The Big Apple Posse

by Wendy R. Williams

  “Oh great,” Amanda thought, “So I will take two and a half hours of ballet class today.” But Amanda said, “Thank you very much.”

  Solange left as a woman who looked to be in her fifties walked into the room. She was dressed in a white lace blouse and a long black skirt. She took her place at the piano and every dancer in the room moved to the bar. Amanda took her place at the end of the line so she would not have someone both in front and back of her. Better to not let too many dancers see her make a fool of herself.

  “Dancers, this is Amanda Pascal. She just moved here from Chicago so she could study at the Academy,” said Miss Rafaela. “Be sure to welcome her after class and now Miss Elaina (Miss Rafaela motioned to the pianist who started to play), third position and plié.”

  Amanda concentrated and tried to keep up with the class. She was fine as long as they were at the bar. Her leg would not go as high as the other dancers but she was able to copy almost all the movements. Her movements weren’t pretty, but she was sort of in the correct position. But then when it was time to move to the middle of the room and start dancing, she was lost. Miss Rafaela divided everyone into groups and then they were to dance across the floor, performing turns and jumps and landing in a pose. Not only could Amanda not keep up, she actually fell a couple of times.

  “Make small movements, Amanda, and try to keep out of everyone’s way. You almost tripped Simone when you fell,” said Miss Rafaela.

  Amanda saw all the other dancers looking at her like she was some kind of freak. She knew they were wondering just what she was doing in a ballet company apprentice class and she knew exactly how they felt. Amanda would love to quit, but she knew if she quit, she would be blowing her cover so she kept on smiling as if making a fool of herself in front of a bunch of New Orleans ballet dancers was the most fun thing she could think of doing.

  Finally the class was over and Amanda saw Michael walk into the studio to pick her up. Amanda walked over to him and said, “Hi, Michael. Miss Rafaela, this is a family friend, Michael, and he is going to pick me up today.”

  “Amanda needs to stay after class. She is far behind the other students and needs special help. Please have a seat,” Miss Rafaela told Michael.

  Amanda thought she would die of embarrassment to have Michael watch while Miss Rafaela taught her to dance. For the next half hour, Miss Rafaela put Amanda through a private dance class and by the end, Amanda’s legs felt like rubber bands. And to make things worse, Miss McMartin entered the room and stood in the doorway staring with a pinched look on her mouth. But the half hour was finally over, Miss McMartin left the studio and Amanda gave off a sigh of relief.

  “Thank you for the special help, Miss Rafaela,” said Amanda with a strained smile on her face.

  “You should make plans to stay after class every day this week. And tonight, think about everything we did. Imagine going through the movements in your mind,” said Miss Rafaela.

  “Thank you,” said Amanda to Miss Rafaela. Then Amanda turned to Michael who had watched the entire private lesson, “Can we go now? We need to go to the grocery store.”

  “Sure, but you need to put something else on. You can’t go out looking like that,” Michael pointed to Amanda’s leotard and tights.

  “Okay.” Amanda pulled a pair of jeans out of her bag and pulled them on wondering why adding clothes in front of Michael should seem so embarrassing. She quickly pulled on her jacket and walked down the stairway as Michael followed her.

  “Here is the address of the grocery store where we are supposed to get food for dinner,” said Amanda, handing an index card to Michael. “Solange gave me a grocery list for tonight’s dinner. She wants us to shop every day. “

  “We might as well. It is better than sitting around waiting for something bad to happen. And somehow I don’t think those thugs will be looking for you in a grocery store,” said Michael.

  Amanda and Michael got in the car and drove away from the studio towards the grocery store. Amanda saw that Michael kept looking in his rear view mirror, but he must not have been worried about what he saw because he drove straight to the store.

  The grocery store was unlike any store Amanda had ever seen. It was located in an old building that looked like it must have been a warehouse at one time. When Amanda walked into the store, she saw rustic plank flooring and an old fashioned cash carrier system wired under the ceiling of the store. There were containers at each station and the clerk would send the money to a centralized cashier who would make change and issue receipts. The store was outfitted with wooden bins filled with produce, plank shelves stocked with flour and other essentials and in the back was an old fashioned butcher shop with ribbed glass display shelves that made the place look like a 1950’s era diner and a butcher’s block with a large display of knives.

  Amanda grabbed a cart and started to go up and down the aisles looking for the items on her list. She quickly became worried. The grocery list had items like “a bunch of broccoli,” garlic, flour, rice (non instant), sugar, eggs, milk, baking soda, cocoa, vanilla extract, vegetable oil, powdered sugar, evaporated milk, a loaf of French bread, and a chicken. Next to the word chicken was a note to “pick a healthy one.” Amanda wondered just who was going to cook this dinner. She had no idea what to do with any of these items, but she could not see any frozen prepared food anywhere in this grocery store. Amanda filled her cart with all of the staple items and the produce and then she motioned to Michael that they should go to the butcher counter.

  Amanda walked up to counter and spoke to the butcher who was standing behind it. “I would like to buy a chicken.”

  “How many people do you need to feed,” asked the butcher.

  “Three,” said Amanda.

  “Would you like to go to the back yard and pick your own?” asked the butcher.

  “Why do you keep chicken out back? Shouldn’t it be in here so we can see it?” asked Amanda (her mother had told her a few things about not letting food spoil).

