by Tiana Laveen
…A few weeks later
Ms. Robertson was dressed in a light blue dress with a thick white belt that had to be double looped due to her continuous wasting away. The woman had a hearty appetite, but her latest health issues caused her to not be able to keep much down. Tapestry had shined up her new walking cane, done her hair up real nice, and fixed her favorite dessert—apple pie a la mode.
She glanced down at her watch and took note that Cain would be there any minute. She’d promised the man that he could finally meet her favorite patient. He wanted to take care of it as soon as possible because he was going to be busy recording soon. She was not only excited for him, but also for herself. From her understanding, negotiations were underway for her, too.
“All right, Ms. Robertson, you look pretty as a flower. Woo hoo! Too hot to trot!” Tapestry teased before placing an intricate, antique hand mirror in front of the woman’s face. It had belonged to the woman’s mother, and she was highly protective of it. Ms. Robertson took hold of it and looked at herself from various angles, smiling from ear to ear. Her little earlobes shined with small pearl earrings. She seemed to like those too.
“Oh, my goodness!” The woman reached for her matching pearl necklace and squealed. “You always do such a nice job with my hair, Tammy. You went to beauty school, right?”
“No, ma’am, nursin’ school.”
“Well, whatever school you went to, I look good enough to court! I bet you do yourself up like this for your husband, don’t you?”
Tapestry smiled and shook her head.
“No ma’am… I’m not married, remember?”
“Not married? A pretty thing like you?! My word. You kinda big boned though.” The lady looked her up and down with a discriminatory eye, one filled to the brim with judgment. “But you sure are pretty. You need to find you a husband, Tammy, and don’t worry about being big boned. A lot of men like that.” She waved her hand in her direction as if those were true words of encouragement. “Little extra cushion for the pushin’, as they say. My ex-husband cheated with a big girl once… but she was a whore. In any case, young lady, if you want to have some babies, you better get a move on. Time waits for no one.”
If that woman calls me big boned one mo’ time, I’m gonna serve her some frozen coffee and tell her it’s espresso ice cream.
“I might have to find me a man tonight. Maybe my daughters can introduce me to somebody… they know plenty of men, Tammy… ’specially the kind that are at truck stops wavin’ a twenty dollar bill out their rig window.” Tapestry stifled a laugh. “On second thought,” the woman said with a grimace, “they only find trash ’round town. I want someone who is scholarly and cultured.”
The lady jammed her nose in the air as though snubbing the world. “The only thing those two idiots know about culture is that group, the Culture Club.” At this, Tapestry burst out laughing. “You know, the one with that Boy Girl George man… or woman… whatever he is. We had one of ’em down the ways… cross dressers, boys that look like women but have a big ol’ willy that they tape down ’tween their legs!”
Ms. Robertson seemed to have a tight grip on ’80s music and pop culture for some odd reason. Perhaps those were some of the best days of her life.
“Ms. Robertson, I don’t think Boy George is a cross dresser. He was just a little androgynous back then, and he is gay… not transsexual.”
“Transsexual? What’s that? An infection of ill repute you get on uh train? They never clean those seats after people sit on ’em! Same with the buses!”
Just then, the doorbell rang and Ms. Robertson practically jumped out of her seat.
“Oh, my Lord! That old man that wears an eye patch down the road has probably lost his bird again! He’s on cereal boxes.” Tapestry shook her head. “That bird of his comes over here sometimes, I’m not certain what tha hell for… Old man walks around with a parrot on his shoulder… no wait, it’s a toucan… Toucan Sam. The old man’s name is Owen Bright… but he’s not that bright if he keeps lettin’ the bird get loose! I wonder if he knows Toucan Sam can talk? That’s gotta be worth millions! Next time that bird comes over here, I’m gonna catch it and take it to Hollywood.”
Tapestry chuckled and walked away. She wasn’t certain if the old woman was jokin’ or serious this time. When she arrived at the door and peeped out the hole, there was her baby, standing there with a white t-shirt on, slouchy light jeans and his hair hanging loose, parted perfectly down the middle. Swinging the door open, she ushered him inside.
