Capital City

by Omar Tyree

  Marshall smiles over the steering wheel. “No, it ain’t. Dallas ain’t ready yet.”

  Walt yells, “You crazy, boy! You see how they handled San Fran? They gon’ kill Buffalo.”

  Derrick laughs. “Marshall the only one that don’t know,” he says.

  “Yeah, we’ll see,” Marshall responds to him.

  “So, Wes, what made’ju decide to get buck wild and go out and buy some gear?” Walt asks me. He’s looking back from the front seat. Derrick is in the back with me.

  “Well, I just wanted to experiment and see if women really do respond to a dress code.”

  Marshall shakes his head and frowns. “What are you, retarded? Of course they do. Especially in D.C.”

  “Damn straight,” Walt agrees.

  Derrick smiles at me from my right. “I guess you gonna find out tonight,” he says.

  We get to the Mirage nightclub and wait inside of a nice-sized line.

  Walt says, “I tol’ you it was gon’ be packed early, nigga,” while slapping me on my back.

  He leans over to a curvy, brown-skinned sister standing with her friends in front of us. “This my boy, Wes, from UDC,” he says to her.

  She smiles confusingly and turns to look me over. “Hi,” I respond, slightly embarrassed that Walt put me on the spot.

  “Hi you doin’?” she says.

  Walt smiles and backs away, giving me room to talk to her privately. Derrick and Marshall stand behind me, awaiting my response.

  “I’m aw’ight. How ’bout you?” I say. I have to sound cool. I have to sound cool. I have to sound cool, I’m telling myself.

  “I’m okay,” she says.

  We both stand quiet until Walt instigates. “So he wants to know if you gon’ dance with him when we get in.”

  She smiles at me with sparkling eyes. “I didn’t hear him say that,” she says to Walt while facing me. “But my boyfriend’s gon’ be here later on anyway, sweetheart. Nice meeting you,” she tells me. She and her girlfriends walk inside ahead of us.

  I grin at my let down because it was fun while it lasted.

  “You should’a said, “What’cha man gotta do wit’ me?” Marshall chants, quoting Positive K’s popular rap song.

  “I know, man, girls always talkin’ dat boyfriend shit,” Walt adds.

  “But she acted like she was on him,” Derrick says.

  We all show IDs, pay our five dollars, get our hands stamped, and pay a dollar to have our coats checked.

  “Yes, yes, the pretty ones are in here,” Walt says, rubbing his hands together. “Ay, Marshall, you got that pen on you, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, give it here, Joe, ’cause you ain’t gon’ use it.”

  “Aw, man, you crazy!”

  We all laugh and weave through the crowd. I’m noticing already that I’m getting more looks than I usually receive. I’m thinking about letting my hair grow more on top to get a temple-tape. But I’m still undecided.

  Marshall says, “Ay, Wes, that girl checkin’ you hard, man.”

  I look around cautiously. “Who?”

  He laughs deceivingly. “I’m just jokin’,man.”

  Walt chuckles with him. “Yeah, his new gear den went to his head.”

  I smile as we roam over to the bar. Walt orders a Long Island Iced Tea.

  “Walt, please don’t get drunk and start cutting up on us,” Derrick says jokingly.

  Walt looks at me and winks his right eye. “This what you need to book bad girls, Wes,” he says, holding up his drink. “Wearin’ nice clothes is only half the battle.”

  “Don’t listen to him, Wes. That nigga’ll have you becomin’ an alcoholic.” Marshall says.

  Derrick nudges me to the left. “She checkin’ you out, Wes.”

  I turn to see a pimple-faced, tanned-skinned girl eyeing me. “No, she’s okay, but . . .”

  “You hear this nigga?” Walt interjects. “Now he gon’ get picky on us like he got exquisite taste.”

  The guys laugh.

  I smile at them. “What, I can’t choose the girl I want to be with?”

  “No, nigga, you get wit’ any girl that wants you,” Walt responds, taking another sip of his drink.

  I laugh myself this time. I think this Iced Tea is doing a quick job on Walt. And tonight I seem to be the focus of attention with the guys. I must say, it feels good!

