Soulful Strut

by Emery, Lynn

  Monette looked at Yarva. She felt sure Yarva would always be her own worst enemy. Still, how could Monette argue, when Candi was throwing her words back at her? Monette let out a sigh. “Well, I did say that.”

  “Screw that Mickey Mouse program. I’ve got my own plans,” Yarva blurted out before Monette could say more. She scraped Monette with a head-to-toe glare, then stomped away.

  “We tried.” Monette gave a silent sigh of relief. She had enough challenges without having to watch her back at Second Chances, too.

  “Maybe she’ll change her mind. You could have put some effort into making her feel welcome,” Candi said in a tight voice.

  “Hey, she’s grown. Have you changed your mind?” Monette returned Candi’s stare.

  “Nah, I’m in,” Candi muttered with less enthusiasm than before. She followed the same path Yarva had taken down the hallway.

  Sherrial gazed after her with a worry line on her forehead. “I hope they do well.”

  “Look, you give folks the opportunity. It’s up to them to make the most of it.” Monette shrugged. Still, she had to wonder if offering them a spot at Second Chances had been a mistake. She’d find out soon enough.

  Chapter 13

  The rest of the week whizzed by. Monette spent every waking moment working, either at Second Chances, the radio station or on her book. When her lawyer called to tell her that her pardon hearing had been pushed back, Monette surprised him by being relieved. She hated being in the custody of the Louisiana Department of Corrections. Yet, like most of the women in her program, she did not look forward to having her hopes smashed. Better to have room to breathe for a few more weeks, she explained. The hearing would take place in another month. When Friday came, only then did Monette realize she hadn’t heard from Jayson. She sat in the living room with her AlphaSmart in her lap, writing away.

  “Don’t tell me you are gonna be sitting here on a Friday night.” Lenore came in. She dabbed makeup on her cleavage in an attempt to cover freckles. “Damn it.”

  “I’ve done my share of partying. More boring evenings at home would have probably kept me out of prison. Have fun.” Monette smiled. Still, the chatter of several more women on their way out reminded her she had nowhere to go.

  “Hey, Monette. The invitation stands. You can hang with us. We’re going to that free concert in the park downtown,” Candi said from the doorway. Yarva and Tyeisha were with her.

  Yarva kept walking. “Come on. I don’t wanna miss a note of that blues. Move it.”

  Tyeisha laughed. “Yeah, I guess old school is okay once in a while.”

  “Youngster, please. You better recognize your heritage. Where do you think hip-hop got its roots?” Monette said.

  “They got a little somethin’ for everybody. I like the way they combine hip-hop with blues.” Candi did a passable imitation of dancers they’d seen on music videos.

  “Now that is a mixed groove that should be nice,” Monette agreed. “But nah. I’ve got work to do. Besides, a little quiet time won’t hurt me.”

  “Let’s go, y’all. I skipped supper so we could eat downtown at one of those food stands.” Yarva danced toward the front door.

  “I’m right behind you.” Tyeisha waved goodbye to Monette, and then did a shuffle to a silent beat right behind her.

  Candi lingered a few seconds. “Sure you want to wait around for him to call? That ain’t the woman I know.”

  “Writing, not waiting,” Monette countered. “I’ve got way too many deadlines.”

  “You could break from that stuff a little while,” Candi said. She started to say more when the phone rang and another resident yelled to Monette.

  “Hmm, phone call for you. Wonder who that could be?” She grinned at Monette, who pointedly ignored her.

  Monette was on her feet and past Candi before she could finish. “You’ve got someplace to go. Bye,” she called over her shoulder on the way to the phone.

  “Glad to see you wasn’t waitin’ for Jayson to call,” Candi whispered as she followed her. She laughed when Monette made an obscene gesture with one finger.

  Once the front door shut, Monette paused. Candi’s comment had hit a nerve. She did not want to appear too eager. Then she felt foolish. Miss Inelle stood over her with one hand on her hip.

  “You holding that phone for a reason I guess.” Miss Inelle looked at Monette with a curious expression.

  “Call for me. Hello.” Monette gave her an embarrassed smile, and then she spoke into the phone at last.

