Somewhat Saved

by Pat G'Orge-Walker

  Bea meant to go directly to the casino. However, with her mind on all that was happening, she accidentally stepped off the elevator onto the same floor as the hotel restaurant.

  Bea realized her mistake and was about to get back onto the elevator when she looked across the corridor. She thought her mind was playing tricks. What she now saw, right there leaning against a far wall outside the restaurant, was a vicious joke. She let her eyes roll, just ever so slightly as to not bring attention, and then she refocused. But the images were still there.

  It was Sasha and she was with a man. He looked a lot older than Sasha, which meant he should’ve been a corpse, according to Bea. He also appeared to be annoyed, and Bea figured it was no doubt due to something Sasha had said or done. But it was something more. The man looked familiar. She looked away to gather her wits and decide which one of the current stressful situations she needed to deal with. Whether it was to be the Mothers Board election, Zipporah, her dwindling finances, or Sasha’s apparent secret, she needed to choose one before she became totally stressed out.

  The chatter in the corridor, along with all the sounds coming from within the restaurant, seemed to fade into the background. Her habit of not consistently taking her diabetes medication caught up with her. Bea suddenly clawed at the wall. And then she saw and knew nothing but the quietness.

  29

  Sasha caught sight of Bea seconds after she and everyone in the corridor heard the loud thud of flesh hitting the floor. Bea had collapsed into what looked like a purple floral print ball of putty. Items from her pocketbook were scattered close to where she lay.

  “Bea!” Sasha cried out in a way that made the onlookers part and let her through. “Bea!”

  There must’ve been about fifteen people in the hallway outside the restaurant. Not one of them was a doctor but most of the crowd, some moaning and others just pointing, had Bea either dead or dying. But Sasha wasn’t about to let Bea garner all the attention. Without an ounce of remorse or shame, Sasha shook Bea by the shoulders. When that didn’t wake Bea, Sasha poked her with her cane and finally pinched her hard on the meaty part of her arm.

  The pinch or a combination of all the unsolicited help from Sasha brought Bea around, slowly. Bea’s wig had flipped and slid to the side of her head. The buttons had popped open on her dress, exposing a coral-colored bra that was once red. Its straps were tied in knots, where the clasps were missing. Bea’s taupe-colored knee-highs had enough runs in them to look like train tracks. She looked a mess.

  “Wake up, Bea. You’re embarrassing me,” Sasha hissed. However, her words were sweet when she looked up with mock concern and told the onlookers, “She’s going to be fine.” Sasha slapped the wig upright onto Bea’s head, which caused the last bit of consciousness to return quicker.

  Bea’s head rolled from side to side until her surroundings and Sasha’s maniacal smirk became clearer. She popped up. Without bothering to ask how she ended up on the floor, Bea’s old thug tendencies reared their ugly heads. Instead of giving thanks for the help, she laid the blame and both her hands around Sasha’s tiny neck. By the time Bea fully regrouped, it was Sasha’s glasses, cane, and a pair of extra dentures that claimed space on the floor. There were also two pieces of Ex-Lax, but they belonged to Bea.

  “Get your hands off of me!” Bea kicked wildly at Sasha.

  With all their gyrations and hand thrusts, they’d actually not gotten off the floor. At first glance, they looked like two rabid wrestlers from the GWA, the Geriatric Wrestling Association.

  The entire corridor looked on in horror, although there were a few gawkers who laughed. Out of the crowd of onlookers, Jasper was the only one not surprised. Watching Sasha handle her business was nothing new. She’d always been a scrapper and definitely a risk taker. After all, she’d risked the wrath of her only sister just to have a one-night stand with him. Of course, he’d known it at the time. He’d figured that if he’d not been faithful to his wife, how could it be expected that he’d be faithful to Areal?

  As for Sasha, she had other problems and right then, they didn’t include Jasper. “Shut up, you old crow,” Sasha whispered angrily as she slapped Bea’s hands aside. “You keep fussing and they’ll take your old butt back to Pelzer in an ambulance. Have you no class?”