“Come on in, baby.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for a kiss. “She’s really cuttin’ up today.”
She walked on back to the living room and Cain followed close behind. Ms. Robertson hadn’t yet noticed him. She was now chatting about something totally out of the blue. It seemed that she hadn’t even noticed that Tapestry had left at all and then returned.
“And then I said, ‘Those biscuits are hard enough to build a fort with! Can you believe it?! Tryin’ to sell fifteen-day-old buns! They try to take advantage of old people down at that bakery, Tammy. I should have you pick it up for me instead. I tell you what, the only old ass buns I deal with are the ones that are attached to my own damn body.”
Cain burst out laughing, now that he too had been dragged into the silly insanity of Ms. Robertson. When he chuckled, he apparently caught her attention. The old woman slowly turned her head and locked eyes with him. Her smile slowly dissipated. With a shaky hand, she pointed at Cain and screamed. The shrill sound radiated throughout Tapestry’s whole body.
“AHHHHHH!!!! God in Heaven! HELP ME!!! It’s him!”
Tapestry raced over to her and took her in her arms.
“It’s okay, Ms. Robertson! It’s all right!” The old lady shook violently and kept her arm raised towards Cain, her finger shaking as she pointed him out. A storm of tears flowed out of her eyes. “That ain’t nobody to be afraid of, honey! It’s just my—”
“It’s Thomas Adrieux! You’ve come back for me… Thomas, please don’t leave me!” The woman cried so hard, she was barely understandable. She thrust her hands out towards Cain, who smiled gently at her, no apprehension in his gaze. He then sat down on the couch next to her, just like they were old friends. Taking her hands in his, he leaned in and kissed her cheek. Tapestry’s heart warmed at the sight.
“Hello, my beloved.”
Tapestry took several steps back, giving room for whatever Cain was thinking up to go on and play out. She placed her hand over her mouth and simply watched.
“I thought I’d never see you again, Thomas! I thought my Daddy had run you off for good! We’re gettin’ married, right? We can run away together! Oh, Thomas! I’m so sorry! I shoulda never let that happen.”
Ms. Robertson flung her arms around his neck and squeezed tight. Cain gently ran his hand up and down along her back, drawing her close. He then kissed the top of her head. Gentle… so very gentle.
“No worries, beloved… no worries at all. Everythang is gonna be all right… just you wait ’nd see. We’re gonna eat fresh strawberries straight off the vine… we’re gonna sing your favorite songs, swim in the river and drink and dance under the moon…”
The woman sobbed loudly now. Cain began to hum, and then it turned into a tune…
“One day, deep down in the bayooou, I met a beautiful girl…
My days had been okay, but she sure made ’em better –
I sat down at the table, with a pint of gin.
I grabbed my trusty pen, and wrote that girl a letter…
Intuition made me do it
Molded from God’s hands –
I want to take her out,
for a little bit of romance.
I bet the Heavens cheered
On the very day she was born –
She is a pretty bayou rose
But I’m just an old swamp thorn.
I said, intuition made me do it
Molded from God’s hands –
I
want to take her out,
For a little bit of soul-dance.
I mailed that letter off.
And worked for the right price –
Just to have enough money
To take her some place real nice.
Me and that girl from the Bayou…
Danced under the blue moonlight –
We watched the world spin ’round and ’round
And the songbirds take flight
Her voice was like gold bells chimin’
I was sober, and there was no strife –
I told the girl from the bayou,
It was time that she be my wife.
We went ’nd got married…
The Priestess cast a love spell –
The priest said that was evil.
And that us lovers, were goin’ to Hell.
We paid that priest no mind
’Cause my baby was born blessed –
And I’m not stressed over no threats
’Cause I married the very best.
Intuition made me do it
Molded from God’s mighty hands –
I want to take you out, Ms. Robertson…
for a little bit of romance…”
When he stopped singing, Ms. Robertson was still holding on tight, shaking like a leaf and falling to pieces. Only now, rather than pure pain, her expression was one of pure joy…
Tapestry tried not to cry at the sight, but it was an uphill battle.
