Pepe put his finger to his lips and winked, then nodded to make sure she understood she was right. He straightened up and put the perm kit in a brown paper bag and handed it to her. “Carlos is taking over for me for a week or so. I’m taking the wife to Las Vegas to live it up a little bit.”
“Está bien,” Regina said with a smile. “That’s real good. I guess I’ll see you when you get back. Hasta la vista.”
Outside, Regina glanced over at the bistro on the corner of 118th as she crossed the street. Things had sure changed since she had lived on that block as a kid. There used to be a hardware store on that corner that served as the neighborhood meeting place for old men playing checkers. Now it was the hangout for apple martini-drinking yuppies and buppies who had recently moved to Harlem after Bill Clinton decided to open an office on 125th Street, suddenly making Harlem cool again.
She walked past the row of brownstones on 119th Street before she finally reached her home in the middle of the block.
The rain finally began to let up as Regina fumbled in her pocket for her keys. The familiar musky odor of wood greeted her when she opened the door, a smell that a lot of people who owned brownstones tried to get rid of with incense and air fresheners, but which Regina considered a sign that she had made it. Better the smell of musky wood than the smell of chicken and pig feet in the apartment buildings she’d always lived in.
She shook her umbrella out and placed it in the stand in the vestibule, carefully rearranging the other four or five umbrellas to cover the baseball bat she kept in there for protection.
“Hey, Ray-Ray, when did you get here?” Regina asked as she walked into the living room.
“Hi, Aunt Gina. I got here a couple of hours ago,” the teenage girl answered from the floor where she was lying with a textbook open in front of her.
“I hope you haven’t been blasting this music the whole time.” Regina walked over and turned off the CD player, which was playing Michael Jackson’s “Beat It.” “We do have neighbors, you know. And God knows I don’t want them to actually think I still listen to ‘Beat It.’ I have a reputation to uphold, you know.”
“Yeah, but that’s my song,” Renee said. “And they can’t hear it. At least they ain’t knock on the door to say anything.”
Regina smiled as she looked lovingly at her niece. “You probably don’t remember, sweetie, that’s the song that—”
“I know, I know, you used to play that song to put me to sleep when I was a kid.” Renee scowled. “Where’s Camille, anyway? I came over to ask her what she wants for her birthday.”
“Tamika’s babysitting her for the night. I was supposed to pick her up a little while ago, but Camille whined that she wanted to stay. She would have wanted to come home if she knew her big cousin was here to see her, though,” Regina said as she started sorting through the mail Renee must have put on the coffee table. Con Edison, Verizon, AT&T, and Saks. All bills. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw an envelope with People magazine in the return address. She quickly opened it and pulled out a check for six thousand dollars for the two pieces she did for them the month before on E. Lynn Harris and Halle Berry. Enough to pay the mortgage and the down payment on a new car, she thought with satisfaction.
“So I came all the way over here for nothing? She’s staying with them for the weekend?” Renee asked as she got up from the floor and adjusted the blue Yankees ball cap on her head. “By the way, I ordered a pizza. I don’t know why, though. As much as I hate living in Queens, they got better pizza than they do here in Harlem.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t move back to Harlem for the pizza,” Regina shot back. “And stop acting so damn shitty. You can carry your ass back to Queens and play that teenage-girl-attitude crap with your mother, ’cause I’m not having it.”
Ray-Ray sucked her teeth. “All I was saying was—”
“Did you suck your teeth at me?” Regina said, striding across the room to her niece.
“No, Aunt Gina,” Ray-Ray said quickly as she backed up. “I didn’t suck my teeth at you. You know I would never suck my teeth at you.”
“Oh?” Regina crossed her arms and looked at Ray-Ray. “So you’re trying to tell me I didn’t hear what I just heard, huh?”
“Well . . .” Ray-Ray batted her eyes. “You know they say when you hit thirty, your hearing is the second thing to go.”
Regina struggled to hide the smile that was threatening to appear. It was an old trick Ray-Ray was pulling—trying to make Regina laugh when she was mad at her. “Oh really? And what’s supposed to be the first thing?”
