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fiction: serial fiction
the crown, book one: chapter 1
The sound of breakbeats made the carpeted walls resonate, and Tonya Fitzgerald sat near the back of the curved bar, eyes closed, purse carefully tucked under her hands, swaying and smiling. She loved the sound of the drums, moving the song along as surely as a river kept a boat sliding along its channel. She risked a glance at her right wrist, and her numberless watch held its hands just past one thirty in the morning. "Looks like it'll be another late night," she sighed to herself, cursing another sunrise she'd probably miss.
She glanced over towards the door, and saw he was still watching. She'd seen him stumble when he saw her earlier, and immediately regretted another refusal she'd have to pull from her quiver. There was certainly nothing wrong with him -- a tall, butterscotch man in a white cable-knit turtleneck, nursing a Heineken and keeping up the wall. Tonya had to be extremely careful about who basked in the light of her affection, had to keep her love locked up on a shelf. She found herself in this Adams Boulevard nightclub with the intention of hearing one of her favorite groups, Medusa and Feline Science, not romantic jousting with some heart-seeking missile.
Maybe he'd finally swallowed enough courage to make his approach, maybe he needed time to think of something. In any case, Tonya saw the decision flash across his face like the strobes that danced around the dim club, he switched his weight, and started towards her corner of the bar. Ending up in front of her, he finished his beer, set the bottle down on the napkin-littered bar, and gestured for another. As he dug out his wallet, he glanced at Tonya and smiled, saying, "Hey, girl, how you doin'?"
He eyes me for fifteen minutes, Tonya thinks to herself, and this is what he starts with? Let's get this over with.
"I'm fine," Tonya said demurely, waiting to see if he'd go for the cliche response.
"You sho' is," he offered predictably, his gaze hungry like a leopard. "I'm Jamar, good to meet you."
Tonya groaned behind her eyes and shyly held out her hand, keeping her body language close and unreceptive.
"How you like the show so far?" Jamar asked, leaning into a pose against the bar, one Timberland boot resting on its toe.
"The sound was wack for Mystik Journeymen," she said smoothly, predicting how many moves this would go until she declared checkmate, "and I'm really here to see Medusa."
"Oh, word?" he asked, leaning in a bit to be heard over the DJ, as well as try and insinuate himself into her personal space. "Medusa's tight, I like that 'Silence' song she got. Sound like you know little somethin' 'bout some hip hop, huh?"
Tonya nodded, deciding that she'd take the funny tactic instead of the gentle one, because she could see Medusa's DJ Cut Chemist on stage now, setting up. "Well, I been following Medusa on this tour for six shows now, I guess I better."
The first glimmers of worry shone in Jamar's eyes, but he was either committed to his course of action or buzzed, so he charged ahead. "I like a girl who knows some hip hop, that's tight. So, you just in town to see the show, or what else you doin' for fun?"
Tonya combed her memory for the right discarded detail, hoping it would close this conversation down before she had to get more brusque. "No, I live here -- I was kickin' it over at Different Light Bookstore in West Hollywood a few hours ago, getting a copy of Cavedweller for my girlfriend." Tonya wondered if that was enough to send up a red flag in his mind.
Jamar looked puzzled for a moment, his eyebrows knitted underneath his crown of dreadlocks, but didn't let it deter him. "That's a new one on me," he said slowly, "who's that by?"
"Dorothy Allison," Tonya returned, now holding the overheard memory firmly in place. "There's so few lesbian writers out there on a national scene, and she's probably my favorite."
Jamar was very good, covering the flinch when she mentioned the word "lesbian," but she read the change in his body language. He leaned back a bit and began to withdraw, sipping from his beer, and Tonya saw that her gambit was working as planned.
"That's cool," he said, and then reached for his waist. "Aw, uh, damn, that's my pager." He pulled the clearly quiescent two-way from its sheath and stared at it meaningfully. "Heh, my people are stuck outside, they need me to come hook them up. It was cool talkin' to you ..." Jamar paused, realizing he'd never gotten a name, but shook his head, unbothered by it. "Take it easy."
