The Legend (3 page)

"
Saturday?   Movie?  Ummm...  I would but..." 

"Nevermind." 
She uttered cutting me off. 

"No, it'
s not like that.  Honestly, I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while now but my problem is... I'm broke."

"What do you mean you're broke?  You work here for free?"
  She sarcastically inquired.

"Of course not.  I get paid but not that much."

"So I'll pay for the movie."

“You can’t
pay for the movie.  That’s my job.”

“Duane, it’s two thousand three not nineteen oh three.  Women can pay for the movie.”

"It's more than that.  I don't even own a car and my apartment building is a dump.  It's embarrassing."
  I conveyed.

"You
r apartment building?  Ahhh... Don't you think you're moving a little too fast?"

"You know what I mean."

"You're going to find a great job soon.  But just because you aren't where you want to be doesn't mean you can't have fun."

"You're right." 
I agreed.

"So I'll pick you up and pay for the movie but you'll pay for dinner." 
Lolani decided.

"All right, cool."

"All right, well you have my number.  Give me a call.  Let’s go out Saturday night." 

"All right, Saturday... It's a... D
ate?" 
I stammered as she strolled out of the dry cleaners.  I couldn't believe it was finally happening.  I've been waiting two years for this.

It's seven o'clock in the evening.  Two hours until our date and I'm eagerly dressed.  I’m purposely wearing my slightly shrunken gray short sleeve button down shirt that reveals much of my biceps.  Although I haven’t been in the gym in two years, I still have some muscle definition lingering around.  I’m also sporting a black pair of slacks and matching leather shoes.  I've been uncomfortably pacing about bent on not getting my dry cleaned outfit wrinkled.  I got a fresh haircut and purchased cologne solely for our date.  I've been longing for this night the second I met her.   I can't help thinking how awkward it's going to be when she arrives and sees the cesspool I live in. 

I'd better carry my passport to verify my age in case I decide to indulge in
an alcoholic beverage.  My ID card was in my wallet that was stolen from me.  After retrieving it from my dresser drawer, thoughts of her flaking out began to transpire. 
"Why would she want to hang out with someone like me?  She's a receptionist that spends eight hours around dentists who make my monthly salary in a day.  She's not going to come."   

After two hours of sulking, my
cellphone suddenly began to vibrate.  It's her.  I was so roused my unsteadied fingers could barely answer it. 
"I'm outside!" 
She blurted. 
"All right." 
I replied struggling to keep my zealousness at bay.  I bolted out of my apartment and locked the door.  I scrambled down the stairs past the half-dressed floozies, inebriated drunks and neighborhood thugs and bustled to her car.

After setting foot in her
tan 1999 Toyota Camry, I couldn't stop myself from staring at her.  There are no words that can describe how stunning she looks.  Her deep brown curly hair was fashionably bolstered with a stylish tangerine colored pin.  Her bronze complexion complimented her light orange eye shadow and lip gloss.  She wore a trendy orange sleeveless blouse and white tights with orange platform shoes.  I couldn't grasp why she wanted to date me.  I was incontestably out of her league. 

"I thought you were going to stand me up for a second."
  I disclosed after complimenting her appearance.

"You think so lowly of yourself." 
She replied.

We decided to escape the downtown area for the night and catch a movie across the river.  The second we made our way over the bridge, the contrast became apparent.  The neighborhood was taintless.  Free from litter and graffiti.  There were no sleazy
red neon vertical signs fixed to the buildings.  Instead, there were historical street lamps posted on every block that had decorative flower pots hanging from them.  They emitted an amber colored light that gave the neighborhood a soft golden hue.  A group of individuals sporting Italian blazers, designer dresses, lavish handbags and ritzy wrist watches mirthfully roamed along the sidewalks searching for a pub to lounge in.  The residents looked jubilant.  It was as if they didn't have any worries in the world. 

We dr
ove through a strip of row houses, built in the 1890s, that was tastefully renovated into storefronts and pubs.  The streets were constructed with cobblestone.  The avenue signs had an early 20th century depiction.  The neighborhood perpetuated its historical ambience. 

Drivers profiling in their convertible Lamborghinis, Aston Martins, Bentleys and Ferraris brought traffic to a crawl. 
It allowed me to get a good glance inside the restaurants.  They were teeming with animated patrons cheering at the baseball game being shown on the many flat screens.   They all appeared to be filled to capacity. 

After the movie, Lolani and I stumbled upon a packed Mandarin restaurant next to the theater.  There was a lengthy wait to be seated but a jocular conversation made time pass quickly.  The chic Asian decor including the oriental lamps and the ancient artwork drew patrons into an Imperial Chinese era.  The ambience along with the savory food and live band made for a joyous time. 

Even after we fulfilled our appetite we continued to sit in the restaurant and acquaint ourselves with one another.  This evening couldn't get any better.  I've had many misfortunes since the day I moved to this city; my insolent neighbors, getting robbed of my pay, unable to find work in my field and unruly customers at the dry cleaners.  But now, I have now found peace with her. 

Eventually the band concluded and expressed their gratitude for listening to their music.  We glanced around the restaurant and noticed most of the patrons have left.  Soon after the host announced the
"Kitchen is now closed for the night." 
Servers came out with white rags and started wiping the dining tables.  Then they flipped the chairs upside-down and rested the seats on top of them.   We decided to head out. 

While walking along the promenade, holding hands and gazing at the ships in the George Washington River, I looked across at the
downtown area.  The dull skies, grimy facades of the buildings and sleazy red neon lights gave the divided southern end a dismal feel.  I wasn't ready to go back.

