Baby Brother's Blues

by Pearl Cleage

  They had no way of knowing she’d been tailing Kwame regularly ever since she landed on Precious Hargrove’s shit list. They had no way of knowing their little tryst was the payoff for all those long boring hours of tagging along behind him when the most interesting thing Kwame did was spend an hour picking out fruit at Whole Foods or browsing in the Barnes & Noble. Lee kept a safe distance as the two men turned down Peters Street, parked in front of a partially renovated loft, and got out, Kwame leading the way.

  As he opened the door with a key, Lee raised her palm-size digital camera and, as she drove by, snapped a series of pictures with no sound and no flash. Kwame looked up as she passed, but in the rearview mirror, she could see that it was only one fast, furtive glance before he followed Baby Brother inside and closed the door behind him.

  56

  Brandi still thought these were some ugly outfits, but she had promised, so here she was, getting ready to fly to Vegas for the first time looking like somebody’s out-of-step auntie. She had taken everything to the Vietnamese alterations lady at Greenbriar Mall, but General didn’t want her to change much, so all she’d done was take the hems up a few inches. Well, she thought, there’s nothing I can do about it now.

  Aside from the clothes, everything was perfect. They were going first-class all the way. Looking at herself in the little black cocktail dress he had asked her to travel in, she had to admit there was something classy about it. She had started to jazz it up with some big earrings, but now she thought she’d just leave it plain. General was the first real sugar daddy she’d ever had, and if he wanted her to wear some weird-ass clothes every once in a while, she could do it.

  When the phone rang, she assumed it was General calling to say he was on his way, and didn’t even check the caller ID.

  “Hey, baby! Where you at?”

  “Hello?” said a voice on the other end that she didn’t recognize. “Is this Brandi Harris?”

  “Who is this?” she said, frowning.

  “You don’t know me,” he said. “Well, not my name anyway. It’s Wes, Wes Jamerson. You danced for me the other night. I thought—”

  She interrupted him. “How did you get this number?”

  “One of the other dancers gave it to me.”

  Probably that bitch Keisha, Brandi thought. The girls never gave one another’s numbers out. Too many psychos running around these days to get careless.

  “Well, maybe you should call her.”

  “I got two hundred dollars for a house call,” he said quickly before she could hang up. “I was hoping I could talk to you.”

  Two hundred dollars? “What kind of house call you got in mind?”

  “Nothin’ freaky,” he said. “Just straight-up fuckin’. I just moved into a new place. I want to celebrate.”

  That wasn’t a complete lie, he thought. In less than an hour, Baby Brother had made Kwame give up the keys to the loft and the two hundred dollars he had on him as down payment on the five hundred a month he was going to charge to keep his mouth shut. And that was just for starters. He had given Kwame until the following night to bring him the rest of the money, but Baby Brother had already moved in. As he stood in the living room alone, his first thought had been, All I need now is a woman. That’s when he called Brandi.

  “I danced for you?”

  “Yeah. Took me ten minutes to clean up enough to walk home.”

  “Are you light-skinned?”

  “Yeah, that’s me.”

  She remembered him. He was the one who’d reaped the rewards of the Busy Boy fantasy. This conversation sounded promising, but she was flying to Vegas tonight. It would have to wait.

  “I’m sorry… what did you say your name was?”

  “Wes.”

  “I’m sorry, Wes, but I have a date tonight. Why don’t you give me your number and I’ll call you when I’m free.”

  “You goin’ out with that big bald-headed motherfucker I saw you with at the club?”

  Brandi bristled. “You payin’ for pussy, not my personal business.”

  “Don’t get mad,” he said, giving her the number at the loft. “I just felt something the other night when you danced for me. I thought you might have felt it, too.”

  That was true. She had felt something. He was pretty as a little girl and his eyelashes were a foot long. A lot of girls didn’t like the yellow boys anymore, but she had never seen a rule that said a man couldn’t be light-skinned and fine. Not fine enough to do him for free, but almost.

  “Nigga, are you trying to sweet-talk me into not charging you?” she said, half teasing, but all the way serious.

  “No, no. I got the money,” he said. “I just wondered if you felt something, too.”

  She sighed loud enough for him to hear it. “Listen, sweetie, I am a businesswoman and pussy is my only product. I don’t give it, loan it, send it, or forget to take it in for regular checkups. If that’s what you lookin’ for, I’ll call you sometime and maybe we can have a date next time I’m free. But it’s business, okay? As long as you remember that, we’ll be cool.”

  “Don’t make me wait too long,” he said. “I got something good for you, girl.”

  “I know you do, baby.” She clicked off the phone. If I had a dollar for every nigga that said that, she thought, I could retire to Vegas and never have to shake my ass again. Not for money anyway…

  She slipped on her jacket as General rang the bell, threw open the door, and twirled around in her four-inch heels so he could fully appreciate her faithful re-creation of the look he wanted. She had even asked her stylist for a flip with some bangs instead of her usual extensions. He just stood there staring at her. It must be working, she thought. The man is speechless.

  “How’d I do, baby? Is this classic Vegas or what?”

