Birth of a Dark Nation (8 page)

It was contagious.

"Hi," he said.

"Hey," I replied. I gave him a quick
once-over. As usual, he was wearing a white sleeveless t-shirt,
this time with red board shorts and black sandals. His feet were
impeccable, as though he'd never walked a day without moisturizing
them.

"You look good today," he said, checking out
my khaki shorts and orange Syracuse shirt.

"Thanks," I replied. "So do you."

"Why don't you come in out the heat and come
get some of this good air?"

I stepped inside and was greeted by the icy
air inside the house. He closed the door behind me and grabbed me
from behind. He kissed my neck, slowly opening his mouth and
letting his tongue slide across my skin as he tasted me.

"Shit," I exhaled.

"I missed you," he whispered.

I turned around and kissed him on the mouth,
awkwardly pressing my nose against his.

"We've seen each other like every day, fool.
Now come on, let's see what this block party is all about."

We stepped back outside and the heat hit us
like a wave of maple syrup. Sweat was just something I'd have to
get used to if I wanted to enjoy the block party. Dante and I
walked close to one another, but without daring to show any
affection in public. Although times had changed immensely in the
years I had lived in DC, it was still never a good idea for men to
show affection to one another in neighborhoods like this one. No,
things were still far too conservative, because of the corner boys
and the hair stylists, and the old ladies and old men belonging to
the Masonic orders.

We walked past the Afro-centric bookstore and
paused to rummage through their offerings.

"Lots of good stuff here," I mused.

"Yeah, it is," Dante said. "I've read most of
them."

"Really?" I asked.

Dante looked at me with an eyebrow
raised.

"You surprised I read?" he asked.

"I mean…kinda."

He smirked and scanned the table, picking up
a copy of Gloria Naylor's
The Women of Brewster Place
.

"Ask me about 'beige bras and oatmeal,'" he
demanded. I was silent.

"How about
Roots
?" he asked, picking
up Alex Haley's tome. "Whatchu know about Chicken George and
Matilda? Hmm?"

"I mean, those are movies."

"Oh, a smart nigga," Dante mocked. "How about
Clare and Irene in
Passing
? Passing for white or passing for
heterosexual? Or
Sula
? Whatchu know about the Bottom?
Something more contemporary… How about Paul Beatty,
The White
Boy Shuffle
?"

"Yo…" I said. "I didn't mean to offend
you."

Dante paused, then smiled.

"I'm just fuckin witchu," he laughed. "But
yeah. I like to read. A lot."

I smiled back at him. We moved throughout the
block and watched as the kids and some grown-ups enjoyed the
makeshift games the business owners had set up.

The barbershop had a dartboard set up just
outside its doors.

"Wanna play?" Dante asked.

"Oh, I'm no good at darts," I said.

"Come on," he said. "Ayo, how many darts I
get for five dollars?" he asked the barber who manned the
table.

"Three," he said flatly.

"And what's the prize?" Dante asked.

"I dunno man, I just give you a voucher for
the prize table down there."

"Aight. Lemme hold three darts then," Dante
said as he passed me man a crumpled five-dollar bill from his
pocket. The barber passed him his three darts and stood back.

"Watch this," Dante said to me. I nodded and
stood back.

With silent precision, Dante cocked his arm
back behind his head and released the dart with a slight throw and
a flick of the wrist.

Bull's eye.

Again he cocked his arm back in the same
stance and repeated the throw.

Bull's eye again, with this dart landing
right next to the first.

He aimed for the third time and shot the
dart. This one landed on the dartboard with such force that it
knocked down the other two.

"Shit," the barber said.

"Damn," I said.

"Thank you," Dante said. "I'll be taking that
voucher now."

"You got it, buddy," the barber said. He gave
Dante a gold sheet of paper and wrote some information on it.

"Give this to the lady at the gift table. You
can pick from the first prizes."

"Thank you, man," Dante said. We walked
away.

"Yo… How the hell did you learn to throw
darts like that?" I asked.

"Years of practice, my nigga."

A DJ set up in the parking lot of the Dollar
General was playing old soul music from the 70s. Dante's head
immediately started bouncing.

