Nice Guys Don't Finish Last (19 page)

“Why not, it sounds like it’s in your range or whatever you call it.”
“Yeah, that’s the term for it,” he laughed. “I mean, many artists has tried to re-create this song & failed miserably… including your girl, Mariah.”
“Don’t you even start, Mariah killed that song. It was your homeboy Sisqo with all of that dog barking that ruined the song,” I laughed.
“Don’t talk about Sisqo, you know he used to date my cousin Tarsha back in the day.”
“He knew he was a fan of the ding dong.”
“Stop judging,” he laughed throwing a sunflower seed at me as I tried to lounge at him with my upper body, but my bicep muscles wouldn’t allow me to. I slammed his head into the pillow, and he smacked it upside my head playfully. I can’t express how much I’ve died for this moment to be brought alive again. No way can I take away the fact he’s trying to change for the both of us.
“I love you so much, Abdul.”
“I love you too baby,” I said lying on top of him and staring into those lustful eyes to lean in for a kiss.
“New message,” my phone alerted. But I proceeded to kiss him, how could I allow the moment to walk by like that?
“Aren’t you going to get that,” he laughed.
“Umm, no,” I kissed him again.
“It could be important, and you know that,” he said.
“Alright, alright,” I leaned over to pick the phone up from the dresser beside the bed, and looked into my phone to see check the message, and got off top of him to lie beside him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing it’s just a message from this guy.”
“A message from a guy,” he asked.
“Yeah, this guy I met at physical therapy. He was just speaking,” I said.
“So, what’s his name?”
“His name is Andre.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about him?”
“Babe… come on…”
“Come on what? Let me see your message,” he insisted.
“No, I’m not letting you see it,” I snatched away as he grabbed for it trying to tussle with me.
“You wonder why I can’t trust you.”
“Nico, you should be able to trust me enough by now to know that I wouldn’t do anything else to hurt you. Just take my word for it,” I yelled.
“I took your word for it before, and look where it got me! Give me the damn phone,” he reached for it, as I quickly removed myself from the bed.
“Are you crazy,” I yelled as he jumped up & snatched the phone out of my head. He pulled the message up on the phone & read it silently to himself.
“You never cease to amaze me,” he looked upwards & threw the phone at me.
“What did I do,” I asked.
“What the fuck do you mean what did you do? He sent you a message saying ‘sexy, I want to get to know you a bit more outside of therapy’. How do you think I’m supposed to respond to that,” he yelled.
“Well, he can send anything he wants to send. I don’t have any control over, the only thing I can do is not respond.”
“Are you pretending to be that stupid or is your brain paralyzed, as well,” he asked!

I
spent the night angry at myself for allowing Abdul to take me out of character. I’ve prided myself in finally trying to move on from the negativity in my life & there he goes repeating the same shit and not realizing what he’s doing wrong.

Man, I wish Roger was here for me to speak to. No one ever knows how to give me advice without bashing my character. Of course he would give an honest outlook on everything, but his opinion remained unbiased and had no intentions to make me feel less of anyone. I know that I’m a grown man & there’s a certain moment where we should guide our lives and not try to hold anyone’s hand. But I need Roger in my life badly, right now.

He’s the only person who would’ve helped with my decisions on the music business, and I am completely lost & more frightened than ever before. All I ever want is to be held & told that “everything will be okay, Nico” in my head. Roger knew how to set me in my place better than anyone else, and I didn’t get defensive when he’d do it.

