Took me a second
to realize that a classic
Marvin Gaye performance
just might be
played on a VCR.
“Sure, Merc.
I’d love to.”
of the great big house
on Pristine Road,
there was a room
I never knew existed.
“Whoa!” My eyes bugged out as we walked in.
“This place is magical, Merc.”
The Galaxy Room
built of wood, painted black,
a constellation of stars
drawn on the ceiling
comfy oversized couches
fluffy pillows everywhere,
a big movie screen,
and behold …
a VCR!
I wouldn’t have even known
had I not seen Merc
open the doors to a
large, mirrored wall unit,
inside revealing
an entire library of
1980s classics like
Ghostbusters,
The Goonies,
and Coming to America.
And next to that,
a Panasonic PV-4661 VCR.
We sat on the floor together.
As he showed off his ancient pride and joy,
I ran my fingers across Merc’s collection.
“Do you use these to record
on your camcorder?” I asked innocently.
“Nah, baby gurl. My films are VHS
tapes. My personal recordings are done
on VHS-C.”
He proudly held up two tapes
showing me the difference.
“For this little one, you need an adapter
to watch it.” He rummaged through the wall unit,
and then held it up. “See, like this.”
He placed the small VHS-C
into the large adapter
and like magic
the video could play in the VCR.
Then he put the adapter back in the wall unit,
my eyes taking note of exactly where
bottom drawer to the left
“Let’s get started, shall we? I’ma
introduce you to my King of R&B!
You ready?”
I nodded fiercely.
Merc pulled a tape from his collection:
Marvin Gaye Live in Belgium, 1981
and slipped it in the VCR.
Then he walked around the room,
drawing the blinds,
shutting off the lights.
On the great big screen,
grainy images
sprang to life,
a singer turned actor
studied Marvin Gaye’s every move,
repeating lyric for lyric,
line by line
while the girl
with eyes of fading starlight,
watched the musical genius from the floor.
Just when the credits rolled,
there was a bang at the door.
Marissa stuck her head in.
“Time to go … Merrrc …”
Marissa held out his name
extra long soon as she saw me.
Homegirl was all done up
in a little black dress,
material so shiny,
looked like she took it
straight out the Hefty box.
“Don’t you look nice!” I lied,
but Marissa rolled her eyes.
“Baby gurl, thanks for the movie date.
We’ll do it again real soon.”
Merc hugged me.
That one touch
birthed thorns on my skin.
“Tell Meat to bring the car around.”
Merc zipped his leather coat.
“Meat should stay here … with Denver.”
Code for: Marissa didn’t trust my ass one bit.
I could see Merc consider it for a second,
until I squeezed his wrist and said,
“I’m tired, bro. I’ll just go to bed.”
Merc clapped his hands.
“See? That’s my baby gurl. Let’s roll.”
Then him and Marissa and that face
booked it outta there.
Once I was clear they’d left
the grounds,
I raced to my room,
lifted the loose floorboard,
two VHS-C tapes clutched
beneath my robe,
Chance trailing behind.
I flew through the dark,
empty house,
past the dining room,
past the kitchen,
through the hall
lined with bookshelves,
until Chance stopped
and began sniffing and licking books.
“That’s not food, silly!”
I grabbed him by the collar
and hightailed it back
to the Galaxy Room.
Whipped open the door,
that old-school VCR staring me down …
Let’s do this.
I popped
the tape labeled Dalisay in.
The screen, fuzzy at first,
followed by a clearer,
yet shaky image.
Dali danced seductively
and I figured it was an act,
maybe something
until the screen faded to black
and a new image poured in.
Dali … my Dali on her knees,
pink cheeks,
fresh tears,
lips quivering,
video revealing
the fullness of her
and the bottom half
of a man
as he unbuckled his belt,
yanked Dali’s chin toward him it,
and she opened her mouth
W I D E.
Hands cupping my whole face,
I couldn’t look
I couldn’t look
Anymore.
What was he doing?
Why didn’t Dali tell me?
Who was that guy?
It wasn’t Merc.
It couldn’t be.
He would never …
ever …
Right? RIGHT?
I looked at the screen
again.
It was then
that I noticed
her outfit …
the same one
from the concert,
the night we first met …
Merc.
I yanked that tape—HIS tape—
out so fast
wanting to light a fire,
toss it to the flames.
Blood
turned to ice
turned to heat
turned to rage
turned to fear
I needed to talk to someone
and not Merc
and then I remembered …
the day after Dali left
he unlocked my phone features
with a special code
But then he changed it again.
I thought of the first code,
asked myself why was it so special
0-2-2-7
0-2-2-7
Wasn’t that when …
he won his first Grammy?
February 27
So what other dates would
mean just as much to him?
Fingers trembled
through several
four-digit combinations,
getting them all wrong,
until my brain,
like a camera,
flashed a memory,
June 14, the day we first met.
Could that be special to him?
0-6-1-4
And just like that,
the home page
flashed into view.
Fingers held steady
as I dialed
One ring …
The number you have reached is disconnected.
Please hang up and try again.
Next number.
It rang …
and rang …
and rang …
And then …
“Hello?”
“Shak, it’s me.”
“Denver?”
Shak screamed in F sharp,
and I shushed her fast.
“Where’s Dali?” I asked.
“Denver, are you … crying?”
“I just need to get ahold of Dali.” I sniffed back tears.
“Why you asking me?”
“Well, don’t you see her at school?”
“School? Dali doesn’t go to school.
Aren’t you guys on tour?”
“Shak?”
“Yeah.”
“Dali went home two months ago.”
“Denver?
Nobody’s seen her around here
since the day y’all left …”
I called the police, Papi.
