by Mary Monroe
“I’m sure she probably feels the same way about me these days. Maybe even worse. I won’t know for sure unless I go. If I am able to get through to her and get her back on the right track before Christmas, it would be the best gift I ever got.”
“All right. Just let me know when you want to go. I’ll go with you if you think it’ll help.”
“Thanks.” Rhoda sniffed again. “How did dinner go with Pee Wee tonight? Have you two made much more progress?”
I took a deep breath and the following words rolled out of my mouth like dice: “Dinner was fine. But guess who we ran into on the way to the restaurant?” I didn’t wait for Rhoda to respond. “Ronald was at the mall with his wife and four of their six kids.”
“Wife? Six kids? Why—why that baldheaded motherfucker! He’s married? I thought he was divorced! Are you sure it was his wife and not that Nola woman cousin he told you was comin’ to stay with him for a while?”
“Oh, it was the Nola woman all right, but she is not Ronald’s cousin. Ronald introduced her to us as his wife. Apparently, she’s been in Detroit all this time taking care of her pregnant sister. Pee Wee knew that lying jackass from the pool hall. You should have seen how nervous and uncomfortable Ronald was when Pee Wee introduced him and his family to me. All this time, I thought Ronald was divorced, or at least going through a divorce. From the looks of things, there never was a pending divorce on his end, but he knew about Pee Wee and that we were separated. I never lied or tried to hide anything from Ronald. I can’t believe he never even told me that he knew my husband. I guess he didn’t want me to mention the fact that he and I were dating to Pee Wee, because at some point Pee Wee would have mentioned Ronald’s wife to me.”
Rhoda laughed. “Oops! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to laugh, but this is kind of funny.”
“I figured you’d get a good laugh out of this. I couldn’t wait to tell you.” I laughed myself now.
“Maybe you should check up on Roscoe now. How do you know he’s not married?”
“I have a key to Roscoe’s house, and he never hesitates to take me home with him or out in public. I doubt very seriously if he’s hiding a wife and a bunch of kids.”
“Maybe Ronald really was goin’ through a divorce. And maybe later, they patched things up and he didn’t want you to know because he wanted to keep seein’ you.”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“I guess not. I’m just sorry you had to find out about Ronald the way you did. I think we both need some drinks. Let’s get together for a few at the Red Rose tomorrow night around seven. Then ... then we can decide on when we can pay a visit to that strip joint.”
“All right,” I said with hesitation, hoping that Rhoda would change her mind after thinking it through more thoroughly. “But I hope going to that club is what you really want to do, Rhoda.”
“No, I don’t want to go there. But if it’s the only way that I can see my child face-to-face, and get her to talk to me, then that’s what I am goin’ to do.”
CHAPTER 43
I DIDN’T LIKE TO LIE TO LILLIMAE, BUT I DIDN’T WANT HER TO know that Rhoda and I were planning to visit that strip club. Lillimae had loose lips, and I didn’t want her to blab our plans to some other big mouth and have the information reach Jade before we got to her. The last thing we needed was for Jade to hear that somebody was going to attempt an intervention on her behalf. Especially when that “somebody” was her mother and me, two women she now hated with a passion.
We had decided to go the following Saturday night. To throw people off, I had casually mentioned to a few that Rhoda and I were going to go to the latest tent revival on Franklin Street on that night.
Rhoda had wanted to go the night before, but I declined that offer right away. I had never told her about how so many unpleasant things seemed to happen to me on Fridays. But that was the main reason that I insisted we go on Saturday night.
That night arrived too soon for me, but I couldn’t disappoint Rhoda and back out now.
“I sure wish I could go with you and Rhoda to the tent service tonight. I know that tent group comes and goes on a dime, so I hope we can all go again real soon,” my mother said when I told her during a telephone conversation. Rhoda was waiting for me to pick her up.
“I wish you could go with us, too, Muh’Dear. But I am sure we’ll all get to enjoy some services together soon,” I replied. “And I just want to let you know that I am very happy about the way things are going between you and Lillimae.”