  After a while they stop catering to me and move out and ask girls to dance. I feel a little more confident tonight, but it seems as if the prettier girls are all taken. There are a few girls left I could probably ask for a dance, but I rather search the party and see who else I can see. I look onto the Mirage’s raised dance stage at a girl my complexion wearing a cream-colored outfit that nearly matches my shirt. She’s looking over the rail on to the lower dance floor with her face leaning into her hands as if she’s bored. And from here she looks good, but kind of young.

  A sister standing in front of me suddenly shakes her girlfriend to attention. “Ay, girl, there goes Butterman! He like dat, shaw’. He is like dat!”

  I look to my right. A familiar light-skinned face smiles openly as J struts through the crowds. The hustler called Butterman makes his way through the Mirage audience as if he’s a D.C. star! I hate this, but I’m still intrigued like everyone else.

  He’s wearing a rust-colored outfit with a huge gold cross hanging down from his neck, attached to a thick link chain. A crew of shorter guys seem to follow and surround him as he shakes hands and greets people. And still, he’s smiling confidently in my direction.

  I whip my head back to where the pretty girl once stood on the raised dance floor to find that she has left. I look through the crowds.

  I turn to my right again to witness the hustler called Butterman now heading my way. Shit!

  “Ay, what’s up, cousin? You jus’ the man I expected t’ see.”

  I wonder what he’s up to, calling me cousin, I’m thinking.

  He grabs onto me and leads me through the crowd as if we’re the best of friends. I mean, sure, I know J, but I don’t think I want to be involved in his “biz’ness.” And I don’t call him Butterman either.

  “Hey, J, where are you taking me?” I ask him while he pulls me along with his arm wrapped around my shoulder.

  “Aw, man, stop girlin’. I want’chu t’ meet somebody, Joe. And make sure you let me do all the talkin’. Aw’ight?”

  As if I have a choice with the way you’re pulling me, I’m thinking. But as I begin to look forward to our destination, my heart starts to pound when I see the pretty girl I had been watching earlier. She looks openly toward us from the left side of the crowded bar area.

  “Hey, girl, this is my cousin, Wes,” J says to her.

  “Hi,” she responds.

  She looks outstanding close-up. She has short-cut hair with attractive curls and a perfectly smooth complexion that matches my own. She smiles at me through shocking, dark, almond-shaped eyes. I feel like I’m about to faint. Keep your cool! Keep your cool! Keep your cool! I yell at myself.

  J says, “Yeah, my cousin ’bout ta graduate from UDC this semester, you know? And, like, him and his girl just broke up recently. So I figured you two could talk, since you single now, NeNe.”

  She smiles at J while I keep my mouth shut, wondering, How did he know that I broke off with my girlfriend?

  “How you jus’ gon’ hook me up wit’ somebody like that?” she asks him.

  “’Cause I know you like nice guys, and my cousin Wes is the nicest guy I know.”

  “How you know I want a boyfriend?”

  Boyfriend? I’m thinking in a sudden panic. Wow, she’s getting serious fast!

  “Look, Wes’ll treat’chu much better than all these bammas tryin’a holler at’chu.”

  “But I don’t want nobody right now,” she says through a lighthearted smile. “I need a restin’ period from guys.”

  “Aw, girl, stop that shit. If you really needed a restin’ period you wouldn
’t be in here lookin’ all lonely. Now you gon’ talk to my cousin, and when he get his Red Acura out da shop, y’all gon’ do all the things that you used to talk to me about doin’.”

  Red Acura? Since when did I have a red Acura?

  “So, Wes, this is Raidawn, but we call her NeNe. And NeNe, this is my cousin, Wes.”

  J pushes us together as if we’re two toddlers and gives me a don’t-fuck-it-up look. “Aw’ight, well, let me let y’all get to know each other,” he says, fading back into the crowd to join his crew.

  I look at NeNe, intimidated. J walks right back in between us, flashing money in his hands. “Here. And don’t be all conservative with her, either,” he tells me, handing me the green bills. I open them up, revealing two twenties and a ten.

  “You not really his cousin, are you?” NeNe asks me once he leaves.

  “Ahh—”

  “Don’t lie, ’cause I know you not. So don’t even try it.”

  I smile admittedly. “Okay, I’m not.”

  Already I feel that I’m out of my league. She’s as forceful as Candice at school. And she’s even prettier.

  “So, you really go to UDC” she asks me, sticking by my side.

  “Yeah, I really do.”