"I don't want to leave yet.  This has been so fun." 
I expressed to her.

"I know, I'm having so much fun too. 
Let’s go to a nightclub?" 
She suggested.

"Yeah, I'm down for it." 

We found a nightclub in walking distance, with no admission fee, and stood in line.  The upbeat music seeping outside made the partygoers two-step while waiting to enter.  A security guard requested ID.  I discreetly flashed my passport and she handed him her driver's license.  We were then frisked for weapons then allowed in. 

The club was dimly lit. 
Indigo fluorescent lamps gave the establishment a violet hue inside.  The patrons were all well-dressed.  The men sported tieless suits with butterfly collars; but not as ridiculous as the ones during the disco era.  Some of the women wore skinny designer jeans and tops that revealed much of their cleavage.  Others wore fashionable mini-dresses that exposed their backs.  The DJ was spinning mixed tracks on an elevated stage.  The servers looked as if they could be runway models.  They were all slim, lean and muscular.  They wore fitted black silk shirts and matching slacks.  The females’ outfits were tighter.  A colorful array of flickering lights, reflecting off the vapors from a smoke machine, illuminated the dance floor.  It made the dancers appear as if they were an animated cartoon in a flip book. 
"Let's get a drink!" 
She hollered over the deafening music.  I clenched her hand and maneuvered through the vibrant dancers towards the bar. 

The bar was crowded with patrons waiting
to be served.  After jostling my way to the counter, I immediately caught sight of a lofty mirror wall, behind the bartender, holding a vast amount of liquor on its shelves. After gesturing for the bartender, I placed our orders for drinks. 
"I'ma have a Long Island Ice Tea and she'll have a Strawberry Daiquiri!"
  The bartender retrieved several liquor bottles and concocted our drinks by tossing, spinning and flipping the bottles and shakers.  The showboating alone warranted him a valuable tip. 

After we finished our drinks, she grabbed my hand and pulled me to the dance floor.  She disclosed during dinner she developed
delectation to dancing as a child.  We stumbled upon an unoccupied spot.  She stood before me and her hourglass figure began to sway correspondingly with the music.  She caught glimpse of me admiring her body and flirtatiously spun around so I could see the rest of her curves through the white tights. 

After every song our bodies drew nearer.  Soon we were embraced and rocked to the rhythmic blends from the DJ's mixes.  While holding her I slid my hand up her blouse and massaged her
lower back.  She clenched me tighter and gazed up at me.  I leaned towards her and we started kissing.

"This is the first time I have ever slept with a girl on the first date,"
I thought to myself after waking up in her queen size bed.  My head was resting on the fluffiest white pillows I’ve ever felt.  Actually her entire bed was cozy.  Her matching sheets and flocculent comforter were warm and cushiony.  They had a fresh scent of sweet-smelling fabric softener.  It was the best sleep I’ve had since moving to Capitol City.

Our chemistry was strong.  At no time in my life have I ever been so fond about someo
ne.  I rolled over just as she walked into the room with a glass of orange juice in her hand.  She was wearing a white t-shirt that came down to her thighs. 

"I think we got carried away.  I never slept with a guy on the first date."
  She disclosed.

"Yeah, I was just thinking that.  This was my first time too.  I don't have any regrets though." 
I responded.

"Of course you don't, you're a guy."

"No, seriously.  It just felt right.  Our chemistry."

"Yeah, I know.  I don't know what that was about but I felt the same connection." 

Lolani retrieved a fresh toothbrush from her medicine cabinet and handed it to me.  While I was brushing my teeth, she ordered breakfast from a neighboring café that delivered.  It wasn't too long before they knocked on her apartment door. 

I lingered at her place for a few more hours before leaving.  I commuted home on the subway because I wouldn't be content with having her venture into my neighborhood again.  During the entire ride I thought about our night together.  Our date couldn't have been better.  It was flawless.  After exiting the subway station, I headed to my apartment. 

Oddly, the hustlers weren't outside laying money on a dice game.  There were no cups with Vodka on the steps.  The front was actually the cleanest I've seen it since I moved here.  After setting foot inside my building I was surprised there wasn't any deafening music playing.  There were no floozies frolicking about, no alcoholics stumbling in the hallway and the stench of urine and marijuana was barely noticeable.  Could my life have been reformed this drastically overnight?  I paced up the steps to the third floor.  While sifting through my pockets for my keys I noticed my apartment door was ajar.  It was baffling. 
"I thought I locked my door." 
Then I perceived the footprints and dents in it.  It was kicked in.  I reached inside and felt for my light switch.  I was then suddenly taken aback.  My apartment was ransacked.  I’ve been burglarized.

The crime scene technicians sifted through my apartment with a forensic fingerprinting bush and powder.  They stole my thirteen inch box television, laptop and my watches; a combined value of a mere two hundred bucks.  Officers canvassed the building for witnesses however no one was willing to answer the door knocks.  I'm sure my neighbors were present during the break-in but have absconded because they don't want to get involved.

"Duane..." 
Detective Bernhardt uttered while straining to take a seat next to me on my couch.
"Whew!  I heard this address come over on the radio so I came by.  How are you holding up?"

"Not too good." 
I conveyed.

"I know this must be hard.  You're going through a lot."  

The detective then
mustered up much strength to stand up.  He snapped on a pair of latex gloves and probed around.  He returned moments later with a wallet in his hand. 

"Is this yours?"
  Detective Bernhardt inquired.  It was my wallet that was taken from me during the robbery. 

"Yes it is." 

"The only thing in here is your ID." 
He disclosed.  Those hooligans found my place from my ID.  The fare card wasn't enough?  They had to ransack my apartment too?