by Roy Glenn
“Don't I know you?” Peppermint asked Carmen.
“I don't think so,” Carmen smiled.
“You look real familiar, you sure I don't know you?”
“I just have that type of face. People tell me that all the time,” Carmen said walking up to Peppermint. “My name is Carmen Taylor.”
“They call me Peppermint for obvious reasons, but my name is Paula M. Dent.”
“That kinda rhymes with Peppermint.”
“It sorta does,” Peppermint said looking at Carmen. “I don't mean to be rude, but you just don't seem like you’re the type to be up in a spot like this. But who am I to judge.”
“I'm looking for somebody, Peppermint. Do you know somebody named Porsche Temple?”
“Yeah, I know her. She got Misty and Chocolate strung out on her and dancing here in the afternoon.” Peppermint stood up. “But they're gone now,” She said as she walked out of the dressing room. Carmen followed her out and started back to the table. Marcus was smiling, leaning on the table, and enjoying the dancer on stage, while looking around at all the other women walking around and doing table dances.
At least I know he ain't gay.
“Peppermint, how much is a table dance?”
“Five dollars.”
Carmen got a twenty dollar bill out of her purse and handed it to Peppermint. “Do you see that guy there?”
“You mean the one you're with.”
“Yeah, get one of your friends and y'all go dance for him.”
“I'll get Wet.”
“What?”
“Wet, that girl over there. She calls herself Wet,” Peppermint said pointing to a woman who was built like she was; only her skin was dark.
“I'm not even gonna ask you why she calls herself Wet, girlfriend.”
Peppermint put the twenty in the fat bankroll she had spun around her garter and went to get Wet to dance for Marcus. Carmen smiled a devious smile and returned to the table.
“Nobody came to take your drink order yet?” Carmen asked, standing by the table.
“Not yet,” Marcus replied without looking at Carmen.
“I'm going to the bar to order, Hennessy, right?”
“Thank you, Carmen.”
“I wouldn't want to interrupt you,” Carmen said and headed for the bar.
As soon as she was out of the way, Peppermint walked up to the table with Wet and they began removing their clothes. Marcus did a double take, and started to say something, but Peppermint put her titties in his face.
“The lady at the bar paid for this,” she whispered, gently pushing Marcus back in his chair.
He looked over at Carmen, she waved, and he waved quickly and returned his attention to the entertainment before him. Carmen shook her head and got another dancer to bring Marcus his drink. He tipped her and she danced for a while then moved on. Carmen rejoined Marcus at the table and she watched him. Surprised at how much she was enjoying watching his body movement as he consumed Peppermint and Wet, with his eyes. When the dancers dressed and moved on, Marcus leaned close to Carmen.
“Thank you, Carmen.”
“You look like you were enjoying yourself.”
“I'm a bit of a voyeur,” Marcus admitted.
“I always wanted to see what goes on in these places,” Carmen told him.
“What do you think?”
“Well, it wasn't what I was expecting.”
“What were you expecting?”
“I expected it to be, you know, wild with men screaming and hollering and grabbing women as they walked by. Which they are. And I expected it to stink.”
“Stink?”
“Yep, I just knew it was gonna be stink up in here.”
“So do you see Porsche Temple any where?” Marcus asked Carmen.
“I forgot to tell you, Peppermint said that she's got two young girls dancing here in the afternoon, but they're gone. So you wanna try Goosebumps now?”
“Let’s go,” Marcus said and followed Carmen out of the club. On the way downtown, Carmen turned up the music and started dancing. “What do you think, Marcus? You think I could be a dancer?”
Marcus ran his tongue over his lips. “Carmen, if you danced there, all the women would hate you, because you'd be making all the money. But if you really want to know, I know some spots that have amateur night. “
“Sorry pal, wrong sister. In one of her letters she's describing for Robert Pettibone how she would come to his apartment in a trench coat with lingerie under it and dance for him and his friends for his birthday.”
“Nice present. You wouldn't do that for a man, Carmen?”
“For my man.” Carmen swayed from side to side with the music. “If I were in love with him.” She flirted, looking into his eyes. “I'd do anything he wanted. But not for all his boys.”
“That's good to know.”
“Why is that?”
“I'd like to think of you as a private dancer.”
“An extraordinary private dancer.”
“Are you really?”
“You know I'm a very good dancer.”
“Yeah, I saw how you were moving last night.”
“I've taken ballet, tap, African, and modern dance. I was even part of a small dance troop in New York,” Carmen said as they pulled into the parking lot at Goosebumps. Marcus came around and opened the car door for Carmen. “Thank you, Marcus. Oooh, there she is going in the club now.”
Once they were inside the club, Carmen looked around for Porsche Temple while Marcus found himself a good seat. Wondering if Carmen was going to send him some more dancers. Carmen found Porsche sitting at the bar.
“Porsche!”
“Carmen?” Porsche said looking strangely. “Carmen Taylor! What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you, Porsche.”
“For me? You're looking good, Carmen. Sit down, what you drinking?”
“Bacardi on the rocks.”