  “Humph. Must be a man,” Miss Inelle muttered and left.

  “How was your week?” Jayson said.

  “Crazy. Glad it’s over,” Monette said. She tried to keep cool.

  “Same here. I’ll bet you’ve eaten.”

  “Not much,” Monette said, then decided to clarify that statement. She didn’t want him thinking she’d lost her appetite because of him. “I didn’t like what we had for supper tonight.”

  “Great. Sorry I didn’t call earlier, but I had a couple of last-minute customers show up. I was thinking we could get some Chinese food and just chill.” Jayson’s deep voice issued a seductive invitation that implied wonderful things.

  “I could eat some Chinese.” Monette grinned so widely that her cheeks ached. “Give me twenty minutes to finish up something and get ready.”

  “You got it. Pick you up at seven-thirty. Hey, you.”

  “Yeah?” Monette’s fingers gripped the receiver hard.

  “Through all that mad drama of the week I still had time to miss you like crazy,” Jayson said. “See you in a bit, baby.”

  His enticing words propelled her forward. Monette was more than ready to get out of the halfway house. She did take time to finish another page of chapter ten in her book, and then she rushed upstairs, showered and changed. Off went the sloppy drawstring sweatpants and faded but much loved Southern University T-shirt On went her new denim skirt and pink cotton pullover shirt When Monette went downstairs fifteen minutes later, Lenore was on the phone. She spoke softly, her voice urgent.

  “Alright, Papi. I said alright” Lenore said. She noticed Monette and switched to Spanish. After she hung up, Lenore sat looking at the phone for a few seconds.

  “Everything okay, girl?” Monette said, keeping her tone light.

  “Uh-huh.” Lenore did not move. Nothing in her posture indicated she was okay.

  Monette glanced through the window next to the front door. Jayson was not outside. “You don’t sound so sure. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Nothing, really. I mean Ramone is just a little upset ’cause I took too long getting to the phone. Like he thinks Rachelle lied when he called earlier and she said I was cooking. I tried to tell him I didn’t go nowhere.” Lenore bit her lower lip. “He’s gonna be here to pick me up in a few minutes.”

  “Ramone is a control freak.” Monette became worried, because Lenore looked so anxious. “Don’t go anywhere with him. Lenore, I noticed the bruise on your cheek.”

  “I tripped. Fell against the door,” Lenore replied in a dull voice. The explanation sounded like a well-worn lie that came out automatically.

  “What door? When?” Monette took a step toward her.

  “It was…” Lenore glanced up at Monette, “at his cousin’s house. Loose rug on the floor.”

  “Loose hands from Ramone, you mean. Look, you better stop coming up with phony alibis to protect his ass. Press charges if you have to, just don’t take it anymore.” Monette could too easily see herself reflected in Lenore’s dark eyes.

  “I can’t do that to him. Ramone would go to jail for a long time if I called the police. He’s trying so hard. Seems like everything is against him. This guy on his job isn’t treating Ramone right.” Lenore twisted her hands together.

  Monette bit back a tart reply. Ramone was a classic abusive male. Everything wrong in his life would be an excuse for taking his rage out on Lenore. Still, Monette knew that if she criticized Ramone again, Lenore would def
end him even more.

  ‘Trying to make it in this world with a prison record is rough on us all.” Monette could only bring herself to make a neutral remark.

  Lenore nodded eagerly. “Ramone is smart, Monette. Every time he gets a job, his bosses end up being jealous. They know he should be running things. They sabotage him.”

  “Uh, yeah.” Monette walked with her to the living room. “Work can be hard.”

  “You know what it’s like.” Lenore sat down in a chair. “Sure do. Let’s talk about what you want. Must make you feel bad that Ramone is angry all the time when you didn’t do anything.” Monette sat in the chair across from her.

  “I don’t know what to do, what to say. Nothing seems to help.” Lenore twisted her hands again.

  “Honey, I know you’ve heard this before, but he’s not going to change. Nothing you do will ever be good enough. That’s because his anger is not about something you’ve done or haven’t done.” Monette put a hand on her arm for emphasis. “It will get worse.”

