The Cotton Club off North Howard Avenue appealed to the black clientele of Tampa. It was a hot spot for thirty-and forty-somethings, eager to crack a move on the dance floor. On Friday nights, the DJ took them back to Luther Vandross, Marvin Gaye, Otis Redding, and Al Green, deftly switching from old school to hip-hop to dancehall. The floor was elbow-to-elbow – in harmony with the music that vibrated through every bone in their bodies. Although the atmosphere was relaxed, it was not a place for jeans and T-shirts. The advertisements made certain its patrons came well attired. Most considered it a nice crowd. No fights. No disrespecting. No disturbances.
Phillip Benjamin parked his blue Impala and then jumped out with his female friend, Dee, his secret dancing partner. From head to toe, he was attired in solid black. His favorite black silk shirt, neatly tucked into his favorite black-striped slacks, black shoes, black everything – a clean-cut fellow who even allowed his barber to arch his eyebrows as part of his grooming regime. He smelled like a fragrance store. Cars – every make and model lined the streets – paled in comparison to the people Phillip saw lined up at the door. Montel Jordan’s “This is how we do it,” whipped the atmosphere into a night of anticipation.
Tonight was all about him and that dance floor. He was so good that he’d always left people cheering for more. He’d planned on opening his own studio in Ybor City a few years back, but his wife firmly rejected the idea, calling his moves vulgar and unholy and that it was not fitting for a new convert in Christ. Every time he brought up the idea, they fought about it. Her words were killing his passion and for him, dancing was who he was, not some business guru struggling to maintain funding for his inventions. So yeah, he sneaked around and searched for the best dance floors; to keep his moves polished, just until he found a way to get the studio up and rolling.
Squeezing Dee’s hand, Phillip tried to block out the voices in his head that accompanied him each time he came to the Cotton Club. As a budding deacon of Mount Moriah and husband to the Bishop’s daughter, he knew he didn’t belong there. Yet, it was all he wanted to do. Being married did not stop his life of partying, as some people said it would. And the way things were going between him and Tayah, he welcomed the freedom of being out of the house – away from her nitpicking mouth.
“What’s wrong? You look nervous or somethin’,” Dee said.
“Nah, I’m cool. Just taking in the scene.” It was a line he always told Dee whenever she questioned his reticence. Her name was really Deanna, but everyone called her Dee. “Tonight feels different.”
“How? It’s the same old crowd,” she said. Her smile became mischievous all of a sudden. “Maybe it’s conviction, deacon boy.”
“Ha ha ha, very funny. I’ve come to terms with that crap.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes. I only go to church to keep Tayah’s mouth shut.”
“For how long?”
“For however long it lasts.”
Dee rolled her eyes. “That girl is stupid to be putting up with your nonsense.”
Phillip nudged her playfully. “Hey, watch your mouth. Tayah is not stupid.”
“I call it like I see it,” Dee smirked. “That poor girl doesn’t know what she’s gotten herself into.”
When they stepped into the building, they were immediately swallowed up by the music. They found a table near the dance floor and then ordered the same cocktail they ordered every week – Chocolate Soldiers. The first half hour had been dedicated to the King of Pop. The entertainer of all times, the DJ announced, the revolutionist, the late Michael Jackson. The screams from the crowd told Phillip that they were ecstatic about the DJ’s choice. Phillip smiled as he remembered winning several talent shows as a little boy while cutting steps to Michael Jackson’s, ‘Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough’, ‘Billie Jean’, and his all-time favorite, ‘Thriller’.
“The floor is really crazy tonight,” Phillip observed, tapping his feet to the funky acoustics.
“Yeah – this is my first drink, but I’m feeling a buzz already.” Dee pushed the drink aside and then raised her hands in the air. “Boy, I don’t know ‘bout you, but I’m ‘bout to hit the floor in these heels.”
Dee may have been petite in body but was huge in personality. Two years ago, she’d met Phillip while cutting steps at The Castle, another dance club over on 16th Street. She was so impressed with his dance moves that she followed him out of the club that night and challenged him to compete against her in the parking lot. He readily complied, and they’d been dancing partners ever since.
“I hear you, girl. I’m ready, if you’re ready.”
With her hands still moving around in the air, she smiled devilishly. “What a pity you have to sneak around to enjoy the thing you love most,” she said. “I hear the music is good at Mount Moriah.”
“It is, but it’s not the same.”
“Philly, my friend, I will never understand why you married into that family. You know you’re no church boy.”
Phillip laughed. “I told you I wasn’t. But there are other benefits to being part of that family.”
“It’s crazy – the things you do for money.”
“Who said it had anything to do with money?” Phillip took one last sip of his cocktail and then pulled his partner onto the dance floor with him.