“Reggie, get her a Bacardi on the rocks and bring me another double. So how you been, Carmen?”
“I'm good, Porsche. How you doing?”
“I'm doing better, Carmen. But you, looking so good,” Porsche commented staring at Carmen. She exhaled deeply and shook her head. “I tell you what, you are the last person I was expecting to see, and looking for me. First of all, how did you find me here?”
“Denny told me you'd be here.”
“What you looking for me for?”
“I wanted to talk to you about Dez.”
“What about Dez?”
“I wanted to know if you talked to her anytime before she died?”
“No, Carmen. I hadn't talked to Dez for a couple of month before she died. We didn't fall out or anything like that. I was going through some shit. But I'm doing better now.”
“What was wrong?”
“Hitting that pipe, Carm. That rock had me fucked up for a while. Had to go to rehab. That's where I met Denise.”
“Who's Denise?”
“Simone. The one dancing on stage now.” Carmen turned to look. “If Denny told you I'd be here, I know he told you what I was doing. How is Denny anyway?”
“He's doing fine.”
“Tell him I said hey.”
“Can you think of anybody else she might have talked to before she died?”
“Dez kept her personal business to herself. Only other person Dez really talked to was Suzanne and she's dead too. I'm sorry I'm not any help, Carmen,” Porsche said as Simone joined them at the bar and kissed Porsche on the cheek. “You know, if there was something I could tell you about Dez, Carmen, I would,” Porsche said with tears in her eyes. “I loved Desireé. I miss her so much, Carmen. I know you miss her, too.” Porsche hugged Carmen and Simone smiled at her. “I gotta go girl, but I'd like to get together sometime before you leave. How long are you staying?”
“I might be here for a while.”
“Where are you staying?”
“I'm moving to an apartment in Virginia Highlands tomorrow.”
“You ready to go?” she asked and Marcus stood up, finished his drink, and followed Carmen out the door. Once they were out of the club and in the car, Carmen turned to Marcus, “Maybe it's my imagination, maybe not, but I think I was just propositioned on the down low.”
“You girls were looking quite chummy over there, with all that kissing and hugging y'all were doing.”
“I'm surprised you noticed.”
“What's that supposed to mean?” Marcus turned on the radio and started to move to the beat.
“You were practically drooling over Simone. But I don't think you're her type. Not the way she kissed Porsche and kept winking at me. I thought something was in her eye.”
“Let’s face it, Carmen, everybody wants you,” Marcus said playfully. “The young and the old, rich and poor, male and female, black, white, Puerto Rican.”
“Everybody just a freakin'.”
“Good times are rollin'.”
“I think not, Marcus. That ain't my type of bump and grind,” she smiled at Marcus, moving her upper body slowly and seductively.
Marcus watched her move. Her eyes closed, feeling the music flowing through her. “Carmen Taylor, you really begin to interest me.”
“That's good, Marcus Douglas, because you began to interest me some time ago.” Dancing each word, moving close to Marcus and then moving away.
“That was just a figure of speech. You've had my undivided attention since you walked into my office. Everything you've done since has just made me more focused.”
“So, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”
“Go ahead. Ask me anything you'd like.”
“I know you're married and getting a divorce, what I need to know is are you seeing somebody now? I don't like crowds.”
“No, I haven't been serious about a woman since I left my wife.”
“What broke y'all up?” Carmen danced.
“I caught her in bed with another man.”
“Oh.” Carmen abruptly stopped dancing. “I'm sorry.”
“Carmen, please.” He reached for her hand. “You don't need to apologize, Carmen.”
“I shouldn't have asked. I know that must hurt you?”
“It does. But a friend of mine made me see that I needed to forgive her and move on.”
“This friend of yours seems pretty smart.”
“Yes, she is very pretty and very smart,” Marcus said gently. “Lately I've been feeling a lot better about that whole situation. I know that has everything to do with being with you. So, please don't interrupt my private dance. Please don't stop.”
Carmen smiled. “Too late. The song is over.”
“But that doesn't mean you have to stop dancing. I like watching you move.”
WHY LEAVE US ALONE
Marcus heard the doorbell ring, but he thought it was part of his dream. In his dream he and Carmen were back at Goosebumps. He was the only customer and Carmen, the only dancer. He thought it was a little strange that a doorbell would be ringing at a strip club, but it was a dream, a good dream, so he tried to get back to it. When he heard the bell ring again, he cursed and rolled over. The clock said 1:05 AM. This better not be who I think it is. He thought as he angrily got out of bed. On the way to the door, Marcus indulged himself in the fantasy that it was Carmen at the door, but he knew better. First of all Carmen didn't know where he lived, but fantasy is a good thing. The door bell rang again, only this time it was coupled with loud banging. At that point he knew it wasn't Randa. Randa would never bang on the door, she might break a nail.
Marcus looked out the window and saw Garrett's truck parked crooked behind his BMW. What does he want at one in the morning? He opened the door.
“Wasup, Marcus!” Garrett said and wandered in. “Glad you opened the door, it was about to get ugly out there.”