“Your sense of humor?” Ray-Ray grinned.
“You couldn’t come up with something better than that?” Regina teased.
“Well, I had to think of something quick to make you smile.” Ray-Ray chuckled. “I ain’t want you playing ‘Beat It’ on my head.” She moved closer to her aunt. “I ’pologize,” she said in a baby voice.
Regina gave a little laugh. “Yeah, well, just watch your mouth, okay? I love you, but you know I’m not one for putting up with a lotta nonsense.”
“So is Camille gonna be at Tamika’s for the whole weekend?”
“No. I’m picking her up tomorrow. You wanna spend the night and come with me to pick her up in the morning?”
“Nah.” Renee shook her head. “I’m going out with Liz. She’s gonna pick me up in about a half hour, and we’re going to a party in the Bronx.”
Regina looked Renee up and down and shook her head. Oversize gray sweatshirt, baggy jeans, and white Adidas—her regular uniform for the past six months. The eighteen-year-old had a wonderful shape, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at her. “You’re going to a party dressed like that?”
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing? It’s clean, ain’t it?”
“You’re still a size five, aren’t you? Why don’t you come on upstairs, and I’ll hook you up with something more, you know, partylike?”
“No thanks, Aunt Gina. You know I don’t care about fashion and all that.” Renee pointed to a colorful painting on the wall of two teenage girls in cheerleading outfits jumping up and down holding pom-poms. “I see you got a new one. Don’t you already have the print, though?”
“Um-hm, I do.” Regina smiled and walked up to her latest Annie Lee painting. “But the October Gallery called me to let me know the original was available, so I had to get it.”
“Aunt Gina, you could open up your own art gallery with all these paintings you have.”
Regina looked around the large living room, covered with paintings of Robert Goodnight, Ernie Barnes, Brenda Joysmith, and Charles Bibbs. She’d spent the better part of her first check from freelancing eight years before on a signed Annie Lee print, and had been buying African-American art ever since. One of the reasons she bought a brownstone, rather than an apartment, was so that she would have room to hang all of her paintings. Some people bought art that would complement their furniture; Regina had done it the other way around. The plush sofa and chairs and lamps in the living room were all different shades of brown and gold but with no discernible designs that might clash with her paintings. Even the expensive throw rug on the floor was brown and gold, with no ornate design—although the open can of grape soda perched precariously on the coffee table threatened to create one.
Regina grimaced as she moved the almost full can. “What are you studying, Ray-Ray?” she said, pointing to the open textbook on the floor.
“Trigonometry, and it’s kicking my ass. I mean, butt. Sorry, Aunt Gina.” Renee suddenly looked contrite. “But it’s really hard as sh—as crap.”
“I’m sure you can handle it.” Regina smiled. “And what’s this your mother was telling me about you getting a 1500 on your SATs?”
“Yeah, ain’t that something?” Renee brightened back up. “I knew I did good, but I ain’t think I did that good.”
“Would you please stop saying ‘ain’t’? How can someone who scored a 1500 have such bad grammar? But ser
iously, I’m not the least bit surprised,” Regina said as she sat on the couch and took off her sneakers. It had broken her heart when Renee was left back in the eighth grade, not because of academics, but hookying, but it had made Renee hit the books with a vengeance. And now it had paid off. She was going into her senior year of high school with a 4.0 GPA. “You can get a scholarship to just about any university with scores like that. Even the Ivy League schools.”
Renee shook her head. “I’m going to Temple.”
“Temple’s a good school, but you should at least consider—”
“If it was good enough for you, it’s good enough for me.”
“Renee, that doesn’t even make any sense,” Regina said in an exasperated voice. “Like I said, Temple’s a good school, and I don’t regret going there, but I didn’t have the options you have.”
Renee dug her hand deep into her jeans pocket and fished out a wrinkled five-dollar bill and two singles. “Um, Aunt Gina? Can you spot me a couple of bucks to pay for the pizza?”