“Nico, quit being a diva & think logically,” Roger would say. “You need a slice of humble pie, son.”
I wonder if he’s smiling down on me, amazed at my growth over the couple of months. I’ve finally eaten the entire pie, and I’m on my way to be a better person.
Roger was the professor for my “Music Fundamentals” class, during my freshman year in college. He would always give me a hard way to go because of my tardiness, but I would only get there approximately two or three minutes late. I got excellent grades during the course, but he found reasons to pull me up.
“Nicolas Bilal, I’d like to see you after my class,” he said during one of his lectures.
“Yes Professor Bennett,” I walked up to his desk after everyone left out of the room, imagining many scenarios simultaneously.
“Mr. Bilal, how are you?”
“I am great. What is this about,” I asked swallowing my spit in anticipation.
“Well, I heard you singing Karen Carpenter’s ‘They Long to Be’ in the hallway, and I was impressed. Not only did I fancy your voice, but I was intrigued that you knew the song considering how young you are.” When he said that, I was relieved. I thought we were going to talk about was a failing grade.
“Yeah, I was exposed to all different types of music. My vocal teacher made me learn that song two years ago.”
“Wow… so you were classically trained?”
“Yes sir,” I said as he played a few notes to see if I knew them.
“What is this,” he played a note.
“That’s a G flat in the fifth octave.”
“Wow, I see you know your stuff. How about this note,” he said playing another key.
“That’s easy, an A in the second octave.”
“Alright, what about this,” he played a tricky key that sounded like a sharp F in the seventh octave.
“Okay, you got me. I don’t know,” I laughed.
“Okay sing ‘Somewhere over the Rainbow’ for me as I play.”
“Now?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Don’t tell me you’re scared after I heard you in the hallway,” he smiled brushing his gray hair with his hands and squint his eyes like Richard Gere. He was the most handsome older guy I’ve ever seen, white or black.
“No, I’m never scared. What’s the first line--- oh, right… somewhere,” I laughed.
“Somewhere over the rainbow, blue birds fllyyyy,” I sung as he glided his hands & head amazed at my talent. After I sung the song, Roger became a fan of my talents & even inspired to write my own music. When I thought I wasn’t able to write songs, he pushed me to incorporate my journal entries into the music & an artist was born. I traveled around the DMV area, Philly & even Atlanta to perform at open mic shows and was featured during extravagant shows. Angie Stone saw me perform at a convention she hosted one year, and I began singing background for her. I eventually sung background for Van Hunt, Jazmine Sullivan & Chrisette Michele, as well. If it wasn’t for Roger, I don’t think I would be in the position I’m in now.
I don’t know what I am going to do about the Ledisi tour & Def jam. I’m sure Roger would’ve known the answer to my questions, and it’s been a while since I’ve checked on Ms. Bridgett. I’ll give her a call in the morning!

Kings last night,” Ty said on the phone.
“Thanks muffin,” I said.
“What did you try to tell me yesterday? I think you

mentioned Single Ladies!”
“Yes chile, I had the choir warm up to it and they were
killing it. Why my father walked in the middle of us singing?” “Girl, no he didn’t.”
“Yes, he did. I gagged for a minute, but the only thing he
said was that was that rehearsals are not the playground. The
songs needed to be rehearsed in an orderly fashion.”
“Oh okay, are you going to run to the mall with me? I
need an outfit for pride and the Dox.”
“Pride and the Dox?”
“Yes, gay pride. It’s the white people’s festivities today,
and tomorrow is the black block party down Club Bunns. And
it’s also third Saturday at the Paradox.”
“You didn’t tell me about it, what’s third Saturday?” “Bitch, it is gay night duh!”
“But I went to the mall yesterday, so I don’t need
anything.”
“Bitch, I didn’t ask if you needed anything, I just asked
if you wanted to go the mall,” he laughed.
“Oh sure.”
“Well I’mma be there in thirty minutes & don’t be
forever to come outside because I’m on a mission,” he said. “Alright girl, just come on.”
We arrived at the mall and the kiddies were in the
building interchanging the galleria into a hangout spot a la
Security Square Mall. The butch queens were styled in tank tops,
shorts & boots. I guess they followed the trend other states did
last year. The cunts frolicked around in sundresses & bedazzled
jewelry. I guess that Lady Gargoyle character made quite a
statement because the ‘girls’ are in their spikes & shoulder pads. “Chile, we need to hurry up… these kids are working
my last nerve.”
“Who you telling,” I said.
“Bitch, they are around your age. What do you mean,”
he laughed.
“They’re around my age, but they act it. I’m mature to
be my age.”
“If you say so,” he laughed.
“Fuck you.”
We walked into Nordstrom’s where Ty vexed to get me
involved in the “crafting” business; forging checks, stealing
credit card information & stealing gift cards from various places. I am too scared to do such a thing because it can always be led back to you. The following would be a travesty, it’d be worst
than ex-mayor Sheila Dixon being busted for gift cards. “Do you like this,” Ty murmured handing over Doc
Martin’s.
“Of course, I do. Are you buying them,” I asked. “Look at who you’re talking to. I’m not paying 150 girls
for Docs,” he whispered.
“Oh right, I got you,” I laughed apprehending his
schemes. “You know you need to be careful.”
“Girl, shut up. I’ve been doing this for years and you’re
not one to talk after I’ve gotten you to steal that shirt for me that
day.”
“Yeah, but I walked out the store with it on. And a onetime thing, it won’t happen again. Getting caught with a shirt
alone will get you in trouble, but forging checks & stealing credit
cards can get you years in jail.”
“Girl, here you go with your contradicting speeches.
Stealing is stealing & what you did was no different than what
I’m about to do.”
“Yeah, but I know how I felt afterwards & it’s
something I wouldn’t ever do again.”
“Whatever girl, I’m about to see if they have these boots
in my size,” he said making sure the check was in his wallet. Fear began to covet my brain as I pictured the police
busting his ass on the ground. I could not risk a jail stint. “Well, I’m about to go to the food court… I’m hungry.” “Damn, you can’t wait for me.”
“Well, I’m trying to hurry up & get something in my
system before I get a migraine. You know I suffer them if I don’t
eat after a long period of time.”
“Oh yeah, I remember you telling me that. Hit my
phone.”
“I will,” I walked towards the exit in relief.

