Shantelle Davis was lying on the sofa in the living room of her house, listening to an album of her favorite rap artist the wa

A Very Special Love Story

Love lost, love regained, faces busted

[Author's Note: Hey gang, I know it's been a while since I wrote anything for this site, but I have a ton of projects in the works for my bookshelf. In the meantime, here's a short, little love story with just a touch of butt-kicking. A warning to the romantically-impaired: this may get a little mushy.]

Shantelle Davis was lying on the sofa in the living room of her house, listening to an album of her favorite rap artist the way she normally did, with the bass turned up and the speakers going full blast. The 5'6" black woman brushed her long curly hair from her face as she rapped at the top of her lungs with the rap star on a song that talked about having money (or "bling-bling" as he called it), having a good time, having a good woman (and what that entailed), and having no police around while you're enjoying those things, because they "misunderstand" you. It was Shantelle's favorite song, while her mother hated it with a passion. That matter made Shantelle love the song even more, because she felt her mother "misunderstood" her all the time, telling her that she should get a job and attend college, since she graduated high school five years ago. Fortunately at this particular time in the afternoon, her mother and her next-door neighbors were at work, so she had the chance to relax and express her musical tastes openly.

She started to get so involved in the next song, she barely heard the knocking (or rather banging) on the front door. Cursing the matter of being interrupted, she pressed the pause button of the compact disc player on the living room stereo and walked to the front door. She mentally went through a checklist of who it could be. It couldn't be her boyfriend, he was at work, she wasn't in any legal trouble that she knew of, so it couldn't be the police (unless they were complaining about the music), her mother's friends knew that her mom was at work this time of day, so it couldn't be them. The only possible conclusion would be it was one of her guy friends coming over for a little "afternoon delight." She looked in a hall mirror to make sure everything was in place, and then she rushed over and opened the door.

Who she saw at the door was someone entirely different from what she expected. The figure greeting her in the doorway was Sharon Lane, a woman with shoulder length blonde hair who was the same age and stood about the same height as Shantelle. Besides the obvious ethnic differences, physically they were about the same as night and day. Sharon had the build of someone who looked like they lived in a gym and reaped all the benefits. She wore a gray sleeveless T-shirt and gray sweatpants with pink racing stripes on the sides that had the leg cut at mid calf. Giving a quick glance, Shantelle could see how well developed her legs and arms were; this she looked at with a mixture of admiration and scorn. Her own figure was skinny and wiry. Although she received compliments on her figure, she thought it might be a good idea to join a gym or perform some type of exercise sometime in the near future. However, she never bothered gathering up the motivation to do so.

From what Shantelle remembered about Sharon, she was the last woman her boyfriend Dion had dated before they started going together. The two attended college when Sharon got hooked up with some women's club or something, what was the name? The Daughters of Athena, Artemis, Atlanta, or something like that. They paid for her school while they bulked her up into the muscle queen she looked like now. One day there was a job opening somewhere in Ohio, and rather than have a long distance relationship, they broke up. At least that was the rumor. Most of it was confirmed however when Shantelle looked down at Sharon's feet. These "Daughters" or "DOA" as everybody calls them for short don't seem to believe in wearing shoes and go barefoot or in their stocking feet everywhere they go. As she saw that the only thing Sharon was wearing on her feet was pink toenail polish, that appeared to be true.

"Hey, what's up?" Shantelle said in a tone that was barely cordial as she let Sharon in.

"I came to talk about Dion," Sharon said in a polite tone. Shantelle heard Sharon's voice, which seemed to reek of politeness and education, making her dislike her even more. While Sharon and Dion were dating, Shantelle heard about how great a couple they were and that they'll probably get married after college, etc., ad nausem. As one who secretly wanted Dion, her jealousy and and resentment of the two led to a small private celebration when she heard the two were no longer a couple. After that, she made her plans on how to get Dion for herself.

"Dion, he's alright," Shantelle replied. "If you were looking for him, he wouldn't be here; he's at work right now."

"No, I didn't come over to see Dion, I'll do that later," Sharon said. "The reason I came over was to talk about how you've been treating him."

Shantelle glared at Sharon. "What do I mean "how I've been treating him?' He's not your man anymore, he's mine. It's my business how I treat him."

Ignoring the remark, Sharon continued. "I've been told by my fellow sisters that not only do you treat him like the neighbor's dog, you also cheat on him quite a bit too."

