Pandora's Box

by Allison Hobbs

  “Yeah? Well, I can understand how it’s therapeutic for the tricks…they’re nuts, but how in the hell is it therapeutic for you?”

  “It’s therapeutic because it lets me forget. I have no idea what would happen if I removed the Band-Aid. And right now I’m not strong enough or brave enough to face my pain.”

  “Speaking of pain…” Jonee touched her face. “It feels like somebody threw lye on my face. You want to mask your pain? I look like shit and I wish I could put a mask on my face,” Jonee said, laughing. “Look, let’s forget about this shit for a minute. You wanna smoke a joint with me?”

  “No, I do not,” Victoria said, emphasizing each word. “You know I don’t get high.”

  “How about a drink then? I know you get your drink on ’cause I done seen your ass throwing down some liquor.”

  “Wine, Jonee. I only drink wine or champagne.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Tomatoes, tomahtoes,” Jonee replied, as she headed for the kitchen.

  Trailing Jonee, Victoria got as far as the living room. She decided not to venture into the kitchen. From where she stood, the kitchen looked worse than the other rooms. Trash spilled over, unwashed dishes were piled high, and the kitchen table was cluttered with newspapers and more dirty dishes.

  Jonee returned to the living room with two plastic cups filled with White Zinfandel.

  “How’d you end up in the business, Jonee?” Victoria asked unexpectedly, sipping the wine.

  “Long story,” Jonee replied.

  “I’m not in a rush. I’ve got plenty of time. Rover suspended me, too, remember?”

  “Why’d he suspend you?” Jonee asked, looking shocked. “You didn’t do anything.”

  “Long story,” Victoria said, mimicking Jonee. “It’s just for a couple days. I’m not going to worry about it.”

  “I’m really sorry, Pleasure. I didn’t mean to drag you into this mess.”

  “It was my decision, Jonee. I didn’t want you to have to take a bus. And I figured you could use some support.”

  Jonee’s eyes brimmed with tears. “You’re all right, girl. In this cutthroat business, a real friend is as rare as finding a hoe who don’t wear store bought hair.”

  Touching her braids, Victoria scowled.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you how I got in the life. I met this dude. He was Jewish. We met at Community College. Summer classes…”

  “You went to Community?”

  “Yeah, but I dropped out after the first semester.”

  “Oh.”

  “Mark is from a rich family. His people own finance companies—a whole chain. I guess you could call them glorified loan sharks. Mark failed Anatomy and Physiology at Temple and had heard that the classes were easier to pass at Community. He was my lab partner and I guess he got off on helping an ignorant little black girl who didn’t know the patella from the mandible. Made him feel superior, I guess.”

  Victoria nodded hesitantly. She didn’t know a patella from a mandible either.

  “His dumb ass should have known all that shit since he was repeating the class. But what did I know—I was impressed by his scientific knowledge and flattered by all the attention he was giving me.”

  “Mark drove a black BMW, always had plenty of cash, took me out to eat in places I had never even thought about entering, and he told me shit like: ‘You have an ancient beauty; men have killed for women who look like you.’ He told me that he was an artist but his parents insisted that he become a lawyer. We got involved when Mark decided that he had to capture my beauty on canvas. What a joke!” Jonee broke out a bag of weed and started rolling a joint.

  “I was from the ’hood and thought I had heard it all,” she continued. “But Mark came up with a totally different angle to getting the pussy. During our relationship, I let Mark drag me to museums and art galleries all over Philly and New York. We even went to see an exhibit at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Montreal. Mark would stand around looking at the ugliest, craziest shit for hours. I hated it, but I was in love and love will make you do strange, strange things.” Jonee closed her eyes. She inhaled deeply, and then exhaled.

  Victoria was not offended by the sweet, pungent smell that permeated the room. It was a hell of a lot more pleasing than the putrid cigarette smoke that Jonee usually blew in her face. Perhaps her inability to conjure an image was affected by the second-hand smoke she was inhaling, but Victoria was having a hard time imagining Jonee standing still and quiet in an art museum.

