Dutch

  “Nina!” he called out. She turned around to see who was calling.

  When she saw Dutch, she sucked her teeth, pursed her lips, and kept on walking.

  “It’s like that?” Dutch asked, not believing she could be that rude.

  “Hell, yeah! Just like that, nigga, make me lose my money,” she said over her shoulder.

  “I’m sayin’, I’m trying to give you something, if you’d just stop,” he said, really hoping she would.

  Nina slowed her stroll, then spun around on her stilettoes and folded her arms across her chest, “What?”

  “A girl will listen if she thinks you got something for her?” he asked, hoping her character wasn’t like that at all. “You left this,” he said, holding five hundred-dollar bills.

  She looked at the money in his hand. “And what’s that suppose to be?”

  “Your money. That’s how much you bet, ain’t it?”

  “Yeah, but that ain’t my five hundred dollars, ’cause I lost my five hundred dollars fuckin’ around wit’ you. You made sure I lost.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s why I’m givin’ you this. I sorta lied to you when I said I knew how to play,” Dutch admitted.

  “Noaa, ya think? I woulda never guessed. Good-bye.”

  Nina turned and walked away. She spotted Tamika.

  “Dutch?” Tamika questioned. She was looking at the jackpot, and couldn’t believe it. “Hi, Dutch,” Tamika sang to him.

  Dutch recognized the girl as someone Craze ran through, or maybe it was Zoom he had seen with the broad. He nodded in response, but kept his attention on Nina.

  “Okay, at least let me take you to a late dinner,” Dutch offered.

  “No.”

  “Call it an early breakfast then.”

  “Was it the N or the O, that you didn’t get?” Nina questioned smartly, although her attitude didn’t show it. She liked his determination and the fact that he came clean and was truthful about the spade game. She also liked that he had offered to repay her loss.

  “Well, can I—” Dutch stammered before Nina cut him off.

  “Good night,” she said sternly, looking in his baby browns, honestly wishing she hadn’t said it. Yet she turned and walked away.

  Tamika was beside herself. The girl is crazy! I knew she needed help, but damn! Tamika thought after witnessing her best friend turn down the most desirable and wanted man in town.

  “Girl, do you know who that was? Dutch!”

  “And I’m ’posed to get naked right there and start fuckin’ the nigga or something?”

  “Shit, bitch, if you knew what the fuck I know, you’d be doin’ something,” Tamika said, knowing Nina knew better.

  “Girl, you need counseling,” joked Nina as she unlocked the car door.

  “No, you do. I got a ride. My Puerto Rican friend wants to go to breakfast,” Tamika said, grinning from ear to ear. “So I wrote down his tag number. Give it to the police, if you never hear from me again,” she said seriously as she passed a piece of paper with the stranger’s tag number written on it.

  “Yeah, bitch, counseling,” hollered Nina as she waved good night with the piece of paper in her hand.

  Four days later, it was pouring rain. Nina’s car broke down on her way to work, so she was forced to take a cab home. She hated Newark cabs and disliked the trip all the way home to Elizabeth. But she especially hated taking the bus. Nina stood on her feet all day at the bank dealing with rude, dumb, slow, deaf, and crazy people. After work, she didn’t have the tolerance for a crowded, stuffy, smelly bus ride. If it weren’t for her living expenses, she would have spent every day doing what she enjoyed most: sleeping.

  After eating Chinese food leftovers, she took a relaxing, long, hot bubble bath. Sleeping was exactly what she intended to do. She hit the remote to the stereo system and her speakers filled her small apartment with Nina Simone, whom her mother had named her after.

  The answering machine blinked with messages, but she didn’t want to hear them. There would possibly be a call from a bill collector and probably a call from Tamika bragging about something. A man with jewels and money or something somebody had bought her. Maybe there would be a message from her mother, asking her usual questions. And she especially did not want to hear her ex-boyfriend’s sorry attempts to resume the relationship, which had been over for more than a month and a half.

