Sexy bumpa. Pretty face. Long hair. Tall, lean body. In shape. Clear brown skin. Beautiful smile. Every man from Mississauga through to Oshawa knew that Delia Chinn was sheer perfection. Although I didn't really know her, thanks to TeeDotVibes, the hottest website in Toronto, I was able to put together the pieces on my dream girl: she was twenty-nine, of Chinese-Jamaican heritage, had no kids, loved to party, and was my ultimate fantasy.
It was Caribana Sunday night, and me and my boy Mike were attending the Soldier's Ball, up at a banquet hall in North York. We didn't party much, but when we did check out a club, it was usually a reggae dance, and Delia was usually there looking fine as ever.
She was a natural princess of the dancehall, and few women in the city could compare to her beauty, style, and the graceful way she moved her body. Delia wasn't the type to beg for attention by scaling speakers, wining on the dirty floor, or talking loud in the video camera; all she needed to do was choose her space and the attention automatically fell on her. Every month, there would be dozens of new video clips of her online. The camera loved her, and thanks to technology, I had almost become obsessed.
That night she walked in with her crew about twelve-thirty, just a few minutes after we arrived. Mike grabbed a six-pack of beer to hold down for the night. I immediately nudged my bredren, but he was already nodding his head in recognition. He knew I was infatuated with the girl, and could usually spot her even before I did.
The Soldier's Ball was a long-weekend tradition for the Civic Holiday weekend in August. It featured the hottest reggae selecta in the city, a veteran named Capone, and as the years passed and the crowd got bigger, a couple more sounds jumped on board: Roots Warriors and Redemption Sound, both from the west. Mike's cousin Sluggy played with Roots Warriors, so we usually supported their big dances.
I also grew up in the west end of the city, but I usually kept a low profile. So while I knew most of the faces around me, and had followed the DJs closely since back in high school, I was still relatively unknown in the dancehall scene. I was a simple guy, I moved clean, didn't surround myself with too many dudes, and tried to avoid drama at all costs. So when Delia and the girls walked by us without even looking our way I wasn't surprised, because most guys in the club were popping bottles and blinging, and a girl like her would probably much rather linger around guys like that. It was a known fact.
So I didn't look at Delia's long brown legs, fully exposed beneath her miniscule fatigue-print skirt. I didn't admire her straightened hair, pulled back from her face with her bangs hanging over her eyes. I didn't dare look at the sheer black blouse that revealed her perfect stomach and slim waist. Everyone in the club was dressed in army-gear (the mandatory dress code of the Soldier's Ball), but Delia still stood out from the rest.
Mike shook his head at me and laughed as I tried to ignore my dream girl. To my surprise, her crew stopped walking just a few feet to our left and began to dance. Despite the new smoking ban in Toronto clubs, Delia lit up a spliff and began to smoke as she grooved.
"I think this is the last Caribana you'll find me here," Mike said, leaning over slightly so I could hear him. I finished my beer, and reached in the box for another one. I usually didn't drink much, but was giving myself permission to indulge that night: I was single, I was lusting after this girl, and beginning to feel a bit foolish the way my stomach turned and heartbeat accelerated just from watching the beautiful stranger.
"Why?" I asked him simply, trying to distract myself.
"Look around, man! Everyone doing the same shit they've been doing for a decade! It's gotta come to an end sometime."
"But why? We've been doing it, too," I said. "Nothing wrong with going out to hear two tunes."
"Yo, we can't be forty years old, dressing up in our fatigues and coming to this Soldier's Ball," Mike said, laughing. He took a sip of his beer and looked behind him at Delia and her squad. He shrugged. "Besides, I'm a married man now. What can I find in here that I don't already have at home?"
"You're just talking shit 'cause you miss Nicola," I said to my boy. His wife of two years had gone to New Jersey for the weekend with her sister, and he had been in a funky mood. "This is the first Caribana I've heard you complain so much."
