Dance For Me (3 page)

“Dominic, no! Dom- damnit!”

 Dominic cracked the door and poked his head out. There was a dark skinned man standing in front of his neighbor’s door, wearing dress pants and a blazer over a white shirt. He was tall like Dominic, had gold rimmed dark glasses on the top of his head and a thick banned gold watch on his wrist. He was at least forty and looked really pissed off.

  “What?” He barked at Dominic.

  Dominic was baffled at how the man came out; dude’s got balls.

  “What do you want?” Dominic retorted.

  “I’m not knocking on your door mother fucker,” he said defensively in a thick accent Dominic wasn’t familiar with.  The man turned his body in toward Dominic, even taking a step in his direction. 

 Dominic opened the door wider. The stranger saw that Dominic was a big guy too, at least six-something with broad shoulders and a thick chest. It wasn’t enough to intimidate him.

 The pounding on the door was so loud it beat through Hope. Her eyes shot open. She hesitated for only a moment and then sat up and shook Shamayla.

  “I think he’s here.”

  Shamayla sleepily sat up, swaying from side to side. Her eyebrows were lowered in concentration as she listened. 

  “I know you’re in there! Open the door Jezebel!”

   Shamayla gasped.

   “Shit!” She jumped out of bed, her black hair falling flat over one side of her face. 

   “How did he know you’re here?”

    “I don’t know!” Shamayla backed away from the bed and cornered herself.

   “I’ll tell him you’re not here.”

   “No! No, no no!” Shamayla shook her head wildly. “Don’t open the door. Don’t even talk to him!”

   “My car is here, he knows I’m here.”

   “You don’t know what he’ll do!” Shamayla put her hands over her face. “I should call the police.”

 “Open this door or I break it down!”

  “He’s going to break my door down.” Hope tied her hair back and walked across the living room and went into the kitchen, opened a drawer. 

  “Please Hope, don’t open the door!”

  “Shamayla!” He shouted, beating the door with even more force. “You better get out here bitch!”

  Hope slammed the drawer shut.

  “What is that?”

   Hope shrugged. “Mace?”

   “No! Do you know what he would do to you?”

    “I think he stopped.” Hope was unnerved, the little black can tightly gripped in her small, shaky hand. “Maybe he left,” she whispered.

   “I doubt it. It’s never that easy.”

   The girls crept up to the door and listened. At first they heard nothing. Hope put the mace aside. Shamayla was almost convinced herself.

  “I wish I had a peephole,” Hope mumbled. “Go look out the window. Peek, but make sure he can’t see you.” Hope put a hand up which stopped Shamayla in her tracks. “I hear him talking to someone.”

 “Talking to who?” Shamayla went back to the door and tried to hear what she could.

 “I think he’s talking to my neighbor,” Hope whispered.

“Your neighbor? Who’s your neighbor?”

“That…guy…You’ve seen him. Big, tall, curlyish hair but he keeps it short…you know, that guy.”

Shamayla shook her head.

“Big?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Can he beat him up? Can he beat up Zefar? You think he will?”

  Hope could hear the voices sharper now; they were arguing and their voices were getting loud. Hope told Shamayla to stay put and stepped out of her apartment, closing the door behind her. She kept her hand on the doorknob. Her neighbor and Zefar looked about ready to get physical. 

  “She’s not here,” Hope said to Zefar. He turned away from Dominic and started moving her way.

  “Yeah she is in there,” he said, giving her a murderous look. Hope remained expressionless but inside she could feel her urine piercing her, wanting to come out. Once at his house he punched a girl in the middle of the face and broke her nose. Hope saw it with her own eyes. Later Shamayla revealed to Hope that the girl was Zefar’s own cousin. And Hope couldn’t forget about the time Zefar slapped up Shamayla in the parking lot of Burger King. He slapped her face, the sides of her head, shoved her to the ground. Hope shouted for help and when some men headed their way, Zefar booked it. He was a mean, heavy blooded type of person.

  As Zefar got closer, Hope kept her eyes on him but could peripherally see the blurry outline of her neighbor. She would never presume a stranger stick his neck out for her, but she hoped he’d step up before things went too far. The fact he was standing there comforted her but not enough. Zefar liked knives and Shamayla said he carried them all of the time.

