23

Nikki

Dante wasn't as much of a regular at Joe's as my friends and I were, so much that the staff didn't recognize him when he and I entered, therefore had to supply us with one menu for him, but he knew what he wanted. BLT on rye and a Coke. Once Tammy took away the menu and went to the kitchen. I asked Dante when she was out of sight, "So what's this favor you need from me?"

"Bobbye Hall, I need you to do your Bobbye Hall thing on Saturday," he said. Ever since I became proficient at drums, he started addressing me as Bobbye Hall. Bobbye Hall is the only black female drummer in, like, the world. Lavon thinks she's the only female drummer ever besides me, but he's crazy. "You see, I was planning to drum and lead sing for a gig at a restaurant in Manhattan Saturday night and my girlfriend was on guitar, but she got mad at me and dumped me and the band. So I can take over the guitar and still lead sing, but I need a drummer and a backup singer with the same gospel-slash-rock'n'roll-slash-R&B voice. You were the first and only person I thought of. So I'm asking you, Nicole Lasalle-Jones." He cleared his throat, slid off the booth seat and knelt beside me. I smiled and held out my hands for him to take. "Will you be my drummer-backup singer person until we get a full-time replacement?"

"Yes, Dante, yes!" I cried out, making the rest of the people at the restaurant stare. "A million times yes!" We hugged and he sat back down. Tammy came with our food and practically threw the dishes on the table, but at least in the right places. As we started to eat, Dante said, "So the lineup is, hold on—" He took out his phone, pressed a few things and read to me as I ate, "Modern Love, Magic Carpet Ride, Surrender, The One I Love, Africa, Another One Bites The Dust, Paint It Black."

"I know all those songs," I chortled.

"Then you'll wow the band on rehearsal Friday night. I have drums for you at Jake's place outside Manhattan."

"So, what time is the shindig and where?"

"Little John's Bar, a few blocks under the Harlem border. Know it?"

"Yeah, I pass by it when I go into Harlem to visit my grandma," I replied. "Never been there."

"It's not all that classy, but it's a big deal for us," he said.

"What's your band called again? Last time I saw you, you and five other guys were doing jazz—"

"Yeah, and that's how I met Michelle," he said with a grimace at the woman's name. "Band broke up, wasn't going anywhere, then me and Michelle joined an experimental cover band in the summer, Wayward Kingdom."

I was in mid-sip when he said the name of the band and a little water came out of my nose. "No offense, Dante, but what the hell kind of name is that?"

"None taken. I didn't make it up. A generator on the Interweb did," he giggled.

"I mean, there are weirder names…just something about it is weird. I can't put my finger on it," I giggled.

"Understood. I just hope you'll wear the present I got you because you've taken the job," he said. He reached into his backpack and took out a sloppily folded black shirt and handed it to me. I unraveled it. The shirt read WAYWARD KINGDOM boldly in white over a castle that looked like it was drawn by a five-year-old who was on an acid trip. "Love it," I said, taking off my jacket so I could slide it over my sweater.

"Anyhoo, Miss Lasalle-Jones," Dante said when I resumed eating. "How are you?"

I told Dante all about my big, exciting senior year, about Learning Lunacy, about Auntie Tonya and Deshawn, but nothing about the zombie-ghost thing I had sex with a few days prior. But believe me, I wanted to. It wasn't something I could really keep a secret for very long. It was huge! But I promised him I wouldn't tell anyone the details, and I loved him so I really couldn't break a promise. But what was he? I wondered as I blabbered. My friend with benefits? My lover? My boyfriend?

Dante supplied me with a flyer with the info to put around school when we parted. Before doing what little homework I had to do that night, I wrote on top of it Alum Dante's band. Nikki J-L is also performing! By the time I finished my homework, Auntie Tonya stumbled in the house and went immediately to bed, claiming she already ate and would shower at five A.M. I went to bed after she told me that, and dreamed of Erik again.

I was sitting in a moonlit room, wearing my fleece pajama pants and the shirt Dante gave me. I knew it was a dream because I didn't feel heat or cold, and it was a lucid dream because I stopped murmuring "What's going o—" because I knew.

"Insolent boy, this slave of fashion, basking in your glory! Ignorant fool, this brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph?" someone sang angrily.

I thought I knew who. "Erik? Is that you?" I got no reply, and somehow I knew it was him. He always sent weird vivid dreams, unlike the colorful and random ones that I've had since I was a baby. "Dude, he's almost twenty-five. Yes, he's recently single, and yes, I used to have a crush on him. But that was when I was eleven. I was a baby back then. I still wore beads with cornrows back then. I'm seventeen now, and if, for some reason he wants me, I'll tell him the truth—I'm in love with someone else.

There was a pregnant pause. "Who?" the voice asked with obvious nervousness.

"You, dumbass!" I laughed. "But I'm not going to dream about you. I'm gonna wake up and come to ya, Angel of Music." All I had to do was pinch myself, and I woke up in my bed, still pinching myself. It was three A.M. I hurriedly put on jeans, a bra under my T-shirt and a hoodie over it. Then I slipped on my shoes, picked up my backpack, wallet and phone, and snuck out to my car. I paid close attention as he led me out that weekend, so I knew where to go.