by Angela Henry
I watched the Caddy as it made the slow turn to head back past me and ducked down behind the large SUV I was standing next to. As the car made its way past, I peeked from behind the SUV to get a good look at the driver, who was talking on a cell phone. The baseball cap and the glint of gold in his mouth as he was talking told me it was the same man who’d come by on Saturday looking for Lewis Watts. What was his name? Dubb? Dip? But more importantly, why had he come back?
Then it suddenly dawned on me that I’d never asked him how he knew where to find me. I’d been house-sitting for Mama and Leonard for a week. How had he known I wasn’t at my duplex on Dorset? Had he been following me? Did he think I was lying about not knowing where Lewis was? I’d agreed to give Lewis the message just to get the man out of the house. But I never actually planned to tell Lewis anything. I had no idea where he lived and had no intention of going to his house even if I did. But this was not cool. Lewis and I weren’t friends. I had nothing to do with whatever was going on between him and this scary man. I didn’t want him coming to my house again.
Once the car rounded the corner, I picked up Queenie and ran back to the house. After pulling the curtains shut and checking to make sure all the doors and windows were locked, I settled into an uneasy sleep with a knife under my pillow. But before I drifted off, I decided I needed to do two things the next day—track down Lewis Watts so I could give him Mr. Gold Tooth’s message and kick his ass.
It was too busy at work the next day to pull Rhonda side to tell her I planned on applying for Dorothy’s job, too. And that was a good thing because I was tired from tossing and turning all night and listening for any noise that would alert me to Gold Tooth trying to break into the house. So, I wasn’t in the best mood and I wanted to be positive and confident when I broke the news to Rhonda that she had competition. Thankfully, Dorothy was away in meetings all day and wouldn’t be around to mention anything before I had the chance to talk to Rhonda.
When the morning session ended, I got in my car and headed to Springmont High, Lewis Watts’s last known place of employment. They may not have given Mr. Gold Tooth Lewis’s address, but I knew the secretary from my days as a student at Springmont and thought maybe she’d give it to me…maybe. But when I pulled into the high school’s parking lot, I saw a car pulling out of the other side. It was a midnight blue Eldorado, with none other than Lewis behind the wheel wearing dark sunglasses and a plaid wool cap pulled down over his processed hair. I blew my horn to get his attention, but he never even looked my way as he tore out of the lot like the devil was after him. I turned around as quickly as I could and followed him.
I ended up following Lewis down every back street and narrow alley for ten minutes just to end up a mere five blocks away at the Pullman Apartment Complex on Grand Avenue. I pulled behind Lewis as he turned into the complex’s lot and watched as he rolled down his window and reached out swiping a key card. When the metal arm blocking the entrance to the lot swung up, Lewis sped through, and the arm swung back down, barring me from entering. Again, I started blowing my horn to get his attention, but he still wouldn’t turn around. I finally had to back out and park in front of the large brick building.
The Pullman Apartments had been around since Mama was a little girl. They’d been apartments back in the day for employees of Willow’s now defunct factory that made parts for the Pullman sleeper trains. Now they were rent-controlled dwellings for the fifty-five and over crowd. Though they’d seen better days, I’d heard the list to get an apartment in the old Pullman building was quite long. Once people moved in, usually the only way they left was feet first. When I got to the front door, it was locked. But there were about three-dozen buzzers with plastic nameplates next to them. The name L. Watts was the last name on the list. So, I buzzed it and seconds later a raspy, disembodied female voice came cracking over the ancient intercom.
“Who is it?” she asked warily, clearly in no mood for company. It wasn’t Lewis’s voice and I hesitated a few seconds before answering. “Who’s there?” she asked again.
“Sorry to bother you but I’m looking for Lewis Watts. Is this his apartment?”
