Soulful Strut

by Emery, Lynn

  ***

  Monday morning Monette sat across from her guest, a black conservative eager to talk about her views on the problems in the African-American community. The woman was dressed in a suit that would have made many a church lady proud. The olive-green jacket flared at the waist, and the skirt went down to her ankles. She wore a polite smile that covered a razor-sharp tongue. She’d called in to Monette’s show the second week Hot Topic aired, and she had become a regular. Her skill at lobbing verbal fire-bombs had really worked on Monette’s nerves and increased ratings. Even the mayor had phoned a couple of times. By the end of the first ten minutes, Monette wanted to strangle Chaz. Having the woman on the show had been his idea. Harolyn Baker was in the middle of a long tirade about single mothers when Monette cut her off.

  “Much as I hate to interrupt, we have to take a break.” Monette exhaled and gazed at her. “Mrs. Baker.”

  “Yes, Ms. Victor.” She stared back at Monette with a prim expression.

  Monette picked up her ink pen and scribbled something nasty on a pad to keep from saying it “When we go back on the air. I’m going to take phone calls.”

  “Excellent.” Mrs. Baker’s eyes sparkled at the thought of taking on more opponents. She knew most of Monette’s listeners were probably itching to tear into her.

  “Did you want more tea?” Monette almost added that she might want prune juice instead, to relax that tight-assed attitude. Instead she matched Mrs. Baker’s tearoom manners and returned her proper smile.

  “No, thank you.” Mrs. Baker sat with her hands folded in her lap, cool as ice water.

  The jingle on a commercial for Kwik-Bite Deli ended, and Monette turned on the microphone before Irvin signaled. “We’re back with Mrs. Harolyn Baker, the current president of the Baton Rouge Black Republicans Society. Okay, audience, it’s your turn. Let us have it.”

  As expected, the phone lines were jammed. The first three callers did indeed vociferously disagree with Mrs. Baker. Monette even had to end one call quickly. The man let loose with a stream of cuss words in his defense of women on welfare.

  “Now come on, people. You know we can’t have that kinda language up in here. This is a family show,” Monette admonished.

  “That person just confirmed what I was saying. Our moral values have been eroded by an ‘anything goes’ attitude. People who live a twisted lifestyle shouldn’t be surprised when they suffer the consequences,” Mrs. Baker put in with force.

  That crack sounded personal. Monette slapped the lighted button on line six hard enough to make the panel rattle. Mrs. Baker’s eyes widened and she drew back. “Next caller.”

  “I just want to compliment you both on a clear presentation of both sides,” a familiar male voice said.

  “Jayson?” Monette blurted out.

  “Good morning, Monette. I’ve had the pleasure of being on several community service committees with Mrs. Baker. She has been instrumental in working through the YWCA to help young women,” Jayson went on. ‘The black community isn’t one voice, and that’s a good thing. Our diversity of views makes us strong.”

  “That’s local businessman and fellow conservative Jayson Odum, listeners. You might recall we had a debate a couple of weeks ago. Thanks for calling in,” Monette replied.

  “Glad to join in the discussion. I think you’ve both made good points. Thanks for giving more than one point of view on the issues. Have a great day, ladies.”

  “Hold on. So you agree that all our troubles rest on the backs of single mothers?” Monette prodded. Candi’s jabs about how Jayson and his friends really saw Monette pricked at her.

  “That’s not what I said,” Mrs. Baker said quickly. “Studies show that families headed by women suffer in poverty at greater rates than two-parent households. We all know what problems go along with poverty.”

  “What about the effects of a little thing called rampant racism?” Monette retorted.

  “We can’t blame racism for teenagers carrying guns and killing each other or anyone else in their way. Racism doesn’t put a crack pipe in a young woman’s hand or make her neglect her own children.” Mrs. Baker tapped a forefinger hard on the tabletop as she spoke.

  “I’m not blaming single mothers either. But the choice to have children you can’t afford is not ‘the system’s’ fault,” Jayson added mildly.

  Monette mentally put his name right below Chaz’s on her hit list of people to strangle. “Thanks for that insightful observation. You have just reduced a complicated issue to quite a one-dimensional viewpoint.”