With the pager in hand, still silent as he poked at it, Jamar disappeared into the crush of people just as Cut Chemist started scratching. Tonya smiled, happy to have avoided really rejecting him with only a few stray tidbits laying around her memory. As Medusa stepped on stage, Tonya sat up and smiled, ready to hear songs she had in the car, and sing along to every word.
* * *
Medusa left the stage under a cloud of applause and hollering, Tonya's mixed in with the capacity Fais Do Do crowd. Spent and hoarse, Tonya found her bar stool unoccupied and returned to it, ordering a bottle of mineral water and leaving two singles on the bar in front of her for the bartender.
"That was really nice of you earlier," a voice said from her left. She turned to see a six-foot, dark skinned Black man, clad in khakis and a matching vest, with an Xzibit t-shirt glaring out from beneath. Mentally, she started reaching for her quiver again when she saw his face, and audibly gasped. Her mind said, Sanu, knowing it couldn't be, as Sanu had surely crumbled to dust in his grave years ago.
"Excuse me?" she replied after a moment, her footing unsure.
"The way you deflected that guy, Jamar?" the man continued nonchalantly. "That was tight. See, Different Light has been closed for two weeks for renovations, my editor was bitching about it all day when I turned in my voucher, since he's jonesin' for his special order."
Tonya sat back and smiled. "You were sittin' nearby ..." she began.
"... and I heard the whole thing," he finished. "Normally, sister wanna brush a cat off so she can watch the show, she's gotta get all indignant. You were hella smooth, though. The bookstore, the bit about following Medusa around, with her 'open sexuality' and all. Real layered, real believable. On behalf of brothers everywhere, I gotta thank you for using such a gentle touch."
The bartender left her water in front of her, and Tonya was caught flatfooted, her only possible response a guilty smile. This wasn't Sanu -- his voice was different, the short and immaculate afro was a long way from Sanu's braids, and Sanu surely knew nothing of gay bookstores -- but he had similar features, the same tilt of the head. If she thought he'd know far enough back, Tonya would've ask this man about his lineage.
"Well, I know it's rough for Black men," Tonya said slowly, "so I figured if he could get out of it without crackin' his face, everybody could be happy." A razor-thin wave of fear ran through her, knowing the dangers of letting a beautiful Black man like this talk to her.
"Just in time for the show to start. I wanted to compliment you on your method then, but if I didn't hear 'This Pu**y Is A Gangsta,' I'da been hella mad." The man sipped a glass of ... it was cranberry juice, Tonya could smell no alcohol in it or on him.
"Well, that's a real nice compliment, sir," Tonya smiled, realizing that she was dangerously attracted to this man, "and I thank you for it."
"Man, don't call me 'sir,' though," he cringed, "it's bad enough I had to leave my twenties behind last year. My name's James, James Edwards. Not that you got to give me any more love than old boy, just givin' you more to work with. I can turn around and leave you alone, if you want." Playing coy, he began to shift his weight towards the stage.
"No, you're cool," Tonya smiled, amazed at the fact she was getting gamed after so many years alone. "I'm Tonya. Glad to meet you, James."
He shook her hand carefully, like he was handling fine china, and never let go of her eyes as he did so. "I feel like I won the lottery, not gettin' shot down like those last three cats."
"You saw all of that?" Tonya laughed, her hands flying to her mouth like startled crows. Jamar was just the most recent of the would-be suitors she sent packing that night. "You must think I'm some ice queen."
"I think you a sister who was gonna see her some Medusa," James answered wryly, "and now that you have, you're in a much better mood. I'm the same way with Jeffrey Osborne."
"Jeffrey Osborne," Tonya nodded before taking a sip of her water. "That's not a singer enough people are hip to."
"It's just time, you know," James said, peering into his glass like it was a wishing well. "When I was little, he was like the Keith Sweat of the time. Ten years from now it might be Craig David. It's all cycles."
Despite every part of her mind telling her she couldn't get involved with this man, or any man, Tonya fell into the rhythm of the conversation. "You a music fan?" Tonya said.
"I write about music," James responded. "Music, news, sports ... I'm a freelance journalist. Music is my favorite, though -- you won't catch me at a sports event unless I'm interviewing somebody. That's what all those TV channels are for."