  She grins. “Are you sure?”

  I grin back at her nervously. “Yeah.”

  “And what’s your girlfriend’s name?” she says slyly.

  I smile timidly at her. “Like J said, I broke up with her.”

  “You call him J instead of Butterman, huh?”

  “Yeah,” I respond, wondering if it makes a difference to her.

  “So you must be like an old friend. Or do you know him from school?”

  “No, I met him at Georgia Avenue Day, two years ago, when I was vending with my mother.”

  “And he tol’ you his name was J?”

  “Yeah. Why? Does it make a difference?” I finally ask her.

  “Yeah, ’cause e’rybody dat sells drugs and stuff with him call him Butterman or B or Butter. Only people who he don’t mess with like dat call him by his real name.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well, how come you know this?”

  “Because he goes with my cousin,” she answers simply. “He used to talk to my sister back in’na day.”

  I chuckle. “So he goes with your cousin and he used to talk to your sister?” I ask, just to make sure I heard her facts right.

  She smiles, and it warms my heart like a Boy Scout camp fire. “Yup, and my cousin and my sister used to fight over him. But e’rything cool now, ’cause my sister fell in love wit’ somebody else and got married. Yup, I got a nephew and e’rything. Ain’t that deep?”

  I nod my head and smile in agreement with her. I’m feeling more comfortable now. I’m enjoying her company. “So what’s your cousin’s name, the one that J goes with?” I ask her.

  “Oh, LaToya. Why? You seen him wit’ ’er before?”

  I shake my head and grin. “No, I just heard that she was really pretty.”

  NeNe beams at me. “Yeah, she is. But that runs in my family,” she says, laughing good-naturedly.

  “Hey, NeNe? What’s hap’nin, girl?” a heavy-set brown sister asks from our left.

  “Ain’t nothin’. Jus’ coolin’.”

  The full-bodied sister looks at me and grins. “So who’s your friend?”

  “Oh, this is Wes, and Wes, this is Kailah,” NeNe says absentmindedly. It seems as if she doesn’t want to be bothered.

  “What’s up?” I respond to her friend. I lean up against the bar to maintain my cool pose.

  “So is he ya new man?” Kailah asks NeNe, grinning.

  Oh God, this is it! She’s putting us on the spot! I’m thinking. I see why NeNe didn’t want to be bothered with her. She’s one of those nosy, instigating sisters.

  “Mind your biz, girl. Mind ya biz,” NeNe responds civilly.

  “Well, I mean, you need to get a new man and stop sweating Damon all like that, shaw’,” Kailah says with an attitude.

  NeNe sighs angrily. “Could’ju leave us alone, please. Damn!”

  Kailah frowns at her. “Whatever,” she says, walking off.

  NeNe stands quietly. She stares out into the crowd with a blank expression. Then she speaks without facing me. “He was my old boyfriend.”

  I nod sympathetically, just listening to her.

  “He in jail now for drug possession, attempted murder, and a whole bunch of other shit. That’s why I ain’t really been messin’ wit’ nobody.”

  Derrick quickly approaches us from our right and breaks the harmony that NeNe and I are slowly building. “You still haven’t danced yet, huh?” he asks me.

  I don’t think he knows that she’s with me by his tone. “No, I’ve been standing here talking to my friend,” I tell him.

  NeNe smiles at him and introduces herself. Derrick then sneaks behind me and jars me softly in my ribs. I guess he likes her as much as I do.

  Silk’s slow song, “Freak Me,” comes on. That’s the group that Keith Sweat produced. To my surprise, NeNe pulls me onto the dance floor. As we embrace and slow drag, I face Derrick. He gives me all kinds of male-talk hand signals referring to NeNe. I try my hardest not to laugh.

  “You seem like a real nice person,” she says, cuddling closer to me. I’m wondering if she can feel my raging erection through my jeans.

  “I am, but a lot of women don’t appreciate ‘real nice’ persons.” I hope I’m not sounding preachy. God knows I don’t want to bore her off.

  “Well, I think it’s about time we start,” she says, again surprising me.

  I can feel her smiling against my shoulder. “So what are you trying to say?” I find the courage to ask.

  “I’m sayin’ that I might jus’ talk to you, that is, if you’re really nice to me.”