  She looked exactly the way he’d hoped she would and her happiness was bubbling out of her like a kid at her first birthday party. He hated to tell her they weren’t going.

  “You look great, baby!”

  Brandi heard the disappointment in his voice before he had a chance to say another word and immediately assumed the worst: they weren’t going. After she had been bragging all week to the girls at the club. After she had begged the time off from Johnny. After she had gotten her hair done, her nails done, her eyebrows arched, and a bikini wax? After she had packed up all those ugly clothes?

  She stepped back. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” he said quickly. “Something’s come up. I’ve got some business to take care of in D.C.”

  “In D.C.? What you mean in D.C? We goin’ to Vegas!”

  “I’m not saying we’re not going. We just can’t go tonight.”

  She looked at him and her eyes narrowed. Her lovely young face hardened before his eyes until he saw her twenty years from now, an angry, disappointed woman with nothing but bad memories and bad men to keep her company.

  “We were never gonna go, were we?” She spit the words at him, too angry now to even try to understand.

  “You saw the tickets, baby. Remember?”

  “Where are they now?”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out two Delta Airlines ticket folders.

  “Let me see them.”

  Her voice was even harder than her expression. He handed them to her, wanting her to know he had been serious; that he was still serious; wanting to tell her he had a wedding in mind.

  “I was on my way, baby, but I got a call and—”

  He stopped himself in midsentence, hearing himself trying to explain. He didn’t have to explain his comings and goings to anybody, especially not her.

  “And now we can’t use ’em, right? ’Cause you got something better to do?” she said.

  “I have business.” He underlined the word with his voice. All he wanted to do was calm her down so he could get on the road. There would be time later for explanations, but Blue would be expecting him in D.C. at noon and he intended to be there. That was his job.

&n
bsp; Brandi looked at the tickets in her hand, but she was so mad, just holding them did not mollify her.

  “Well, fuck you, then,” she said suddenly, tearing up the tickets and letting the pieces flutter to the floor. She grabbed her purse. “I got business, too.”

  He took a sideways step, placing his considerable bulk directly in her path to the doorway. She looked up into his face and put her hands on her hips. She let out a long, exasperated breath.

  “Let me tell you something. I’ve been out here a long time. I’ve been hustled every kind of way and I’ve done my share, but I think we got somethin’ for each other.” She swallowed hard, realizing she was getting a little emotional. “I don’t know if it’s your fantasy trip or my every other kinda trip, but we might do okay for a minute, you know what I mean?”

  “I know what you mean.” He was happy she had calmed down.

  “But if you don’t really mean to take me to Vegas, don’t tease me with it, okay? My heart been hurt too many times.” Now that’s the truth, she thought. At last.

  He walked over to her then and put his arms around her. “I’m not teasing, baby. We’re going to Vegas and we’re going to have a ball when we get there.”

  “You promise?” She wanted to believe him, but she wasn’t sure she did.

  “I promise.” He gave her a gentle squeeze. “I’ve got a lot to offer a woman who wants to go places.”

  “I want to go everywhere.”

  “Then roll with this, baby. I gotta go to D.C. No choice. But when I get back, we gonna sit down and talk about the future. You and me, okay?”

  She gave him a little smile, calm again, at least for the moment. “Whatever you say, baby. You know that.”

  He looked at her, ready for the trip in her little black dress, and he felt sorry for trying so hard to make her someone else. “You know what else?”

  “What?”

  “I know you ain’t Juanita and you ain’t got to wear those clothes if you don’t want to wear them.”

  She grinned at him, glad they were back on track. “Don’t worry about it, baby. I’m startin’ to kind of like ’em.”

  He laughed and squeezed her behind one time before he headed out, wishing he had more time; knowing he didn’t. “I’ll call you when I get back.”

  “I’ll be here, baby.”

  Suddenly, when she said the words, he realized that was exactly where he wanted her to be. He wanted her to be waiting for him to come back, like Regina always waited for Blue. He wanted her to feel him like that. To need him that strong. Maybe it was Juanita coming to the surface more and more. Maybe it was that dress, or maybe, this was the real damn thing. Maybe he was going to get another chance to love a woman down deep in his soul. Maybe.

  “You not working this weekend, are you?” he said.

  “I gotta do somethin’ to pass the time,” she said. “And make that money.”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled off ten one-hundred-dollar bills. “Don’t work this weekend. I want you to stay home.”

  She raised her eyebrows and smiled. “And be a good girl?”

  “You’re always good, baby, you know that,” he said, wishing he could make love to her, but it was a long drive and he was the only driver. He still had to get the Lincoln ready for the road and throw some things in a bag. There just wasn’t time.

  She tucked the money into her bra delicately and smiled up at him again, wondering if it was too late to call that pretty little nigga with the two hundred bucks in his pocket. Twelve hundred bucks in one night would be a personal best. “Thank you, baby. I love you, too.”

  It was a throwaway line, just a grateful woman thanking a generous man, but the sound of her voice saying those words lingered in General’s ears as he went about his normal getting ready for the road routine. I love you, too. He wondered if it was possible that she really did care for him. That there were real feelings between them. Once he got back to his place, he checked the bag he always kept packed for this kind of business trip and tucked the .38 he was legally licensed to carry into his pocket. Whatever else he needed for the task at hand he’d get once he got where he was going. Post-9/11 America was no place to be riding around with a trunk full of weapons.

