by Dianne Emley
“Hal Stringfellow. Barbie’s husband. Your boss.”
“Oh, Hal! Good old Hal. Sure, I knew Hal.”
Iris kept on. “So, what’s old Hal up to these days?”
“I-ris!” Barbie exclaimed, giving Iris a slap on the thigh under the table. “Where’s your mind? You know Hal’s passed on.”
“Oops!” Iris in turn slapped Barbie’s lush thigh under the table. “Of course! Where is my mind?” She rubbed her temples. “It’s been a long day.”
Art looked at Iris with one side of his upper lip raised.
“Well, Iris, aren’t you just full of the questions tonight?” Barbie said.
“You know I have a natural curiosity about people. So, Barbie. Tell us about these rich friends you have in Phoenix.”
“Oh good, the band’s startin’.” Barbie shimmied her shoulders with the music, which was now loud enough to make conversation difficult.
“C’mon, Barbie. Let’s dance,” Art said.
“No, no! Dance with Lorraine. Show Lorraine how to dance Mexican-style.”
“There’s my uncle. Tió!” Art tried to stand but was pinned in the middle of the booth. “Tió!” he shouted over the music.
Coco caught George before he started to go upstairs and directed him across the floor. He walked over, smiling.
Barbie slid out of the booth and extended her hand. “George, so nice to see you again.” She shouted to be heard over the music.
George smiled, took Barbie’s hand, and shouted back, “Good to see you again, too.”
Lorraine slid from the booth to free Art. Art shook his uncle’s hand and mumbled a greeting that was lost in the music. George gestured toward the stairway on the other side of the bar.
Barbie dragged her purse by the strap and reached down to the floor where she had left her portfolio. “We may be an hour or so. Why don’t you two have some fun and dance?” She pulled Art’s sleeve. “Arturo, find someone to sit with them.” She looked anxiously around the room.
“Why?” Art asked.
“You can’t let two ladies sit by themselves in a club.”
“Why not?”
“Honey, I guess I was just raised different. It just don’t look proper. See those two men over there? Get them to entertain the ladies.”
Art protested, “The ladies will be fine. Trust me.”
He put his hand on Barbie’s back and started guiding her toward the staircase. When they passed the bar, Barbie abruptly took a right and walked up to two men who were sitting there. She pointed out Iris and Lorraine, reached into her purse, pulled her hand out, and opened it into the palm of one of the men. She climbed the stairs that led to the office. At the top, she shot a final glance back at the table and smiled when she saw Iris and Lorraine getting up to dance with the men.
Upstairs in the office, Barbie sat in the chrome and vinyl kitchen dinette chair with a faded marble print, George sat behind the large wooden desk in the aged captain’s chair, and Art pulled up a worn, overstuffed easy chair.
Barbie crossed her legs at the ankles, pressed her knees together, laid the portfolio on her lap, clasped her hands on top of it, tilted her head, and smiled at George.
Art glanced at a corner of the desk, then looked at Barbie with a lascivious smile playing on his lips. Barbie ignored him and continued focusing her attention on the man behind the desk.
George rolled back in the captain’s chair and rested a foot on the desk. He was wearing tennis shoes. “My nephew tells me you want to talk dollars and cents.”
Barbie sat straighter. “George, when we last met, we chatted about Arturo’s dream to open a club. Arturo mentioned my experience in the business, but we didn’t discuss my ability to lay my hands on capital for such a venture. Not just my own, but from many business associates throughout the country. My late husband, Harold Stringfellow, bless his heart, was a prominent Atlanta businessman with many influential friends who have become my trusted friends.” Barbie placed her long fingernails over her heart. “They have confidence in me. They know what I can do.” She pointed at George. “I want you to be confident in your decision to go into business with Barbie Stringfellow and I’m gonna do that by lettin’ you know just who Barbie Stringfellow is.”
George removed his foot from the desk and rolled his chair up. Art continued sitting with one leg on top of the other, his lips barely closed over his broad smile.