Tonya took another sip of water, still a bit off balance. She knew the consequences of her affections, the consequences of intimacy ... but it had been so long, and this was ... different. A rare pleasure. If he's hitting on me, she thought to herself, his style is interesting. No full court press ... hm.
"Oh, if you don't have anybody with you, I'll walk you to your car when you're done," James offered, raising his glass, not looking at her. "Crazy world, and all that."
Tonya dodged instinctively, habit kicking in. "I'm in the valet, I think I'll be OK."
"Oh, it's all good, no big deal," James shrugged, his finger tracing the edge of his glass. "I was just trying to act right. I was at a poetry reading and this guy was telling a sister he had to make sure he got her to her car, or they'd kick him outta the Southerner's Union. My folks got a kick out of that, since they're from the South, and it stuck in my head, so I try to make sure sisters get where they're going safely, you know?"
A satiny wave of attraction washed over Tonya, but she fought it down. "Thoughtful, cultured -- you're just a regular renaissance man, ain't you?" She figured his ego would lead him to tasteless boasting. She hoped. This felt too good, too right.
James smiled, a wide and engaging grin showcasing white teeth that threw her defenses into a tailspin. He affected a gruff voice and said, "I'm just a simple man trying to make his way in the universe," referencing the Star Wars movie. Then, with a mischievous grin, he added, "Thought you knew!"
Tonya giggled, and immediately thought to herself, I just giggled like a sorority girl. Why is he workin' me?
"I'm messin' around," James said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "For real ... you mind if I ask you about, you know, you?"
Tonya was surprised to hear herself say, "Not at all, my life is an open book."
"When's your birthday?"
Tonya managed not to hesitate, remembering the answer for this one. "September 4th."
"Virgo, okay. Not prone to acts of psychotic rage, good to know. What do you do for a living?"
"Actually, I'm an art buyer for a small gallery," Tonya said smoothly, this answer more familiar due to its veracity.
"Check you out!" James said appreciatively. "Art buyer! If you think I got culture, I must not be all bad. Hmph!"
Tonya laughed, an honest, open laugh that she felt down in her stomach. James' expression at the irony caught hold of her loneliness and spun it around.
"I just wanna get the basics out of the way," James said calmly, "since I guess you know I'm warming up to ask you out. I wanna find out in advance if you're some unemployed nutcase that's gonna be a bunch of drama. So far, so good. Oh, it's okay to turn me down, I'll still walk you to your car, don't worry about that part."
"Where did you come from?" Tonya asked softly. "You all upfront with your game!"
"You wouldn't believe how many people ask me that. I'm from here. I grew up in LA, but almost nobody believes me. Went to Dorsey High, practically grew up at World on Wheels, the whole nine. Oh, and I don't play games."
"I guess not. I'da never took you for a brother from LA. So, I'm a Virgo, you must be ... what, a ..."
"Aquarius. January 30th. Freelance writer, but I do okay, my bills are paid. Photographer, wannabe graphic artist. Graduated from Howard with a Journalism degree. Thirty-one. B negative blood type. My resume is online at www.jamesfedwards.com."
Tonya noticed she was leaning towards him, open as hell to his advances, unable to help herself somehow. "That won't be necessary, I think you're cool. If you wanna go out, that's cool. You got a card?"
James patted his vest and dug around in the pocket before pulling out a worn black leather wallet, in which he filed around for a moment before pulling out a business card with a stylized photo of him, a name, and a phone number.
Looking at the logo she said, "Nice," actually happy to have a piece of evidence of how closely he resembled Sanu.
"That took me forever to learn how to do that in Photoshop. Then a dude at the Weekly showed me this shareware that did it in like five minutes. Worked my nerves ... sorry, techie talk."
"You're cool," Tonya said again, sliding the card into her purse. Grabbing her water, she stood. "Come walk me to my car? I'm gonna be sleepy as hell tomorrow."
James rose and replied, "It's already tomorrow, but you know. Let's rock."
The made their way out the side door and walked towards Adams. Tonya quickly produced her claim ticket and the valet darted off down the street. "Where'd you park?" she asked.
"Actually, my cousin Dave lives a block from here. I parked at his house. His wife made me promise not to come back all loud and wake the baby."