  Bea moved aside just in time to throw an evil look at a couple of strangers who’d dared to approach to help. Bea’s cold and calculating look made the strangers retreat. They fled feeling confident that the old woman could handle whatever came her way.

  Bea narrowed her eyes and fought to regain control of her breathing, which was coming in short puffs.

  Sasha was just as winded and just as determined to get Bea to back off. “How are you going to stay on as the copresident of the Mothers Board from a sick bed?” Sasha could kill a bull with one hand and convince a jury the bull had spoken and called her a name. She was just that good.

  All the fuzziness cleared as soon as Bea heard the words ambulance and Mothers Board. Suddenly she was back on task with a new plan formulating. All she had to give up was a bit of her dignity. But one more tussle with Sasha like that one and she’d have no dignity left.

  While the mayhem was still going on in the corridor, Jasper determined it was a good time for him to leave. No one seemed to notice or be concerned with the elderly man hobbling along the corridor pulling an oxygen tank. And for that, Jasper was grateful.

  The din from Sasha and Bea’s little disagreement seemed to fade into the background as Jasper finally made it to the elevator. He could’ve gotten involved if he’d had the strength. He didn’t and what little he had, he needed to take care of his daughter.

  Age had gnawed away at his memory and every now and then a piece of his life’s puzzle revisited. There was something about the woman on the floor that seemed familiar. He couldn’t make out the name Sasha had yelled, but at the moment, it didn’t matter. If he was supposed to remember, he would. What he was supposed to do, at that time, was to take care of his daughter. He wasn’t letting anything stop him—not death, not Sasha, and not even Areal.

  Of course, he hadn’t counted on Bea.

  30

  “And she did what . . . ?” Chandler asked. He’d barely entered Bea’s hotel room when she hit him with the news. He wanted to laugh but thought better of it because Bea looked so serious.

  “That doggone munchkin, she tried to attack me when I was unconscious.” Bea waited a second to see if there was any sympathy coming her way. But her patience was already used up, so she ranted on. “I wouldn’t have fainted in the first place if I’d eaten something. And I’m not sure if I took my medication.”

  He wanted to remind her that they were supposed to be mothers of the church. And, even if they weren’t, they were certainly too old, if not too fragile, to be rolling around on the floor of a luxury hotel. Or for that matter, any floor. But instead, he replied, “I agree. You know that you have diabetes. You’ve got to eat and take better care of your body and take your medicine properly.”

  Chandler’s concern was genuine. How many times had he given that same speech to his grandmother about taking care of herself? Now, Ma Cile lay miles away, half the woman she was because of a stroke brought on by high blood pressure and diabetes. Old folks, he thought. They spend most of their lives, unselfishly, taking care of others and when older, they won’t take care of themselves.

  Chandler’s expression softened when he saw the look of concern on Bea’s face. “Well, Mother Blister. At least you don’t have to pay for this suite for the rest of your stay.”

  “That’s right.”

  “It’s hard to believe that the reason you’re getting this free suite is because you blamed the lack of security for your attack.”

  “Believe it.”

  “But you actually fainted because you hadn’t eaten. It wasn’t anything Mother Pray Onn did.”

  “And, your point would be . . .”

  “How did you convince the hotel to give you a free s
uite when it wasn’t their fault?”

  “I love you, June Bug, but you are such an amateur. I gave them the name of the attorney who helped me and Sasha when we first arrived in Las Vegas. By the look on the hotel manager’s face, the man is very well known. The hotel didn’t say ‘boo’ after I threatened to call him.”

  “Who’s this attorney who instilled fear of that magnitude in the powers that be here at the Luxor?” Chandler suppressed his urge to laugh. He couldn’t imagine Bea having that much power after just arriving in Las Vegas.

  “Say what?” Bea’s mind had wandered onto other issues, plus she hadn’t understood all the big words Chandler used.

  “Who’s got them scared? The hotel—whose name scared them?”

  “Oh, why didn’t you say that?” Bea let her shoulders heave to put emphasis on her agitation. “His name is Coch, attorney Sammy Coch.”