Barbie sat back in her chair, paused, then slowly unzipped the black portfolio she held on her lap. She took out a restaurant menu. It was tall and covered in padded forest green leatherette. She put one hand on the top edge and the other on the bottom and held it next to her face, like a product demonstrator, keeping her face and the product in view at the same time. HAL’S was embossed in gold script below a gold drawing of a stately, pillared mansion. ATLANTA, GEORGIA was embossed in smaller letters on the lower right-hand corner.
Barbie shifted her eyes and glanced affectionately at the menu. “My baby.” She handed George the menu. “I held lots of jobs, some of which I’m not too proud of, comin’ from humble beginnings myself, just like y’all. Fortune finally smiled upon me when I took a job waitressin’ for Hal Stringfellow. After a coupla years, Hal and I made it legal. Got married. Hal always told me I had a good mind for business. I didn’t believe him, but he believed in me, and that was all it took. Like you and me believin’ in your nephew. Just takes someone givin’ you a chance.”
George handed the menu to Art.
“I ran Hal’s for five years. Hell of a joint.” Barbie pursed her lips and looked down at the beat-up linoleum. She lowered her voice. “After Hal died, I tried to keep it goin’, but there was no joy. So I sold everything, lock, stock and barrel. I’m childless, so there was nothin’ to keep me in Atlanta. Came west, where I’ve been tryin’ like crazy to be a lady of leisure.” She leaned forward and cupped her hand to the side of her mouth. “Between you and me, I was startin’ to lose my marbles with boredom.”
George chuckled and nodded.
Barbie pointed at him. “You know what I’m talkin’ about, don’t ya, George. But fortune smiled upon me again and I met your charmin’ nephew. He’s got the energy and the ambition. George, you and I have the know-how and”—she dropped her voice to a whisper—“the capital.”
Art handed the menu back to Barbie. She caressed the embossed name with her fingertips, smiling sadly. She slipped the menu back inside the portfolio, slowly zipped it, and clasped her hands on top of it.
“Gentlemen, I can come up with a million dollars. Cash. Right now. With a li’l work, I can get more.”
George broke his stoic expression and raised his eyebrows.
“You’ll need at least that just to get started on the kind of venture that Arturo has in mind—an upscale Latin-flavored dinner club with top-notch food and entertainment. We’ll be unequal partners, based on what everyone kicks in. How much can I count you in for?”
Art crossed his legs in the other direction. George leaned back in the captain’s chair, whose old joints creaked, and looked at his nephew. Barbie looked down at the portfolio on her lap and remained silent.
Finally, George inhaled deeply. He righted the chair and placed his hands flat on the desk, shoulder distance apart. “You’ve made a very interesting proposition, Barbie.”
Art started to jiggle the foot that was resting on his other knee.
George stood. Art and Barbie followed.
George walked from behind his desk. “I’m going to have to think about this. But I will think about it, very seriously.”
“You’re absolutely right, George,” Barbie said. “Consider everything very carefully because if we go, we go one hundred percent.”
“Absolutely,” Art said.
Barbie raised a cautioning index finger. “But if you do decide to jump in, there’s one thing we need to seal our commitment.” She paused and looked from George to Art. “Good faith money.” She unrolled her fingers and held her open hand, palm out
, toward George. “Just to prove that we’re serious. See, I’m gonna be contactin’ folks, gettin’ investors lined up, and I don’t want to raise the subject unless I know you’re committed. I have a reputation to protect.”
“What sort of good faith money are you talking?” George asked.
Barbie rubbed her chin. “Due to the magnitude of the project, I don’t think fifty thousand dollars is unreasonable.”
George frowned slightly.
Barbie put her hand on George’s arm. “Fifty from you and Arturo and fifty from me, deposited in an escrow account.” She gestured toward Art. “Or we can give it to Arturo to manage. I know you trust your nephew. Deal?” Barbie held her hand toward George.
George shook it. “I promise you I’ll give this serious thought. I’ll call you in a couple of days, before I leave for Mexico.”
Barbie bit her lower lip.
“Something wrong?” George asked.
