s salon at eleven that morning and probably would not be back in time to see all of the would-be dancers that were coming through. But she trusted these two would make the right choices. Rainey and Vanessa, the other two dancers, were not required to be in attendance until their regular shift this evening. Nettie assured Skylar that she would also come in a little earlier to make sure things were cool. This made Skylar laugh because she knew the real reason—Nettie would never pass up a chance to see beautiful girls dance.

Auditions went rather smoothly most of the morning; a few potentials came with impressive routines, but no one bowled Princess and Lovely over. Either girls came in off the street doing the nastiest,
most sexually charged moves—what they
thought
Legends was looking for—or they came in full starlet gear, looking for an opportunity to be spotted by some local Philly rapper or national hip-hop star scouting for video hos. Young, old, fat, skinny, Asian, Black, Hispanic, and white: They’d filed in one by one. Handing over their song of choice to Quince, they launched into a two-minute routine.

But then came Treasure, a six-foot-two, pencil-thin pre-op transsexual, demanding an opportunity to audition. Princess started to say no, but when Lovely noticed that Head, the club bouncer, was not in the room, she nudged Princess and whispered under her breath, “Let him/her audition.”

With that, Treasure broke out into some wild 1990s voguing moves, complete with flat-on-her-back twists and turns. It took all of Princess’s might not to laugh, and Nettie—from her seat behind the bar—had stopped trying to hide her amusement. Princess thanked Treasure for coming, “But I’m sorry to say you’re not the type of dancer we’re looking for.” This did not go over too well with Treasure, who lashed out at both girls.

“You dirty bitches don’t know real talent when you see it. I’ve been dancing for fifteen years and am recognized as one of
the
best in Atlantic City. You bitches come by Studio’s, where I work, and see some girls that will put
all
you tricks to shame,” she hissed. As her rant got louder and louder, Princess gave Nettie the eye that she might need her to call the police. Knowing that girls handle rejection differently, Princess and Lovely at first thought the best way to handle this situation was to not say anything in reply at all. Nettie felt quite differently however, and when Treasure breezed by her, she leaned in.

“Baby, let me give you some womanly advice. The next time you answer an open call for
dancers
, make sure, if you want to be believable as a female, that you don’t wear Spandex,” she whispered.

“Why?” Treasure sarcastically asked.

“Because it looked like you got a lopsided sack of nickels in your private area. It’s a dead giveaway, baby!” Nettie remarked. “But even that isn’t why they won’t hire you,” she went on. “Bitch, you couldn’t
dance!” Everyone howled at this, and Treasure was clearly embarrassed.