“Here we go. I guess I’ll wear this.” I pulled out my old FAMU
Marching 100 sweatshirt, my blue jeans and my cowboy boots and I was ready to go. I love my cowboy boots. Not too many brothers are brave enough to wear cowboy boots. At the barbershop I hear a lot of men commenting that I look like a redneck. I tell them. “I may look like a lot of things, but a redneck ain’t one of them.” I gazed into the mirror as I rubbed on some Anucci scented body oil I picked up at the straw market in Charleston, South Carolina. Brushing what little hair I had left, I tried to imagine how I’d look with a shaved head. The thought of Terri’s negative response kept running across my mind. She made it a point to tell me how crazy she thought I would look. She even went as far as to say that the people at her job would think I looked like a lunatic. Reaching down into the closet I picked up my horn cases. “Oops!” I almost forgot my briefcase. “I can’t leave this.” I had my newest concoction. It’s called “Stank Like Chitlinz”. Just like I liked it, heavy on the bass line so those horns could lay down and relax right on top of it. I grabbed the notepad to leave a note for “Ms. I Don’t Need a Man.” and scribbled, “Terri, I am at The Spot. Call me if you need me. XOXO Love Sweet Chapman.” She used to like it when I changed my name around like that. Well, out the door I go.
As I pulled up on The Spot I tried to clear my head of all of the negative matters that clouded it, because I was at The Spot for business. Music has never shorted me, so she was not about to be shorted by me. I sat still in the car before I made my move. Reciting the 23rd Psalms and Psalms 133 always had a calming affect on me. The words of those Psalms had power beyond explanation. I need to be focused to receive these emotions that flow through me when I play. As I entered the building, Thumper was already there. He was on his cell phone. I closed the door behind me and walked across the room and shook his hand.
“What’s up Black?” He raised his finger as if he were a fat lady sitting on the front pew at church. You know how they do when they have to go to the restroom and the preacher is preaching or when the choir is singing.
I nodded back to him and went about setting up my horns. These are my babies. My flugal horn is a Bach that I nicknamed “Daddy’s Man". My Dad is the one who got me hooked on Louis Armstrong and Miles Davis at an early age. My other horn is the sax. It’s covered with purple lacquer, with etchings all over it. The etch marks are gold against the purple lacquer. I named that horn after my mother, Doris, ‘cause she’s sweet like that. After I got married, I put in for a name change on the sax to “Terri”, but just like the wind, Terri began to blow in another direction. She went right out and destroyed my desire by doing something crazy when I wasn’t looking. The name change was then recalled. So, Daddy’s Man and Doris are always by my side. I had some new charts to lay on the band and there was no better night. Sorting through the pages of music, I placed them carefully on everybody’s music stand then I heard Billy close his cell phone.
“Yo man!” with a furrowed brow and a scowl on his face.
“What's up Man?” No response from Billy. “Sounds to me like whom, or whatever was on that phone of yours, bit a chunk out of your ass.”
“Ain’t no thang but a chicken wang.” A faint smile showed on his lips. I threw a punch to his midsection. He smiled more.
“I don’t know what to do with the ole girl.”
“So, what now? You know, if I, Dr. Billy Jones can’t fix it, you need to give it away.”
I released a nervous laugh. You know the kind of laugh that friends use when they don’t want their friends to know how serious the trouble they are in really is. Pausing for a moment, I felt the positive high I had, run right out the door.
“Man!”
“What now? Is it Terri again?” Billy asked in a tone of voice that suggested that he was tired of hearing the story of my life.
“See, I told you that you needed a pleasant distraction. Man, your girl has got your nuts in a bag of trail mix.”
“No...Man, its not like that,” I stated in my own defense, knowing damn well that it was partially true. “So what? I care about my lady and I try to be everything that I think I’m supposed to be. Now she is getting to the point where she will say anything to me. I mean its blatant disrespect.”
“Shit, ain’t nothing wrong with caring, or doing the right thing.
I’m all for that, but the trick is doing all of that without letting her know how much. I started out just like you. I tried that “Mr. Nice and Right” shit. Then, I must have woke up out of a nightmare, where I had on a bra and panties and Precious was playing me like I was some teenaged girl. Sweet, I was sweating and everything. That’s when I realized that I had let the “D” get trained.”
“What, the dick?”
“Hell, no...the D. The DAWG. If you had a little something on the side, she would be a pleasant distraction. She would drain off some of that energy and prevent you from putting all of your desire in one basket.”
“Its not like that Thumper.”
“Then why are we talking?”
I had no comeback.
“You are focused and predictable. She knows you’re not stepping out and chances are you won’t. At one time you could get a blow job without asking her, now you can’t buy one. She used to be spontaneous, now you hope she’ll let you touch her, and you have to beg to kiss her.”
My silence rang loudly again.
“Chapman, you sold Terri something that she bought and turned against you. I recommend you get a piece of ass on the side or at least say “fuck it”, and act like you don’t even want her ass, then see how quickly she changes her behavior.”
I nod my head up and down as I contemplate the advice Thumper blasted at me.
“Yeah, your Dawg is completely trained. You’re a schoolgirl and you don’t even know it.”
I dropped my head and began to laugh to myself. I grabbed my face so Billy could not see me laughing at him. I was about to choke, when Randi and Randy popped into The Spot─dressed alike as usual. Entering the room like the Three Stooges with their standard “Hello, Hello, Hellooooo” introduction. As strange as they appear, they love to put on a show. Being on stage to them is like crack to a crack addict. I and Y are some of the best I have seen. If only they would get rid of those matching gold teeth they’ve had since the day after they won their first talent show. Damn, that’s a long time to be walking around thinking you are fly, when in actuality, you are the “Bama of the week”. That’s right! Kountry with a “K” is what they are. I made a deal with them, to have their gold teeth removed before we embarked on our first major tour. They agreed.
“How are you all doin’?” I said with my face twitching. Doing my best to suppress my laugh.
“We are like Sunday dinner…Good.” says Randi as she gives high five to her brother.
Billy jumped up to hug Randi as the door flies open again. It’s Fingers and Bumbatta, looking like the black Blues Brothers.
“What’s up, what’s up?” screams Fingers. “My car ran out of gas on the way to The Spot. I’m glad Boom Boom stopped and gave me a ride.”
Bumbatta punches Fingers in the back. “I tell you what, you keep calling me Boom Boom, and next time your ass will still be walking down the street.”
Everybody laughs as things began to get out of control, so I yelled at the top of my voice and I clapped my hands.
“Quiet,