Chandler took every ounce of strength he had and uncrossed his legs, which released both his hands and the piece of paper. “It’s a guest list for tonight’s show.”
“Why do I need to see a guest list?” Now she was really puzzled. Was Chandler toying with her to see if she was ignorant to the business? Was he just crazy? She was growing tired of the “is he or isn’t he” game.
He smiled and laid the paper on the coffee table. He couldn’t get up at that moment. After all, she couldn’t tease him like that and not expect his body to react. He made it so she’d have to walk over to get it.
Curiosity got the better of Zipporah, so she surrendered. She watched him intently, while she reached for the paper on the table. She clutched the paper and with her eyes still locked on him, she backed away to sit down again.
Chandler watched her transformation. He was still fascinated by the way she confronted every situation. She was indeed an expert-in-training, when it came to mystery. He liked that.
Her body seemed to relax and tense almost simultaneously as her eyes scanned the sheet. “Are you serious?” She started giggling and couldn’t stop.
“As a heart attack,” he countered. Her smile was contagious. He found he’d started smiling, too. “They’ll be here tonight, as a favor to me, just to see you.”
Chandler fought the urge to run to where she sat and just hold her. He wanted to reassure this already self-assured woman that he was making everything all right. Perhaps at another time, he would. At that moment, he chose to sit, observe, and hope the blood stopped overflowing in his pants.
Words hovered over Zipporah like an oral balloon. She wanted to snatch the words of thanks and toss them at Chandler, but they floated beyond her reach.
Zipporah reread the sheet of paper. There were six names on the sheet. Four of the names were renowned record producers or show producers for HBO. And two of them were A & R representatives from two of New York’s largest record companies. “How did you pull this off?”
“They’re in town at one of the industry conferences. The big awards banquet is at the conference center this evening. They’ve promised to stop by and catch your second performance.”
“My goodness.” Zipporah blushed. “Shouldn’t I be nervous?”
“I wouldn’t think less of you if you were.”
“But I’m not nervous,” Zipporah continued. “Am I crazy? Am I overconfident?”
“Only you would know that.” Chandler pointed at her. “But get back to me later about that crazy part.”
They laughed at the same time and the timing of it seemed to bring them closer.
“I probably should go,” Chandler said as he looked at his watch. Its plainness reminded him that when he changed for the show he needed to wear a more expensive watch. If he looked like he didn’t need money he’d be shown more respect. That was something he’d learned early on in life.
It took Chandler a moment to realize that Zipporah had stopped laughing. She had a strange look. It wasn’t one of fear and yet it didn’t quite look like confidence, either. Just when he thought he’d broken through her mystery shield, she’d raised it again.
“I need for you to leave now,” Zipporah said softly as she walked toward the door. But no matter how soft she spoke, her voice still wavered. Tears came slowly at first but by the time she’d raised her hand to wipe them away, they’d soaked the sheet of paper.
Chandler rose, not wanting to cause her embarrassment. He went to the door and opened it. He had to admit that he did expect her to be grateful and perhaps to concede that he had her best interest at heart. He never expected her to cry. But he was learning that he didn’t really know what to expect from her. Tonight, he’d accept the tears.
With a quick hug and a kiss on her wet cheeks, Chandler left without saying a word, and yet his actions had said plenty.
34
Bea couldn’t decide if she wanted to call for a doctor or to smother Jasper’s face with a pillow. She was willing to do anything to stop his loud wheezing and coughing. She frowned again as she looked over at Jasper, as if a nasty smell had entered the room.
Back in Pelzer, when she did have male companionship with her longtime boyfriend, Slim Pickens, she called the shots and the old man would hop.
She thought about how she’d put up with Slim and his decrepit pamper-wearing butt once, perhaps twice, a month. Usually it was around the time when he’d get his pension and her money was funny. “You know I’m gonna be here for you forever,” Slim had told her. She couldn’t tell him that she hoped forever was a short time. She couldn’t imagine, and she certainly hadn’t hoped, that he would live past the time she could tolerate him.