“I’m leavin’ town Friday afternoon to meet with old friends in Phoenix who just might be excellent investors in our project. They’re going abroad for several months and I have got to get to them before they leave. I’ll have to have your commitment by Thursday night, at the latest.”
George patted his wiry black hair. “I didn’t expect that. Let’s see. This is Monday. That’s not very much time, but I can at least give you a thumbs-up by Thursday.” He looked at Art. “I’d like to be able to give my nephew a chance to live his dream and not have to do it the hard way, like his father and I did.”
Art clapped his hands and hugged his uncle. “You won’t regret it, Tió.”
“It’s not done,” George cautioned.
“I know, I know. But at least you’re going to think about it.”
“That’s all we can ask.” Barbie beamed. She shook hands with George and Art.
“Now, enough business,” George said. “Go downstairs and enjoy yourselves.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Barbie, it’s ten o’clock.” Iris was sitting on the brown plaid couch in Barbie’s living room. “I’ve got to go home. I have to be at work at six-thirty in the morning.”
The room was dim. The sole artificial light emanated from a small bulb inside the oven that shone through the grease-splattered glass door. The apartment’s drapes and sliding glass doors were open, and the full moon cast a milky beam across the gold shag carpet.
Art and Barbie slow-danced in the moonbeam to music from a boom box sitting on top of the bar that rimmed the kitchen. Lorraine was sitting in the easy chair, watching Art and Barbie. She took a sip of her diet soda.
“So does Arturo,” Barbie said over her shoulder.
“But he’s younger than I am,” Iris responded. “Hell. Doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve hardly been able to sleep since John and I broke up.”
Lorraine looked at Iris. “Can’t sleep?”
Iris shook her head.
Lorraine pulled her purse, which was by her feet, onto her lap. It was a small, brown shoulder bag in an inexpensive grade of leather that was worn bald in spots. It was very full. She unzipped it. Brown plastic prescription containers with white caps were crammed inside, along with an overstuffed wallet held together by a rubber band and a hairbrush that needed cleaning.
Iris eyed the mysterious containers. “I guess you are on medication. What’s it for?”
Lorraine took out one container, looked at the label, put it back, then took out another one. She pressed down and turned the child-proof cap. After several tries, she got it off. “It’s a long story.”
“I don’t want any pills,” Iris said.
“Go ahead.”
“I really don’t want any pills. Thanks anyway.”
“Don’t you want to sleep?”
Iris held her palm out with resignation. Lorraine tapped several small, bright blue tablets into it.
“What are they?” Iris asked.
Lorraine shrugged. “Take one. You’ll sleep.”
Iris dumped the pills into the pocket of her purple silk shirt. She stood and put her purse under her arm. “Barbie, I’m leaving.”
“Stay,” Barbie said. “Don’t be a party pooper.”
Art murmured into Barbie’s ear, “Why don’t you get rid of them?” He pulled her closer.
Barbie pressed distance between them. “I can’t do that to guests. And please watch your hands, mister. We’re not alone.”
Art pressed his pelvis against Barbie. “Let’s go down to the car. I like the way you get in cars.” He put his face close to her ear, his nose in her hair. “If we work together in business like we do in bed, this is going to be hot.”
“You love me, sugar?” Barbie whispered in his ear.
“Love?”
“You love me, Arturo, don’t you?”
“Well, I…uh…”
She leaned back and looked in his eyes. “If I had just wanted a business partner, I could have found one with better credentials than you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I thought we had somethin’ special.”
“We do.”
“But you don’t love me.”
Art put his lips close to her ear. “I do love you, Barbie.” He moved his lips close to hers. “I love you.” He opened his mouth to kiss her.
She quickly pressed her fingers against his lips. “My love, the next time we kiss, it’s going to be in private, and it’s going to be a forever kiss.”
“Let’s go down to my car.” Art slid his hand down to the full part of Barbie’s buttock and squeezed.
Barbie saw Iris and Lorraine watching them. She pushed Art away. “Arturo!” she loudly exclaimed. “You’d better act like a gentleman or I’m not gonna dance with you.”