  “Not so complicated if you accept that individuals can control their lives,” Jayson replied.

  “Which helps our people feel empowered, unlike what this culture of victimhood does to them. Tell young women and men they can make a better life. Stop patting them on the head and saying, ‘Poor, baby. You can’t help being dysfunctional. The system made you do it’. That is ridiculous.” Mrs. Baker leaned forward as she spoke with passion.

  “Good way of saying it,” Jayson replied. “Look, we want dignity for people who feel powerless. In that sense I think we all agree.”

  “We’ll end on that note of harmony. Thanks to Mrs. Baker for appearing on Hot Topic.” Monette nodded to her, and ended the call telling Jayson she’d talk to him later.

  “My pleasure and thanks for having me. I’ve enjoyed exchanging views with you.” Mrs. Baker reverted back to her ladies’ club luncheon tone now that she wasn’t preaching.

  Monette shook hands with Mrs. Baker. One of the student interns showed her the way out through the maze of sound rooms. Once alone, Monette let out a noisy sigh and an expletive. Irvin tapped the plate glass between them. He pointed to the phone and held up two fingers. She pressed the lit button, and Jayson started talking.

  “Great show. I had to keep hitting my speed dial to get through. Finally had to call Chaz, and he got me on.”

  “Yeah, that was a real treat,” Monette replied. She put as much frost as she could into her tone.

  “I’m not the enemy just because we have different opinions, baby,” Jayson said gently.

  No, he was just miles apart from her in every way she could imagine. “Right. Anyway, I better get going. I’ve got meetings.”

  “Really?” Jayson’s voice implied he didn’t believe her.

  “You know how it is around here. Crazy all the time. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” Monette tried to put a smile into her voice.

  “Okay, baby. I’ll call you tonight. Think about dinner, maybe Wednesday.”

  “Can’t do it, sorry. We have our group session then. I’ll let you know.”

  Monette exchanged goodbyes with him, with assurances they would see each other before too long. Moments after she hung up, Chaz and Nikki came in. Chaz frowned at her, and Nikki looked worried.

  “Have you seen today’s paper?” Nikki handed the Advocate to Monette.

  “There’s a big article about your Pardon Board hearing. Seems this reporter got a hold of letters objecting to your request,” Chaz added before Monette had a chance to read the headline. He rubbed his freshly shaved jaw. His heavy black eyebrows pulled tightly together.

  The reporter had somehow gotten to a few of her old crew. Tiffany, a woman she’d partied hard with in the past, was quoted. She described Monette as the sexy black woman who loved wearing red and having a good time. Winn’s name was only mentioned once. Most of the article was about Monette’s misdeeds, and it painted her as the ultimate bad girl. The reporter even listed some things Monette had done that she hadn’t included in the book. Tiffany and friends had long memories. If Monette knew Winn, cash and a dose of intimidation had probably helped clear out their cobwebs. Monette might have been flattered by the characterization and the media attention back in the day. Now all she could think of was Jayson’s reaction. She could just see Jayson’s phone ringing like crazy with his friends and relatives calling. Monette’s fingers itched to rip the newspaper to shreds. Lot of good that would do. Sh
e stuffed the newspaper into the garbage can.

  “Winn’s been busy,” Monette said, and then looked at Chaz.

  “That should send ratings through the roof, so you should be smiling.”

  “Controversy is one thing, but this.” He avoided looking Monette in the eye. “Our advertisers could get jumpy. We’ve already had calls from a couple of them.”

  “So what if a few of them pull their ads. I bet we replace them like that.” Nikki gave a double snap of her fingers.

  “Yeah, but a couple can turn into a stampede. Best tone it down the next few shows. Talk about the latest fashions or safe stuff.” Chaz, the bold go-getter who reveled at stirring the pot, had vanished.

  “You mean topics like the hot new lipstick colors for summer or how to take care of your pet goldfish,” Monette tossed back. She glanced at Nikki and rolled her eyes.

