“The other day,” Gail starts off, leaning back on her elbows and pausin a bit to examine her tits which she says are her best feature “Rudi … the dude that used to bartend at the corner fore he got busted? … he comes down to the center and snatches me off for a drink, all right? Been in the slams for three years, got that? Nailed his ass knockin over a bank, but time enough to stash the bucks so his woman and kid could live comfy and keep up the payments on the house. O.K. His mama comes to the joint to report that above-mentioned woman has got a new nigger and said nigger’s been spending the weekends at the house. All praises due to good-news-bearin mama, right? So the cat plots his moves. Gets out the joint in the P.M. and ain’t told a soul, got the picture? Goes to house. Spies car in driveway. Notes coat and hat on sofa. Tips upstairs to bedroom and finds exactly what any fool’d expect. Well, hell, three years is three years. So. He proceeds to commit various unhospitality-type mayhem acts on the party of the first part and the party of the other parts. Much ass kicked and a little razor action thrown in for ethnic sake. Throws woman out in the snow. Whips the nigger to a fare-thee-well. Packs son off to previously cited mama.” Gail uncrossed her legs, met Inez’s eye for a minute, then snatched Sugar’s cigarette for the windup. “Now Rudi is scrunched up against me in this red-leather booth in a downtown bar telling me all this in a heavy righteous voice and feeling my legs and figurin I’ll go for it cause ain’t my man in the joint doing five to seven and hey I’m dragged. Not just behind the dramatic irony, not just cause I should be in the meeting of the street workers, but mostly cause Rudi’s rap is such a drag.”
“What did you say?” ask Marcy.
“I raised a few questions, like one, ain’t a woman human too? Two, what he expect? Three, why didn’t he just do the righteous thing and say to her from jump street, ‘Look, baby, three years is a long haul, so take care of whatever you need to and I’ll give you plenty notice fore I come home so you can cut all the shit loose so things are squared away when I hit the door.’ ”
“What Rudi say?” ask Marcy, comin over and sittin on the bed.
“That fool says that if she just had to have a nigger, she shouldn’t’ve brought him to their house, shouldn’t’ve. Should’ve gone to a hotel. Dig that. He’d rather have his woman runnin in and out of hotels all over town with everyone peepin his action and have strangers in his house babysitting their son all hours of the night. Men a bitch. A natural bitch.”
“Parables usually have a lesson,” say Inez, not lookin up but blowin on her hands.
“Well,” say Gail, “whatcha expect? A, man is philanderin by nature. B, there are simply not enough men to go around so Roy bound to get snatched. C, you refuse to train that man to stay in orbit or to lock him up at night cause you about freedom and mobility and respect and all that shit. D, your thing is pretty heavy to deal with, Inez, and most men … O.K., I’ll give Roy his due, he’s groovier and more solid than most men, but he’s still a man, his mama like everybody else raised a son and left the job of polishin him off to manhood to other women, right? … well, he just can’t stand up under the kind of pressure a sister like you lay out there.”
Inez lean way back in the chair and cover her eyes like she thinkin on this pressure and maybe rejectin the motion. Cause she always maintainin that she offers a tax-free relationship—no demands, no pressure, no games, no jumpin up and down with ultimatums. And it’s usually Gail that spews steam at that juncture, pointing out that that is the heaviest damn pressure of all. And Inez sayin “Sheeeet” and goin on about her business.
“So,” Gail continued slowly, expectin some static from that quarter, “in conclusion, it is my position that first of all you should call Roy and give him fair warning so you don’t walk into nothing you gonna have to shoot your way out of. Second, that you do not take your finest threads in your good bag, but just stuff any ole shit into any ole thing packed any ole how and simply fling yourself at his knees and systematically fall apart so that Roy can …”
We all knew she’d never get to three. And we all knew exactly what the interrupter would be, so we all sat up straight in the bed and drowned Inez out with her own “Sheeeet.” “I know,” said Gail, leanin off the bed as if to shove Inez back into the chair if she was thinkin of gettin up and walkin out, “you are not about the heavy drama and intrigue. ‘No guile, no guilt,’ as you would say.”
“I got a right to be exactly who I am,” say Sugar, mimicking Inez.
“The only proper mask to wear in life is your own damn face,” Marcy sayin just like Inez do it.
“But you see,” say Gail, “Roy is a rare bird. Believe me. I been out there jitterbuggin since kindergarten and I know what I’m talkin about. Men? That’s my best shot. And what’s out there is nothing. Got that? Sheer unadulterated foul folk nuthin. And Roy requires super heavy plottin cause he’s worth all the trouble that his sulky exit is causin you and your best friends. Now,” Gail smoothed the wrinkles from across her thighs and stood up. “Here we are,” she said, giving a grand sweep to take us all in, “the Johnson girls. Seems to me we can certainly come up with a sure-fire program to get you over, Inez, whatever it is you want. Not just to grab him outta Knoxville and run fifty yards. But a total program.”
Gail walked over to the suitcase and swept her hand across it like Sugar’s maps and charts were being thrown aside for the master plan.
“We have twelve hours to plane time,” she said. “Let’s deal.”
“I’m ready,” said Sugar, scraping the chairs up like it was poker night in Dodge City. “Cause I need a Nez and Roy in my life to keep the blue-plate special on the horizon.”
“I’ll tell the root lady to conjure up some coffee and put a hold on dinner,” said little Marcy prancing out into the hallway.
“I’ll send Thumb for cigarettes,” I said, certain in a sudden way that I could send Thumb for anything anywhere at any time and to Turkey for smokes if necessary. And just like some telepathic happnin, here come Thumb taking six steps at a time and smilin his smile and his eyebrows up as if to say, Can I do somethin for you, baby. So I mime a puff and he split through the door and I’m kinda diggin him as I turn back into the room.
“O.K.,” said Inez like she never said before and drew her chair up to the suitcase. It halted me in my tracks and Gail looked dumbfounded. “O.K.,” she said again and something caught me in my ribs. Love love love love love. We all sat down and Inez opened her fist and the keys and the crumpled note fell out on the suitcase. Sugar look at Gail and Gail look at Marcy and Marcy look at me. I look at Inez and she’s sittin so forward I see the tremor caterpillar up her back. And I can’t breathe. Somebody has opened a wet umbrella in my chest. And I shudder for me at the preview of things to come.
“O.K.,” I say, takin command. “Let’s first deal with the note.”
“Right,” say Gail, and lights my cigarette.
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