  All of a sudden, the phone rang, disrupting Nina Simone’s melody and Nina’s train of thought.

  “Go away,” she said to the ringing phone.

  She took another bite of her chicken lo mein and finally answered it.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, is this Nina?” asked an unfamiliar man’s voice.

  “Depends on who wants to know,” she said, truly curious about who it could be.

  The voice laughed smoothly and she connected it to a smile she couldn’t forget…

  Dutch.

  “May I ask how you got this number?”

  “Your friend, Tamika.”

  “And may I ask if I didn’t give it to you, what made you think I wanted you to have it?”

  “Women are funny like that. They say yes when they mean no and say no when they mean yes,” Dutch philosophized.

  “Oh, really? That’s the same bullshit that got Mike Tyson’s ass all fucked up,” she quipped.

  “Exactly, if that broad did say no, she meant yes,” said Dutch, on his man Mike’s side. “So, um, is that Nina Simone I hear playing?”

  “It’s Nina,” she confirmed, before adding, “Listen… Dutch, is it?”

  “Bernard James, but don’t let that out,” he said, smiling to himself, having waited days to hear her voice again.

  “How’d you get a name like Dutch, anyway?” She digressed, out of curiosity, from what she had intended to say.

  “Maybe I’ll tell you tonight over dinner.”

  “Listen, Bernard, you seem like… like a cool cat to get to know. You know, you are real handsome and to be honest, I dig your style, but it’s just… that… I don’t know. I just got out of this corny relationship and well… it’s the timing,” she fought for the words, trying to be polite and not state the real reason.

  “Okay, then, I’ll call you tomorrow and you just think about what you want to say,” said Dutch, needing to dial her phone tomorrow.

  “No, really, I’m serious, Dutch,” she said, wishing she didn’t have to be.

  “So is this good-bye?” Dutch questioned.

  “I guess it is,” she said, hanging up the phone.

  For the next few days, Dutch crossed her mind a million times. She liked him, his style, his look, his class, but like Dutch, she too had rules, which also, like Dutch, she never broke. She didn’t deal with hustlers. It wasn’t a question of being a saint or a sinner, but she did have her reasons.

  Four years before, when her family lived in Pioneer Homes housing projects in Elizabeth, her younger brother had been killed. He was only sixteen, two years younger than her at the time. He had been hustling for Bilal Petelow. Bilal had Elizabeth on lock, when it came to the coke game.

  She had been dating Lover J, one of Bilal’s main men. She and Lover J were in the parking lot arguing about a girl she heard he was creeping with when she heard a series of gunshots. The shots seemed to last forever, but in reality ended after a few seconds. Lover J was about to pull out of the lot when Nina heard her mother’s screams.

  She jumped out of the car, ran into the courtyard, and saw her mother cradling her dead brother. Her mother’s nightgown was drenched in his blood. The sight of her dead brother brought the reality of the game too close to home that night, and she swore she would distance herself. She didn’t want to change the world or become a social worker. She just wanted to learn from her brother’s mistake, respect his memory, and get on with her life.

  But thoughts of Dutch were now making that difficult to do.

  Two days later, Dutch was standing in her line at the bank, carrying a large burlap s
ack.

  “Hello.” He smiled to her.

  “Hi,” she said, standing on her tippy toes and peering over the counter.

  “What’s in the b—” she began to ask before he cut her off.

  “Never mind that. Have I sent you flowers?”

  “No,” she said, confused.

  “What about diamonds to your doorstep?”

  “No, but,” she said with her usual disposition, attempting to shut him down.

  “Will you let me finish? I been practicin’ this shit all day,” he said, as a blushing Nina smiled and let him continue.

  “Thank you. Now, being that I coulda’ easily did those things and more, why do you think I haven’t?”

  She just looked at him, not answering.

  “Because! Some things are priceless, because no one will pay for them, while others are priceless, because no one can pay for them,” he said, smiling like he knew something no one else did.