By the time Phillip got home, it was close to two in the morning. He took off his shoes and tiptoed across the wooden floor, praying Tayah wasn’t in the vicinity. He wasn’t in an explaining mood. His wife loved the way words felt coming out of her mouth. Most times, it seemed to be running on autopilot. She never knew when to shut it up. He had to smile though, when he thought about how much fun he and Dee had at the Cotton Club. Three hours of endless enjoyment. He never had that much fun in church. The musicians at Mount Moriah were tight – well respected to say the least, but it was simply not his flavor. Dee was right. It was a pity he had to sneak around to enjoy what he loved most. He removed his wet clothes and left them in a heap on the washroom floor.
He showered and then crawled into the bed next to his wife. And as part of his daily obligation, he coldly placed an arm around her, hoping she would let him sleep off his tired behind. But when she politely removed his arm and tossed it behind her as if it were a piece of trash, he knew he was in for a two-hour-long drama.
“Hi baby, I thought you were asleep.”
“Where have you been all this time?” She kept her back turned toward him.
“Come on, baby, don’t make a fuss about nothing.” He faked a huge yawn. “Busy night at the office.”
“You must think I’m the village idiot, Phillip.” She got up and then clicked on the lamp. “What could you possibly be working on at this hour in the morning? You don’t work for anyone but yourself. Not even a phone call to say that you’re running late–”
“I did call…”
“Lies, Phillip, lies!” She stood up, moving away from him. “I was pacing the floor, worried sick out of my mind. You could have dropped off the bridge and I would be the last to know. Last week was the same thing, the week before that was something else. Man up and tell me what the heck is going on. I don’t care if you’re cheating on me. At least I’d know what I’m up against!”
“Wow,” Phillip commented. “That’s a mouthful. Where do you want me to start? I mean, we’ve had this conversation before–”
“Really? You always steer the conversation somewhere else–”
“It’s not always.”
“Yes, it is ALWAYS! I seriously believe you take this marriage for a joke.”
Phillip sighed and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. He knew his wife was just getting started. “What does that suppose to mean?”
“Don’t play crazy. You know what I mean! You go when you wanna go and come when you wanna come.”
“What do you want from me, Tayah? You’re impossible to please!”
“This is not about you, Phillip.” Tayah’s voice cracked, but she fought to hold back the tears. “This is
about me and how I’ve been feeling in this relationship. Why did you marry me if you don’t know how to treat a wife?”
“Don’t give me that why you married me crap. From the day we got together, I was always upfront with you.” It wasn’t entirely true, but it was close enough, he thought. “You knew my intentions.”
“Then prove it to me, Phillip. Where were you tonight?”
Dancing my stress away at the Cotton Club. “Why do I have to prove anything to you? My words are my words.” He stared her in the eyes. “If you can’t believe me, then you’re the one who has a problem. Not me.”
“Somehow you always manage to make me out to be the weak one. Nothing is ever wrong with you…”
“You’re twisting my words.”
“What if it was me coming home at two in the morning? Honestly, how would you react?”
“If you told me you had to work late; or that you had caught a flat or something, I would believe you.”
“Seriously? That wouldn’t concern you?”
“No, because I trust you completely.”
“But trust is not really the issue here, Phillip. I asked if you would be concerned?”
“You’re confusing me. I wouldn’t be paranoid, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“You must not love me, then? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“I did not say that, Tayah. Why are you trying to put words in my mouth?”
Tayah finally allowed her eyes to pool with tears. “Does this have anything to do with us wanting to have a baby? Is this the reason why you’re treating me like this?”
A blast of air shot through Phillip’s nose, revealing his displeasure. “Why did you bring that up?”
“Because I’m trying to understand why you’re distancing yourself from me.”
He didn’t respond.
“Honey…”
“Yes, Tayah…”
“Look at me please.”
“Why?” he asked.
“I need to see your eyes when I ask you this question.”
“I don’t know what you expect to see…”
“Just look at me, please.”
“Yes, my dear, Tayah.” Phillip couldn’t help but notice how beautiful his wife looked with her thick, mane draped across her shoulders.
“Do you love me?” she asked
“Yes, of course I do.”
“Then, tell me the truth. Do you hold me responsible for not being able to give you a baby?”
“You ask all of the hard questions, don’t you?”
“Then, it’s true. It shouldn’t have been a hard question for you to answer.”
“Why do you take my words and apply your own meaning to them?”
“What do you want me to think, Phillip? You practically told me all I needed to hear.”
“Well, you keep thinking and hearing the way you do, and you will end up a confused and a lonely old woman, with no one to blame but yourself.”
The terseness of her husband’s words kept Tayah’s tears flowing. “You just don’t know when to stop. You’re a monster.”
“My God, woman, you’re gonna make me crazy. What is wrong with you this morning? Let me sleep, for Christ’s sake!”
He turned away from her and buried his face in a pillow. When he did not console her as she’d expected, she grabbed a blanket and marched across the hall, into their spare bedroom. There, she cried her eyes out. She awoke several hours later only to discover her husband had already left, which was quickly becoming his new MO.
Chapter Thirteen