  “Let me see for myself.”

  Dominic crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t like how close the man was getting to the woman.

  Tristan cracked the door open, but Dominic mouthed the words “go inside”. 

  “Hey,” Dominic called out to Zefar who simply ignored him. 

  “If you have not a thing to hide let me go inside and I take a look for myself?”

 Hope tensed up. Zefar had his chest pushed up against hers. She didn’t even realize his hand was on her throat until she smelled dentine in his breath. 

 Dominic had two options. He didn’t know what was going on or who the man was, or even who his neighbor was so he could let the two settle it out on their own, or he could beat the guy’s ass. When he saw Zefar move up against his neighbor the way he did, he decided he didn’t like it. He moved up a few steps and put his hand on Zefar’s shoulder. Zefar doesn’t like to be touched. He swung around all hostile and told Dominic to fuck off- at least to fuck because Dominic cut him off with an elbow to the brow. Zefar was caught off guard and Dominic punched him in the upper face so hard, Zefar’s brain wiggled.  His legs wobbled but before they could completely give out, Dominic grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and kept busting him in the face.

Hope’s jaw dropped as she watched the rapid power fists dominating Zefar’s existence, right at her feet. She didn’t know whether she should try and stop her neighbor or not. Zefar was curled up in a ball against the rail while Dominic beat the blood out of him. When he was through, Dominic’s chest was heaving. He had smeared blood on his hands like an animal, using his forearm to wipe sweat off his hairline. 

 Hope closed her mouth and looked at Zefar, whose bloody face was glistening in the sunlight. His blood was so bright, almost neon.  Hope rolled her eyes to her neighbor, his thick upper half rhythmically heaving in and out. Their eyes met and neither knew what to do or say. It was the first time they ever really looked at one another face to face. His eyes pierced through her, strange attraction appearing with such abruptness she looked away. Tristan opened the door wide. Her voice was like a rubber band snap to his brain. Dominic quickly looked away from his neighbor.

“Is he alive?” Tristan asked.

 Hope absently grabbed the doorknob and sunk into her apartment, closing the door.             

 Tristan grabbed Dominic’s arm but he pulled out of her grip, still heated. It took Zefar a minute to get on his feet. He limped a few feet to the top of the staircase. Dominic had given him a jab to the ribs that knocked the wind out of him. It felt like someone hit him with a car; every time he took a step down, it was like taking fifty percent of the hit. 

 “Was that necessary?” Tristan loudly whispered. “That man was like fifty! What happened?”

  Dominic watched the man get into his car and get on the phone. 

  “It’s none of our business! What if he calls the cops?”

  Dominic licked his lips and went inside.

  “Did you have to get violent with the guy?” She went into the kitchen and came back with an ice pack.

  Dominic took the icepack and pressed down on the knuckles of his right hand.

  “Do you even know who that was?”

 “It doesn’t matter; he had his hand around her throat. Okay? Around her throat!”

  Tristan didn’t know what to say for a moment.

“He looked like a pimp. Maybe he’s her pimp. You don’t get involved in this kind of stuff!”

 Dominic threw the icepack on the coffee table.

“I did what I had to! If I hadn’t kicked his ass he would keep coming back and coming back, bothering those girls and what kind of man would I be if I just stood by and watched? Huh?”

 Tristan crossed her arms. She didn’t know whether she should be jealous or proud of Dominic for what he did. She decided she was a little of both.

“This has trouble written all over it. Now you’re going to have to move.”

“Why would I have to move?”

“Because he might come back with friends or something. What if he has a big family? Did you ever think about that? Maybe he has a lot of brothers and maybe now your life is in danger.”

 Dominic laughed.

 “You jump to the wildest conclusions. I took care of that asshole and I seriously doubt he’ll be coming back.”

 “Why didn’t you just knock him out with one hit? That was a one hit quit for sure. Were you trying to show off?” She squinted her eyes. 

“I had a lot bottled up!”

“Whatever.” Tristan went into Dominic’s room to get her jeans and purse.

“You want to have breakfast?” Dominic opened and closed his hand. His knuckles were still bruising.