  And that’s when Chandler finally understood just how dangerous Bea and Sasha could be. He’d once heard that Sammy Coch had turned down a chance to become the state attorney general because the title wasn’t big enough. Chandler laughed. They were far from being pushovers.

  “By the way,” Chandler added, “you dropped an envelope from your pocketbook when you had your little incident. Someone in the crowd turned it in while I was standing there and I volunteered to return it to you. Actually, that’s how I learned what happened between you and Mother Pray Onn.” He pushed the envelope toward her.

  Bea snatched the envelope, almost dislocating Chandler’s finger in the process. “Did you open it?”

  Chandler couldn’t understand Bea’s sudden change in attitude. She wasn’t asking him a question as much as she was accusing him of something. “No, I didn’t open it.”

  “Are you sure?” Bea wanted to believe him and she really didn’t have a reason not to. But her conscience was pricked and she needed to relieve the pressure. Plus, if her life depended on it, she couldn’t keep a secret. “Okay,” Bea blurted, “I know I shouldn’t.” Slowly, she pulled the photo from the safety of the envelope and pushed it toward Chandler.

  At first glance, Chandler reacted the way Bea knew he would. “Why are you hiding a picture of Zipporah? When did she ever get together with Mother Pray Onn?”

  Bea chuckled. “It’s not Zipporah.”

  “Of course it is.” Chandler reexamined the photograph. Satisfied he was correct, he pushed it back to her.

  “It’s Ima,” Bea said as she flicked the picture toward him again. “It’s Ima and Sasha on a cruise we recently took.”

  Chandler fingered the picture as though it were either gold or a demon as he remembered Ima. “Have mercy.” If he were a betting man, he’d have lost. “They could pass for twins.”

  “I know,” Bea replied. “Too bad Sasha can’t see the similarity.”

  “She saw the picture and didn’t see that her own niece, Ima, could pass for Zipporah’s twin sister?”

  “That’s her lie and she’s sticking to it.” Bea’s mind went into overdrive. Perhaps if she leveled with Chandler, they could get to the bottom of things. After all, he was getting close to Zipporah.

  Bea suddenly smiled at Chandler. He knew that couldn’t be a good thing. She’d forgotten to put in her dentures, which made her look like a bald mouth hawk. Why did old folks get dentures if they weren’t going to wear them? Watching her try to wink at her own supposed genius, he prayed he wasn’t the prey.

  While Chandler was upstairs with Bea, Zipporah rehearsed. The rehearsal went off without a hitch. Sister Betty had to admit that she truly enjoyed watching and listening to Zipporah perform. There was something very magnetic about the young woman, although Sister Betty called it an anointing.

  “I wish I could sing like that,” Sister Betty teased as she and Zipporah walked out of the room. “I couldn’t hold a note without it being stapled to my tongue.”

  “Thank you.” Zipporah felt embarrassed by the attention.

  “I believe June Bug did the right thing by taking you under his wing.” Sister Betty didn’t try to hide her pride in her godson.

  “I’m very grateful for his assistance.” Zipporah stopped to let Sister Betty enter the elevator first. “I’m also happy for yours.” Her tone turned serious as she turned and faced Sister Betty. They were the only ones in the elevator, so she thought it was a good time to ask a question that gnawed at her. “Why are you investing in me? You don’t know me.”

  By the time Sister Betty could react to the question, they had arrived at her floor. “Do you have time to stop by my room?”

  Zipporah was tired and wanted to go to her suite to rest, but her curiosity got the best of her. “I guess I can stop in for a little while.”

  Sister Betty was a bit surprised at how she was actually enjoying Zipporah’s company. She tried to push aside the story Sasha had shared. She didn’t know Areal that well, having only met her two or three times over the years. But she knew Ima Hellraiser too well. There’s no way Zipporah could be related to that demon, she thought, no matter how much alike they look.

  Inside her suite, Sister Betty shared with Zipporah how much she truly loved her godson. She also told her about the close sisterly relationship she had with his grandmother, Ma Cile. Laughter broke out as Sister Betty related several stories involving some of the hilarious incidents involving her and Ma Cile. It wasn’t until she decided to tell Zipporah about her amazing telephone call from God, when Chandler was just a young boy, that the laughter suddenly stopped.