  “I’m all he’s got Ramone can’t count on his family.” “And what have you got to count on from him besides anger?” Monette said. “Carrying around your weight and his must wear you down. Think about your dreams.”

  “My salon.” Lenore smiled weakly.

  “Love and support should go both ways.”

  “I know. I’m gonna think about what you said.” Lenore stared down at her hands and forced them to keep still. “I’ll be fine.”

  Monette wanted to say much more. She wanted to tell Lenore to dump Ramone before he hurt her again. Monette wanted to lecture her about no-good men who thought only about themselves. Such a diatribe would only alienate Lenore. She would be pushed further into her us-against-the-world relationship with Ramone. Maybe something Monette said had planted a seed.

  “I sure hope so. I’m counting on you to hook a sistah up with some free pedicures,” Monette teased.

  “I got the colors all picked out for my shop, too. I’m goin’ with a tropical theme, but nothing too gaudy.” Lenore sniffed and smiled again.

  “Good. Cause, chile, if it’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s gaudy.” Monette waved her flashy bright pink fingernails.

  Lenore laughed out loud. ‘Thanks, Monette.”

  “Ah, girl. I didn’t do anything.” Monette was about to say more when a horn blast stopped her.

  ‘That’s Ramone.” Lenore sprang to her feet. Gone was the relaxed smile. Tension pulled the muscles tight in her neck.

  “You don’t have to go anywhere. Miss Inelle could tell him you can’t leave. That will solve the problem for tonight at least.” Monette talked fast to stop Lenore from leaving.

  “I can’t. Look, I appreciate all you’re tryin’ to do for me. Okay? But I have to talk this out with him.” Lenore gave Monette a quick, fierce hug before she rushed off.

  Monette followed her. “But wait a minute.”

  “Please. We’ll talk later,” Lenore whispered. She waved to a dark figure in a battered gray Ford Taurus with splotches of blue paint on the doors.

  “Yeah, okay.” Monette almost bumped into Jayson before she saw him standing on the porch.

  “Hi, baby.” Jayson followed her gaze. They both watched Lenore get into the car. “Problem?”

  “Same old story, a good woman trying to save a no-good man.” Monette suddenly felt sad.

  Jayson rubbed her shoulders with both hands. “And you gave her advice, which she ignored.”

  “I feel like I should have done a better job of convincing Lenore not to go.” Monette took comfort from his touch.

  ‘That’s all you can do. The ultimate decision is hers alone.” Jayson tugged her until they left the porch together. He opened the passenger door and helped Monette climb into his truck.

  Once he shut the door, Monette settled into the leather seat. When Jayson got in, Monette gazed at him in appreciation. His light green cotton shirt was neatly tucked into faded light blue jeans. The scent of his expensive men’s soap came from his dark, tanned skin. Monette inhaled to take in more of him. She exhaled to let go of lingering melancholy. Jayson turned the key in the ignition, tuned the radio to smooth jazz, and took Monette away from her world. Despite a prick of guilt, Monette felt happy to leave Lenore and her troubles behind.

  After a relaxing dinner at the Great Wall they headed to a poetry reading at Southern University. Monette enjoyed the energy of the performance poets, who could have easily been her kids. Jayson bought chapbooks beautifully bound by students from the Fine Arts Department. Later they walked to The Bluffs, a panoramic view of the Mississippi on campus. A small park with stone benches looked out across the wide, muddy water. Young couples sat with their heads together, talking low. Monette and Jayson found an empty seat and sat down. A breeze heavy with moisture and heat provided little relief; still no one wanted to leave the site.

  “Those kids were great. Reminds me what young people can do if they have the chance.” Monette flipped the pages of her book of poetry. “Thanks for this, by the way.”

  “You’re welcome.” Jayson smoothed a stray strand of Monette’s hair behind one ear.

  Monette laughed. “That one kid from New Orleans talking about the projects, damn. All those little bourgie kids were acting like they can relate. Kinda cute.”

  “Maybe they can. Feeling left out is a universal adolescent sorrow.”

  “Yeah, maybe. But I don’t think so,” Monette tossed back. “I grew up during the eighties, when hip-hop and crack hit the streets big. Ain’t nothing glamorous or sexy about that life. Why do you think all these rappers are trying to get out of them streets?”