  “He freaked when I got pregnant.” Jonee took another puff. “Insisted that I get an abortion. I probably would have if he hadn’t acted like my pregnancy was the end of the fucking world. His parents didn’t know shit about me, but my mother had welcomed Mark with open arms. She was crazy about him, thought he was the best thing that had ever happened to me. He was my ticket outta the ghetto.”

  “Mark is Alec’s father?” Victoria asked.

  “Yeah, he’s Alec’s biological father. When Mark got scarce during my pregnancy, I think my mother took it harder than I did. She said she should have known better, she should have realized that Mark was only slumming with me.

  One day my mother decided that she was gonna get some kind of help for me, so she showed up at his family’s main office and demanded to speak to his father. She raised all kinds of hell. She cussed everybody out! The receptionist, secretaries, customers…everybody! And Mark’s father wasn’t even there. His parents were somewhere in Europe. But the white bastards who worked there had my mother arrested.”

  “And girl… I flipped when I heard my mom was locked up. She was arrested for disorderly conduct or some trumped up bullshit. I was seven months pregnant, and didn’t have no money for her bail. I was so mad; I walked from 29th and Girard to Mark’s dorm at Temple. I showed my ass that night. I went off! I totally fucked up his room. His roommate was hysterical, screaming like a little bitch while I was breaking up shit. Mark made some calls and got my mother out.…just like that.” Jonee snapped her fingers.

  Jonee laughed, but her eyes were sad. “Believe me, Mark Kaplan will think twice before he fucks with another black woman. That was the night he got cured of his jungle fever.”

  “Did you say Kaplan?” Victoria asked. “Alec is related to the Kaplan Finance people?”

  “Yes. But they would never admit it. Mark and his family do not give a shit about my son. They only care about money. My baby is six years old, and to this day, neither Mark nor his family has ever laid eyes on Alec. With the check that I get once a month from his family, I pay Alec’s tuition, I buy his clothes…and believe me, I buy Alec nothing but the best. The rest of the money gets put away for his education. Oh! And Alec has some money in a trust fund. He can have that when he turns twenty-five. I would never touch a dime of Alec’s money. I want to make sure that he grows up financially secure. I don’t want him sweating the Kaplan name or their money. My baby’s gonna be a doctor—a fucking surgeon; and he won’t need none of their asses. Fuck ’em!”

  Victoria felt herself getting angrier, as if Jonee’s story was her own. “I know you’re doing a lot with the money, Jonee, but that family is filthy rich. What they’re giving you is a pittance compared to what you’re entitled to.” Victoria looked around at Jonee’s squalid living room. “I know Mark’s family can afford to put you and Alec in a better environment.”

  Jonee leaned on an elbow, her knuckles pressed into her good cheek. “Mark don’t care about Alec’s environment. He works for his family’s business; he keeps his income hidden. He claims he only makes X amount of dollars. Alec gets what the Kaplans feel he deserves. No, let me rephrase that. The Kaplans don’t think my son deserves shit; they think I should be grateful for the chump change they give him.” Jonee’s expression was pained.

  Jonee wasn’t quoting any figures, and Victoria was curious about the exact amount she received in support payments. Victoria didn’t get anything from Jordan’s father. He was able to beat the system and avoided making child support paym
ents by moving around and jumping from job to job.

  “Mark not only hurt me, he hurt my mother and Alec. My son is being raised without a father. Mark is deliberately denying Alec access to a better lifestyle. But that’s cool. All Mark would do is fuck up Alec’s life anyway.”

  Victoria gave Jonee a puzzled look.

  “He doesn’t love Alec, he can’t. Guilt is the only thing that would make Mark even attempt to be a father to his half-breed embarrassment from the ghetto. My mom and me shower Alec with love and affection. We try to build up his self-esteem because we know he ain’t gonna have no easy time growing up. The kids in our neighborhood call him a sissy, or white boy. My baby don’t even know what that shit means. So I put him in private school, where kids won’t be picking with him all the time. There ain’t that many black kids in his school, and Alec is still the oddball. But I’ll tell you one thing, he fits in a hell of a lot better than he would have in one these fucked up neighborhood schools. At least there’s no name-calling and the kids don’t fight.” Jonee looked at Victoria expectantly.