  Zipporah’s mouth gaped. She wanted to comment but decided not to. The last thing she wanted to do was tell Chandler’s godmother that she thought she had lost her mind. So she nodded and appeared to accept the outrageous tale of God’s telephone call.

  By the time Sister Betty finished explaining why she was going to invest in Zipporah’s musical career, she was euphoric. “I can’t wait to hear your gospel album. Of course, first things first. You’ll record God’s music before you sing June Bug’s worldly music. He and I have discussed it secretly, several times, but he’s never had an anointed singer before you. Of course, I’m not about to put my money into some of that butt-shaking stuff. I know it will be anointed.” Sister Betty fingered the large cross that hung from her neck as though it were a witness.

  “You’re investing in a gospel album?” Zipporah tried to hide her confusion but she couldn’t. “Are you certain?”

  “I sure am. June Bug, I meant Chandler, said that you were gonna give one of my favorite gospel singers, LaShun Pace, a run for her money. Now that’s another singing sista.”

  Before Zipporah could react to the news that she would record a gospel album in addition to having a Las Vegas show created for her, there was a rap at the door.

  Sister Betty opened the door and found Chandler standing there laughing. “Godmother,” he said, “you won’t believe what’s going on.”

  “There’s a lot of disbelief happening,” Zipporah blurted.

  Chandler’s surprise was real. “Hi, Zipporah. I didn’t know you were here.”

  “That’s okay,” Zipporah said coldly. “Miscommunication sometimes happens.”

  “Excuse me . . . ?” Chandler felt the temperature plummet as confusion appeared on his and Sister Betty’s face.

  “We need to discuss the gospel album. The gospel album that your godmother knew about and I didn’t.” She stood with one foot extended and ready to widen the gap in the seat of his pants.

  Chandler’s mind worked overtime to perform damage control. He felt stupid for not telling Zipporah before he’d talked Sister Betty into parting with the money to record an album and invest in his business ambitions. His plan was to get Zipporah to record a gospel album for his godmother along with the Las Vegas Revue. In his mind it was simply good business. Everyone came out a winner.

  Even when she was annoyed, Zipporah looked good. Chandler pretended to read the room service menu he’d grabbed to show he wasn’t concerned. He was going to sail this ship of talent and
confusion all the way to the front door of the bank.

  “I’m over twenty-one,” Zipporah said through clenched teeth. “I take my bull crap with no chaser.”

  Chandler let her obvious rebuke pass. Over twenty-one, she was. That was the one challenge Chandler knew he’d have to face. He knew the stage and the camera loved her. Of course, he’d rather she was younger, for a debut artist, but he was up to the test. She was beautiful and he could always adjust her age.

  So while Zipporah’s anger mounted and Sister Betty sat confused by the sudden change of emotions, Chandler did what he’d always done when caught in a bad situation; he simply smiled.

  Smiling may have temporarily helped Chandler, or so he thought, but it didn’t make things easier for Zipporah or Sister Betty.

  Zipporah glanced over at her reflection in the mirror. She wore glamorous clothes and makeup, and slept in a suite provided because she had something that was bankable. She’d always had it but now it was finally given a chance to shine. She was taking her life out of layaway.

  Zipporah’s survival instinct suddenly went into overdrive. She’d accepted the fact that she’d needed Chandler. There was no getting around it. She needed him to keep his promise to help her fulfill her dream. Too many times she’d been led to the brink only to slip and fall because she’d let her guard down. She’d almost done that when she entertained the notion that, perhaps, there could’ve been something more between them. Obviously, Chandler was just what he’d said he was, when they’d first met. He was a businessman. Only a crazy woman would keep doing the same thing, the same way, and then expect a different result. Zipporah reconfirmed right then that she wasn’t crazy. Whatever it was going to take, she was willing to do.

  Suddenly, Zipporah walked over to where Chandler stood and took the room service menu from his hand. The look in her eyes changed from erotic to a calculated coldness, as she let them briefly sweep over Chandler before looking down at the menu. And like him, she pretended to read it.