“I’m back, my beloved… no worries, all is well…”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Tipping the Scales…
Tapestry looked at Cain and burst out laughing. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what was so damn funny. Regardless, he couldn’t help but admire how good she looked. The woman was dressed in a teal cardigan with matching flared pants and a yellow top. Black heels and purse, as well as a white floral necklace to match the white rose in her hair completed the outfit.
Today had been a damn good day. She’d even sung for the three men, one of his own songs he’d written, and they looked truly amazed. She’d made a mixed tape, too. Now that that was over, they were exiting the building and going towards his parked vehicle out on the street. Their meeting with Nola Notes Studio had gone well, and as usual, Tapestry was charming and engaging, able to make the most serious of men smile.
Spinely seemed to be particularly impressed with her. Cain was also happy that the necessary revisions were made to his contract, per his attorney’s suggestions. Things were moving forward, and his parents and siblings were supportive as ever and happy as hogs in mud for him. Silence stretched between them as they made their way closer to his parked truck, and then Tapestry’s silly ass erupted in laughter again.
“What?!” He stopped, threw up his hands, and rested his fist on his hip. The woman now had tears in her eyes, she was laughing so damn hard.
“There was… there was…” She raised her hand in the air and shook her head as if she’d caught the Holy Ghost.
“What the hell is goin’ on here? If you don’t come on!” He was laughing now, too.
“I can’t believe you ain’t see it! There was… bird… There was bird shit on his jacket! You really didn’t see it?!”
She could barely speak as she fell apart right before his eyes. He laughed even harder now.
“Who? Steven Alexander?”
“Yes!” She got to going again, laughing so hard she had to hold her belly. The silly woman went to lean against the wall of the closest building for support.
…Serves him right. Sneaky son of uh bitch…
“Isn’t that supposed to be a sign of good luck?”
“I think so… I think it’s a Turkish superstition. Anyway… it was right on his shoulder.” Cain kept his thoughts about the man to himself, but the fucker rubbed him the wrong way, all day, every day. He’d tried to nickel and dime him a few more times, and had attempted to get another song for half the cost of the first.
My name ain’t Bargain Basement Willy! What the fuck does he think this is?!
It went on and on with this fool, and he couldn’t stomach him. If it weren’t for Spinely, he wouldn’t have cut the deal at all. He wasn’t buying his over the top cowboy Texan persona, all of his jewels, slick talk to match his slick head and his ridiculous sales pitch, either. He also didn’t appreciate the way the son of a bitch kept glaring at his lady’s breasts during their conference. He knew Texans loved big things, but Tapestry’s tits weren’t on the menu.
Cain opened the passenger side door to his black F-150 and helped her inside. The woman strapped herself in and finally stopped laughing, though he could see it was a struggle.
Minutes later, they were on the road, listening to Eric Clapton’s, “It Hurts Me Too.”
“You hungry, baby?” he asked as he noted it was nearing noon.
“Yeah…”
He headed towards the Toups Meatery, one of his favorite places to stuff his face.
“Where you goin’?”
“Toups…”
“Oh? I ain’t been there in forever.” She slid her finger in her mouth and eyed him like he was candy. “I want some meat right now…”
In a flash, the woman was tugging at his pants. The clinking sounds of her manhandling his belt buckle made his pulse race. Before he knew it, her head was in his lap and the wet warmth of her mouth cocooned his growing dick, sending him into a euphoric tailspin. He could barely breathe and keep steady; his fingers slipped a couple of times off the steering wheel as she swallowed his cock, massaged his balls, licked under the length and tasted his precum.
She pulled away for a spell to look into his eyes and his essence dripped from her lower lip before she swallowed him again, hungrily sucking like it was the tastiest thing she’d ever encountered. He groaned and thrust inside her mouth, his vision blurry as he changed lanes.