Iris was still standing. “I’m leaving. It’s getting a little too steamy in here for me.”
“We haven’t had a dance, darlin’.”
“I think you’ve danced enough, Barbie,” Lorraine said.
“Lorraine, I’ll be the judge of when I’ve danced enough.” She pulled Iris’s purse from under her arm and set it on the counter.
Iris picked it up, but Barbie wrenched it from her and put it back down on the counter.
“Iris,” Barbie said. “That’s no way to treat one of your best clients.”
Lorraine opened one of the other pill containers and swallowed a white tablet with a swig of diet soda.
A cloud crossed in front of the moon, dimming the already mild light.
“Barbie, I don’t want to appear rude, but I have to go.”
Barbie put one hand around Iris’s waist and took her hand in the other. “Just one little dance.”
“I’ve lost my partner,” Art said. “Lorraine, c’mon.”
Lorraine stood and smoothed her tight miniskirt over her hips. “Sure. I’ll dance with you.” She glanced out the window at the full moon now shining through the clouds. “Remember the wolfman? Do you think he was happier as a wolf or as a man?”
A commercial came on the radio.
“That’s it,” Iris said. “I’m going.”
Barbie held on to Iris’s wrist. “Honey, just one dance. If Arturo and I go into business together, I’ll have to close my account with you. It’s a kind of endin’ and beginnin’. It needs a dance!”
Art searched through the radio stations on the boom box until he found a slow song.
“A dance. It needs a dance,” Iris said. “Okay. One freaking dance. All right, Barbeh?”
Barbie smiled coquettishly. “Okay,” she said in a little voice.
Lorraine melted into Art’s arms.
“You know, you’re pretty good-looking,” Art told her.
“Thanks.” She turned to watch Barbie and Iris, who were dancing with a good arm’s length between them.
“Think you could go for a guy like me?”
Lorraine looked at Art. She touched her tongue to her upper lip. “You’re not my type.”
“No? What is your type?”
She smiled
at him and turned to watch Iris and Barbie.
“So you’re closing your account with me, huh, Barbie?”
“Sorry, sugar. But you knew it was comin’ if Arturo and I did this club deal.”
“Since our professional relationship may be ending”—Iris looked into Barbie’s eyes—“maybe we can talk on a personal level. You know, just as girlfriends.”
“Love to.”
“Why did you lie about prying me for information about the missing dirty money?”
Barbie looked surprised. “What dirty money?”
“Barbie, don’t bother. I remember the whole conversation.”
“C’mon, Iris. Aren’t you makin’ a mountain out of a molehill? Everyone likes to be lied to every now and then. It gives people what they want, even if it’s for just a minute.” Barbie leaned her head back and looked at Iris through slit eyes. “How did you feel about that kiss I gave you that night?”
Iris released her grip on Barbie. “I’m leaving. I’ll cash out your account tomorrow. I can’t manage your money anymore.”
Barbie slid her eyes to the side and looked levelly at Lorraine, who hadn’t stopped watching them. Barbie returned her gaze to Iris. “Since you won’t answer my question, my darlin’ Iris, I’ll answer for you.” She grabbed Iris by the shoulders and roughly kissed her on the lips.
Iris pushed her away. “For Chrissakes!”
Lorraine screamed something. The words were lost in the scream’s ringing shrillness.
Barbie put her hands on her hips and faced Lorraine. “No one tells me what to do, missy!”
Lorraine ran up the three steps to the bedroom and turned left into the hallway, screaming, “Liar! Fucking liar.” She ran into the bathroom, slammed the door, and pounded her fists on the other side.
“Wow,” Art said. “What’s gotten into her?”
“I’m out of here,” Iris said.
Barbie looked at her watch. “Yes. You’d better go now.” She picked up Iris’s purse from the counter, handed it to her, and held her hand out. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Miss Iris Ann Thorne. You may give the proceeds of my account to Arturo.”
Iris just looked at Barbie’s outstretched hand. She opened the door and slammed it closed behind her, the cheap door emitting a shallow bang.