  Chaz’s eyes narrowed. “Funny. I’m just saying we need to let things blow over a bit. The suits get nervous when big advertisers get nervous.”

  “Whatever happened to a fearless radio forum willing to take on the tough issues?” Monette crossed her arms and gazed at him.

  “We need advertisers to stay on the air, ladies. Let’s play our cards right and live to fight another day. Let me know what the next three shows will be about. I have to go reassure my jumpy bosses.” Chaz strode away.

  “Might be just as well for you, too, Monette. What with the decision on your request for a pardon still hanging,” Nikki said with a shrug when Chaz disappeared around a comer of the hallway.

  “I don’t see getting a pardon. Politics.” Monette flipped a hand and walked with Nikki to their office.

  “Louisiana-style politics at that. I know what you mean.” Nikki shut the door once they were inside. “But don’t your lawyer and the director at the halfway house have some connections of their own?”

  Monette shook her head. “I doubt seriously either of them can beat Winn’s connections, honey. His family doesn’t just have low friends in high places; he’s got at least half a dozen relatives in high places.”

  “Sorry, girl. But you beat him once, so I’m not counting you out just yet.” Nikki winked at her, and then left to do her show.

  Monette hissed out air as she faced a mirror they’d hung on the wall. The woman who stared back did not look like a vixen capable of pulling off the impossible. Were those worry lines around her mouth? Her eyes were red from too little sleep.

  “Wish I could be so sure.”

  ***

  Monette arrived back at New Beginnings two hours later. The bus ride had been a lot of fun. Three women had recognized her from the papers. Another man had heard her radio show. Within two minutes, about one-thud of the riders had been in a hot debate on crime. If Chaz had been taking a poll, he would not have been happy. Many of the bus riders had been victimized and hadn’t wanted to hear what they’d called “excuses to let thugs go.” By the time Monette had gotten off at her stop, she’d had three staunch supporters, two elderly women cursing hip-hop, and a monster headache. She’d looked forward to the empty halfway house.

  All the women were out. Almost all. Tyeisha met Monette at the front door.

  “Gwen is here and—” Tyeisha broke off when Sherrial emerged from her office.

  “Come to my office, Monette.” Sherrial tilted her head to one side and eyed Tyeisha.

  “Umm, I gotta go do some … stuff.” Tyeisha glanced at Monette with a message in her dark eyes.

  “My parole officer is here to check up on me. No problem.” Monette looked back at Tyeisha, and then turned to Sherrial. “Or is there?”

  “I’ll let her tell you.” Sherrial led the way to her office.

  Gwen Anderson was standing in front of Sherrial’s desk when they walked in. “Hello, Monette.”

  “Hi. Your expression tells me this is not good news.” Monette closed the door and waited.

  “Did you attend a party where alcohol was being consumed and known felons were arrested after a shooting?” Gwen spoke in the monotone of a cop getting right to the point.

  Monette clenched her back teeth. She steadied her breathing to keep calm. After several more seconds of charged silence, she nodded. “Yes.”

  “Damn.” Sherrial rubbed her forehead hard.

  “Care to give a few more details?” Gwen gestured to a chair. She watched Monette sit down. Instead of taking a chair, she sat on the edge of Sherrial’s desk.

  Monette thought about the lessons she’d learned in prison. Friends could turn to enemies fast. Candi had given her clear signals. “It was stupid,” Monette hissed.

  “That much I already know,” Gwen said.

  “I was invited to a party. Okay, so I figured folks would probably be drinking, but I didn’t touch anything stronger than cola. I was told it was just an old-school house jam for grown folks. The guns I definitely didn’t count on. Some youngsters showed up. Next thing you know bullets are flying, everybody’s running, and we got outta there.” Monette shook her head.

  “We?” Sherrial’s usual good-natured expression was gone. She looked all business as she considered Monette’s words.

  “Everybody at the party,” Monette replied without missing a beat. “Look, except for that dumb move, I’ve been walking straight.”

  “I can vouch for that, Gwen. Don’t recommend her parole be revoked after one bad decision,” Sherrial put in. Still, she gave Monette a look of censure.