"Your "sisters?' What would they know about what I do or who I do it with? I don't see them around when we go out. And I treat Dion just fine, you can go and tell your "sisters' that as well as to mind their own business. You came all the way from Ohio for nothing. Now why don't you go before I start going off."

Sharon then produced a picture from her back pocket. "Then I suppose you have an explanation for this?" she said.

The picture was of Shantelle and one of her male friends at a nightclub a week ago. The two were sharing a deep kiss while groping each other in public without a care who may have been watching them. After grabbing the picture and staring at it for a moment, Shantelle felt a mixture and embarrassment and rage; rage at someone spying on her and taking her picture, embarrassment at the fact that she got caught.

"Where did you get this picture?" she demanded. "Who went out and spied on me?"

"Even though Dion and I are no longer together, he was good friends with many of my sisters, who took it upon themselves to look after him. When they found out that he was dating you, that had them alarmed, because many of them knew all about you, and didn't trust you. So yes, some of them followed you, and when they found out their fears were confirmed, they told me, which was good timing because I was happening to come back at this time for a visit anyway," Sharon said.

"Who said I had to be with just Dion?" Sharon said, in-between swearing. "I don't have a ring on my finger and you're not my momma, I can do what I want. What is it with you white women anyway, wanting to take our black men? There's not too many good ones as it is."

"I don't know about that, you've seemed to find plenty of them. And all I know is that you've taken one of the most sensitive men I've ever known and treat him like garbage. If I knew you were treating him right, I would be fine with that. So you don't have a suitable explanation regarding this picture?"

Shantelle took the picture between her two hands and tore it in two, then took the two pieces and tore them in half.

"What picture?" she spat, flinging the pieces over her shoulder.

"Do you think I would be stupid enough to hand that picture to you without an extra copy? It's taken from a digital camera anyway, so the picture is stored on the hard drive of the computer of one of my sisters. It'll take more than that to get rid of the evidence," Sharon said calmly.

"So what is this, you trying to blackmail me into giving you my man? If I don't behave myself or break up with Dion, you'll show him the picture?"

"No, you don't understand. You see, my sisters have already shown Dion the picture. He said he suspected, but he wasn't sure. He planned on coming over after work and talking to you about it, but my sisters said to wait. That way, it would give me time to come over and talk to you instead. As far as he and I coming back together, he'll have to make up his own mind."

At that moment, there was nothing Shantelle wanted to do more than to rip all of Sharon's hair out and smash in her pretty face. However, she managed to control herself to ask one last question.

"Why are you doing this, to humiliate me?" she asked.

"No, what I want to do is to beat you to a pulp," Sharon said matter of factly.

Shouting a few expletives and calling Sharon every name she could think of, she put herself in a cocky fighting pose and said, "Well come on then!"

Sharon rose up her right hand. "No, not in your mother's house. We'll fight at the north playground at six o'clock. You can bring your friends if you like," she said.

"Oh it's on," Shantelle said. "I'll bring my friends so they can watch me kick your skinny white butt."

Sharon, giving a smirk knowing her posterior like the rest of her was far from being "skinny," turned and walked to the door. "Six o'clock," she repeated, and closed the door.

Her insides shaking from rage and nervous energy, Shantelle ran back to the stereo, pressed the play button, and shouted along with the rap artist on how one needed to get back at their enemies in so many words. After the song was over, she grabbed her cell phone and started calling a few of her friends about what was going to take place in the next few hours.

Several hours later, a minute or two from the mentioned time for the fight, Shantelle and five of her friends walked over to the place picked for the battle. As they arrived, they saw Sharon and a black woman with a short afro already there waiting on them. Sharon was wearing an old denim blue gi top, the sleeves torn off and everything including the belt was fraying at the edges. Underneath, she wore an old white T-shirt. This was combined with a light blue pair of pants that almost looked like it was more for use in a hospital than a dojo. They were in better shape than the top part of her outfit, but the legs were cut well above her ankles. Her companion was wearing a basic outfit of blue sweatpants and a blue sweatshirt with no shoes. Shantelle and her friends were wearing T-shirts and blue jeans.

Shantelle, feeling very cocky, asked, "What's with that getup, you think you're Jackie Chan or something?"