“Me too. She’s a sweet woman.” Muh’Dear snorted the way she usually did when she was about to say something mean. I held my breath and waited. “And Lillimae is such an accommodatin’ person to work with. She never complains and she is always eager to do whatever it is I need her to do. And the girl can cook up just about anything! I need to be here tonight so she can show me how to make that screamin’ gumbo she served the other day,” Muh’Dear said, speaking into the phone so loud my eardrums ached. “And one more thing—you don’t have to worry about cookin’ nothin’ for Christmas. Me and Lillimae got that one covered.”
“Oh! That’s good to hear.” I sighed.
“Okay, baby. I know you and Rhoda will remember me and Frank, and Charlotte and Scary Mary in your prayers tonight, but please include Lillimae too.”
Even though Muh’Dear and Lillimae were getting along much better now, I knew that my mother had different motives than Lillimae. Even though they were now as thick as thieves, she still sputtered a few choice words about Lillimae when she got a notion to do so. For one thing, I knew that my mother would never get over the fact that Lillimae was the daughter of the woman my daddy had deserted us for. And Muh’Dear made sure I didn’t forget.
“I’m surprised that that off-white gal, raised by a fully white woman, knows how to cook so good!” Muh’Dear exclaimed. “You know how them folks like to eat half-cooked vegetables and blood oozin’ from their rare-cooked meat like jelly. And I ain’t met a white woman or man yet who knows how to season a pot of greens properly. Every black person I know knows that you need to season greens with some smoked turkey necks, or some neck bones, or a big ham hock—any kind of meat product! Oomph! Oomph! Oomph!”
“I guess Lillimae inherited a lot of Daddy’s traits,” I suggested. “I’m glad she has a real appreciation for good food.”
Muh’Dear laughed. “And that’s another thing! I don’t mean to criticize, but Lillimae needs to do somethin’ about her weight. Every time I go in the kitchen, she is in there gnawin’ on somethin’.” Muh’Dear didn’t sound as harsh as she usually did.
“Muh’Dear, you don’t have to keep her working for you if you don’t like her,” I said.
“I ain’t said nothin’ about not likin’ that gal! Even with that limp, stringy blond hair hangin’ off her head, them blue eyes, and that flat-ass bootie of hers, she reminds me a lot of you, so she’s all right by me. I’m glad I did get to know her better. But I’m just sayin’ she needs to stop feedin’ her face so much. Uh-oh!” Muh’Dear chuckled and began to whisper. “I think I just heard her come in! I don’t want her to hear me yip yappin’ about her. The poor thing. And you better not rat me out to her.” Muh’Dear laughed some more, so I didn’t feel too badly about her ranting and raving about Lillimae again. “You know how dainty and sensitive white women can be. She’ll bust up cryin’ if you told her what I just said about her.”
“You don’t have to worry about me telling Lillimae anything. Now, I don’t mean to rush you off the phone, Muh’Dear, but I need to go and get ready for the revival. We want to leave early enough to be on time, in case we run into trouble with all this snow and get delayed.”
I had decided to send Charlotte to another neighbor’s house. Mrs. Pickett was a widow and loved having company.
“You mean you are not making me go to Harrietta’s house tonight?” Charlotte asked.
I shook my head. “As long as you don’t want to go to Harrietta’s house, you don’t ha
ve to,” I assured her. “I had another talk with her. I told her that I don’t want her to look after you anymore. You don’t have to go over there at all. Happy?”
A pensive look appeared on her face. “Good. I just wish ... I just wish that her kids didn’t have to live with her.”
“Well, what that woman does with her own kids is none of my business.”
“If she was doing something real bad to them, would you turn her in?”
“I don’t know what you’re getting at, but, yes, I would. If I had definite proof that Harrietta, or anybody else, was abusing kids in any way, I would contact Child Protective Services immediately. So, can you prove she is abusing her kids?”
Charlotte just stared at me and slowly shook her head. “Uh, maybe ...”
“Maybe what?”
“Nothing, I guess.”
“All right, then. When you think you can, then you let me know. For now, you go get your coat and boots on and get over to Sister Pickett’s house.”
