An Urban Drama (12 page)

“What do you want, Cedric?”

“I wanna see you.”

“Yeah well, I’m busy.”

“Probably with some other nigga, ain’t you, Nina?”

“As a matter of fact, I am,” I lied.

“Why, Nina? I thought we had an understanding. You asked me to give you some time and I did that; now you with some other nigga.”

“First off, I didn’t ask you to give me some time. And if I gave you that impression, I’m sorry. What I remember sayin’ is there was no need for you to call me anymore.”

“You don’t mean that, Nina. You know you love me.”

“Nigga, please. I am not in love with you.”

“That’s ’cause you won’t give us a chance.”

“Us? There is no,
us.
There is nothing between us and there never will be.”

“Don’t say that, Nina.”

“We went out a few times and that’s it.”

“There was more to it and you know it.”

“What you talkin’ ’bout? I was stupid enough—or let the truth be told, horny enough—to give you some, and it wasn’t good either time. Not good for me at all.”

“I told you what the deal was with that. It won’t happen no more.”

“What, you go out and get you a fresh supply of Viagra?”

“Don’t talk to me like this, Nina. I love you.”

“I don’t love you. I don’t even like you. The more I get to know you, the more I realize what an asshole you are.”

“Don’t you talk to me like
that!
”

“Why not? You’re an asshole;
an asshole
that can’t fuck long enough to satisfy me. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll talk to you later!” I yelled and hung up the phone. I changed my phone number and got a new cell the next day. After that, I didn’t hear from him for about a month, so I just figured that he had gotten the hint and went on to terrorize some other woman. I was so wrong. Wrong to the point that he is the reason I’m sitting here now, waiting for the grand jury to decide my fate. And it all started one night when this guy named Victor called me.

It was a rainy Friday night, so I decided to relax and read
The Request
by LaVonda Kennedy; the book I’d been putting off for weeks. Now, once I start reading a book, especially a good book, it takes me in and I can’t stop myself. I have to suck it all in until it’s dry. I made myself a drink and settled in for a good read. It turned out to be one of the best books I ever read.

I had gotten through about a quarter of the book when the phone rang. I looked over at the display. “
Bell
, VR?” I didn’t recognize the name or the number. I usually didn’t answer if I didn’t know who was calling. Caller ID sure makes you anti-social. But my eyes were tired from reading in bad light; another bad habit. Besides, how long would it take to say wrong number and get back to the book? So, I answered the phone.

“Hello.”

“Can I speak to Ronda?” said a voice so deep it sent chills through me. “Damn, he has a nice voice,” I said to myself. I could feel the vibration in between my thighs.

“There’s no Ronda here. You have the wrong number,” I said.

“Oh, I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

“You’re not bothering me,” I said quickly. “I was just sittin’ here reading a book.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your reading. I’ll let you get back to it.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a nice voice?”

He began to laugh. “Maybe once or twice. My voice has taken me places and gotten me into and out of more things than I can count.”

“You should be on the radio; ’cause your voice is so sexy I could just listen to you talk all night.”

“Thank you. You have a very pleasing tone to your voice too.”

“Well, thank you,” I said and squirmed around in my chair. “No one has ever told me that before, Mr. Bell.”

“How did you know my name was
Bell
?”

“Caller ID never lies,” I said and giggled like a teenager.

“I forgot about that. But why don’t you call me Victor?”

“Okay, Victor. My name is Simone,” I lied, using my old dancing name and sounding as polite and professional as I could.

“Well, Simone, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“It’s a pleasure meet you too,” I said. “So, how does it happen that you’re home on a Saturday night?”

“The rain.”

“What about you? How does it happen that you’re home on a Saturday night?”

“I’m tired. Your body lets you know when you need to rest yourself, so I just took some time to myself. This afternoon my grandmother had a birthday party, so I went over there and I had the best time. It’s fun hangin’ out with old people.” I didn’t want to give up too much personal information about myself. I already had one strung out pest on my hands; the last thing I needed was another.

“A lotta wisdom goin’ on in there. You can learn a lot from old people.”

“You sure can. So I hung out over there; stuffed myself like a pig on finger food and cake and pies. It was nice, especially since I really hadn’t been out in a while.”

“Why is that?”

