Something She Can Feel

“Dame, you in there?” a girl shouted.

“I know my man’s inside!”

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sp; “You the same Dame! You the same! Get out and show your people some love!”

And then a pair of silicone-filled breasts were exposed right in my face.

“They don’t even know if he’s in here?” Billie said, pulling my arm.

“Can you imagine what it’s like when he is?” Mustafa added.

“I guess we know why he leaves the curtains closed.” I drew my curtain even though the breasts were still glued to the tinted glass.

“How did she do that while the car was still moving ?” Billie asked.

“Groupie skills,” Mustafa answered.

“Okay, guys,” Mr. Green said, stopping the car in front of the club. “You’re here. Benji’s waiting right inside the door and I’ll be out here all night. Have fun.”

It seemed that they were giving away money inside of the club from the way people acted when Mr. Green let us out of the car. All eyes shifted to us, cameras went flashing, and two brothers with muscles bulging out from their tight shirts pushed everyone back, so we could go right to the door.

“They with me,” Benji said, standing inside the doorway beside a woman with a clipboard in her arms. A red, velvet rope was holding us at bay. “All comp.”

“Who said? They on the list? I can’t let them in if they ain’t on the list.” She was trying to sound as annoyed and frustrated as possible. She glared at us like we weren’t even supposed to be there. “We’re already at capacity, Benji.”

“Naima, they with me. Dame’s people,” Benji said.

“Fine,” she said, shaking her curly brown hair in disgust. “Let them in.”

She pointed to the red rope, as if she wasn’t an inch away and had a hand free, and one of the bouncers undid the rope.

“Who they?” a woman wearing short shorts at the front of the line said. “That ain’t fair. We been standing here for an hour. They ain’t no stars.”

The inside of the club was no bigger than my parents’ tennis court. There was a tiny stage hugging the window and probably 100 to 150 people standing in front of it, dancing to music as they waited for Dame to come out. Smoke drifted closely above them and I could even smell the sweet and unmistakable odor of marijuana burning from every direction.

“Dame’s in the back,” Benji said, knocking people aside as we weaseled behind him. I could hardly breathe; there were so many people pushing in.

“We’re going to get a drink,” Billie said, pinching my arm.

“But how will I find you?”

“We’ll be right here.”

She pointed to the bar.

“But—”

“Look, Journey, don’t chicken out now. You need to see him.”

Another one of Dame’s bodyguards was standing in front of the door Benji was leading me to. Benji whispered something in his ear and they both looked at me before the guard moved to let us through.

Benji and I ended up walking outside the back of the club where there was a little outdoor patio set up.

There were only a few groups of people sitting out there. Scantily clad women and rappers whose faces I’d seen in the few music videos I caught by mistake on television.

I saw Dame sitting at a table with a group of these rappers. He had his foot up on one of the chairs, and they were laughing. Plumes of smoke came rising from most of their hands. Dame’s hand was empty.