  “Good point, baby.” Jayson pulled Monette to him until her shoulder was in the crook of his large arm.

  “But that one kid told the truth. Notice how they got quiet. She’s for real.” Monette could still hear the young woman’s strong voice. Tall and thin, she wore her hair in short kinky twists. She spoke of a dark, ugly side, devoid of bling and bravado.

  “Her name is Shani Reese. Bet she’s got the most depressing poem in that book, too. Too bleak an outlook for somebody so young. She needs to lighten up.” Jayson nuzzled Monette’s cheek. “Life is what you make it.”

  “No, life is what you’re born into. Somehow Shani made it to college, but you can’t just leave that stuff behind,” Monette said.

  “At some point it’s time to move on. Speaking of which, why don’t we go to this arcade at the mall? They have cool video games.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m talking about life and you’re into escaping reality?” Monette looked at him as though he’d suggested they jump into the river.

  “Okay, we can play one of those violent gangster games if that will make you feel any better.” Jayson laughed. When Monette’s eyes narrowed to slits, he stopped. “Oh, come on. Is there something in your parole rules that says we can’t have fun tonight?”

  Monette pushed him hard, and Jayson pretended to almost fall off the bench. Still, she ended up laughing as well. “No, you didn’t just make fun of my parole.”

  “Just keepin’ it real. I ain’t hatin’ the playa or the game.” Jayson imitated the hand gestures of rappers.

  “Don’t plan on auditioning for Def Jam anytime soon. Okay?” Monette pushed him again. “You’re still way too bourgie.”

  “Then give me some tips.” Jayson pinched Monette’s cheek.

  “Uh-uh. I’m glad to be free of those scrubs I used to date.” Monette shook her head. “You being Jayson is plenty good enough for me.”

  “Now that was a sweet way of putting it.” Jayson kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose and then her mouth.

  They had a lovely view. An early summer breeze blew across her skin. A fine man held her in his arms, and she smelled desire in the warm spicy scent of him. Monette wondered if she was dreaming. Bass booming from the sound system of a passing car woke them both. A yellow Mustang loaded with young men rolled by, rap lyrics crackling through
the air.

  “So much for romance in the sunset Guess they just reminded us old folks we’re on their turf.” Jayson grinned as the other kids around them dipped and swayed to the music.

  “I think the-name of that tune is ‘It’s Time to Go.’ ” Monette laughed with him.

  They strolled hand in hand across campus to the parking lot In spite of their words, neither rushed to leave. The truth was they enjoyed the atmosphere of the campus. Monette felt at home even though she’d never been to college.

  “Now this is what I want to give the people who participate in Opportunity Knocking.” Monette slid beneath the wheel onto the passenger side of the truck’s leather seat.

  Jayson got in after her and closed the door. He started the engine. “What?”

  “This campus.” Monette gestured with both hands. ‘The feeling of having good possibilities ahead.”

  “Let’s hope they take advantage of it. Not like that lady you tried to help tonight.” Jayson threw out the remark in an offhand manner. He turned the truck down Harding Boulevard.

  “Lenore, you mean? She’s just clinging to the one kinda world she knows. A lot of us do that.” Monette shrugged. “You don’t understand.”

  “Excuse me, but I think I do,” Jayson said with confidence.

  Monette leaned back with an arm stretched behind him along the seat. “Oh, you do, huh? Please lay it out for me, wise man.”

  “Look, all I’m saying is a lot of folks make excuses for not changing their lives. Take these kids in the projects. School is free, but they don’t go. Their parents don’t make ’em either. And when the teachers say anything, Mama shows up wanting to beat her down.” Jayson made it through a red light by racing through the intersection. Then he eased the truck ten miles over the speed limit.

  “Hmm.” Monette watched him. Her temperature ticked up a few degrees at his smug middle-class view.

  “My sister-in-law is on the frontlines in the public school system. She’s got some wild war stories.”

  Jayson turned onto the interstate going south to his neighborhood. The elevated highway skimmed over rough areas of town, including the area where Candi’s cousin Faye lived.