Sharon calmly said, "No, this is my practice outfit. This was the only outfit I brought with me that I wouldn't mind receiving grass or blood stains on it. Before we get started, this is Nancy, my second."

"Your second what?" Shantelle said.

Sharon sighed. "My assistant and witness to this battle."

"Oh, well this is Shauna, Carrie, Sally, Davita, and Tina," Shantelle said, waving her hand toward her friends. "And they came to "bear witness' to this fight too."

Without warning, Nancy walking in between the two parties and asked Shantelle, "You ready?"

"Yeah I'm ready girl, get out of my way!"

"Are you ready Sharon?"

"Yes, I'm ready."

Nancy walked back to her previous spot. "Let's fight!" she said.

The reason for Shantelle's cockiness was not totally unfounded. One of the things she was known for was being an excellent catfighter, a fact she was proud of. Her game plan was to grab Sharon's blonde locks, yank her head down, and knee her face until she was bleeding or begged her to stop.

What Shantelle forgot was that everyone in the Daughters of Athena was intensely trained or were being trained in at least one martial art; it was a requirement for membership. In Sharon's case, she was a second-degree black belt in Sabaki karate. She was aware of Shantelle's reputation, herself being at one time a product of the neighborhood that she came from, and prepared her mind and body to act accordingly to whatever attack Shantelle planned to make.

Shantelle was not used to starting her fights in such a formulized fashion, but it didn't seem to deter her as she ran toward Sharon, arms outstretched, ready to pull her hair. She gave a war cry at the top of her lungs as she charged.

Sharon stood in a fighting stance, her left foot pointed toward her opponent, while her right foot was planted behind her, almost even with the front foot. While she had her fists up in a classic fighting position, everything was relaxed. She bent her knees slightly, while she kept her eyes on Shantelle. She waited until the last possible moment, then she struck. Sharon pushed off with her back foot and twisted her hips as she delivered a straight punch to Shantelle's face.

Pain exploded in Shantelle's eyes as she found herself nearly bending over backwards from the blow. It took her a second to mentally process what just happened to her. She realized her nose was bleeding and the world spun for a moment. When she settled her eyes back on Sharon, that's when she saw her foe come forward with another attack.

Sharon stepped forward and launched a right front kick to Shantelle's stomach. The woman bent over holding her belly, coughing, nearly to the point of retching from the pain. Sharon figured Shantelle had hardly any core muscles whatsoever, so a good blow there would be devastating. She then walked over, and taking her left foot, sweeped Shatelle's right ankle from under her, causing her to fall on her face.

And just like that, the fight was over.

Nancy said just that when she declared, "This fight is now over!"

Shauna and Davita, two of Shantelle's close friends, begged to differ, and protested of such when they charged Sharon and Nancy, threatening to take them out. Davita charged Sharon, intent on revenge, while Shauna went after Nancy because . . . she just happened to be there. Carrie, Sally, and Tina stood back and watched. Maybe they would see more of a show than they did with the last match. Again, they were disappointed.

Anybody watching Shauna charge Nancy did not see much, for all they saw was Shauna rush in front of Nancy, then fall down, out cold. Nancy's punch was so fast, only Shauna saw it coming, but not by much.

As for Davita versus Sharon, Sharon jumped back, avoiding Davita's initial charge, then waited for her to turn around. When she did, Sharon pivoted on her right foot, and delivered a middle body roundhouse kick, her stiffened toes landing directly into Davita's solar plexus. After the kick, Davita collapsed to the ground wheezing as she struggled to get her next breath.

Sharon and Nancy looked over at the three remaining women checking to see if they were willing to participate in the festivities. They gave them the look that told them they had no plans of fighting. Sally rose up her hands in surrender to further empathize her point.

"Now that this fight is really over, I'm going to go and take care of some pressing business. In the meantime, Nancy is going to tell you of a special opportunity that you may be interested in. I'll see you later, Nancy," Sharon said as she turned and headed off the grounds toward her car.

"Good luck, Sharon," Nancy said, then she turned and faced her audience. "Ladies, I'm here to offer you the excellent opportunity to join the Daughters of Athena. If you are looking for a way off these streets, the Daughters are the best way to do it."

Nancy delivered her recruitment speech similar to the way a preacher would deliver a sermon to a congregation at their church (on those few days they decided to come). After she finished, she delivered the invitation. "Would you like to come and see what we have to offer?"

All three nodded their heads and mumbled sure.