  I want to scream, “I’ll be nice! I’ll be nice! I’ll be nice!” But instead, I remain quiet and let her do the talking.

  “I mean, sometimes you can jus’ tell when a person is about somethin’. And I had a lot of guys that wanted to talk to me when I went with Damon, but I was always too loyal and hard-headed when people told me how bad he was.”

  “And now?” I ask her inquisitively.

  She draws her head away from my shoulder and smiles at me. “Well, if you can help me, maybe I can change.”

  I feel dizzy, like I’m about to fall back into the crowd. I feel sexy, like I want to kiss her. And I feel included, as if I’m really a part of something special in this world.

  “Yeah, I hope I can,” I tell her.

  She drops her head back against my shoulder while the second slow song comes on: “Weak,” by SWV.

  “You’re wearing Drakkar, aren’t’chu?” NeNe asks.

  “Yeah, you can tell?”

  “Mm-hmm. I love how Drakkar smells.”

  That’s good. I love that she loves it! I’m thinking.

  As soon as we finish dancing and head back to the bar area, J snatches me by my shoulder again and leads me into the men’s bathroom. Using my peripheral vision I can see the utter confusion in Marshall’s, Walt’s, and Derrick’s eyes.

  “So you like her, Wes?” J asks me inside of the bathroom.

  “Like her? Man, I love her! She’s beautiful, sweet and everything. I mean, what’s not to love about her!”

  J smiles. “You wanna take her home t’night?”

  “Say what?” I don’t think I heard him right.

  J laughs. “You heard me, nigga. Stop actin’ like a bamma.”

  “She’s just gonna go home with somebody she just met?”

  “Look, let me hook it up. Aw’ight?”

  I have to know this, I’m thinking. “She’s not a whore or anything, is she?” I ask, holding my breath. “Because she told me that she was loyal to her last boyfriend.”

  J frowns at me as if he’s disappointed with my thoughts. He shakes his head violently. “Naw, Joe, you ain’t gon’ bang ’er t’night, but she’ll stay with you.”

&nbs
p; “How do you know?”

  “Look, man, dat girl can hang late, but she’s not a whore and she is real loyal. I mean, dat last nigga she went with for three years and nobody could touch her. She tol’ you da truth about that shit, you’n! Now let me do the talkin’, aw’ight?”

  We walk back out to where my friends and NeNe’s friends are all in proximity in front of the crowded bar.

  “Hey, Butterman,” one of NeNe’s girlfriends says.

  J looks over her well-curved frame, packed inside of a tight-fitting one-piece body dress. “Hey, nasty,” he responds to her.

  She frowns. “What I tell you ’bout callin’ me dat shit, man?”

  J laughs it off and hugs her. “Come on, girl, you know I’m jus’ bullshittin’.”

  “Yeah, aw’ight. Whatever.”

  “Anyway, NeNe wanted to check out my new car, so I’m gon’ take her home t’night after I drop Wes off,” J announces.

  Smooth plan, I’m thinking. But will it work?

  “Oh, yeah, that’s right,” NeNe responds excitedly. “I forgot about’cha car. And it’s about time you gi’me a ride,” she says, bumping J like a little sister would. I’m wondering again how old she is.

  “Yo, Wes, we’ll jus’ get wit’ you tomorrow then, boy,” Marshall says up-tempo. I can tell that he’s happy for me.

  “Yeah, nigga, we’ll get back,” Walt adds.

  I look to Derrick. He nods at me happily.

  “Well, let’s get da hell outta here den,” J says. He bends over and hugs NeNe toward the coat room while signaling to his boys that we are leaving.

  We get our coats and I notice a sharp-eyed, crow-looking brother dressed in all black. He leads our small caravan of five guys and one girl out of the door.

  “Yo, watch where da fuck you goin’, Joe,” he says to a seemingly drunken brother who crosses our path.

  “Oh, my fault, man.”

  “Yeah, jus’ don’t let that shit happen again.”

  “Yo, don’t kill ’em, Shank. Be cool, man,” J says to him.

  Shank, what a perfect name for him.

  We all step outside. J stops and talks to his other two boys. “Yo, Steve and Rudy, here’s twenty dollars. Y’all go ’head and take a cab home. Cool?” he asks them.

  “Yeah, as long as you payin’, it’s cool wit’ me. Shit,” says the one named Steve.