"You like this?" I asked.

"Hell yeah," he said. "It reminds me of the
music I used to listen to."

"You listened to old school music growing
up?"

Dante paused, blinked slowly, and then spoke
again.

"Yeah, man! My parents used to play this all
the time."

"I see." In terms of his personality, he was
definitely an odd mixture of a lot of things, but I couldn't put my
finger on what, exactly.

"What kinda music you like?" he asked me.

"A little bit of everything, but mostly
hip-hop. If it has a beat, I fuck with it."

"Word."

We passed the Dollar General parking lot and
went to the prize table. All they had was kid's toys and Dollar
General gift cards, so Dante picked the latter and immediately
handed it to me.

"Naw man, that's yours!" I said.

"I know. But I'm giving it to you. You know
how they used to do back in the day. Man wins his woman a teddy
bear at the state fair. Well, you ain't a woman and this a block
party, but I want you to have it anyway. I know you be likin' them
Sprite Zeroes and shit."

I laughed and took the gift card.

"Thanks, man," I said. Just then, the DJ
began to play "Boogie Shoes" and Dante's entire demeanor
changed.

"Oh shit!" he exclaimed.

"What?" I asked, stuffing the gift card in my
pocket.

"That's my jam! Come on!" He grabbed my arm
and we hurried to the makeshift dance floor on the parking lot. We
joined a dozen women and kids who had already begun a line
dance.

It was easy to keep up. Right leg out, tap
tap, left leg out, tap tap, cha-cha, turn, back, back, back… The
fun of it all made us forget just how hot it was outside.

We spent the rest of the daylight hours
playing more games—sometimes with some of the neighborhood kids—and
eating some of the awesome food the street vendors had. Some of the
best, ice-cold watermelon I'd ever had was at the block party that
day.

"You staying for the fireworks?" he asked me,
as we moseyed back down to his house.

"I can," I said.

"Do you want to?" he asked.

"I do."

"Good." He looked at me out of the corner of
his eye and smiled.

"The sun's setting soon. The fireworks will
be going up after that."

"Where can we see them?" I asked, as we
entered the house. The air was still icy and a chill went through
my body.

"The roof," he said. I nodded.

"You want some water?" he asked.

"Yes. Please." He went to the fridge and
produced two bottles. We both gulped them down. I closed my eyes
for a few minutes and relaxed.

"Come on upstairs," he said. I followed him
up to the second floor of the house, then through another door to
the attic. He easily opened the window and we stepped out onto the
slightly inclined roof. We could see down either side of the
block.

"You ain't afraid of heights, is you?" Dante
asked me.

"Nope, I'm good," I replied. "Which way are
the fireworks gonna be?"

"That way," he said pointing directly in
front of us, toward the park a few blocks away.

"I'll be right back," he said. As soon as he
climbed back in the window, I heard him zoom down the stairs. Less
than a minute later, he was back with a blanket and a cooler.

"Sit on this," he instructed. I unrolled the
blanket and put it down on the roof. We both sat down
comfortably.

"What's in the cooler?" I asked.

"Beer," he said. "If you want some."

"Sounds good to me," I said. He opened the
cooler and popped the top of the cold Corona bottle before he
handed it to me. I thanked him.

As I sipped the beer, I looked up at the sky.
For the first time in years, I actually noticed the stars.

"I like to see you looking up," Dante
said.

"Literally and figuratively," I quipped.

"Yeah. You got a pep in your step like
shit."

I laughed. "Your DC slang be killin' me
softly," I said.

"What slang? 'Like shit?'"

"Among other things. You sound like you ain't
never stepped one foot out the Beltway."

"You'd be surprised where I been," he winked.
The first fireworks began to light the sky and fill the air with
rapturous booms.

I had lived in DC for several years. I'd done
the fireworks on the National Mall, and even though it was
entertaining, I began to greatly prefer the idea of all of the
neighborhood fireworks celebrations around the city. There was less
congestion than down on the Mall and they created a safe
environment for small communities.