“I can’t. My dad and Josephine are going golfing at the country club. ”

“So?”

“So they really want me to go. And, I invited Charla.”

“Fine,” he sighed. “Of course. Go and do your thing.”

Tristan got into her booty jeans and pulled her hair back.

“Are you mad?”

 “No I’m not mad.”

“You look mad.”

“I’m heated because of what just happened but I’m not mad at you. Go do the family thing. Maybe we’ll see a movie tonight or something.”

 Dominic walked Tristan to the door. Zefar was long gone.

 “I’ll call you.” Tristan pecked him on the lips, paused for a moment. “I really hope she has the decency to thank you.”

 Dominic half smiled.

 “Have fun golfing.”

 Tristan walked down the stairs and saw spewed blood on the gravel. Her stomach curved as she hurried to her car, hoping Zefar wouldn’t pop out from nowhere and attack her like a bloodied zombie.

 7… The dancers

     Dominic spent half an hour staring and contemplating the handwritten note taped to his door.  After Tristan had pissed him off, he made up his mind and he and his buddies hit the casino. Still stewing from his fight with Tristan, Dominic found himself scanning the floor for Hope. His friends took their positions at the black jack tables while Dominic wandered off on his own. He strolled through the aisles of endless ring-ding-dings and flashing fluorescent lights. There were the dancers up ahead, red and black corsets with their micro miniskirts, black nylon stockings and sky high heels. They were all attractive from where he stood but not one was his neighbor.

     Dominic wondered to himself why he was even here. She wouldn’t be interested in him even if he were available. Yeah, there was the note with a time and place. But that proved nothing yet. And why was he following through? He and Tristan had a fight which wasn’t out of the usual. He wasn’t the type to screw her over just because they had a fight. But here he was, in a potentially tempting position. Or maybe he was just getting ahead of himself?

     He sat on a cushiony black stool and slid a five dollar bill into the slot. The touch screen animated with noise and lights. There was a bright green button flashing on the screen which he absently pressed. He knew she wanted to thank him. But why not just step outside and knock on his door? Why here? Either way, she’d thank him and then what? Where would things go from there? Dominic tried to get her out of his mind. He sat in that stool for a few minutes till he was reduced to twenty-five cents. He cashed out and snatched his ticket. 

    “Sup Dom, we’re gonna go in there,” his buddy Jess said, pointing to a darkened lounge at the corner of the lobby, just across the way. 

     Dominic placed the twenty-five cent voucher on an empty stool and followed his friends to the lounge that didn’t have much light except for the glowing aqua bar. Dominic could feel the misery of tonight on his face and was relieved to be out of the bright carpeted casino. He and his friends settled into a black leather sofa that Dominic felt his body sink into. It was relaxing. Though he wasn’t much of a drinker, he considered having one anyway. Jess was taking everyone’s request down and before he could get to him, all the pole dancers waltzed into the lounge. Out of nowhere Dominic was approached by two women.

   He didn’t recognize either at first as the place was dark. The first girl had long, silky black hair and from lighting outside of the lounge, he could make out her glistening darker skin and caramel eyes.

    “This is him?” She asked the brunette next to her.

    It was her, the girl next door wearing her long hair down with a shoulders-bearing dress. Her arm was bent just above her waist with a little tiny purse hanging on her wrist. Her nails were French manicured and she had a sparkly watch on her right wrist; the band was as skinny as the large loops in her ears. As usual her expression was a serious one, not as much as a smirk on her cute face.

    “We never introduced ourselves,” said Hope, sticking out her slender hand. “I’m Hope; this is Shamayla, my friend.”

    Dominic glanced at his friends who all stopped what they were doing to just stare at him.

   “Uh, Dominic,” he said, tuning into Hope and taking her soft and fragile appearing hand. Not surprising to him was her grip loose. It was as if she didn’t want to catch a disease from his hand. Shamayla on the other hand, had a firm grip.

   “I cannot thank you enough for what you did.”

   Dominic could still feel his friends staring. Hope was studying the way Dominic and Shamayla interacted with each other.

  “She wanted to thank you personally,” Hope said to Dominic. “Can we get your drinks?”

   Dominic lost hope right there. It was “Shamayla” who wanted to thank him.