“Come on in, Garrett, make yourself comfortable,” Marcus said sarcastically, seeing that Garrett was all ready inside and on his way to the couch. “What you wanna get ugly for at one in the morning?”
“I'm tryin' to figure that one out myself, Marcus. Why would I get ugly?” It was obvious that he had been drinking, but he wasn't drunk. “I was starting to think you had a woman up in this mug,” Garrett said as he plopped down on the couch.
“Suppose I do?”
“Then you'd have to set her out!” Then he whispered. “Is it Carmen?”
“No. Nobodies here, Garrett.”
“If Carmen ain't here she should be. I can tell she's digging you by the way she looks at you.”
“I know. We talked a little about that tonight.”
While Garrett went on about how he could size up any woman and how fine Carmen was, Marcus thought about her. After they left Goosebumps, Marcus drove Carmen back to her hotel. They stood outside the hotel laying the foundation of a new relationship. Carmen showed Marcus a few of her old dance routines to prove she still had it. Marcus was mesmerized by Carmen's smooth, yet erotic movements. For over an hour they laughed and talked and made plans to meet for dinner at Carmen's new apartment at seven the following evening.
“Hold up, Garrett. I know you didn't come here at one in the morning to tell me how fine Carmen is?”
“No partner, I needed somebody to talk to.”
“Why don't you go home and talk to your wife then?”
“I can't do that.”
“Why not?”
“Paven left me.”
“What did you say?”
“I didn't stutter. I said, Paven took the kids and left me. I got home around nine tonight and the house was in darkness. Even though it's Saturday night, I didn't think much of it. I just figured somebody had come and picked them up. When I got in the house Paven was sitting at the dining room table. She was leaving me a note.”
“What did the note say?”
“She didn't have to finish it; I was standin' right in front of her.”
“What did she say?”
“Garrett,” Paven said, startled by his sudden appearance. “I didn't think you'd be home so early.” Garrett walked up to her and tried to kiss her, but Paven resisted. “Garrett sat down. There's something we need to talk about.”
“What's the matter, Paven? Are the kids alright? Where are they anyway?”
“They're fine, Garrett. They're at my mothers.”
“What they doing over there?”
“Garrett, sit down, please.”
Reluctantly Garrett sat down at the table and waited to hear what Paven had to say. “I—” Paven said and looked away. “Garrett, the kids are at my mother’s because I'm leaving you.”
“What you mean, you leavin' me, Paven?”
“I can't say it any plainer than that. I'm not happy with us, Garrett.”
“Why.”
“You're never here, for one.”
“I have to work, Paven. You know there aren't any set hours in what I do. I gotta work to make a good life for you and the kids.”
“I know that, Garrett, but do you ever think about what that is doing to us? To your children? We need you here with us sometimes, too. They need their father and I need my husband.”
“I am here for you, Paven. Everything that I do, I do for you.”
“You're not understanding what I'm saying, Garrett. You are, and always have been a good provider. You've always taken good care of us. We've never wanted for anything, but I need more. Your son will be fourteen years old soon and he needs his father to set a positive example for him.”
“So now I'm a bad influence on him, huh?”
“No, but the only example you are setting for him is that he should work all the time.”
“
Right. A man's gotta work to take care of his family, otherwise he ain't no man. My father worked two, sometimes three jobs. We didn't have everything we wanted, but he made sure that his kids had what they needed.”
“That's exactly what I'm talking about. This whole mentality you have about it.”
“What you talking 'bout woman.”
“That mentality that says, as long as the bills are paid then everything is all good.”
“Well ain't it?”
“No, Garrett, it ain't all good. Not for us. Not for me. I feel like a prisoner in this house and a slave to the children.”
“Nobody told you that you had to sit here all day, talking on the phone, watching them stupid soap operas and that got-damn meddling ass Oprah Winfrey. That's probably what this is about. What, was that the topic of yesterdays show?”
“Oprah doesn't have anything to do with this! This is about us, Garrett, you and me!”
“All right, Paven, all right. We're not gonna get where we need to be by yelling at each other. I'm sorry if I haven't been here, I'll do better, Paven. I'll work less and spend some more time here with you and the kids, I promise.”
“Garrett, this ain't the first time we've talked about this. And every time you promise me that you'll change. That you'll spend some time with your children and pay me some attention. And we get dinner and a movie, once. Then it’s back to the same old Garrett.”
“This time—-”
“And you always say, 'this time baby things will be different', but they never are. So what's gonna make this time any different from the last this time?”
“This time I know you're serious,” Garrett laughed.
“This ain't no joke, Garrett,” Paven said and took a swing at him. “I need some time away from you, away from this house to think about what I'm gonna do. I need to do something for myself. I don't do anything for me.”
“So what, you want a divorce now?”
“I don't know. I just need some time to sort things out. To decide what I want to do for myself. And you need to think about whether you want to be an active member of this family.”
“We can both do that right here. Let's try to work this out together. In the same house. Why you gotta leave?”
Paven got up from the table. “I just have to, Garrett.”