I
lied in the bed envisaging how it’d feel to gait on the moon, and announce it to the world. Not the fact I’m on the moon, but able to finally walk again.

You remember in the “Little Mermaid” when Ursula exchanged favors with Ariel? Ursula sought after Ariel’s singing voice for the interchange of her fins for a freshly shaped pair of legs. When she walked on land, she consumed to adjust to the changes because she was secondhand to swimming underwater.

I’d do anything in the world to exchange the cane to be able to walk independently. My frustrations are like a pot of boiling water that will most likely spew over, if I do not move.

I assembled in the bed glancing at the sun beaming outside the window saying “Abdul, walk towards me.” My eyes watered from the blur peeking at me, and I strained to see the mouth move again, but it was the peak of my imagination.

“Abdul, get out of the bed & walk towards me,” the sun aggressively shouted, as I sat there in disbelief. Did I hear the sun call my name & tell me to walk towards it?

“Who are you & what do you want from me,” I asked. “I am the sun, and I come here to tell you that you can do whatever you put your mind towards,” he said with a smile that resembled the Sunny Delight slogans from when I was a child.

“But you are not real,” I squinted my eyes to retract from the light.
“Who’s not real,” Nico asked walking in the room with a clean basket of clothes in his arms.
“Oh nothing! I was just singing an old song to myself,” I lied.
“What song,” he frowned opening the walk-in closet to hang his shirts.
“Just a little song I used to sing when I was younger,” I lied again & gawked at the sun signaling me to get rid of Nico rolling his eyes to the side.
“When you were little? Did you take an Ambien this morning,” he asked.
“No, I took one last night,” I turned my head and noticed Nico’s face turned upside down with his nostrils flared.
“I think you need to stop taking them.”
“I think you need to stop trying to be my mother.”
“Excuse me,” he yelled.
“You heard me! Going somewhere today?” I lifted myself & slithered on an old t-shirt and limped to the bedroom door.
“Yes, Abdul!”
“Where?”
“To the block party with Tony. Where are you going,” he answered.
“With Tony, since when did you start communicating with him again,” I asked standing in the doorway, grasping onto the doorknob.
“Where is your cane?”
“It’s on the floor somewhere. You didn’t answer my question.”
“Don’t you think you need that,” he asked as if I was eating cereal without milk, or had peanut butter but no jelly.
“When did you two begin conversing again, Nico?”
“We began talking recently, Abdul. Are you going to carry your cane?”
“Nope, flying free today,” I said as a high procured over my head. I felt motionless like a dream but remained on gravity.
“Are you crazy? You can get hurt, Abdul.”
“Look, I am very frustrated. I’m tired of being confined to this bed & cane.”
“Well go ahead then, but if you fall I won’t be there to pick you up.”
“And I will. Just make sure you get your pizza out the oven before you burn the house down,” I said walking out of the room clenching on to the thin walls for balance.

The
Digorno sausage pizza marinated in my mouth, as all the cheeses melted ravishingly on my tongue, while I waited for Tony’s arrival.