Smoke

by Joe Ide

  Dodson thought all night about the voice-to-text commercial. It was again early morning when the idea came to him. It wouldn’t be easy. It would require all his hustling skills plus a few more. He was intimidated, but he made the call.

  “I have something to ask you,” he said. “It’s about work.”

  “Ask me what?” Gloria said. “Should you blow your nose during a conference call? Scratch your privates when you’re talking to your boss? Yell ‘fire!’ and pass gas when you’re in a crowded elevator?”

  “Can I come over?” Dodson said meekly.

  “To my house? Certainly not.”

  “You’ve been to my place.”

  “I’ve been to Cherise’s place. You just live there.”

  Swallowing his pride, tail and all, Dodson said, “Gloria, please.”

  “Did you just say please?” she said in disbelief. “I was wondering which would come first. Death or you being polite.”

  “It’s not for me. It’s for Cherise and Micah.”

  “Well, in that case,” Gloria said. “But if you’re not here in the next ten minutes I’m not answering the bell. I have better things to do than listen to you talk about—”

  “Mister Assault Rifle and Overdose Willy. You told me.”

  Gloria lived in an apartment two blocks away from the Coffee Cup. She and Verna had been friends for decades. People said Verna got her croissant recipe from Gloria, but Dodson didn’t believe it. Nothing that good could have come from the Blackula of East Long Beach.

  “Come in,” she said sharply. “And don’t touch anything.” She looked him over and scowled. He was in his street clothes. He should have worn the suit. “The shoot-out is thataway,” she said. Her living room had as many hard edges and sharp angles as she did. It was like a storehouse for T-squares, isosceles triangles, armrest covers, and the color brown. Whoever heard of a brown corduroy sectional lined up like a row of cardboard boxes or a brown pillow shaped like an arrowhead?

  Gloria also collected things. In the main display case, there were snow globes depicting winter in Vermont and Denmark, a small army of owl, elephant and dog figurines. Delicate teacups from faraway Macy’s, a carved wooden bust of MLK, a set of frosted mugs from the A&W Root Beer factory, a President Obama commemorative plate, an etched glass award for Teacher of the Year, three blue ribbons for the best minced pie and a marble statue of Jesus. If it wasn’t for the brown motif, it could have been a gift shop on a dying pier.

  “May I sit down?” Dodson said.

  Gloria thought a moment; apparently this was a difficult decision. She nodded at a plain wooden chair. It was for a child, maybe a foot off the ground. She waited, daring him to stay standing or sit someplace else. He sat down. His knees were nearly in his face. Gloria smoothed her dress and sat at the far end of the sectional. She was wearing a brown dress and seemed to blend in with the upholstery. If you closed one eye you almost couldn’t see her. “Now, what is it you want, Juanell? And please be brief. Your voice is very annoying.”

  Dodson explained his problem and what he wanted from her. Flames of outrage leaped from his mother-in-law’s eyes. She jumped to her feet.

  “Get out!” she yelled. “Don’t say anything, just go! I have never heard such a vile suggestion in my life!”

  “Vile?” he said, shocked. “Who said anything about vile?”

  “Have you no sense of propriety? Of common decency? If Cherise doesn’t divorce you, I’ll hang Micah out of a window until she does!”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Dodson said. He tried to heave himself to his feet, but his legs were cramped. He plunked back down, his center of gravity shifted, and the little chair tipped backward. He fell into the display case and a lifetime’s worth of knickknacks came raining down upon him. There was a moment of quiet. Almost everything was broken. Stunned, he lay there amid a thousand pieces of shattered memories. He had a bump on his head where the marble statue of Jesus hit him.

  Gloria was horrified, her hands out in supplication. Perhaps she was beseeching Jesus, who was presently on the floor and unable to help. She kept swallowing and blinking, her head was trembling sideways. She couldn’t seem to focus her eyes, her vision split between a cracked root-beer mug and Dodson’s throat.

  Gloria was moving her mouth, trying to say get out. He decided not to wait for a complete sentence and sprinted the hell out of there. He was nearly at the elevator when he heard a terrifying screech, and Our Lord and Savior’s left arm and shoulder flew past him so close it put a skid mark on his haircut and broke a mirror at the end of the hall.