CHAPTER 44
I DIDN’T LIKE TO THINK ABOUT THE FACT THAT CHARLOTTE DISLIKED Harrietta with such a passion, even after I told her she no longer had to spend time with her. The more I thought about it, the more it baffled me. And Charlotte’s ranting and raving was not the only reason why. Recently, when Harrietta and I were together, I did notice something that seemed a little strange, even to me. I had visited her house for coffee a couple of days ago. Afterward, I invited her and her girls to my house to watch a recent showing of The Wiz that I had recorded. During our walk back to my house, with the kids running ahead of us, the old Collie tied to a buckeye tree in the yard next to her house started to bark and howl like the world was coming to an end. I had always thought that the poor creature was mute. But now he was also growling and gnashing his teeth too. He seemed so agitated that I thought he was going to break loose and attack Harrietta and me. The odd thing was, I had never heard this dog bark or howl or behave in an aggressive manner before. This dog was very docile and so old that he stumbled when he walked. And he was blind in one eye.
“I wonder what provoked that old dog? He never barks or gets excited about anything. Not even with all these cats strutting up and down our street,” I remarked to Harrietta.
“Oh, I’ve heard him bark before. Every time he sees me he goes crazy,” Harrietta replied. “It must be my perfume.”
I gave Harrietta a confused look. “Your perfume? Why would perfume make a dog so angry?”
“It happens. Didn’t you read about that case in Vermont with that woman who got attacked by her neighbor’s dog because her perfume irritated him?”
“Oh yeah. Now that you mention it, I vaguely remember reading something about that a few weeks ago,” I said. “By the way, your perfume is a fragrance I’m not familiar with. Exactly what is it so I’ll know not to ever wear it?” I chuckled, but I was serious. The last thing I needed was to get mauled by a dog because he didn’t like my perfume.
“Don’t laugh, but it’s called Run Devil Run,” Harrietta told me with a proud sniff. “It’s supposed to protect me from evil forces.”
I couldn’t stop myself from laughing.
“I get it from that candle shop over on Weekes Avenue. See, I used to live in Louisiana when I was a little girl. My family lived in the bayou where a lot of us believed in lotions and potions and a few other good-luck devices. Miss Gertrude, the old woman who runs the shop on Weekes Avenue here in Richland, she’s a good friend of mine, so I like to give her a little business from time to time.”
Harrietta had seemed like a conservative, no-nonsense kind of woman to me. I was shocked to hear now that she had ties to a mysterious woman who everybody I knew, even Scary Mary, thought of as a witch doctor.
“Hmmm. Well, if it agitates a normally quiet dog, maybe you should try another fragrance,” I suggested. That was all I could think to say on this subject. I didn’t like to discuss certain things with anybody; witchcraft was at the top of my list. But because of my rural southern background, and the fact that Scary Mary dabbled in voodoo from time to time, I knew that a lot of people took things like this very seriously. I couldn’t hide the concerned look on my face. Harrietta noticed it right away.
“Annette, I don’t light up candles, or go around chanting gibberish and other shit like some of the people I know do. The only thing I buy from Miss Gertrude is my perfume. And I only do it to keep her happy. She’s old; she won’t be around too much longer. It’s the least I could do. I don’t really believe in all this hocus-pocus stuff anyway, so I don’t want you to think this is a big deal with me. And I sure don’t want you to think that I involve any of the kids in this. My girls don’t even believe in simple little things like horoscopes or fortune cookies.”
“I’m glad to hear that. My daughter is even afraid of the dark. She’s the only kid I know who is afraid to watch movies with vampires, werewolves, or any other thing associated with the occult. I don’t want her to be exposed to anything connected to that candle shop,” I said firmly. I didn’t feel like laughing now, so I dropped the subject.
A day later, the same thing happened. The same dog went crazy when Harrietta and I walked by. I was glad his owner had him on a leash, because the way he was showing his teeth, with spit dribbling out of both sides of his mouth, I knew that if he got loose, Harrietta and I would be dog meat. A few steps later, when we got in front of the Mortons’ house next door to me, their little Chihuahua started barking and jumping up and down like he’d seen the devil. I had never seen this dog act so agitated before either.
“I hate dogs and they hate me,” Harrietta commented. Until she’d made that statement, it had never occurred to me that the two dogs barked only when I was with her. Even the times when she didn’t have on any of her Run Devil Run fragrance.. . .
I didn’t have the time or desire to dwell on this subject anymore tonight. What I needed to focus on at the moment was Rhoda and me going to that strip club.
