Dance For Me (8 page)

          Hope’s eyes roamed the walls and pictures of Dominic and people she assumed were family. She curiously strolled into the kitchen and saw a picture on the refrigerator of Dominic with Tristan, her breasts pushed up against his face. Hope rolled her eyes. Tristan was such an obvious whore.

          “Here it is.” He turned the bottle around and looked it over. He handed it to Hope. 

          She took the bottle in her hand, the liquid dark and purple, with a slightly blue hue.           

     Tristan got off her car, set the alarm and walked across the parking lot to the staircase leading up to Dominic’s apartment, her heels clanking with every step. She fixed her hair into place with her hands and knocked on the door. She would definitely be asking for her own key tonight. That was a step in the right direction, surely. She waited a moment, knocked again. She could see that his light was on through the blinds.

           “Are you expecting someone?” Hope asked with apprehension that it was Tristan.

          Dominic froze. “Hold up a sec.” He went to the door hoping it wasn’t Tristan. But when he opened the door he saw that it was Tristan, and worse, she had her overnight bag with her. Without giving her the slightest implication to come in, he stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

          “What’re you doing here?” 

         Tristan expected him to be mad but knew she could use her female prowess to change his attitude.

           “I’m sorry about tonight Dominic. I’ve come to my senses.”

            “Just like that?”

           “I said some things I shouldn’t of. I mean the things about your father-”

          “Tris, please!” he said in frustration.

            “I’m trying to apologize. I want to make it up to you.” She reached for his hand. “I want to stay the night. I’ve been thinking,” she went on.

                All Dominic could think about was getting her out of there.

              “I want to move in.”

               “Where is this coming from? I thought I was just some sad dog that followed you here?”

             “I didn’t mean that. I’ve been thinking about it and you’re right,” she said with a huge smile. “What was I thinking? I want to. I want to live with you. What do you think?”

               “I- uh…“ Dominic shrugged. She was confusing him more and more. “I just need some time. You know?”

               She noticed the sweater he was wearing and lowered her brows.

                “Are you going somewhere?”

              “No. Look, we’ll talk about this later. But I just need time to myself right now. I just need space.  Just tonight.”

                 “So you don’t want me to stay?”

                 “It’s not that I don’t want you to,” he lied. “It’s just, it’s getting late. I just want to sleep this whole thing off. I just need to be alone tonight. Please Tristan, don’t take it personal. I just need my space.”

       She nodded. “Okay. All right baby, I understand.”

      This was almost too easy.

       “I’ll call you tomorrow during lunch okay?” She put her arms around him and stood on her toes to give him kiss. It was like kissing a mannequin. She backed away and looked at him funny.

     “What’s wrong?”

      “Nothing,” he promised. 

     “Okay. I really am sorry from the bottom of my heart, believe me? I really love you Dominic.”

      “I love you too.”

      Tristan sort of smiled and waved to him as she walked down the stairs. Dominic sighed with relief and watched her get into her car. She stayed there for a moment and then the car started and she drove off. He felt bad for lying to her but at the same time he felt it was worth it because of what was standing inside his kitchen at that very moment.

       Dominic came back inside and saw Hope standing in the same spot with the bottle in her hands.

       “Was that your girlfriend?” Her smile was from cheek to cheek, lips together.

        He wanted to lie but his expression had already given him away. 

        “She just stopped by real quick.”

        There were too many seconds of silence. He was scratching or tugging at his ear, she was still smiling but trying not to. Something unspoken was swirling in the air.

        “Okay. Well thanks for this,” she said, holding the bottle up toward him for a second. “I’d better get going.”

        “Work night, huh?”

       “I was already at work.” She cringed at the memory of earlier tonight. 

       “All right, well Miss Hope, see you soon I hope.”

        She smiled and walked toward the door, he opened it for her. It was disappointing; he totally sent Tristan home in exchange for a couple of extra minutes with Hope. Not good.

       “Have a good night,” she said.