  “And?” she asked, questioning relevancy.

  “And all I’m asking is a chance to sit down with you. No barriers, no phones, no cards, and either you let me convince you of my sincerity or let me get you out my system,” he said. He had been unable to eat or sleep over Nina.

  “And if I refuse?”

  “Then that’s what the bag is for. This gots to be at least two thousand dollars in pennies and I will be needing ’em wrapped and counted.”

  “Oh, an ultimatum? Well, did you consider before you drug that bag in here that you need an account with us for that service?”

  “I just opened one.”

  She smiled back before answering. “If I do sit down with you, it will be on my terms.”

  “Okay,” answered Dutch. His heart lightened and he could breathe again.

  “My time, my date, my choice, my way.”

  “I personally wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  She stood back and appraised the ebony prince before her. Who are you and why do I care to know?

  It was true, Dutch had Nina at hello. She just didn’t know it yet.

  “How you?” Dutch asked as he leaned on her door frame four days later. He brought with him a fistful of flowers and his trademark smile.

  “I’m fine,” she said, letting him in.

  She didn’t want to go out with a hustler only to meet the same fate her brother did, by association. Instead, she invited him over for dinner. She prepared a simple chicken and vegetable casserole. It was nothing fancy, but delicious. The evening was friendly, without too much familiarity, though they flirted with each other.

  “Look at your smile. You can’t tell me the ladies don’t melt right out their panties.”

  “Melt?” he said, questioning her choice of words, even though he knew she wasn’t wrong.

  If rhythm could be judged like an Olympic event, Dutch would score a ten, a true dime. He was totally different from all the men she had ever dated. They tried to buy her affections and to pressure her into giving them away. Dutch continued to surprise her. Not only was he wealthy, he was articulate and intelligent, exuding confidence (which she loved), and was so, so fine. “Quenching, like a tall glass of water on a hot sunny day,” her grandmother used to say.

  She found herself over the next few weeks slipping into a too-comfortable comfort zone, something she hadn’t planned to do, something she couldn’t help but do. She was drawn to Dutch from the moment he asked her could he play her card game. It was as if he had cast a spell on her. Nina didn’t want to let go. The more time she spent with him, the more she wanted to see him, to touch him, to be next to him.

  Between his business trips to France, running the streets, taking care of all his businesses, and everything else, Dutch spent all his spare time getting to know Nina. He had gathered a lot about her over several months, knowing where she worked and lived and traveled in her daily routine. He remembered everything she said as if his memory was a recorder. He listened to her when she talked about problems and offered her strong, sound advice, usually street advice, pumping her up to meet whatever challenge she faced. He believed in her more than she believed in herself, and that was the only weakness in her that he had found.

  He sent her flowers and imported sweet chocolate; he always brought a bottle of wine when he went to her and often asked if she needed anything. He was always ready to shower her with whatever she wanted or needed. Her response, however, was always a stern, flat “No” or “I’m fine.”

  Dutch loved her independence. And he was glad she had her bank job. However, Nina used it against him and would not give in. The average broad, dead brother or not, would be rolling with him and he knew it. He still hadn’t had sex with her after four months. And while he wasn’t pressed, he wanted to say that they were more than friends.

  Dutch knew what he wanted. He wanted Nina to be his wife. He wanted to wake up looking at her face every morning and go to sleep with her by his side. He had never believed he could feel so strongly about a person. His actions expressed only love for her, and she had to feel it, she had to know.

  Dinner at her place came around again and Dutch finally had his chance to make a move on Nina. They were sitting on the couch, laughing at something she said. She slapped his leg and he gently placed his hand on top of hers. Holding her hand, he looked in her eyes. He reached for the back of her head and slowly kissed her lips, exploring everything there was to explore as she gently sucked his tongue. He felt his dick harden as he swirled his tongue in and out of her mouth. Moving his body toward her, his hands slowly slid from the nape of her neck down her back to her ass. He palmed her butt and thighs and sucked the skin of her neck. As he pushed her back against the cushions he pulled at her bra and reached between her legs.