"Just something to think about, man. We gotta change up the routine a bit," he concluded, nodding his head to the new Jah Cure tune that his cousin was playing while chatting on the mic.
"Well, we're not forty yet, bredren. Ten years to go, and then we'll start playing cricket in the park Caribana weekend. That what you want to do?" I teased, bumping his arm as I laughed to myself. Mike had to chuckle, and we left it at that.
Somehow we moved far back enough that the girls were in front of us dancing, and needless to say the rest of my night was priceless. The vibes were nice, Delia was moving and shaking, I was on my fourth beer—to Mike's surprise—and the crowd was live. As usual, the Solder's Ball was the hottest dancehall event of the weekend and the later it got, more people crammed into the cloudy banquet hall. Only minutes after the video camera man from TeeDotVibes walked to our side of the room, his light was shining in Delia's direction, documenting her every move. She didn't even acknowledge his presence, but continued to dance; the other females in the club continuously tried to upstage her, but even if he left to capture other parts of the dance, the spotlight always ended up back on Delia. She was the unofficial star of the website, and the hottest video clips from any big event always featured Miss Chinn working it out.
Just before two, I couldn't even breathe, let alone move. The hall capacity was probably three times the legal limit, the music was so nice that people couldn't stop singing and dancing, the walls and floor were damp with humidity, and the smoke levels were ridiculous. All of that, plus the liquor, plus the limited ventilation was making me light-headed. Even Mike was in a zone, enjoying the music, so I told him I'd be back in a minute, planning to grab a bottle of water from the bar.
After a quick stop in the washroom, I looked at the crowd between me and the bar, and decided that I couldn't handle the wait as everyone scrambled for their last drinks before the bar locked off. Instead, I stumbled my way to the front door to attempt to get some fresh air. The bouncer let me through, and I walked along the wall, passed a crowd of cigarette smokers, and sat down on a ledge bordering the parking lot. Two police officers lingered nearby.
I was so hot and exhausted I didn't even think twice before taking off my long black t-shirt, revealing my black marina. I draped the shirt around my shoulder, and tried to catch my breath and clear my head.
I don't know how long I had my eyes closed, but when I looked up I saw Delia pass me on the way to the parking lot, alone. With my head still down, I carefully watched as she opened the passenger side door to a black Pathfinder, bent down to pick something up, and then made her way back to the club, swinging the car keys on her finger as she strolled.
"Yo, I think you're beautiful," I said to her when she was just a few feet away from me, ready to re-enter the club. Delia stopped walking, put her hand on her hip and smiled at me.
"Excuse me?" she said. I was never usually this bold, and I had no idea what to say next. So I just repeated myself.
"I said, I think you're beautiful," I replied politely. "Extremely."
"I think you're drunk," she said to me, nodding at the shirt on my shoulder, and stating the obvious. But she still didn't move.
"I am. But I know what I'm talking about. Trust me."
"Well, thank you. You're not going back inside?" she asked, pulling her ponytail from her back, and bringing it across her right shoulder.
"I don't know, girl. It's hot in there," I said to her, feeling my heart thump in my throat. "I might need you to carry me back in."
"Come, hold on then," she teased, reaching out with extended arms. I knew she was kidding, but still took her advance and held on to her hands while I had the opportunity...and while I was still intoxicated enough to play along.
Instead of walking back into the party, she led me around the other side of the wall to the back of the parking lot. She reached into her clutch and pulled out and lit a small spliff. I stood in front of her, still mesmerized, and I watched as she inhaled.
"Keep me company for a minute? Might as well smoke it out here before I go in," she said. "The air in there is too hot. No wonder you're out here stripping down."
I shrugged, and leaned against the wall, still staring. I don't know why I always thought she might be a teeth-kissing hostile female, speaking only the thickest and loudest patois. She was actually very pleasant, and sounded just as Canadian as I did. "You're not gonna save some for your girls?" I asked.