And yet with all the ill will she harbored against some of the men she’d known and met who’d given her money or other things, she wanted nothing but the best for a strange young woman who’d given her nothing. Bea shook her head at the thought of Zipporah. She looked back at Jasper still struggling to breathe and thought of Slim again.
But Slim was a pauper compared to the money Jasper had. “Life sure is a funny thing,” she muttered, pushing the unpleasant memories to the back of her mind.
Here she was with a megarich man in a hotel room. She was far from home in Las Vegas—where whatever happened here was supposed to stay here—unless one went home with some type of transmittable disease. Jasper was a man whom she’d have cut someone over, back in the day, and now he was sitting there, useless and dying.
Jasper was just coming out of one of his coughing and wheezing fits when he saw Bea coming toward him. Normally, if he’d seen a woman with a pillow in her hands, fluffing it, he’d have thought she was going to make him comfortable. But Jasper knew Bea Blister and she was no Florence Nightingale.
“Bea,” Jasper managed to cry out. “What’s that you got?”
“Oh, this old thing.” Bea chuckled. “I was just taking it into the bedroom.” She knew that he knew she was lying because he was watching when she’d brought it out of the bedroom earlier. Bea threw the pillow aside just as quickly as she had the truth.
“What time is it?” Jasper asked suspiciously.
“It’s time for you to leave.” Bea was about to call the concierge desk and find out if they had a luggage dolly that could wheel Jasper back to his room. She needed to be alone so she could figure out how to keep Jasper away from Zipporah. She knew Zipporah could use the financial help, but she certainly didn’t need a dying daddy. At least if Bea were her, she wouldn’t.
“How big is her leaf?” Jasper asked as though he were continuing a conversation instead of starting one. “Is it as big as mine?” He held out his hand with the palm up so Bea could see his birthmark.
“It’s pretty noticeable,” Bea answered as she gathered his belongings. “When I saw it and how much she looked like Ima, your other daughter, it almost blew me away. And that’s pretty much what sealed it for me as far as you being her daddy.”
“It probably sealed it for Sasha, too,” Jasper stammered. His voice dropped an octave at the mention of Sasha’s name.
“I told you she almost had a heart attack when I mentioned Ima and Zipporah in the same breath.” She stopped and put one of her chubby arms through Jasper’s free arm to help him stand.
Again, Jasper spoke as though continuing a conversation. “She ain’t gonna turn out like Ima.” He turned toward Bea and surrendered his other arm to her. “I mean it, Bea. That Ima, she is just plain ol’ mean-spirited. All those Hellraisers are mean.”
“Zipporah don’t know she’s a Hellraiser. And for no other reason than that, Jasper,” Bea pleaded, “you shouldn’t tell her that you’re her father. She’s gonna want to know about her mother, too.”
“I don’t care!” Jasper’s words were starting to come forth again, in spurts, as his agitation mounted. He fell back and Bea, with her stooped back, barely caught him before he hit the floor.
“Oh, what the ham and cheese,” Bea hissed, her favorite cuss phrase. S
he dragged him, semiconscious, back onto the sofa. “Now what?” she mumbled. He was as stubborn as she was as he continued to mumble with his eyes closed and lips barely able to move.
Bea went over to the table and picked up the phone. She wrestled with her insane idea of whether or not to call the concierge desk for a luggage dolly. She slammed the receiver down. She’d decided not to when she realized it would take more of an explanation than she was willing to give.
She covered Jasper with one of the extra blankets from the closet. It was a struggle because he kept coughing and mumbling, but she resisted the urge to place the cover over his face and mold it to the shape of his head. When she realized she hadn’t given in to her urge to put him out of his misery, Bea understood that perhaps she was a bit more saved than she’d realized.
But, she thought, if he didn’t shut up she’d have to take her chances and hope God would forgive her.