Tonya nodded, strangely nervous. "I really liked meeting you, James. Um ... do you know about that Freestyle Fellowship show in Inglewood on Saturday?"
"The one at the Main Event?" James asked. "Yeah, my man J-Smoov already put me on the list. I can get plus one if you wanna go."
Tonya's brain reeled at the idea she was actually into this guy. "That'd be cool. Maybe catch dinner before that?"
He nodded, glancing down slightly, his brain working at the logistics. "Yeah, I know a little soul food place on Century that'll be open. You'll call me, right?"
Tonya bit her lip, then said, "Uh, I can give you my number. That way we both owe the other one a call." Tonya dug out a scrap of paper and a pen, scribbled her number on it, and nervously handed it to James, just as the valet brought up her car. He accepted it gingerly, a slight smile crinkling the corners of his lips, as she climbed into her silver Chevy Malibu. She rolled down the window and waved, a gesture James returned, watching her pull onto Adams and off into the night.
As she made her way west, Tonya shuddered. "I can't remember the last time I was attracted to somebody," she thought to herself as she turned on the stereo, a Fela CD on track three. "I have to be careful, I can't get caught up in him." As the lights passed by her window, she told herself, "I'll give him the brush off on the phone. End of story."
* * *
Tonya stood at the front of the storefront Indian restaurant, looking up and down Melrose. She pulled her gauzy wrap around her, more out of nervousness than any sense of chill in the balmy early evening. She looked down at herself -- her mango colored skirt brushing the bottom half of her knee, her favorite white turtleneck clinging in all the right places, and wondered why the story wasn't over yet.
James pulled up in his gray Volvo -- which was still a good car, though it had seen better days -- and hit his hazards. Before she could get to the passenger door, he'd rushed out, forcing a Trans Am to swerve and honk angrily, and come over to open her door. Smiling, she took his hand and let him guide her into the car, closing the door behind her.
A few moments and another honking horn blast or two and they were on their way west down Melrose towards the Beverly Center. Tonya nervously fidgeted in her seat as James tuned the radio into KJLH for some soothing sounds.
"I wasn't too long, getting the car, was I?" James asked, smiling eagerly at her. Tonya felt something inside melting under his sweet attention, and shook her head.
"You were only gone a couple of minutes," she said quietly. "Besides, after what the valet did to my clutch last time, you were probably right to do it this way."
James grinned as he leaned back in the black leather seat. "Well, I figured that you've been nice enough to go out with me three times already, and you don't seem like you wanna kick me to the curb, plus you totally vibed on the chicken jalfrezi ... what's a little sacrifice on my behalf?"
Tonya nodded, staring at her hands.
James let a moment pass, with Luther testifying to how amazing it is to be loved, and then asked, " You're not gonna kick me to the curb, are you?"
Tonya looked up quizzically.
"It's just that ... I mean, we've had so much fun -- the picnic last week, where you hit me in the head with the frisbee three times, you know. I thought we were connecting. Tonight, you've just been kind of ... quiet."
Tonya licked her lips to gain a moment to deliberate. "You're right, and I'm sorry," she offered. "I'm not gonna 'kick you to the curb' or anything. I'm quiet because I really, really like you ... even after I made you watch that horrible House of Yes movie, you're still a lot of fun and really nice and so handsome ..."
"I'm sensing a disturbing conjunction slipping up on me," James said, more worried than joking.
Tonya considered her next statement carefully. "You're the first guy I've dated ... well, in a long time. I'm just ... scared. This is going so well, and it makes me nervous."
James pondered this, his eyes on traffic, rubbing his goatee thoughtfully. "Lemme get this straight," he began slowly. "You like me, which makes me so happy to hear, we get along, we have fun, we can overcome even a movie as terrible as The House of Yes, and you're freaking out ... because you're happy?"
Tonya's eyes connected with his, an electric tingle going through her as she caught the gaze of his deep brown eyes, and nodded.
The car was quiet for a moment, and then James stifled a chuckle. The chuckle, however, was awfully determined and charged out of his mouth as a full-fledged laugh.
"What ... don't laugh at me!" Tonya half-heartedly protested, starting to chuckle herself. "I'm opening myself up here! Come on!"