"Then come with me," Nancy replied, stepping over one of the wheezing bodies on the way to her car.

"Hey, what about them?" Tina aksed of the three defeated women on the ground.

"What about them? I'm only speaking to those who want to be winners. Did one of them drive you here?"

"Yeah," Sally said.

"Then come with me, there's plenty of room in my car," Nancy replied as she quickly headed in the direction of her car with the three women trotting behind her, leaving the other women alone, lying in the dirt.

Dion Cooke was in his apartment sitting at his piano, composing a new song. He had received the sad news about Shantelle earlier that morning from one of Sharon's friends who went to the trouble to tell him the news along with showing him the picture at work earlier that morning. When he said he was going to Shantelle's after work and confront her on it, the friend urged him to wait until later to face her. He didn't understand her reasoning, but he decided to take her advice. It wouldn't be useful going to her with a hot head, he reasoned.

When Dion was not working his day job, he was a jazz musician. During the evenings, he played at the local coffeehouses and nightclubs in town. He started to develop quite a following among the local musicians and music lovers in town. Some had said he stood an excellent chance of going professional; just one hit away from hitting the charts. Dion was optimistic about it, but in the meantime, he wasn't going to give up his office job anytime soon.

One of the things Sharon loved about Dion besides his music was the sensitive spirit he put behind his music. She swore on more than one occasion during some of his songs that if she closed her eyes she could float off to another world; a world filled with beauty and harmony. On many occasions, Sharon would assist Dion on filling in the lyrics on his songs; an experiment that failed miserably with Shantelle.

The betrayal had hurt Dion, but not as much as he started to discover that she put on an elaborate front that made him think that she was more ' artistic than she really was. Her musical tastes turned out to be limited to listening to thugs who hollered their inane lyrics at the top of their lungs over sampled tunes and drum machines, no originality. All her favorite artists always talked about flaunting authority and "banging" those who you care anything remotely about. Banging seemed to be one of those things on the top of Shantelle's list. It apparently went without saying that since she didn't get to "bang" him, she just went off and "banged" someone else.

To deal with the hurt and betrayal, Dion dealt with it like many musicians do, by throwing themselves into their music. The 5'6" musician was a handsome black man who wore his long black hair in a long ponytail; similar to the way the great jazz musician Duke Ellington wore his. Although he had been doing just fine, he greatly missed Sharon's input on not just help on the lyrics, but her input on how the songs sounded. On more than one occasion, he wanted to kick himself. Why, oh why did he think a long distance relationship would not work? Why did he let her go? He stopped himself, knowing that line of reasoning could lead to madness, and he wanted to go professional before that happened, at least!

He started work on the second stanza when he heard the ring of the doorbell. Maybe it was Shantelle, coming either with an explanation or a plea for forgiveness. A reasonable explanation he could accept (if there was one), forgiveness he could supply, but to continue a relationship that really never was, he could not do. Wearily, he got up from the piano and walked to the door, ready to get this over with.

Who he saw at the door was someone entirely different from what he expected.

"Sharon?" Dion said.

"Hello baby," Sharon said, and gave him a hug.

After she finished with the fight at the playground, she went home and showered and changed into something more presentable. Although it was customary for women in the Daughters of Athena to go barefoot, one of the latest fashion styles was to wear some of their more fancier outfits with stockings or pantyhose without shoes, particularly colored hose. It made them feel more sensual, and they found that their boyfriends loved it. And that was what Sharon wore, sheer white hose with a short denim skirt, and a white, long-sleeved blouse that hung off the shoulders.

"So how are things in Cincinnati?" Dion asked as he walked back to his piano bench and sat down.

"Pretty cool. Nice city, fun people, and the new job is going great," Sharon replied.

"Wow, that's cool. So what brings you back here?"

"I came to get you," Sharon said seriously.

"Wha?"

"You would love it in Cincinnati, Dion. Besides being a bigger city, there are more opportunities for your music to be heard."

"But it's not that simple, Sharon," Dion complained. "I can't just jump up and move. I'll need to find another job, a place to stay-"

"I've landed you a job, and found you a place to live. All you have to do is say a few goodbyes, pack, and leave."

Dion was stunned. "You've already done all this?"

"Yes, because I love you, baby. While I was in Cincinnati, I would cry at night because I didn't have you to share it with me; so I decided to do something about it. I want you with me when we experience all the things the city has to offer. I want to be with you when you play your latest tunes. I want to be there when you receive your Grammy nomination."