“He don’t live here no more. Go away!” she replied without hesitation. Of course, she was lying. Either that or I’d been following a ghost driving a Lincoln for the last ten minutes. First, the covert out of the way route to get to his apartment, now the denial that he lived in his own apartment, which still had his name on the buzzer. Lewis was avoiding someone, and I had a good idea who it was. And even though I couldn’t blame him one little bit for trying to duck Goldie, I was going to give him the man’s message whether he wanted to hear it or not.
“Sorry to bother you,” I buzzed back and got no reply.
Instead, I went down the list and buzzed every buzzer except Lewis’s repeatedly, ignoring the queries of Yes? Hello? What do you want? until finally the front door was buzzed open. I stepped out of the cold into a dark lobby with a marble floor that smelled like disinfectant and strong coffee. A wall of built-in mailboxes were to my left and an elevator and the door to the stairwell was to my right.
I walked over and looked at the mailboxes and found Lewis’s in the bottom row with his name and apartment number typed neatly on a piece of paper inside a small window in the middle of the mailbox. He lived in apartment 8D on the fifth floor. I buzzed for the elevator but the loud grinding noise it made on its way down to the lobby made me think twice about getting on. The doors opened and an older woman I guessed to be in her early sixties in an elegant, black coat with a brown fur collar, boots, and a fur trimmed hat got off. She had a rhinestone-studded leash in her hand attached to a white French bulldog. The dog panted and looked up at me with shiny beetle black eyes.
“I wouldn’t if I were you, young lady,” the woman told me.
“Excuse me?”
“The elevator,” she said, and gestured with a nod behind her to the elevator, which was still wide open revealing well-worn red carpeting and black velvet wallpaper. It looked like the mouth of a hungry predator waiting for someone stupid enough to step inside. “I buzzed for the damned thing twenty minutes ago. It was stuck on the third floor forever. So, unless you have an unlimited amount time wait for it to inch its way up to wherever you’re going, I’d take the stairs.” With that she turned on her heel and walked out the front door.
I took her advice and took the stairs and tried to ignore how out of shape I was. By the time I got to the fifth floor, I was breathless and sweat beaded my forehead. This was definitely another notch against Mr. Watts. I quickly found apartment 8D and rang the doorbell. I could hear music playing on the other side of the door. I rang again and heard the music being turned down and the sound of whispers. But no one came to the door. That was the last straw. I gave up on ringing the doorbell and instead started pounding on the door.
“Open up, Lewis! I know your ass is in there and I’m not leaving until you let me in!” My fist was poised to pound again when the door flew open and I was to face with a woman, probably the same one who’d answered the buzzer.
“Who the hell are you and what the hell is your problem pounding on my door like some crazy person?”
She was thin and her long, shoulder length dark hair, tight jeans, and red and pink striped sweater made her appear, at first glance, to be much younger than she was. But once I got a good look at the fine lines fanning out from the corners of her eyes and around her thin, tight lips, as well as the abundance of gray hairs peeking out from beneath the edges of her wig, I could tell she was easily the right age to be living in the Pullman Apartments.
“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling both stupid and annoyed. “My name is Kendra Clayton and have a message for Lewis. And please don't tell me he’s not here because I followed him here all the way from Springmont High.”
“You the one who buzzed?”
“Yes.”
“Look! I already told . . .”
“It’s okay, Brenda,” said a male from inside the
apartment. “You can let her in.”
Brenda sighed and rolled her eyes, then cut me an evil look as she stepped back from the door to let me in. Once I stepped inside the apartment my nostrils were immediately assaulted by the scent of vanilla incense. I spied a long stick of if burning next to a joint in a black glass ashtray shaped like a clenched fist. The music that I’d heard through the door had been turned down, but I recognized it as Kool & the Gang’s Spirit of the Boogie recorded back before their Celebration days when they were an instrumental band. A vinyl record spun on the ancient record player. Thick brown carpet that was a hair’s breadth from being shag covered the floor. Velvet paintings depicting black Jesus alongside paintings of nude brown-skinned beauties with large breasts and big Afros adorned the orange walls. Orange, cream, and black curtains in a swirling psychedelic pattern hung in the rooms two large windows. I was in a shrine to the seventies, but then again, I shouldn’t have been surprised, considering who lived here. Lewis was sitting on a green leather couch and I almost didn’t recognize him. Already a small man, he looked like he’d shrunk. His processed hair was still hidden under the plaid cap, but he’d taken off the sunglasses and his beady eyes darted nervously around the room.
