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No Ice Cream, after 8:00

 

By Chris Carr

 

Copyright © Jan, 2011

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

“Huh?” Govaner said, the music loud.

“I said, I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” Blushing, Govaner returned,

“Am I that obvious?”

 

The music’s throbbing beat crescendoing, the two awkwardly waited. Glancing nonchalantly at him, the stranger continued,

“Naw, ain’t that. Just ain’t seen you befo’.” The music swelled again, separating them. Govaner looked around, surprised at the crowd, the small bar crammed with handsome, Black men.

 

A small dance floor near the back, several young men were crammed on it, sweat pouring from their faces, as they gyrated to the raucous music. A pool table, sitting uncomfortably confined in another corner, more patrons were crowded around it, some holding drinks and merely watching while two men played. Guys passed, brushing subtly against him as he stood, but there was no way to avoid the throng.

 

“Nathan,” the guy beside him introduced, holding out his hand. Govaner timidly shook it, flashing him one of his Cheshire cat grins. “Govaner,” he squeaked, looking nervously away.

“Nice shirt,” Nathan said, indicating Govaner’s, bright yellow, DKNY, button down.

“Thanks.”

 

Another song, blasting from the overhead sound system, Govaner watched the guys on the dance floor switch up, moving in beat. Nathan bobbed his head, the song familiar, although Govaner couldn’t quite place it. Every so often, he’d glance over at Govaner, his casual interest sending ripples of excitement up his spine.

 

Standing just under six feet, the cool, mocha brown brotha was attractive, his brown eyes and full, pink lips, inviting. A Sean John t-shirt draped over his thick torso, he wore a pair of shorts and designer tennis, Tommy’s or Nikes’ or something, Govaner couldn’t tell, his experience scant. 

“So where you from?” Nathan inquired, moving closer.

“The valley.”

“Got-damn!.”

“Everybody say’s that,” Govaner said, rolling his eyes. “I got here in less than twenty minutes though. It’s not that far.”

“A’ight. Just funny though. Probably passed ‘bout 5 bars, comin’ here.” Nathan chuckled, sipping from his glass.

“Yeah, but none like this.”

“Fo’ damn sho’,” Nathan chuckled again.

 

 

 

 

Govaner's your typical "good boy"......

 

 

 

“Ay, check,” Nathan offered, “Me and some of my peeps ‘bout to hit it. You wanna come?”

“Hit it?”

“Headin’ out? We ‘bout to leave,” Nathan said plainly.

“Oh! Where?”

“Probably goin’ over Marcus’.”

“A… party?”

“Yeah,” Nathan replied, talking over the music.

 

Thinking for a few seconds, Govaner finally hunched his shoulders.

“Ok,” He acquiesced, setting his drink down.

“Hol’ up a sec, though. Lemme find Moochi.” Nathan dashed off, leaving him alone.  Nathan soon reappeared, stepping from a crowd of men.

“Moochi musta’ left already. You drivin’?” Govaner nodded.

“You wanna just follow me then?”

“’K.”

 

When he ventures to visit a seedy, inner city bar his good boy image is put to the test....

 

 

“Here you go,” He said, handing Govaner the beer. Govaner studied the can, reading the label as if there would be a test afterwards. Moochi eyed him suspiciously, casting a wary eye at Nathan.

“’Spose to drink it, son,” Nathan instructed. Govaner glanced up, suddenly aware he was being observed, then tipped the can to his mouth. His face contorting, he looked as if he might gag. Turning three shades of green, he looked sickly at the guys, holding the can oddly midair.....

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The music soared, the hour late and soon, Govaner was singing and gyrating along. Laughing uncontrollably, he swayed, guzzling from yet another can of beer. Attracting attention, his loud demonstrations soon became a source of entertainment. Alerted by the noise, Nathan wandered over, just as Govaner stepped up on a chair.

“Party people!” He yelled. The beat throbbing, he cavorted, moving to the music as several partiers egged him on. Nathan stared wild-eyed at the spectacle, Govaner’s peach brown complexion bright red, sweat dripping off his face.

“Hey Nathan!” He called and then lurched, falling from the chair. Toppling like a fallen oak, there was the strangest look of confusion on his face. As the crowd around him yelled in surprise, Nathan swooped beneath him, catching him just in time.

“Hey Nate,” Govaner slurred....

 

 

 

 

 Can a good boy from The Valley withstand the whiles of the inner city or will his ethics go down the drain?

 

 

 

...“We went to a party?” Nathan nodded. “At your friends?”

“Yeah. You ain’t never done that befo’, huh?”

“Done what?”

“Drank.”

“No, but how’d you know?”

“Well, for one… nobody I know says ‘party people’ when they drunk. Way you talked and the way you dressed.” Govaner dropped his head. “Lemme guess. All your life, you’ve been a good boy?” Govaner closed his eyes, nodding his head. “Always did what you was told?” A little astonished, Govaner looked at Nathan. “Probably finish yo’ veggies before you eat your desert? Ain’t never cussed. Never smoked. Never drank.” Wishing it wasn’t true, Govaner nevertheless nodded assent. “So… why?”  

Govaner exhaled a long hiss, closing his eyes. Rubbing his throbbing forehead, he shook his head, surprised at himself. Looking at Nathan he uttered, “Because....” 

 

 

 

 

 

Reaching between them, Govaner snatched at his white briefs, tossing them off. Nathan looked at him confused. “Just one last thing I had to do,” He explained, pulling Nathan to him again.

 

Their hips mashing together, Nathan’s groin slid against Govaner’s. “You ever…” Govaner shook his head. Slipping his boxers off, Nathan said, “So you ain’t ever…” Govaner shook his head again. “Show me,” he whispered, gazing into his stunning brown eyes.

 

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