  Dodson was home. He was sitting on the sofa, still in shock. He wanted to sit at the breakfast table, but it had become the dunking chair at a carnival or a coach seat on a thirty-two-hour non-direct flight to Ukraine. Cherise was pacing, talking to Gloria on the phone.

  “Vile?” Cherise said. “What in the world are you talking about?” She stopped and glared at Dodson. “Did you say you wanted to videotape my mother naked?”

  Dodson’s eyes widened to the width of his forehead. “I never said anything like that in my entire life! I’ve never even thought about it.” And then he did, a flash image so horrifying he wanted to blind himself. “She’s crazy!” he shouted. “She’s out of her damn mind!”

  “Shush, Juanell,” Cherise said. “Mama, Mama, please stop, he didn’t mean anything of the—no, no, this has nothing to do with your—I realize they’re not where they used to be but—yes, I remember, you were Miss Earl’s Auto Shop of 1955 but—yes, I know you still have the sash and I know Josiah spilled Thunderbird on it but that doesn’t—Mama, will you please listen!” A pause.

  “The video is for a commercial,” Cherise said. “Part of Dodson’s work. You must have misheard him, no nudity is involved—yes, you can wear a fur coat and a ski mask if it will make you feel better. You want him there in ten minutes? What’s that? I’m sorry, Mama, but who is Overdose Willy?”

  The knickknack genocide had been partially cleaned up. Jesus’s head sat accusingly on the mantel. Dodson would have sworn the Son of God was watching him. Gloria managed to restrain herself from killing him, probably because the Son of God was watching her too. Dodson explained what he wanted and why. She was surprisingly cooperative. Afterward, she seemed glad to have done it. It was upsetting, she said, but upset was a way to never forget.

  He called Grace.

  “Technical support. How may I help you?”

  “I need you to edit a video.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I Will Kill the Judge

  with My Shoe

  There was a swing set in Deronda’s backyard. Grace was pushing Janeel higher and higher, the boy happy like only kids can be. She couldn’t wait to get into court tomorrow. See Bobby’s expression when the judge saw Sandra’s mugshot and criminal record. She thought about what her lawyer would say: Your Honor, Mr. James’s girlfriend is a junkie and he supplies her with heroin. Said girlfriend is also a self-employed ho and used to be Spoon’s favorite porn star, Wanda Wonder Lips. I submit this box cover to the court as Exhibit 1A, and please note, Your Honor, the video is titled Wanda Wonder Lips Does the Philadelphia Eagles.

  Deronda was thinking up lines to say like, if you want half of something, Bobby, I’ll buy you a donut. Or—why don’t you blackmail a car dealer and get half a Toyota? Her phone buzzed. Sandra again. She probably wanted to apologize for her no-show at the Coffee Cup. She was crying.

  “Hey, girl,” Deronda said. “You okay?”

  “No, I’m not okay. I’m fucked up,” Sandra sobbed.

  “You mean you need a fix?”

  “No. I mean I’m fucked up,” Sandra said. “It was fake, Deronda. Me and Bobby in the park? All that cuddling and shit? He made me do it. He knew you was gonna take pictures and he wanted you to think we was in love.”

  This can’t be true, Deronda thought. “But why would Bobby have to make you do it? Y’all are together, ain’t you?”


  “No, we not,” Sandra said. “I’m not Bobby’s girlfriend, I’m his sister.” Deronda almost dropped the phone. Grace saw the change in her. She lifted Janeel out of the swing and came over.

  “What’s happening?” she said.

  “Really, Deronda, I’m so, so sorry. I really am,” Sandra said. “I hope it didn’t cause nothin’ bad—” Deronda ended the call.

  “Are you all right?” Grace said.

  “Bobby James,” Deronda said. “He scammed us. Sandra’s not his girlfriend, she’s his goddamn sister.” Grace recoiled.

  “What?”

  Ten minutes later, Deronda got a text from Bobby. Last chance to settle. Meet me in the hallway outside Courtroom 7. 9:45 sharp. Make sure your attorney is there.