  He drove the big black Town Car through an all-night car wash even though it was already spotless, picked up another road atlas, and headed for the freeway, but her voice was still whispering in his head: I love you, too. The thought of holding her in his arms, loving her the way only he could love her, was like a fever in his blood. He glanced at his watch. If he stopped back by her place for an hour, it wouldn’t really throw him off. He was riding at night, so it would be him and the truckers for long stretches of road. He could make up the time easily, he thought as he swung the car around and headed back toward Brandi’s. I love you, too. Maybe he would even propose when he got there instead of waiting until they got to Vegas. No time like the present.

  When he didn’t see her car, it surprised him. He had been gone only a couple of hours. Where could she go that fast? She wouldn’t go to work. Not when he had just handed her a grand to just take it easy until he got back. Maybe she’d gone to get something to eat. He checked his watch again. She never ate this late at night. He pulled up in front of her place and sat there. What was he getting so agitated about anyway? They had said their good-byes, everything was cool, and when he got back, they’d head for Vegas on the first plane out. She had even dressed up like he wanted, so what was he worrying about?

  The truth was, General knew exactly what he was worrying about. That young nigga he’d known was trouble from the very beginning. That young nigga who had moved out of Mason’s owing everybody money and talking plenty of shit. That young nigga who’d gotten a lap dance he didn’t deserve from a woman who didn’t belong to him. General tried to remember where that young fool had told Mason he was moving to when he left West End. Was it some loft over on Peters Street near the U-Haul? That was all he could remember, but that was enough. He drove straight there, turned the corner, and saw her car parked out front of one of the warehouses that were being redeveloped for residential space. He parked down the block in the shadows, cut the lights and the motor, and waited.

  An hour and a half later, Brandi came out, still wearing the dress he’d bought her for the trip, still wearing the high-heeled shoes, got in the car, and drove away. General’s heart was beating so hard he thought it would come through his chest. That yella nigga was fuckin’ Juanita! He stepped out of the car with the .38 in his hand, reached for his gloves, and walked quickly around to the back of the building without making a sound. Through the open window, he could see Baby Brother in a pair of red silk boxers, leaning into the refrigerator and talking on the phone.

  “Yeah, well, I don’t give a damn what I said about tomorrow. You better bring me my money tonight or I’m gonna have to make some phone calls.” He reached in for a carton of Chinese takeout, opened it, and sniffed delicately. General’s mind was chanting the same words over and over. This yella nigga was fuckin’ Juanita!

  “You’re damn right you’ll bring it,” Baby Brother said, deciding on a beer instead. He popped the top and closed the refrigerator door without replacing the Chinese food.

  General eased up the fire escape more gracefully than might have been expected for a man his size and flattened himself against the outside wall closest to the window. Baby Brother had turned off the light in the kitchen and wandered off into another room. General slowly opened the window, slid his massive body through the space without any visible strain, and entered the loft unobserved.

  Baby Brother had turned on the television to pass the time until Kwame arrived with some cash. After that, he was going to call Brandi and tell her they could hit the clubs hard. He knew Brandi was a pro. Their earlier session at the loft had proved that, but he didn’t care. Hoes need love, too, he thought, chuckling at his own humor. He was still in the mood to celebrate his unexpected good fortune, but she had been real clear
: no pay, no play.

  That’s when he called Kwame. She had declined to wait, telling him instead to call her when the cash arrived and she’d see what she could do. He wanted to see what else she could do, too, he thought, strolling into the kitchen for another beer without ever seeing General waiting for him in the shadows. As Baby Brother reached into the refrigerator, General raised the .38 to the back of his head and pulled the trigger twice.

  Nobody was around to hear the gunfire, but General wasn’t taking any chances. He left the loft the same way he came in, walked quickly back to his car, climbed in, and pulled away without turning on the lights until he rounded the next corner and headed for the freeway. If he was going to make D.C. by tomorrow noon, he didn’t have any time to waste.

  57

  Lee hadn’t even been looking for Kwame. She was on her way home from a community meeting and stopped in at the West End News for a paper. She ordered a cappuccino to go and picked up a copy of the new Essence magazine. She almost never read the articles, but she couldn’t resist the pretty pictures. It was almost eleven thirty when she came outside and saw Kwame’s car at the light, headed north. It wasn’t hard for her to guess where he was headed. Either to the club or to what she had taken to calling the love nest. No other reason for a married man to be headed out alone this late.

  Careful to stay out of sight, Lee pulled in between two parked cars almost half a block down the street. She had invested in a telephoto lens to minimize the risks of this kind of surveillance. It came in handy now, bringing Kwame in close enough for her to see the worried expression on his face as she clicked off three or four shots as he entered the building with his key. There was already a light on upstairs. She got a long shot that showed his car in front of the building and a close-up that showed his license tag clear enough to read it. Reaching into the glove box for her small notebook and a pen, Lee recorded the date and time.