        But her smile and vibe made it feel worth it.

        “You too.”

 He stared while she walked a few feet away to her own door. He would stand there and watch her till she sunk in the darkness of her apartment but she would think he was a creep so he closed his door and smirked to himself, thinking about her.

 15… Crap

     Tristan watched hair strand ribbons of yellow-orange bile swirl in the toilet bowl like dye in water. Her legs were folded underneath her while her hands were squeezing down on her knees. Thick drool slimed off her bottom lip and glopped into the toilet bowl. She reached for a piece of bath tissue and wiped her mouth. Her eyes closed and she flushed away the bile, wiped her wet eyes with the back of her hand. She didn’t get up right away but stayed in front of the toilet until she was sure she was done, that everything in her stomach had come up. She rinsed her mouth, the water sweet against the bitterness on her tongue, and tiptoed to her bedroom. She closed the door behind her and dialed her work number from her cell phone. She felt better now but was going to call off anyway.

     She knew. She couldn’t explain how if she had to, but she knew what she knew. Tristan crawled into bed and pulled her blanket under her chin, staring blankly at the ceiling. She had been waiting for her period but it wasn’t coming and it was already going on month two. She should have been getting passed her second period by now.  Her nipples were sore and her stomach never felt settled. A wave of sickness swept her again but this time it was less physical; she felt sick because she knew exactly what was going on in her body.

      Tristan stayed in bed until eleven, getting up once she was sure her dad and Josephine were out of the house. She went downstairs and fixed herself some crackers and cheese, a glass of fruit juice and dialed Charla’s number. Charla answered after the third ring.

      “I need you to come over. Something’s wrong.”

       “Are you at home?”

       “Yes. I need you to come over.”

       “I can swing by after work.”

      “No, on your lunch.”

       “Are you all right?”

       “No I’m not.” Tristan dropped the butter knife she was holding and covered half of her face with her hand. She started sobbing which scared Charla.

       “I’ll be there in thirty minutes, okay? Just wait for me.”

       “Don’t lag!”

       Tristan hung up, stared at her car keys thrown on the tiled counter. She had to be sure. She grabbed them and her purse and got into her car, drove to the drugstore to buy a pregnancy test. When she got there, there were so many different brands she didn’t know which to choose. She grabbed the most expensive one and the cheapest, a Gatorade, quickly paid and bolted out of the store. She got home at 11:25, went into the downstairs bathroom and did her thing, anxiously waiting.

        Charla let herself in Tristan’s house, calling out her name. She found Tristan in the kitchen sitting at the table with a troubled expression on her face.

        “Sup girly?”

        Tristan had tears running down her cheeks and her eyes were red like she’d been crying for a while.

        “What’s wrong?”

        She held something out to Charla. Charla took the stick from Tristan’s hand.

        “Oh my Gawd, you’re-“

        “Don’t say it.”

       “Well, this is a good thing! Right?” She raised her eyebrows. “Right, Tristan?”

         “No! I’m not ready to be a mom! And Dominic? Dominic’s not ready to be a dad!”

        “Have you told him?”

        “No,” she sobbed. “I don’t even know how to handle this myself!”

        “Calm down,” Charla coached. “Take it easy, just breathe.” She pulled a chair and stared at the two pink lines in the little window of the plastic stick. “Maybe it’s wrong.”

      “It’s not.” She handed her another stick with a blue plus sign. “That means baby.”

        Charla got up, spat her gum in the trash and sat back down.

         “You shouldn’t tell him yet. You should think about what you want to do about this first.”

         “What do you mean?”

           Charla leaned forward. “Guys are possessive. Knowing Dominic, he’ll force you to keep the baby if you don’t want to.”

      Tristan looked at Charla’s hair. It was in an up ‘do that resembled a honey bun.

       “What if I wanna keep it?”

        “Yeah, what if you want to keep it and he doesn’t want it?”

        “Dominic’s not that kind of guy.”

        “You don’t know that. You said you’ve been having a lot of problems, right?”