"Well now that you put it that way, how could I refuse? Wait a minute, there's another thing to take care of. Shantelle-"

"Oh, don't worry about her," Sharon said, waving her hand as she walked around the piano, examining Dion's pieces of music. "We had - a "discussion,' and we came to a "decision.' No need to go over the details, let's just say you won't need to deal with her anymore."

"Uh, just like that?"

"Yep, just like that."

"I guess you've heard about the picture."

"as soon as Julie shot the picture, she called me late that night and told me what happened. Some of my friends know about Shantelle, and when they found out she was dating you, they kept a close eye on her to make sure she behaved herself. I was already making plans to come visit, but after Julie called, I hustled down here."

"You DOA women are a real close knit group."

"Yes we are, and we're very protective about our men. They hated our breaking up almost as much as I - well they didn't like it too much. Hey, what's this?"

Sharon picked up a piece of music that had some lyrics written on it. She read them out loud.

"Oh we'd be banging!

We'd bang it to the east,

We'd bang it to the west,

We'd bang it more from north and south

"Cause that way I like it best!

Dion, what's this about?" She asked.

Dion put his left hand on his forehead as he shook his head back and forth.

"That was Shantelle's attempt at writing song lyrics," he sighed. "All the songs she listens to either have something to do with "banging,' partying that eventually leads to "banging,' or defying authority. She doesn't even like jazz, because they play instruments and sing, no rapping."

"Ignorant tramp. Hey Dion, you and Shantelle never "banged,' have you?"

"No, but it's not like she hasn't tried; it's all she has on her mind. Besides, I missed you too. Oh Sharon, how did she fool me like that? I'm not na#ve or stupid, how did I fall for it? She approached me like she listened to nothing but jazz. I think she just wanted to bag a musician."

"The only answer I can come up with is that some people are actors on a stage, and some people are actors in life. I guess Shantelle pretended she was something she's not to try to get something she could only have for a moment, if at all. When she found out you were real, the only purpose you served for her was of a status symbol, something she could brag about to her friends, while she took care of her needs elsewhere."

"That's a pretty good theory," Dion said, "of course that makes me feel more like an idiot."

Sharon sat down on the bench beside him.

"Well you don't have to worry about her anymore, I'm here," she said.

"Do you really think I'll win a Grammy?" Dion asked.

"Yes I do. I expect the two of us to attend the awards ceremony, then when you go to accept your award, I'll expect the television cameras to focus on me, because I'll be the only one there wearing a fancy dress and no shoes!" Sharon laughed.

Stifling a giggle, Dion said, "Well it's still going to take a little time to put a band together."

"Oh, I have a confession to make. When I left, I uh, "borrowed' one of your pieces, "My Ship Has Come In,' and I showed it to a few jazz musicians and groups in the city, along with a producer or two. Remember that job I said I had waiting for you? Well it's a position as a keyboardist for the group "Silkworm.' They fell in love with that tune and that tape of your performance at the Java House - I uh, "borrowed' that too. And when you arrive in Cincinnati, Rachel Burke, one of the producers of Soft Touch Records will want to talk to you."

Dion was speechless.

"S-S-Silkworm?" He struggled to say.

"No need to thank me now, you'll make it up to me later," Sharon said, smiling. "Hey, let's see what you're working on here."

Dion was still trying to digest what he was just told about the awesome promotional job Sharon had done for him, but he managed to answer Sharon's question.

"This is my latest song. I wrote the melody and everything else already, but I'm still working on the lyrics," he said.

"Hmmm, play it a couple of times, and let's see what we can come up with."

Dion played the melody and the chorus a few times, then Sharon sang out in a mellow soprano voice the first verse:

Ships pass in the night,

Never again to pass,

But you and I are right

For a love that will always last.

Then she proceeded to the chorus:

It was always meant to be

A sight for all to see,

A very special love song

Between you and me.

Dion stopped playing. "You haven't lost your touch," he said, "it's perfect."

Sharon couldn't resist any longer. She pulled Dion's face close to hers and gave him a long, soulful kiss. Finally she released him, but still held him close.

"Yes, we are," she whispered. "C'mon baby, let's pack."

For any comments, suggestions, or story ideas, send email to shrewsberry@juno.com.