“So you’re just going to change the subject, huh? Okay, I’m going to let it go for the minute, but don’t think I’m going to drop it for good. You still have almost a year before you make your final decision.” Regina pointed to her purse lying on the coffee table. “I only have tens, and I want my change, missy.”
“Oh but of course!” Renee pulled out a ten-dollar bill just as the doorbell rang. “Coming!” she called out, and hurried to greet the deliveryman.
“So Mom told you she’s studying to become a Buddhist?” Renee said as she chomped on her third slice of pizza.
“You’re kidding.” Regina put aside her book and looked at Renee. “When did she decide that? She just became a Jehovah’s Witness a couple of months ago.”
“Yeah, but she didn’t want to go around knocking on people’s doors anymore.”
“So, let’s see, in the last seven years my sister has been a born-again Christian, a Hare Krishna, a Hebrew Israelite, a Muslim, and a Jehovah’s Witness, and now a Buddhist,” Regina said with a laugh. “I guess she’s covering all bases.”
“Yeah, I really thought the Muslim thing was gonna stick. But she got all bent outta shape after the World Trade Center attack.”
“That’s so ridiculous.” Regina shook her head. “Blaming all Muslims because of the attack. It’s like turning your back on Christianity because the Germans tried to conquer Europe.”
“Yeah, I told her that, too. But you know Mom. ’Sides, I think she was just looking for an excuse to make a change. I mean, she was Muslim for like three years. That’s a record for her. I’m just waiting for her to decide to become Jewish,” Renee said with a giggle.
Regina shook her head and said nothing. She wasn’t going to share it with Renee, but Regina’s opinion was that as long as Brenda didn’t go back to worshipping the crack pipe, she could claim any God she wanted. She’d wasted eight years of her life on that junk, and when they found out Brenda was pregnant, they had prayed to any God they thought would listen that Renee wouldn’t be another crack baby. When their mother died, it was left up to thirteen-year-old Regina to raise Brenda’s infant child while Brenda roamed the streets—lying, stealing, and selling her body to make enough money for her next hit. It took Regina being shot and almost killed for Brenda to snap out of her crack-addicted haze and finally become a mother to her then eight-year-old child. Regina looked over at Renee and smiled. But still, she’s like my child, too. My first baby.
“What are you smiling about, Aunt Gina?”
“Nothing. Are you spending the night?”
“You asked me that already, remember? Liz’s gonna be picking me up in about a half hour, and we’re gonna go to a party in the Bronx,” Renee answered with a mouth full of pizza. “Aunt Gina, I know you’re gonna give me the Mustang when you get your new car, right?”
“Who said I’m getting a new car?”
“I ain’t stupid. I saw all them car catalogs in the kitchen. What kind you gonna get?” Renee’s eyes suddenly widened. “Ooh, get the Acura. A gold joint. That way I can borrow it sometime!”
“Girl, please. First off, didn’t I just tell you about saying ‘ain’t’? Second off, I’m probably going to get a Camry. And third, I don’t know how you’re talking about getting my old car or borrowing my new one when you don’t even have a driver’s license.” Regina tried to paste a frown on her face, but Renee seemed to see right through it.
“So you are thinking about giving me the Mustang, huh?” she said excitedly.
“I didn’t say anything like that,” Regina retorted.
“Aw, come on! That could be my graduation present! My early graduation present!” Renee got up from the floor and plopped down on the couch next to Regina. “Aw, come on, Aunt Gina. Please?” She laid her head on Regina’s shoulder. “Pretty please?”
“You are such a baby, Ray-Ray.” Regina pushed Renee’s head away. “We’ll see, okay? And that’s all I’m going to say right now.”
“So then—,” Renee started excitedly.
“Ah!” Regina pointed her finger at Renee. “One more word, and I’m not even going to consider giving you the car.”
“Okay, okay, not another word,” Renee promised as she threw her arms around Regina’s neck and kissed her on the cheek. “But, just so you know, if you put a banging stereo system in there, I’ll consider that my early ‘congratulations on getting into college’ present.”
“You are a mess. Didn’t I tell you—”
Ring.