         “Yeah but this is a baby. I would think he would want me to keep it.”

         “Uh huh,” Charla said skeptically. “Guys want you to think that. That is, until the situation arises. You know how guys are. They’ll say whatever they need to till they have you where they want you. Once you get knocked up, that’s it. They vanish. They run with their tails between their legs.”

       “I don’t know what I’ve done. I had this feeling but I hoped and hoped it wasn’t…what should I do?”

         Charla squeezed her friend’s arm.

       “We’ll figure it out. I’ll help you. I’ll support whatever it is you want to do.”

        Tristan put her hands over her face.

         “I don’t know what to do! I can’t have a baby, I can’t! I’m not ready for that!” 

         “Breathe,” Charla reminded her. “Just take slow deep breaths. If you don’t want this baby, take care of it. You may not even have to tell him. How would he ever know?”

        Tristan spread her fingers and peeked at Charla through them.

         “I don’t know if I could do that.”

         “Take care of it or not tell him?”

         “I’m not ruling anything out.” She moved her hands from her face which had not a lick of makeup. She always pounded it on so this was a big difference.

       “Well this is something you need to think about long and hard.”

        “Have you ever had one, an abortion?”

       Charla pressed her lips together.

        “Once, yeah. It was in high school.”

        “High school?”

         “Yeah.”

         Tristan dried her eyes with the back of her hand.

         “Wow. Do you regret it?”

        “Nah, it was in my best interest at the time. And there is still lots of time for me to have babies.”

        Tristan nodded. She hated her job and wanted to start stripping again. It now took her a week to make what she did in a few hours dancing nude.

         “Thanks for coming over and talking to me.”

          “No problem.”

         “Hey Charla? Don’t tell anyone about this. Not anyone.”

         “I won’t, I promise.”

 16… Vegas grit

           After the music died down Hope slipped off the platform and zigzagged her way around the dark club to the bar to have a drink. Sometimes she and Shamayla or some of the other girls lingered around for a nightcap. It wasn’t like other clubs here, where you could have a drink at closing time in privacy. This was Las Vegas and there was no closing time.  Sure, eventually the club closed at around two or three and all the girls went home and the bar closed down. But that was just Lounge 101, an expansive room and one of many inside the Lucky Star Hotel and Casino, which was popping all night long.

          Hope had a Bloody Mary, her palate in the mood for a little chilled spice, and made conversation with Glenna, a turquoise eyed brunette with bone straight, mid length hair. The girls chit chatted for a bit about nothing in particular. Hope finished her drink and heading toward upstairs to the dressing room to get back into her own clothes when a man pinched her butt as she passed him. Hope turned around and instinctively tried to slap him but he was quicker than she, expecting it. He caught her arm, laughed, and pushed her into a wall in a blackened corner. He had fast hands that seemed to touch every private part with swiftness and precision. She tried to scream but he put his hand over his mouth and tore and the hem of her thigh high skirt. 

             Hope bit down on his finger which half worked. It infuriated him but it took his hand from her thigh. She had bit him so hard that she felt a sort of crackle or crunch. He was drunk so he didn’t really focus much on the pain. He pressed his mouth to hers and forced his tongue in her mouth, squeezing her cheeks together when she tried to fight him. She wanted to scream but with his tongue jammed in her mouth and his face pressed hard into hers, it was impossible. She tried to pry his hands off of her face but the harder she fought, the harder he fought. 

           Her heart rate skyrocketed and she was desperate for air, couldn’t hear anything but her own slaps at his face, trying to hit him hard enough but couldn’t. It was like a really bad dream where no matter what she did, she couldn’t hit him hard enough to get him off of her. She used the last bit of her energy which came as a surge to hit him but to no avail. Hammer appeared from behind the man and busted a bottle over his head. Hope gasped for air and fell to her knees. The drunk grabbed the back of his head, stumbled against the wall like his knees were giving out as foamy beer and blood ran down his face.