The night finally began to cool down some. It
wasn't too warm to lean my head on Dante's shoulder as more and
more lights filled the sky, or for him to put his arm around me
while the smell of sulfur filled the air.

The sky was magical. This fireworks display
inspired oohs and ahs from the children and families down below,
still at the block party, and from the roof, between two unlikely
lovers.

Dante turned to me, my head still on his
shoulder, and kissed me on my forehead.

"Isn't this sweet?"

The voice was sarcastic, crisp, and
clear.

It wasn't Dante's.

Startled, I turned around to see another man
sitting on the roof behind us.

"Who the hell are you?!" I stood up and
positioned myself in front of Dante in a defensive stance.

The handsome, sandpaper colored man with long
dreadlocks slightly tilted his head to the side, as if he were
amused.

"My name is Victor Pearl," he said calmly but
forcefully. He stood up and approached us.

"He my cousin," Dante said stepping from
behind me. Shocked, I looked on as Dante embraced the tall and lean
Victor, who was at least six inches taller than him.

"Vic, this Justin," he said, introducing me
to his cousin. Still suspicious, I extended my hand to Victor. He
took it into an extraordinarily tight grip. I winced.

"It's nice to meet you," Victor said.

"Aye, I'm sorry I ain't mention him before,"
Dante said. His entire demeanor changed in Victor's presence. His
confidence seemed to melt away and he had a problem looking either
of us in the face.

"He… We both own the house, sorta." Dante
said.

"Our uncle left it to all of the cousins,"
Victor explained. "Dante is the primary caretaker."

"You're not from around here," I said.

"I'm from around everywhere," Victor said. I
knew already that Victor could never be mistaken for charming. He
had an arrogant air about him, the same type of aloof personality
as many of the black men I went to college with-the same sort of
guys I preferred avoiding at reunions.

"Enjoy the fireworks, gentlemen. I'm going to
go unpack my things. And Dante, my instruments are coming in the
morning. I hope the basement is as I left it?"

Dante nodded.

"Good. See you in the morning." Victor
climbed back through the open window and disappeared.

"The fuck is that all about?" I asked
angrily.

"Nothin. He my cousin. He lives here too.
Sometimes."

"We been talking how long and I'm only just
now learning about a cousin?"

"I'm sorry. He be coming through randomly.
It's just how he is."

Annoyed, I sat back down on the roof and
continued watching the fireworks in silence. Dante sat down next to
me.

"Aye, don't be mad. He family. He cool."

I looked at Dante out of the corner of my
eye.

"Mmm-hmm," I affirmed.

He sighed and looked back up at the sky.

"He's okay once you get to know him," Dante
said.

"I'm not mad because he's rude. I'm just
annoyed that this is how I had to find out about him."

"I'm sorry," he said. "Really."

He grabbed my hand, lightly squeezed it, and
then kissed it on the inside. He then closed my palm and placed my
hand back in my lap.

"You can have that when you stop being mad at
me," he said matter-of-factly.

I looked at him and laughed. But I certainly
didn't un-ball my fist for a little while longer, just in case that
kiss were to float away.

I heard the heavy footsteps of my coworker as
he bounded up the stairs to my attic office.

"Hey champ," Steve said.

"What's up?"

"Boss man called a meeting in the conference
room." "What's that idiot want now?"

"He didn't say, but he looked jive sad or
something."

"Well, things can't get much worse than they
are right now."

"I guess," Steve said. We walked down the
flights of steps and were the last people to enter the conference
room. We took our seats in the corner as our boss began, his greasy
face sullen and his voice nearly cracking. He glanced around the
table from the irritable faces that Steve and I stopped hiding
months ago, to Lana's indifferent gaze, to Teresa's perpetual
cross-eyed look of pure senile craziness. Rounding out the bunch
was the housing manager Tab, the life coaches Tony and Geoff, and
the finance consultant LaJwanne.

Ernie sighed and began.

"Team, as you know, we've had a really hard
time the past few months. We've been getting dinged left and right
with our housing grants from the government and just when it seems
like we've got things under control, they ding us on something
else. Well, I got some really bad news today."