"No one else wanted to make the trip to the car, so they must not have really wanted to smoke. Why, you want some?" she asked, almost like she already knew my answer.
"Don't smoke."
"Didn't think so."
"Why not?"
"You don't look like the type, that's why."
"What type is that?"
"Not you."
"OK, OK," I said, nodding my head. She seemed to enjoy teasing me, as I struggled for something else to say. Delia continued to draw on the spliff, putting it out against the wall. "You smoke nuff, huh?"
"Yeah, I guess you could say that," she said, taking a good look at me for the first time that night. She smiled in what I hoped was approval. "Some old habits are hard to break."
"I hear you," I said, looking down at her perfect feet and sexy black Baby Phat stilettos. "Sometimes you have to try something new though, you know? That's what my boy was just telling me inside: we can't do the same old thing all the time. Every now and then you have to switch up the habits. Take it to another level, you know?"
"Well, this is the only level I know right now. And I'm enjoying it," she said to me, now looking at my arms. I usually hit up the gym at least three times a week, so I knew I was looking tight.
"I'm sure I can think of a few other levels you might enjoy," I said to her. My mouth had a mind of its own.
"What's your name?" she said to me. I knew I had her interest now, wasn't exactly sure why, but couldn't exactly complain.
"Ryan."
"I'm Delia."
"I know."
"You know? Well, how come I haven't seen you around before, Ryan?"
"I guess you were too distracted by your old habits," I teased, realizing that my time with her was limited. I had to make my move. "So what's the after-party flex? You and your girls gonna chill, you gotta drop them home? What's the deal?"
"Why, what are my options?" she asked, still taking me in, looking carefully at my new black sneakers with camouflage accents.
"Well, I'd like to take you out to eat, if you don't have any other plans," I said to her.
"Right now?"
"Why, you still trying to go back in there?" I wondered, knowing that everything I needed to end off my night was right in front of me.
"Not necessarily. Where we gonna go?"
"Your choice."
"Let me call my girl and let her know I'm leaving," she said, opening her phone. I was about to call Mike, but I saw him step out the club. Mike was slightly taller than me, at about six two—the only Indian brother on the premises. He tried not to smile as he approached me, seeing that Delia and I were together.
"Bredren," Mike said coolly, reaching out to slap my hand. "I can't take it in there. Too hot. I saw you stumbling towards the door earlier, so I figured I'd come out here and find you passed out on the concrete or something."
"Nah, it's not that serious," I said to him, trying hard to keep cool. "You ready to bounce?"
"Yeah, I think I'm done, still. Why. What you saying?" he asked, quickly moving his eyes to Delia and nodding.
"I think we're about to get some food. She's just calling her girls to let them know."
"For real, for real," Mike said, putting his hand in his pocket, lifting the side of his button-up camo shirt. While I had gone casual in my camo pants and plain t-shirt, he was decked out in a black baseball cap, camo shirt and black blazer with his jeans. Mike looked sharp, as usual, and because of his dedication to Nicola, still managed to ignore the females who were admiring him.
Delia walked over to us, smiled quickly at Mike, and looked at me. In her heels she was the same height as me, and I loved it. "Let me just go give my girl her car key, and I'll be back in a minute," she said.
We both watched the heads turn as she walked up the walkway, past the bouncers and into the club. I didn't know how I was going to keep her attention, but I was going to have to at least give it my best effort. It might have been the only chance I had to make my move and I couldn't blow it.
There were too many people around for Mike and I to really comment on the situation, but his smile said enough. I had been talking about this girl for years, and he had been punking me off for not having the balls to approach her. I think we were both relieved that something was finally about to go down.
Delia exited the club a few minutes later with a bottle of water in her hand, linked her arm in mine, and smiled at Mike. "Will you be joining us?" she asked.
"Nah, I'm out," he said to her. "RW, I'll link you tomorrow," Mike said, reaching out to give me a dap. "And you Miss Lady...enjoy the rest of your evening."
"Most definitely," she said as Mike headed out to his car.