This was the part where
flashes of light
red-white-blue,
broke through
iron gates,
chain-link fences,
and rescued
the stupid girl
with stars for eyes,
drove past
Georgia peach trees,
snaked through
snowcapped Pocono Mountains,
until they took her
all the way
home
to Ma
and Gwen
and you.
Except
this is the part where
that didn’t happen.
Because I needed to find Dali.
And I needed to know something else.
If she didn’t tell me about this,
what else did she keep from me?
expert licker
master barker
bionic listener
of faraway sounds
I could not detect
His groan, a low, slow boil,
as I began to switch
from Dali’s tape to my own,
but then it came in hot, rolling, fast
Chance scratched at my knees,
then ran to the window
facing the driveway,
and clawed at the glass.
Somebody was coming home
and we needed to haul ass …
FAST!
Both tapes lodged beneath my arms,
cell phone tucked in my pocket,
feet zipped through halls,
past bookshelves,
kitchen-dining-living room(s)
—car door slammed—
up up up
I skipped steps,
two, three at a time,
Chance hot on my trail
phone on my nightstand,
tapes hidden beneath wooden floor,
foyer doors opened below,
buried myself deep
under thick covers.
Me and Chance taking turns panting
as hard shoes click-clacked
up up up wooden steps.
I smelled the scent of her
—lilacs and trouble—
before I saw the shadow
of her heels beneath the door.
Hovering … listening …
as I begged my lips to remain muted.
This is the call she thought
I didn’t hear
“Meat, yeah, it’s me, Marissa.
Listen, I’m gonna need you
to beef up security around here.
I’ll get extra detail on Merc.
But I need you based here …
to keep an eye on things.”
I should have left,
I could have left,
I would have left
But Dali.
And there was this other thing,
this feeling burrowed deep inside.
Spent my whole life
being made to feel like I wasn’t
smart enough
good enough
doing enough
But there in that moment
I KNEW exactly who I was
fearless
gifted
brilliant …
Way smarter than Merc
for all his fake-ass genius
and money
and power.
I had those tapes, didn’t I?
And I was smart enough
to figure a way to make his ass
pay for what he did
to my best friend.
That night,
in the great big house
on Pristine Road,
I prayed that God
would transform me into a spider.
Black body,
hard shell,
belly brimming
toxic secrets,
spinning silken threads
plunging
fearlessly,
noiselessly
into a web of truths
waiting to be revealed.
Meat aka glorified babysitter
on active double duty.
—Marissa’s request—
But I caught that man
beginning to slip a long time ago.
Starting with that song
he allowed me to
steal download
when Merc wasn’t around,
And those nights where
even though I know he was told to,
he “forgot” to lock my bedroom door
A soft teddy bear of a man,
hardened exterior unraveling
with my every joke,
my every pouty request
And lately,
always on his phone, texting,
Snapchatting for hours
while Merc and Marissa
stayed on set.
“You must got a girlfriend or something?” I asked.
The blush of Meat’s cheeks,
a gentle plunge into my web.
Nancy Dixon,
thighs thick enough
to make grown men cry,
worked in downtown Atlanta
at Babette’s Café.
They had been kickin’ it
for a hot minute,
but extra hours on the job
meant less hours for her.
“She’s mad cuz
it’s the third time
this week I bailed on her.
And I’m tripping, too.
I can barely do my job right.
Shortie got me falling hard.”
“You should go,” I said, coughing.
“I don’t feel too good, so I’m going to sleep.”
“Nah. Merc’ll kill me if I leave you here alone.
I’ll get up with Nancy another day.”
“I won’t tell.”
“Denver, don’t do that blinky, cutesy eye thing!”
My web grew longer, stronger.
“… orrrr you can keep letting her down
but don’t be mad when she dumps you.”
“Fine. You win. Just don’t say nuthin!”
the
threat
of
losing
is
enough
to
bring
anyone
to
their
knees.
I grabbed my shit
from the floorboards,
couldn’t get to the
Galaxy Room fast enough,
Chance racing ahead of me.
I slipped the tape with my name
in the adapter and
then the VCR and pressed
PLAY.
It was a video of our
first night clubbing with Merc.
We were dancing, drinking,
but then the image cu
t into a new one.
Location:
Hitmaker Studio in New York,
the one with the bed
and the doors
and the lights
and the blood.
My naked body,
eyes closed,
legs wide open,
mouth on mute,
one arm dangling,
and the monster unfurling,
growling on top of me.
I
broke
and
broke
and
broke
into
a
thousand
tiny
S
H
A
T
T
E
R
E
D
pieces.
was left
inside me
S
N
A
P
Crying
screaming
longing to break something
break HIM
But it would’ve
nevereverever been
enough.
Everything became clear:
that pain I’d felt the next day,
the blood after,
feeling split to bits, inside out.
My skin no longer
felt like my own.
I wanted to rip myself
out of myself
leaving behind
the touched,
torched,
humiliated
shards
of me.
Eyes burning with tears,
rage,
terror like I’d never known
I had to get out of there
Me and Chance and
…
he wasn’t there.
Someone else was.
Quiet servant
frozen shadow
I
never
ever
learned
her
name
mouth gaped
eyes wide
At the image
still playing on the screen
A montage of guy-on-girl
Planet Mercury,
all 800 degrees
of fiery surface,
incinerating
what lay beneath to ash
“I’m so sorry!” she stuttered,
“Please don’t tell Merc!”
And then she ran away so fast
I didn’t get a chance
to beg the same of her.
STOP,
grabbed that tape,
ran through the halls,
mind spinning I-am-not-safe-I-am-not-safe,
tears gushing fast and furious,
until I found Chance scratching
at that bookshelf again.
This time, so hard
a few books fell to the floor.
I put them back,
every limb trembling,
pressed too hard, I guess,
because the shelf
click-clicked