  Lost in thought, Victoria was silent. She made good money at Pandora’s and it was time to start investing in Jordan. No longer would she squander her money on frivolity. She wouldn’t procrastinate any longer. The public school system was not going to destroy her child. She’d begin an immediate search for a good school. Buoyed by her new mission, Victoria was eager to get back to work to start stacking money for Jordan’s education fund.

  CHAPTER 27

  Victoria was tired. Exhausted. Her suspension was lifted, but she’d been banished to the midnight shift, and working through the night wasn’t easy. She hated having to take Jordan to the babysitter late at night and she particularly hated creeping back home exposed by the light of the morning sun. Her compensation, a thick roll of money, was evidence of a hard night’s work. Longing for a hot shower and a few hours sleep, she began peeling off clothes. The red flashing light of the answering machine caught her attention. She eyed the machine wearily, knowing the message would be from Jordan, no doubt asking if he could come home. Jordan hadn’t adjusted to his mother’s new shift or having to stay at Charmaine’s until late afternoon.

  Delightful surprise gleamed in her eyes when she pushed play and heard Kareem’s voice.

  “Yo, I got a coupla tickets to Thursday night’s show at the Tower Theater. You wanna check it out? Oh yeah, and uh…consider this an apology for last week.”

  Oh, Kareem, she gushed. I should be apologizing to you.

  “I hope you can make it,” he continued. “Holler when you get in.”

  He didn’t mention who was performing at the Tower. It was most likely some rap group, but Victoria didn’t care. After the way she had spoiled their dinner date, she was grateful Kareem had even bothered to ask her out again. Her fingers danced over the buttons as she pushed Kareem’s number.

  As it turned out, Kareem was a close friend of the Grammy-winning performer, Anasa, a female vocalist from North Philly. Kareem and Victoria sat in front row seats; Victoria was mesmerized by the singer’s smooth and sultry vocals. Her unique sound, a jazz vibe mixed with hip-hop, was delivered effortlessly.

  Though completely enthralled by the performance, every so often Victoria would try to steal a glance at Kareem. But with his eyes shifting constantly from the stage to her face, she was caught each time, and had to look away in embarrassment.

  After the show Kareem took Victoria backstage to meet Anasa. Beautiful and earthy, the singer gave Victoria a warm hug like they were long lost friends.

  Thirty minutes later Victoria and Kareem were back in his jeep, headed for West Philly.

  “The show was fabulous, Kareem! I’m going out to buy her CD first thing tomorrow.”

  Kareem kept his eyes on the road, but nodded in approval.

  “Anasa seems so unaffected by her success. I was surprised at how down to earth she is.”

  “Yeah, Anasa’s keepin’ it real. She invited us to the after-party but I had to decline,” Kareem announced.

  Disappointment flashed across Victoria’s face.

  “I’m not tryin’ to keep you out all night. I know you have to get home and look after your son,” he explained.

  Jordan was staying over at Charmaine’s, but Victoria didn’t say anything.

  “We can check her out the next time she’s in town. We’re real tight.

  “I could tell,” Victoria said, impressed.

  “We grew up together. Same street, same block.”

  The entire evening had been thrilling, but was ending too soon. The ride from Upper Darby to West Philly seemed to take only a few minutes. As they approached her neighborhood, Victoria felt anxious; she wanted to prolong the night. She wanted to tell Kareem how proud she’d felt being with him tonight. She wanted to tell him all about herself, her childhood, being raised by her grandmother, the pain of waiting for her own mother. She wanted to tell him about her own singing career…about Justice Martin, how deeply he’d hurt her. And she wanted to tell him how she’d ended up in the business. She felt vulnerable, but was willing to bear her soul. She was on a self-destructive course. Lost. She wanted him to save her. But a million words unspoken were far too many to speak.

  Kareem walked her up the steps to her front door. “Do you want to stop in for a minute?” she asked.

  “Naw, I’m cool. And we’re cool now, right? Am I back in your good graces?” he asked, tilting her chin teasingly.

  “Of course. I don’t know what got into me that night. I’m really sorry.”

  “Sorry enough to hang out with me next week, and listen to some rap? One of my acts, my boy, Indecent, is opening at Club Flow on Delaware Avenue.”