James' hilarity managed to settle down to smirking amusement as he returned, "You gotta admit, that sounds pretty goofy. 'Oh, being happy makes me nervous!' C'mon, dawg, admit it."
Tonya smiled sheepishly, looked away and nodded.
"You're totally feelin' me, aren't you?" James grinned.
Tonya's smile widened, and she nodded again.
"All it took was a little of the ol' Edwards magic," James said smugly, tugging on the collar of his tan blazer. "And a head that's highly resistant to impact."
Tonya burst into laughter, and James joined her, both enjoying the time and the company and the banter. Wiping her eyes, Tonya started to settle down and just turned to watch his profile.
James noticed her and smiled, patting her knee.
Tonya thought to herself, I can't believe I'm feeling this way. Spirit, please, don't let this go wrong.
"Whatcha thinkin'?" James asked.
Tonya smiled demurely and looked down to her lap. "Nothing," she answered. "Just happy to be here."
* * *
James woke slowly, aware of a pleasant amount of warmth in front of him, and the covers being in a more chaotic fashion than he was used to. He opened his eyes slowly, and saw the shell of black braids on the pillow next to him. He could make out the alarm clock on the nightstand -- 4:17 AM -- and realized he'd only been asleep a couple of hours, so happy with just being near Tonya he felt lighter than air. Four months he'd been dating the cagey vixen, first just running the normal plays and looking for the end zone. After the first three weeks, he found himself staring out the window and daydreaming about her when he was in the middle of transcribing an interview, or finding her name typed randomly through copy as he ran the spellcheck. The way she talked about politics, how good it felt chuckling at Seinfeld with her on the couch -- everything was interesting and alive when they were together. When she accepted his invitation for the family's Labor Day barbecue, his father Pete joked that James looked ready to hang up his jersey at the Forum.
He pulled Tonya close, hearing her sigh contentedly, and thought about the evening. Picked her up for dinner at Roscoe's at 8:30, just because she found it so funny when the waitress called "Mama" bent his ear for leaving his elbows on the table. One of the Lakers was having a birthday party at the Century Club, and one of James' endless list of friends at record labels had dropped a pair of passes into his lap, so they danced for hours in the decadent nightspot. After the Century Club turned out its patrons, James playfully suggested a nightcap at home, and was really surprised when she agreed to it. One Amaretto sour later they were dueling with tongues on his leather couch as Maxwell crooned, "... you shouldn't know these things ... about me-ee ..."
Grinning, he thought about the experience they'd shared that night. Other than making out, he'd not made any attempts to make it past second base with Tonya, telling her that it was her decision, and he'd respect it, he just wanted to be with her. The way she tasted, the smooth fluidity of her curves moving against his hands, his chest, his thighs. She was very vocal and very appreciative, so he had to guess that she was happy with his performance as well. Worth the wait, he thought to himself.
James frowned as he felt the Coronas and the Amaretto pushing against the side of his bladder. Carefully, he eased his arm from under Tonya's neck, brushing kisses across her shoulder to quiet her groan of displeasure. A quick visit to the bathroom later, he smiled as he came out and saw her sleeping there, curled up and serene. Delight washed across him like a high tide, and he felt like his feet weren't even touching the ground.
He made his way out to the living room to tidy up some, and as he picked up the glasses from the coffee table, he noticed sleepily, Do I always have to bend over this far to ... ah whatever. In the kitchen, he carefully placed the glasses in the sink, and then frowned at the window. There's dust on the top sill of this window! I gotta get a cloth and ... hang on a second ... how can I see the top sill? I'm only 5'11"!
James looked down, and saw his feet hovering easily a foot above the floor. He remained that way for a while, neck slanted and eyes staring downward, as if trying to force his brain to reconcile the completely impossible thing his eyes were trying to relay. His mouth hung open in dull surprise, and a droplet of saliva made its way free and succumbed to gravity, falling past his feet on the way to the floor. Finally, out of options and unable to figure this out in any way, James' brain threw in the towel and allowed him to faint, his entire body finally surrendering to gravity's very patient embrace.
When the heavy thud of James hitting the kitchen floor shook the bed, Tonya leapt into consciousness, sitting up in bed suddenly. "Shit," she muttered, "this is gonna take some explaining."
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