“Shit, Songbird! Mmmm! You keep suckin’ my dick like dat, lickin’ it like a neckbone, and I’m ’bout tuh… I’m ’bout to explode in ya fuckin’ mouth, baby!”
His back pressed hard against the seat as he squirmed, praying to God he didn’t wreck his ride. He loved that truck and had put a lot of money into it to trick it out, including brand new speakers. But the only thing speaking to him at that moment was the climax he was about to have… Damn, did Tapestry know her way around a dick! She’d made him cum that way more times than he could count, and that was a big feat since oftentimes receiving head wasn’t enough to make him orgasm. She kept on going and with his one free hand, he cradled the crown of her head, pushing her down until she gagged. He fucked her mouth harder and faster, the traffic around him a blur. He was so damn grateful that his windows were tinted.
“Dis big dick is mine, baby… I wanna taste you.” Loud, slurping noises echoed, blending in with Etta James crooning, “I’d Rather Be Blind.”
“You wanna taste this cum, baby? Mmmmm! An appetizer before we eat, huh? Fuck!”
He grabbed her hair in his fist and jammed his cock deep down her throat. The woman gripped his thigh, her nails digging into the fabric of his khaki pants straight through to the skin. And she stayed put, her mouth wide open to receive his exploding, hot load. Her eyes watered and tears flowed from the impact as he pumped fast in her mouth, milking the last of himself.
After a few moments, she gently released him, put his dick back in his pants, and buckled his belt. Soon, he heard the click of her seatbelt, and then she sat there, all prim and proper, dabbing at the corners of her mouth and reapplying her lipstick.
When they arrived at the restaurant, he took her hand and she stepped out like a princess—in his mind, she truly was. As they approached the entrance, he wrapped his arm around her and whispered, “As soon as we leave from here, I’m takin’ you back to my place and eatin’ the hell outta your pussy… gotta get my tongue on some real food… Then I’m gonna fuck every hole in yo’ sexy ass body. Bon appetit… let’s eat…”
…Three weeks later
<
br /> It was a strange feeling…
Cain stood inside Nola Notes Studio, in a room he’d never been in before. He’d just finished recording his first song, “Superstitions of a Supernova.” After only a few repeats, they said they had what they needed. Spinely wasn’t around, but the short guy, George, and Steven Alexander were in attendance. After he’d finished in the studio, he was excused while they wrapped things up. They told him to sit tight and wait around.
This place is somethin’ else…
This particular room had beautiful large stained glass windows that reminded him of the old Catholic church he used to pass by as a little boy with his brothers and sister on the way to school. He was only the second eldest, but was often mistaken for the eldest due to him being so tall for his age. He stared at one of the Nola Notes Studio windows real hard. It depicted a dove carrying a branch.
A memory rose to the forefront. He recalled carting a paper bag Mama had given him one day, full of fresh tomatoes to give to his third-grade teacher, Mrs. Chouteau. She’d been one of the few people of color around his neighborhood. Maybe that was why he’d had a crush on her…
Mrs. Chouteau was fine!
He smiled big at the memory of the lady… After he’d left elementary school, he’d never seen her again. He wondered what she was up to. Was she still alive? He glanced down at his watch, still waiting for Spinely and Alexander.
I wonder what’s takin’ so long?
They had seemed awestruck with his work that day. He looked down at his guitar propped up against the wall, then back at the lovely stained glass windows…
That old church he used to pass popped right back in his mind again. One time, something mighty strange had happened. Back when he was in the third grade, still ogling Mrs. Chouteau, an old White man with missing teeth and pants slouched around his waist was leaning up against it. He was homeless and half out of his mind. Cain had seen him a time or two before, askin’ folks for money. One morning, that old man gave him what for! He gave chase to him and his siblings, screaming his head off, telling Cain he had the ‘evil eye.’ He, Kenneth, Victor, and Abby took off like streaks of lightning, screaming their heads off. It was a strange thing how fast that man could move. They were out of breath and laughing hard by the time the old man finally threw in the towel, but Abby wasn’t as thrilled as the boys—she was frightened beyond belief.