  “Stop, Dutch. No,” she said, pushing him away and standing up to adjust her clothes and ponytail.

  “Wha?” Dutch couldn’t believe it.

  “I… I can’t. I’m just… I can’t.”

  “Listen, I respect everything about you, ma. If you don’t want to, I understand. I’ll wait my life for you. You hear me?” Dutch pleaded for her to understand.

  He knew other men made false promises of “I love you” to get into a woman’s panties, but it wasn’t his reality to say anything to get what he wanted.

  “Why are you here? What do you want from me?” Nina asked, looking confused and unsure.

  “I don’t know. Why are you here?” he asked back, looking at her seriously.

  “I live here.”

  “Well, I was invited over.”

  “Maybe you just refuse to leave me alone because your male ego can’t handle the fact that there’s something in this world that you can’t have.”

  Dutch looked at her and didn’t say anything. But his eyes told her that she was wrong.

  “Come on, Dutch, admit it. How many women have you gone after that you didn’t get? And you know they say we always want what we can’t have.”

  “Nina, let me let you in on something. Correction number one, you are the first woman I’ve ever gone after in my life, and that’s word to my moms, B. And correction number two, I don’t want you. I’m trying to figure out what is so special about you that’s worth me wanting in the first place. Shit, that’s what I’m startin’ to think.”

  “Well, excuse me.”

  “And, if I did want you, why would you be what I can’t have? Why?”

  He asked the one question that was at the core of their relationship

  “Because I’m not a possession,” Nina said.

  “Then what are you? Possessive?” asked Dutch, hitting the nail on the head and seeing it in Nina’s response as they both laughed.

  “You know, they say possessive people are insecure!” he said, hitting another nail on the head.

  “Let’s take a walk. I want to show you something,” she said, truly at a loss for words.

  Her apartment wasn’t far from where she had grown up in Pioneer Homes. They walked to the projects’ outer courtyard, where she
pointed to a wall.

  It was dark but Dutch could see a mural on it. He made out the name “Trick” in big, bold, capital letters. And he could see the image of a young black boy’s face with the initials RIP underneath.

  “That was my brother. He was killed four years ago right in front of our apartment.”

  “Drugs?” he asked as he looked at the wall again and understood her pain.

  “I didn’t want you to think what I’m feelin’ is you or got anything to do with you. I had fun with you these past few months. I actually have the best times when I’m with you. I like you, Dutch… I really do. I don’t want you to think I’m not feeling your person. You are so smooth and so handsome. It’s just that, he was my blood,” she said as a tear dropped down the side of her face. It was a little tear for both her brother and for Dutch, whom she had to let go.

  “You think I’ll end up like him, that you’ll lose me, too?” asked Dutch.

  “No, not that,” she said, looking in his eyes as if it were much worse. “No, people die in traffic accidents on their way to church. So, it’s not the loss, it’s the respect. The respect I have for my brother’s life, for his memory. I can’t see myself living off what he died for. I can’t be a part of it.”

  “So, if your brother died in a car accident, would that mean you would never ride in a car again?” he asked as she looked away.

  There wasn’t much for Dutch to say. His heart was shattered by her words and crushed by her silence. He respected her values, her conviction, and her loyalty to her brother. She had made it clear that she had her world and he had his, and there would be no mixing of the two. Like Dutch, she too had rules, and while she strained, she never bent.

  “Nina, you ever heard the saying, when you love something, set it free? If it is meant to be, it’ll come back to you?”

  She shook her head yes as she looked into his eyes.

  “Then I’ll say no more and I’ll leave you alone.”

  They were exactly the same in opposite ways, which made their situation bittersweet. Nina didn’t say anything. She just looked at Dutch with sad tears in her eyes for her brother. But she wouldn’t bend, not even for Dutch.