  Victoria crinkled her nose playfully. “I can’t wait to hear the oratorical skills of Indecent.”

  “Just open up a little; allow yourself to hear the message, I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

  A sudden breeze blew by. Kareem opened his jacket wide, inviting her inside. He closed the jacket around her. She rested against him. The nearness of him was intoxicating. She stood on her toes, offering her lips. Kareem kissed her back, softly. “It’s getting chilly baby,” he said, pulling away. “We better call it a night. I’ll hollah at you tomorrow, okay?”

  She nodded good-naturedly, but wanted desperately to hold on to the moment. “G’night, baby,” he said and kissed her again, this time a quick peck on her cheek.

  Victoria went inside and locked the door behind her. She leaned against it before going upstairs to her apartment. She hoped Kareem would have a change of heart and come back and stay awhile. Her hopes were dashed when she heard him start the engine and drive away.

  Kareem was being cautious, taking it slowly, she told herself. She knew he was crazy about her, she just couldn’t figure out why. Surely, he could have any woman he wanted. Women far less complicated than she. In a flash, Victoria pictured all the glamorous women who’d been back stage, and who no doubt would be at the after-party.

  In a moment of self-doubt, she wondered if Kareem had hastily ditched her so that he could be free to mingle at the party.

  With a sigh, she decided not to torture herself worrying about what Kareem was doing. He wasn’t her man. Not yet, anyway. But just as soon as she got herself together, she was definitely going to claim him.

  CHAPTER 28

  Dominique’s full-length reflection was cut into jigsaw-like pieces by the mirror panels that decorated the wall. She appraised her image and was pleased that her dark skin glistened from head to toe. Prone to dry, ashen skin, she had tried a myriad of lotions. But no product on the market, no matter how expensive, provided the kind of sheen that a bottle of cheap baby oil could.

  Barefoot with jangling ankle bracelets, Dominique looked wild and sexy in a zebra-striped push-up bra and matching G-string. The set was one of the many costumes she wore with the combined theme of animal lust and intimidation.

  Dominique smoothed more baby oil over her body, an
d squinted at her image. She saw a lean body and a flat stomach—no flab. But something had changed. Scrutinizing her body, she noticed that she was losing some muscle tone. It was slight, barely perceptible, but a change nonetheless. Still, she had to admit that the years had been kind. Kind enough to allow her to wear the type of bare-all apparel so necessary in her line of work.

  Giving herself one long last look, she tried to convince herself not to worry about the double dose of unexpected competition: Reds and that snotty bitch Pleasure. But on second thought, she wondered if maybe she should shed the animal-skin look and put on something that would give her a softer, less threatening look.

  She felt off-balance and unsure of herself, but decided to keep on the zebra-striped set. She made a deal with herself—she’d change if she didn’t get the first customer.

  Sauntering into the lounge, exhibiting cockiness she didn’t feel, Dominique flipped through the pages of a magazine that someone from the previous shift had left behind. She was irritated by the glossy images of spaghetti-thin women who were paid a fortune for their smiles. She tossed the magazine aside and attempted to take comfort in the knowledge that the photos had probably all been touched up to perfection.

  From the corner of her eye, Dominique watched Reds prancing about in an expensive-looking lavender lace teddy that was cut high with a thong back. As if that wasn’t sufficiently annoying, Reds kept flinging her recently permed hair. Reds’ thick wild mane was now tamed into silky, luxurious locks. Dominique pursed her lips and took a deep breath. Reds was wearing the second new outfit in a week. The color looked good on her and that, along with the new hair-do made Reds appear brighter, gave her a more youthful appearance. But Dominique refused to comment or compliment her. She couldn’t imagine where Reds had gotten the money for these indulgences. Reds’ meager earnings at the massage parlor barely covered her liquor bill.

  She didn’t begrudge Reds her recent purchases; Lord knew the woman was badly in need of some new gear. Dominique was, however, irked by the superior attitude she detected in Reds, the air of nonchalance tinged with impudence. There was definitely a bit of defiance in Reds’ refusal to reveal the source of these recent acquisitions.