“I’ll get it.” Renee jumped up from the couch. “Hello,” she said after grabbing the receiver. “Oh hey, Uncle Charles! . . . Guess what? . . . I got a 1500 on my SATs! . . . For real.” She pulled the receiver away from her ear. “Aunt Gina, would you please tell him I got a 1500?”
“She got a 1500,” Regina obediently shouted loud enough for Charles to hear.
“See, I told you!” Renee said triumphantly into the telephone. “No, she’s not lying for me.” She pulled the telephone away from her ear again. “Are you lying for me, Aunt Gina?”
“No, I’m not lying for her,” Regina shouted as she stretched her legs out on the couch and laid her head on the armrest.
“And I’m thinking about going to Temple, so I can babysit Camille for you when you have her in Philadelphia,” Renee said into the telephone. “Yes, I am thinking about going to Temple . . .Yes, I am.” She removed the receiver from her ear again. “Aunt Gina, will you tell him that I—”
“Give me the damn telephone, Ray-Ray,” Regina said wearily.
“Hey, Charles,” she said after Renee complied. “What are you up to?”
“Not much, baby,” a husky voice answered. “Oops. I’m sorry. I’m not supposed to call you baby, right?”
“Right.” Regina smiled to herself as she twirled a lock of hair. They’d been divorced almost four years now, and in every telephone conversation since, he said the same thing, and she gave him the same answer. It was a running joke between them now. She hated to admit it, but she’d probably be upset if it ended. The joke, that is.
“So then, how’s my other baby? Is she all excited about her birthday next week?”
“Please. Every morning she gets up and asks if it’s her birthday yet,” Regina answered.
“That’s my little impatient girl.” Charles laughed. “Listen, I put a couple of hundred extra dollars in this month’s alimony check to help out with her party. And guess what my mother’s getting her.”
“I don’t even want to guess,” Regina said dryly.
“A pony. Can you believe that? She didn’t give me a pony when I was a kid.”
“A pony? Where the hell is Camille going to keep a pony in Harlem?” Regina grimaced. Leave it to Mother Whitfield to do something stupid and extravagant.
“Don’t get mad at me. I tried to talk her out of it,” Charles said with another laugh. “But they’re going to keep it at their place in Chestnut Hill, and Camille can ride it when she comes out
to visit. Let me speak to her for a minute, okay? I’m at the airport, so I’m on my cell phone, and my battery’s about to go dead.”
“Ooh, sorry. She’s spending the night over at Tamika and David’s. I didn’t know you were going to call. Where are you heading, anyway?”
“Mississippi, stumping for John Fennell. He’s trying to get the Democratic nomination for the U.S. Senate next year, and he’s starting his campaign early. Fat chance, of course. Can you imagine Mississippi electing a black senator? Not gonna happen.”
“So why bother going out there?”
“Strategy, my dear.”
“And what are you strategizing?”
“Well . . .” Charles paused. “Well, I have an idea that I’m kicking around, but I want to talk to you about it on a serious level before I make any kind of decision. I’m coming to New York next week. How about dinner?”
“Hmm, sounds important. Can’t you just give me a hint?”
“I’d rather not.”
“Oh, Charles, come on.”
“Really, Regina, I’d rather wait until we can talk in person. How about dinner next Thursday?”
Regina sucked her teeth. “Yeah, I guess I’m free.”
“All right, I’ve got to go. They’re announcing my flight.”
“Okay,” Regina said, anticipating Charles’s next, inevitable question.
“Is it okay if I tell you I still love you?”
“Nope,” she answered lightly. “See you Thursday, okay?”
“Okay, Regina. Take care of yourself.”
Damn, she thought as she hung up. Now she had to wait almost a week to find out this big secret. And she’d forgotten to ask him about Robert. He, David, and Charles had been best friends for years. Charles hadn’t said anything to her about it, but she’d gotten the impression that he and Robert, who was still in Philadelphia, had begun to drift apart. But he had to know Robert was moving to New York, she thought.
“Y’all didn’t even talk about me?”
Renee’s exasperated question jolted Regina from her thoughts. “Um, no, he had to get off the telephone.”
Satin Nights Page 3