“I was goin’ through some shit—excuse my language.”

“It’s okay. I’ve been known to say a curse word or two, myself.”

“I know we should be able to express ourselves without cursing, but it does have its place in our vocabulary. Let’s face it, people curse. Some just take it to unnecessary levels. But yeah, I was goin’ through some really foul shit and I just needed a change.”

“That bad, huh?”

“You just don’t know the half of it.” I really didn’t feel like going into my problems with Cedric. The fact was that I was trying to forget about him altogether, and the sound of Victor’s voice was quickly making me forget all about Preemie Cedric. The way Victor sounded over the phone made me curious, and I began to wonder what the man behind this voice looked like. “Mind if I ask you a question?”

“Ask me anything you want, Simone.”

“Anything?” I asked flirtatiously.

“Anything you wanna know.”

“You are black, aren’t you?”

“Last time I checked.”

“Good. Would you mind describing yourself to me?”

“I’m six two and my skin is dark. I have no hair by choice.”

“I’m glad you said by choice.”

“No, male pattern baldness hasn’t set in yet. I have a beard.”
 

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-four.”

“I knew it. For some reason, I kept thinking you were thirty-four,” I said.

“Why? Do I sound thirty-four?”

“No, silly.” I laughed. “How does thirty-four sound, anyway?”

“I don’t know. Like me, I guess.” He laughed too.

“Are you fine?” I asked, bringing an abrupt end to our laughter.

“I’ve been told that a time or two, but I’ve never thought so. I consider the people who said it to be biased.”

“Why’s that?”

“’Cause I was involved with them at the time.”

“I’ll accept that,” I said; then I got a call on my other line, so I asked, “Victor, would you mind holding on a minute?”

When I clicked back over Victor said, “I didn’t mind you excusing yourself, but it allowed my mind to wander. Since we were on the subject, I began to give some thought to what you looked like, wondering what kind of person you are. Back in the day, what type of person you were wouldn’t have even been a concern, but those were simpler times.”

“Oh, really? Why don’t you tell me what it was like back then?”

“You see a girl; you dig her. She digs you. Only concern at that point was where and when. But things are different now.”

“Just a little.” I laughed. “You’re kind of funny.”

“Thank you. I’m glad that I amuse you.”

“I guess you could say that.”

“Well, what would you say?”

“I would say that I’ve had my share of women—my share and somebody else’s share, if I really wanted to be honest with you.”

“Do you?”

“Can I?”

“Of course, you can. You can be as honest with me as you like.”

“Good. I’ve always thought that there was entirely too much pretense in conversation between men and women.”

“You’re right. There is.” I had to agree since I had dropped a couple of lies in this conversation already.

“Each one is so busy trying not to say the wrong thing, not really saying what they mean, talking all around what they really want to say.”

“Not being
yourself
,” I threw in, because I was guilty of it.

“Let me ask you something”—Victor said and cleared his throat—“How many times have you said, damn, if I’d known he was like that, I woulda never got involved with him?”

“One time too many,” I said and thought about Cedric.

“See, that’s pretense. So, I’ll just be myself and hope that you do the same. Picture that, an honest relationship.”

“Interesting concept.”

“I have to try that one of these days,” he said and I laughed.

“I don’t know if it’s possible for a man and a woman to have a completely honest relationship.”

“Why is that?”

“’Cause men lie.”

“So do women.”

“Yeah, but y’all take it to a whole
nother
level,” I said excitedly.

“Please. Give me a break.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means while
we’re down here scheming and lyin’ on level one, a woman is on level five, running a program of lies and manipulation that is so sophisticated that our dumb asses could never even imagine, much less know what’s goin’ on.”

I had to laugh.

“You’re laughing, but I bet that you’ve run some sophisticated games on men, haven’t you, Simone?”

“Yeah. Well, first of all my name is Nina. Simone is the name I used when I danced,” I confessed.

“The pleasure is all
mine
, Nina. And thank you for proving my point.”

“Anyway,” I said, hating to be caught in my own shit.

“Nina Simone, huh?”

“That’s what my father used to call me,” I said, and thought about my daddy. It had been a while since I had seen my parents and I missed them. I would have to try to heal the wound that had grown in our relationship.

“Do you like Nina Simone?”