After Sister Betty and Sasha traded confessions, the two old women had prayed and risen with renewed vows and a greater appreciation, momentarily, for one another.
With each revelation they traded, they’d discovered how little they knew, truly knew, about one another.
“How long did you say we worshipped together?” Sasha had asked again, for the about the third time. She was almost giddy with her renewed strength in God. She felt as though she’d just gotten saved.
She had.
“I believe it’s been more than thirty years if you count the time we sat on the same building fund committee. And you must know that I never, ever, wanted to be a part of the Mothers Board,” Sister Betty confessed. “It was Reverend Tom who insisted that I come to Las Vegas and upset the cart.”
“I’d forgotten about the Mothers Board elections.” Sasha’s eyes widened. “What are we going to do?”
“We don’t have to do anything,” Sister Betty said calmly. “We don’t know when it will resume at the conference center.”
“It’s been cancelled? Sasha smiled. “Those folks are so unreliable.” Just as Sister Betty was about to correct her and lay the blame where it belonged, Sasha winked.
The two old women laughed again. They were truly, for the moment, having a grand old time.
Sister Betty and Sasha continued to travel down memory lane, which was made up of geriatric blocks of half memories paved with arthritis. By the time they were halfway through, neither had a good enough excuse as to why they hadn’t gotten along or avoided one another. They’d been at religious odds all those years, and it was all in the name of Jesus, which made it ludicrous.
“Well, I must be going. We’ve turned over Zipporah’s situation to the Lord,” Sasha announced again, as she rose. “I’m out of it.”
“God will work it out for certain. All we have to do is just sit back and let Him work. I’ve learned not to second-guess God,” she added. “I first learned that when He called me on the telephone.”
And that’s when Sasha stopped moving toward the door. She turned and crept back over to where Sister Betty still stood. Taking one of Sister Betty’s hands in hers, she spoke. “There’s something I’ve always wanted to ask you.”
“Yes, what is it?”
“Did God really call you? I mean did He call you on a telephone that had a dial tone? Was it on a rotary phone? You weren’t having a hot flash or something, were you?”
“What do you believe?” Sister Betty smiled and winked.
“I believe that you believe it,” Sasha replied. “However, that’s a little far-fetched to me. I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but God’s touched me today, and I can’t lie to you.”
“It’s about as far-fetched as Him finally coming into your life in a way you’ve never experienced before.”
And that’s when Sasha knew that God truly had called Sister Betty on the telephone.
Before Sister Betty could explain further, there was a persistent rap at her door. The interruption momentarily startled the women.
“Are you expecting company?” Sasha asked, raising her cane out of habit.
“Not at this hour,” Sister Betty answered slowly.
She brushed past Sasha, who had moved back toward the door again. Sister Betty peeped through the peephole.
“Oh, oh.”
35
“Open the doggone door, Sister Betty. This ain’t room service.”
Sister Betty’s shoulders slumped in defeat as she opened the door.
Bea ambled in and was met with the sight of Sasha and a raised cane.
“I thought you were so saved?” Bea snapped, pointing toward Sasha. “Why you got that demon in here?”
“Come on in, Bea,” Sister Betty said as she closed the door.
“You know if you resist the devil, she’ll flee back to her cave in Pelzer,” Sasha snapped. She gave Bea a nasty look and raised her cane a little higher.
“We’ve been calling on Jesus,” Sister Betty told Bea, and reminded Sasha at the same time. She’d hoped Bea would calm down if for nothing more than to respect the prayers.
“There must’ve been a lot of static on the line,” Bea said as she inched toward Sasha.
“Me and Sister Betty are best friends now,” Sasha announced. “And we don’t need you butting into our prayer life.”
So much for Christian love, Sister Betty thought. Sasha hadn’t been reclaimed for more than a good forty-five minutes and she was about to return to the devil’s grip.
Before Sister Betty could pull out her bottle of blessed oil which she kept for such occasions as the one she was in, Bea and Sasha let loose.