  “I never do that after one mistake, but there are special circumstances here. We need to follow every letter of those parole conditions, and I have to enforce them all.” Gwen glanced at Sherrial. “Give us a minute. Trust me— you don’t want to know.”

  “Yes, I do. I have a feeling this could impact New Beginnings. Trudy is out of town, so that leaves me in charge.” Sherrial crossed her arms and didn’t budge.

  Gwen sighed and looked at Monette. “Of all the people you could choose to take on. I know, I know. You didn’t have much choice.”

  “The SOB framed me.” Monette threw down her purse and briefcase. “I’ve been fighting for years just to get out of prison. I shouldn’t even be on parole. I didn’t do the crime.”

  ‘Trust me, I’m feelin’ you,” Gwen shot back. “Just calm down. Look, I’m getting pressure to watch your every move. Somebody left an anonymous message at the office about that party while I was out. My supervisor ordered me to get right over here. You have to be a saint for the next fourteen months.”

  Monette’s hands tightened into fists. “Right.”

  “I know that there is a gang back at LCIW just waiting for you,” Gwen said.

  Sherrial gasped. “You think Barron not only wants Monette back in prison but has a hit waiting for her?”

  “Do the math,” was all Gwen replied. She grimaced, as though the words tasted sour.

  “Oh, Lord.” Sherrial dropped into a chair. “What can we do?”

  “Be extra careful ’cause we’re all walking in a minefield right now,” Gwen said with force. “You get my meaning?”

  Monette nodded slowly. She knew very well what was at stake. The Barrens had used their network of political connections to reach into the Probation and Parole Department. Winn would not hesitate to use his network of criminals to silence Monette. Not only that, he’d take down anyone else she cared about.

  “I understand Winn Barron’s methods better than anyone,” Monette said. She thought about Jayson and made more than one decision.

  Chapter 18

  Monette held her breath for a week. Even though Sherrial and Trudy tried to reassure her, Monette expected the worse. She dodged Jayson so he wouldn’t be pulled into her troubles. She found all kinds of ways to tell him she was too busy or tired to see him. Since they hadn’t had an argument, he believed her. The longer they stayed apart, the more Monette saw reality. After all, wasn’t facing the real deal what she preached on her talk show? In the cold light of day, far from the effect of his soft brown eyes and hard body, Monette
did just that. She could insert herself into Jayson’s black middle-class world, but no way would Monette be a perfect fit. Dealing with women who had suffered abuse, survived street life and still struggled to free themselves was what she understood. Brunches and teas weren’t her thing. Candi might have just been spiteful, but she’d had a point Monette couldn’t ignore.

  She still had not heard from the Pardon Board. Though Jim tried to downplay the significance of how long it was taking, Monette knew better. Normally the board would have issued a decision by now. The controversy attached to her application meant the heat was on them. A pardon recommendation would be tantamount to saying they believed that Winn Barron had indeed framed her. Maybe those interested in justice would overcome politics. Right. Monette had no plans of holding her breath on that one.

  At the end of the day on Friday, Monette left Second Chances feeling pretty good. For days she’d dodged a couple of reporters until the story about the Pardon Board, her past and Winn Barron’s denials had died away. When she walked out of the building, Jayson honked, and then pulled up. The window slid down smoothly.

  “Hello, pretty woman. I decided to track you down since you’ve been avoiding me.” Jayson peered at her over the top of his designer sunglasses.

  Monette swallowed hard under his scrutiny. “I, uh, I’ve been so busy with the book and everything. And then Danica has me working on this program and, well…”

  “No time for me. I got it.” Jayson’s eyes narrowed.

  “It’s not that at all. I just have to juggle all this stuff and comply with all the rules at the halfway house, then …” She stammered on, and Jayson nodded. His sympathetic expression made her heart do a tiny flip. More than anything, she wanted to be with him.

  “In other words you’re too busy being a celebrated author and talk-show host. Hanging out with a grease monkey just isn’t exciting.” Jayson gave a melodramatic sigh and placed a hand over his heart. An impish twinkle lit up his cocoa eyes and softened her resolve to push him away.