  It was later that evening. Deronda was on the sofa, humming softly and cradling Janeel in her arms. She was smiling, the boy’s head underneath her chin, his pudgy cheeks in full bloom, long eyelashes over unsullied eyes, unaware there was such a thing as evil in the world. It was one of the saddest things Grace had ever witnessed. There was nothing she could do or say that would console her friend. She couldn’t watch anymore and went back to her room. She couldn’t stand it. Deronda would have to give up half her business. She knew life wasn’t fair, but couldn’t it give honest, loving, hardworking folks a fucking break? She wished the situation was reversed. She’d give up the art show or anything else if Deronda could keep her business.

  The unlikely pair had grown close over the last couple of years. Cherokee was a friend, but their relationship was more collegial, they were pals. There was more to it with Deronda. No, they weren’t like sisters. It was something else, some kind of nexus between hardship, struggle and love won and lost; an invisible bond of compassion and respect. And like most things human, words only made it seem trite.

  Grace couldn’t calm her anger, she didn’t want to, but the inaction was burning her up. She wondered what normal people would do in a situation like this, people who were sociable and likable and who weren’t lifelong misanthropes. They’d ask for help, you mope. From who? she wondered. The situation demanded someone smart, devious and duplicitous, someone who thought a line in the sand was a line in the sand and that rules were made for people who obeyed rules. She smiled. It was so obvious. “Dodson,” she said aloud.

  Dodson came over. He looked tired and his eyes were bloodshot, his body limp with fatigue. Deronda was so upset she didn’t notice his haircut. She told him about Bobby James, his threat and their court date tomorrow.

  “Well, what do you think?” she said.

  “Have you got any coffee that Grace didn’t make?” Dodson asked.

  “You want coffee now?”

  “Yes, I do. I’ve had a very long day.”

  Deronda grumbled and went off to the kitchen. Grace stayed. She didn’t know what to do with herself except sit there and shred a half a box of Kleenex. Dodson didn’t seem worried at all. He was weary, but he still looked confident, in control. He looked like Dodson.

  “How did it go with the Bayer commercial?” she asked.

  “It went great, and I appreciate your help. I’ll give you the full story some other time.” He nodded at the tissue shreds all over the floor. “Does that help?”

  “No,” Grace said. “It doesn’t do anything.”

  Deronda brought in the coffee. She handed him the mug. “Okay. Will you please tell me what you’re thinking? This is my life, Dodson. I’m begging you. Please don’t mess with me.”

  “Ain’t nobody messin’ with you,” Dodson said, annoyed. “Sit down. You’re interfering with my process.” He thought a long moment. “You got two problems. The first one is dealing with Bobby’s case.”

  “What’s the other?” Deronda said.

  “Later. We gotta stick to the matter at hand.” Dodson sipped his coffee and seemed to drift off.

  “Dodson, please. Don’t make me beg,” Deronda said.

  “Don’t nobody want you to beg.” He yawned, adding, “If anybody’s gonna beg it’ll be Bobby James.” He got up.

  “Where’re you going?” Deronda said, alarmed.

  “I have an idea, but it’s not fully formed just yet. I need my hustler’s hat and I left it at home. I’ll have it worked out in the morning. Right now, I need some sleep.” He moved for the door. Grace couldn’t believe he was going.

  “Please, Dodson,” Deronda said, tearfully. She nearly fell to her knees. “You’ve gotta help me!”

  “I am gonna help you,” Dodson said. “But if I don’t shut my eyes now, I’ll shut ’em in the courtroom. Do you trust me or not?”

  “No, I don’t trust you at all, but I need your help anyway.”

  “See you tomorrow.” He left. Deronda started to cry.

  “I know we been enemies, but I didn’t think he’d be like this. He was my last hope.”

  Grace put her arm around her friend. “Dodson will come through. I know he will.” But she didn’t know that at all.

  Deronda and Grace held hands as they walked down the wide hallway to Courtroom 7. People were milling around, sitting on benches, waiting, anxious and sullen. Most were women and children, hoping they’d see Daddy even if he was in handcuffs.