Bea told Sasha exactly what she really thought of her, which was redundant because it was what she told Sasha every time they occupied the same space and air.
Sasha returned the favor, adding a few spicy words to her barrage. She called Bea everything that was demonic in nature as well as a reference to manure.
Sister Betty fled to a space beside the television cabinet for safety, and prayed. She was torn between trying to keep her peace and tossing Bea and Sasha out into the hallway.
What was God trying to tell her? Was He trying to tell her that she wasn’t as saved as she’d thought? At that moment, she was tempted to kick their wrinkled butts and then redo her first works at the altar. She was just that fed up and needed to get off the religious roller coaster.
The confrontation lasted about two or three more minutes before it appeared it was dying down. Much to the appreciation of Sister Betty, both Bea and Sasha were becoming winded and needed to cut their insults short. At least they hadn’t broken any furniture, yet.
However, leave it to Sasha to find just enough strength to light a verbal match and set off Bea, the volcano, Blister.
“. . . And I know it was you that was sneaking around with Jasper Epps behind my back!” Sasha accused.
“What in the ham and cheese would I want with Jasper Epps?” Bea hollered.
Neither woman remembered that up until that time they couldn’t remember who they’d fought over.
“You wanted him when we were in high school because he liked me.” Sasha was adamant as she rolled her tiny hips with her parentheses-shaped legs struggling to support her.
“Please!” Bea snapped. “That playboy liked every girl who wore a skirt and didn’t have the word no in her vocabulary.”
“I knew how to say no!”
“You might’ve known but that don’t mean that you did. In fact, neither you nor Areal, as I recall, never said no to much, back then. How often did the two of you compare notes about Jasper?”
Sister Betty had just made up her mind to intervene and ask them to leave. The look on Sasha’s face told her to mind her business even though they were in her hotel suite. So she did.
“What do you know about Areal and Jasper?” Sasha asked, remembering Bea’s shadow in Jasper’s picture of Areal and him.
And that’s when Bea broke it down for Sasha and admitted knowing that Areal and Jasper were lovers. Before that day her memory was
a bit fuzzy. But with Jasper showing up out of the blue, he’d brought back plenty of memories, and they were becoming crystal clear.
“I’m ashamed,” Sasha finally said. “Back then I didn’t want to believe that my own sister would creep around like that.”
“But you were creeping, too,” Bea reminded Sasha. “Seems like the only one who wasn’t creeping with Jasper was me.”
Actually Bea had wanted to have a fling with Jasper but somehow he seemed to prefer his lemon-colored women for bed buddies and she was more a purple grape. Seeing the mess he’d made of Areal’s, Sasha’s and now Zipporah’s life, she was glad she hadn’t forced the issue.
Sometime between when Bea started and finished her story, Sister Betty felt it safe to resurface. “I’m glad that y’all got it out of your system.”
Calm had returned for the moment.
It was all out in the open then. There was more than one hundred and twenty years of experience between three of the most unlikely of women to bond. Yet, to a degree, for the sake of a young woman they’d known less than a week, they’d come together.
Sasha put her things down and sat, again, on the sofa. “Sister Betty, may I use your telephone?”
Sister Betty nodded her consent and Sasha called Areal. There were accusations, tears, and a touch of profanity on Areal’s end, but Sasha was persistent. She knew Areal never wanted it known that she was Zipporah’s natural mother. She’d apologized and promised that she would be with Areal when she told Ima that she had a sister.
Bea and Sister Betty sat like bookends as they tried to support Sasha in her struggle to continue the conversation with her sister. Finally, Sasha hung up.
“What a mess,” she moaned. “How can I undo the past? Zipporah will probably hate me.”
“Don’t worry, Sasha.” Bea placed a fat hand across Sasha’s back. She laughed quietly and added, “Everybody hates you at first.”
Sister Betty almost caught a cramp as she stifled her laugh. Leave it to Bea, she thought.
Somewhat Saved Page 21