I had never been to a strip joint before in my life. From what I’d seen on TV and in the movies, I expected to see just about every freaky thing in the world once we got inside. And that was just about what I saw.
As soon as we paid our fee to a cross-eyed midget in a booth by the entrance door—we had to pay to get into this damned strip club—a half-naked woman in her early thirties led us to a table right in front of the round stage with a metal pole in the middle of the floor. From that point on, I was appalled to say the least. I felt sick! I couldn’t order a drink fast enough from our waitress, a bored woman who looked more like a man. The next thing that turned my stomach like it was on a rotisserie was the smell of cigars, cigarettes, and sweat. That all slapped me in the face like a mallet. The insides of my nostrils felt like somebody had stuck burning matches up in them. Even my eyes burned.
The men were absolutely out of control. You would have thought that they had never seen a woman before in their lives. Some were whooping, hollering, and waving their arms in the air like they were at a rodeo. One man, in an expensive-looking suit at that, was on his hands and knees on the floor in front of the stage barking like a dog. Some of the “dancers” looked like teenagers, but the majority of the strippers appeared to be between the ages of late twenties and early forties. I almost choked on my wine when a woman with breasts the size of basketballs went up to the man at the table next to ours and grabbed his dick with both of her hands.
“My Lord in heaven!” I said, my eyes almost rolling out of their sockets. “I can’t believe that Jade is working in a dump like this!”
Before Rhoda could respond, the DJ introduced the next stripper: Juicy J. The applause from the men was thunderous. You would have thought that the late, world-famous, exotic dancer they called Gypsy Rose Lee had returned from the dead and was about to perform again. It was Jade who pranced out onto the stage and started dancing to “Ice Ice Baby” by Vanilla Ice. I thought I would faint dead away! From the smirk on Jade’s face, you would have thought that she owned t
he club. She was dressed like a nurse, but within minutes, she had removed everything except her black thong panties and her thigh-high boots. After Jade twirled around upside down on that pole for a few minutes, she crawled like a crab to the front of the stage and stretched out on her back. She spread her legs open, stuck her finger inside her panties, and frantically masturbated, with a spotlight aimed at her crotch. Good God!
CHAPTER 45
I WAS IN SUCH A STATE OF SHOCK AND DISBELIEF THAT I DIDN’T even realize Rhoda had leaped out of her seat and run up to that stage. She stood right smack dab in front of it, with one hand on her hip and her other hand in the air, shaking a finger in Jade’s direction. The music was so loud I could not hear what Rhoda was trying to say to Jade. But whatever it was, it only made Jade mad because she shook her head and danced toward a trio of young men waving money at her off to the side. I couldn’t believe what I saw next. Jade sat on the edge of the stage, with her legs gapped open as far as they could go. Then she slowly pulled her thong panties to the side, exposing her shaved vagina. A drooling man ran up to her and stuffed some bills into the leg of her panties. I don’t know how she did it, but Jade leaned forward and plucked the money from her panty leg with her teeth.
The song ended and I heard Rhoda say loud and clear: “Jade Marie O’Toole! You ought to be ashamed of yourself!” Jade ignored her mother and moved to the other side of the stage, where another man slid another bunch of bills into her other panty leg.
To my amazement, Rhoda placed her hands on the edge of the stage and was about to climb up on it. Within seconds, a huge man wearing a ripped wife beater and black leather pants appeared out of nowhere. There was a menacing scowl on his face. He wrapped his meaty arms around Rhoda’s waist and lifted her off the floor as if she weighed nothing. He returned her to her seat with a thud and a warning. “Now, you listen; you dykes can’t be comin’ up in here actin’ a fool, touchin’ and grabbin’ on these girls! If y’all want some pussy-on-pussy action, you have to go in the Diamond Room.” He paused and nodded his pumpkin-shaped head toward a door off to the side of the stage. His thick rubbery lips remained open, revealing blunt yellow teeth that looked more like corn. He whipped a large white handkerchief out of his pants pocket and honked into it. He cleared his throat and wiped his forehead with the same handkerchief before he spoke again. “And y’all have to pay for a lap dance like everybody else. If y’all want to act like men, you’re goin’ to behave like men! Shit!”