  “Bobby James is gonna ruin me,” Deronda said, getting tearful again. “I worked so hard…”

  “It’s gonna be all right,” Grace said, though she had a feeling it wouldn’t be. “Dodson’s smart. He’ll come through.”

  It was 9:45. Bobby James and his brother-in-law, the attorney, were waiting. No Dodson. The hearing was at ten.

  “Shit,” Deronda hissed. “Dodson ain’t here.”

  “Where’s your attorney?” Bobby said as they arrived.

  “He’s not coming.”

  “Well that’s stupid of you. You’ll have to go it alone, I guess.” He glanced at his watch. “The courtroom opens in a few minutes. Do I get half the business or do I go in there and ask for a paternity test? Make up your mind, Deronda. What are you going to do?”

  “Okay,” she said almost inaudibly. She was trembling, fierce and helpless. Grace could not fucking believe it. Her teeth were clenched, her body like a coiled snake. Oh, my God, she wanted to floor this shameless, greedy son of a bitch bastard. Bobby noticed her glaring at him. He was flustered a moment and turned away.

  “I have papers here for you to sign, Miss Simmons,” the attorney said. “I’m a notary public as well.”

  Dodson arrived. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Deronda won’t be signing any papers today.”

  “Dodson? What are you doing here?” Bobby said. “This is none of your business.”

  “Are you an attorney?” the attorney said. “If you’re not, you have no legal standing.”

  “I’m a friend of the family,” Dodson replied with a friendly smile. “And as I said, she won’t be signing anything.”

  “You realize of course what that means,” the attorney said. “If we continue with the proceedings Bobby will officially become Janeel’s father and Deronda’s tawdry past will be on the public record forever.”

  “Yes,” Dodson said pleasantly. “That’s exactly why we want to proceed. You see, on top of caring for Janeel, Deronda is running a very successful business. It’s become impossible for her to care for him the way a mother should. And that’s why we’re gonna give you what you want, Bobby James. Custody. Split right down the middle, fifty-fifty.” Bobby and the attorney looked confused. Deronda and Grace glanced at each other and smiled.

  “I don’t understand,” Bobby said. “What are you talking about?”

  Dodson went on. “Deronda will have Janeel for two weeks, and then he’ll be with you for two weeks. Naturally, this means you’ll be sharing Janeel’s expenses. Food, clothing, medical care, transportation and whatever else comes up.” Bobby and the attorney had gone still. It was as if they’d been freeze-dried like Grace’s coffee, right there in the hallway. “Will you be able to take Janeel to and from preschool every morning and afternoon?” Dodson s
aid. “It’s tedious, what with the traffic and all—oh, I almost forgot. Do you have a spare bedroom? If not, you’ll have to share yours with your four-year-old son.”

  “He only wets the bed once in a while,” Deronda said. “There’s sharing the bathroom too. Just this morning, I cleaned up a whole bottle of shampoo off the floor.”

  “What else was there? I’m forgetting something,” Dodson said.

  “Vacations!” Grace said gleefully.

  “Thank you for reminding me, Grace. Deronda will take Janeel with her on her vacation, and you will take him on yours.”

  “My vacation?” Bobby said. “Take a little kid on vacation?”

  “Janeel wants to go to Disney World,” Deronda said. “The one in Orlando? He must have asked me a hundred times.”

  “Nothing like a four-year-old on a five-hour plane ride,” Grace added.

  “The poor child doesn’t have a father figure,” Deronda said. “He’ll love going with his daddy. He’ll be stuck on you like a suckerfish on a shark, twenty-four hours a day, morning ’til night. Don’t worry. He’s a good kid. He loves to laugh and run around, screaming and knocking things down and digging shit up. Y’all gonna have a wonderful time!”

  The attorney was frowning, his chin tucked into his chest. Bobby looked dazed, like he was in the witness box and the judge was a box of Wheaties.

  “I think that’s everything,” Dodson said. “We’ll explain to his honor that we’ve agreed to terms and you’ll officially be Janeel’s daddy, legally responsible for his care and happiness for the rest of your fucked-up life.”