“Close that door, woman, you tryin’ to get me killed?” he snapped at his companion. Was this his woman? And what was his problem anyway? I’d never seen him like this. Granted, I didn’t know him well, but he was usually arrogant and cocky on the occasions I’d been in his presence.
“If you don’t get off my last damned nerve, I’m gonna kill you,” Brenda said through gritted teeth as she slammed the door shut and stalked over to sit at the opposite end of the couch. She plucked the joint out of the ashtray and took a long drag.
And here I was thinking that weed was supposed to make you mellow. These two were wound so tight they were in danger of popping their tops. Show’s how much I know about recreational drugs.
“Have a seat, Kelly. You want a drink or somethin’? I got a couple of beers in the fridge, and some cherry Kool-Aid,” said Lewis, relaxing a little and sounding more like the man I knew and loathed.
“Uh, no thanks. This isn’t a social visit, Lewis. I just came by to give you a message from your friend.” Lewis sat up and Brenda stopped mid-drag and they looked at each other, fear tightening their jaws. What the hell was going on?
“What friend?” asked Lewis.
“Tall, bald, dark guy with a gold tooth. Said his name was Dip or Dap or something like that.”
“Dibb,” said Brenda, correcting me. “See, I told you he wasn’t gonna stop looking for your ass, Lewis! You can’t hide from him forever.”
“Shit!” Lewis said, pulling the wool cap off his head and throwing it on the floor. His hair stuck up in all directions, making him look deranged.
Neither of them said anything for several seconds, but I could almost see Lewis’s brain in overdrive, while Brenda puffed distractedly on the joint, which was now less than a half an inch long. They both seemed to have forgotten I was there.
“Don’t you even want to know what the message is?” I was impatient to be gone. I was already late getting back from a lunch break I didn’t get to take over this foolishness that had nothing to do with me.
“I already know what he wants,” snapped Lewis.
“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger,” I snapped back. “And while you’re at it, tell your friend I don’t want him coming to my house again because if he does, I’m giving him your address then I’m calling the cops.”
“Dibb Bentley ain’t never been no friend of mine,” Lewis replied with dark look.
“Not my problem, see ya.” I was across the room and out the door in ten seconds flat, happy to be out of the dim apartment and breathing fresh air again. I sniffed my clothes hoping I didn’t smell like weed.
“Kelly! Wait up.” It was Lewis. I kept walking.
“I don’t have time for this. I have to get back to work.”
“Come on now, girl. Why you always got to be so difficult?”
He caught up with me at the elevator, and the doors slid open. Without remembering the warning I’d gotten from the woman when I arrived, I stepped into it thinking I was making a quick getaway from Lewis. Ignoring him, I pressed the button for the lobby and to my horror, Lewis got in with me.
“Just five minutes, please,” he pleaded.
“What do you want?” The elevator doors slid slowly closed behind Lewis, but before they closed all the way, when they were still open just a sliver, I saw a figure walk past, a tall, dark, bald figure.
“I think your friend finally found you,” I said, pointing to the now closed elevator doors.
“What? Where?” Lewis whirled around.
“He just walked past the elevator.”
“Shit!” His voice had a high-pitched panicky edge to it as he frantically started pressing buttons, trying to get the doors open. But the elevator had already started its slow rickety decent to the lobby.
“What is your problem, Lewis? Who is that guy? What’s going on?”
“I gotta get back up there! Brenda’s still in my apartment and I left the door unlocked!” It was as if the elevator knew how desperate he was to get off because it came to a grinding halt on the third floor.
“Oh, you’ve got be kidding me.” How much more messed up could my day get?
“Shit!” said Lewis once again. “You got a cell phone so I can warn her?”
“You think he’s going to hurt her?” I fumbled around in my purse before remembering I’d left my phone in my car.
“I don’t think nothin’, Kelly. Dibb Bentley is a convicted murderer who thinks I snitched him out to the cops. Now, he’s out and lookin’ for payback and he’s in my apartment with my woman!” He started frantically kicking the doors and the impact jolted the elevator back into action and it started moving again.
Once we were back in the lobby, Lewis got off and headed through the doorway to the stairwell. I was right behind him, impressed that he could move so fast for a man his age.
“Brenda! I’m coming, baby!” he hollered as he took off running down the hall and disappeared through his still open apartment door. By the time I got there, Lewis had the alive and well Brenda clutched against his chest in a bear hug. She had a newly rolled joint dangling from the corner of her mouth and looked less than thrilled.
“What is your problem?” she said, finally pushing him away and fixing him with a dull bloodshot gaze. Her earlier tenseness was gone, and she was good and mellow now.
“Kelly thought she saw Dibb when we was on the elevator. I thought he had your ass, baby.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, feeling like the biggest idiot. “Must have been someone else.”
“Me?” Brenda said with a snort. “I ain’t got no beef with no damned Dibb Bentley. It’s your ass he’s lookin’ for. You the one snitched on him.”
“How many times I got to tell you I’m not the one who snitched on Dibb!”
“Mmm hmm,” was all Brenda said as she sank back against the cushions of the couch and closed her eyes. Lewis snatched the joint from her mouth and took a shaky hit.
I was now a good half an hour late getting back to work. I needed to go and let Lewis sort out his own damned business, but something was bothering me.
“I thought you said this Dibb guy was after you because you snitched?”
“He is, why?”
“Because that’s not what he wanted me to tell you.” I relayed the message Dibb had given me and watched as Lewis’s face clouded in confusion.
“Do you know what he’s talking about?”
“Not a clue,” he replied dully. “Prison must have fried that mofo’s brain.”
“Look, I’ve done what I said I would do. I gave you his message. But I swear if he bothers me again, I’m snitching on him!” I headed back towards the door to leave when Lewis called out to me.
“Sorry, Kelly, and thanks, girl. Anybody else woulda said the hell with
ol’ Lewis.”
I’d wanted to say the hell with Lewis. I actually had said the hell with Lewis. I’d only come here to keep Dibb Bentley from bothering me again. But I kept that to myself, pausing in the doorway instead.
“Oh, and Lewis.”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“For the zillionth time, it’s Kendra! Not Kelly!”
“Mmm…hmm,” he said, sinking back into the cushions of the couch and smiling through a cloud of weed smoke.
I was forty-five minutes late getting back to work. I was also starving and had to grab a bag of chips and a candy bar from the vending machine for lunch. Rhonda looked up at the big clock that hung over the door as I settled behind my desk.
“Sorry, I’m late,” I told her.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I went to run an errand, and everything went wrong. It ended up taking twice as long as I thought. But it looks like you’ve got everything under control.” I’d practically inhaled the chips and was starting on the candy bar. Rhonda gave me a strange look and put a finger over her nose. Crap. I must still reek of vanilla incense. I took my black cardigan sweater off and draped it over the back on my chair hoping it would air out.
“Dorothy came by to let us know that her retirement announcement will be in the paper sometime this week, which means it’s official. Wonder when they’ll post her job?”
“Rhonda, I need to tell you something.” My nerves were suddenly on edge but since we were on the subject, now was as good a time as any.
“What’s up?”
“I’m applying for Dorothy’s job, too.”
“You?” she said, looking completely surprised. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” Was she really that surprised that I’d be interested in running the center?
“Wow. I just…” her voice trailed off and her face flushed slightly.