  “The chickens are still alive,” said the butcher. Then the butcher looked at Amanda’s shocked face and said, “Let me go out back and pick a nice one and I will bring it to you.”

  “You are going to bring me a live chicken?” asked Amanda.

  “No, I will pick a nice one and prepare it in the back so all you need to do is go home and cook it,” said the butcher.

  “Prepare it? You mean kill…” said Amanda.

  “That will be just fine,” interrupted Michael. “We will pick up a few more items while you do that. We will be back in five minutes.”

  Michael looked at Amanda’s face and then he grabbed the grocery cart from her and said, “Come on, let’s go find some food for breakfast.”

  “So this is Solange’s favorite grocery store. Don’t they have supermarkets in New Orleans?” asked Amanda.

  “Sure they do. But I guess Solange meant it when she said she is into buying everything organic. You can’t get a fresher chicken than one that’s running around out back,” said Michael.

  “Don’t talk about it. I am trying not to puke. Let’s just get some more groceries and pick up that chicken and get out of here. Wait, what would have happened if we wanted steak?” asked Amanda.

  “I’m sure he does not have cows out back,” said Michael.

  “You are?” asked Amanda. “When this is over, I am definitely becoming a vegetarian. I was about to become a vegetarian when those jerks blew up the city and I am getting right back on it as soon as the trial is over,” said Amanda.

  “So you don’t like living too close to your food?” Michael was laughing.

  “No, do you? Did you want to go out back and be introduced to our dinner?” asked Amanda.

  “Let’s pick up that chicken, check out and go home and try to figure out whatever we are going to do with all these raw ingredients,” said Michael. “Do you know how to cook?”

  “No,” said Amanda. “Do you?”

  “No,” said Michael.

&nb
sp; “Well, Solange better come home quickly,” said Amanda.

  So they took their grocery sack full of basic food stuffs (the chicken was wrapped in brown butcher paper so at least they did not have to look at it after the butcher handed it to them) and drove home and carried everything upstairs.

  Solange was not due home for another hour so she had left a long note about exactly what Amanda was supposed to do with the groceries, starting with preheating the oven to 350 degrees and then melting some butter in a pan on the stove and rubbing the butter all over the chicken and then salting the skin and then rubbing the just buttered chicken skin with fresh garlic. The next instruction was about cutting up broccoli and cooking it and then how to make rice and a chocolate cake from scratch.

  Amanda unwrapped the chicken and looked at it. Her mother had bought raw chicken before but somehow it had just seemed more impersonal when it was already cut up and wrapped in saran wrap. Amanda did not think she had ever seen a chicken carcass before. There was another bag inside the chicken bag and when Amanda opened it, she saw some disgusting looking organs, so she threw that bag in the trash.

  “Yuck. Do we have any rubber gloves?” asked Amanda. “I can’t stand touching a dead chicken.”

  Michael picked up the recipe and said, “I’ll prepare the chicken. Why don’t you try to figure out what to do with the broccoli.”

  “Thanks. I just know I can’t touch it. And that chocolate cake is all Solange’s. I did not look like someone who knew how to bake a cake when she met me and as far as I know, nothing has changed,” said Amanda.

  “Right,” said Michael.

  Amanda looked at the broccoli with a dubious eye. She grabbed a blue metal colander from the counter and put it in the sink, tossed in the broccoli, and turned on the water to wash it. She took a knife out of the block, but then she stopped. She had no clue what it meant to “cut up the broccoli.” She did not like broccoli and had never paid any attention to what it looked like when it was served. But then Amanda remembered everything Solange had done for her, so she started cutting the broccoli into smaller pieces.

  When she was finished cutting the broccoli, she poured olive oil into the skillet and turned the burner to medium. She then peeled a couple cloves of garlic and cut them up into small pieces and put them in the oil to sauté. The oil started to smoke so Amanda turned the burner back down and then she tossed in the broccoli. Reading the instructions, she stirred the broccoli around in the oil until it was coated and a bit crisp and then she transferred it to a baking pan and put it in the oven at 350 degrees for 20 minutes.

  Then it was time to start the rice. Amanda thought that if they had bought a package of rice, there might be some instructions on the package, but oh no, this was bulk rice. So following Solange’s recipe, she brought a large pan of water to a boil and then she poured in two cups of rice and added some salt. Thank God that was over.

  In the meantime, Michael had managed to do something with the chicken which was now in the oven.

  Amanda wondered if she should light some incense in front of the altars (perhaps those Goddesses would keep their dinner from burning), turn on some music and dance while she cooked the way Solange and Armand did when they were in the kitchen, but then she decided that cooking broccoli and rice was enough adventure for one day. Besides, she did not know if she would ever be able to dance again. Her legs were limp after two and a half hours of ballet.

  Solange walked in the door.

  “You were supposed to call me when you were ready to come home,” said Michael.

  “Don’t worry, I took a very strange route home and checked all the time to see if someone was following me and no one did,” said Solange.

  “I hope you are right,” said Michael.

  “I know I’m right. I have been watching your moves and I have the spy thing down now,” said Solange. “How did you do with dinner?”

  “Michael fixed the chicken and I made the broccoli and rice. We did not start the cake. I really don’t want to eat chocolate cake if I am going to wear a leotard,” said Amanda.

  “Well, I don’t eat chocolate cake either, but I thought Michael might want some and then we can take the rest of it to the boys tonight,” said Solange.

  “I would love to see Peter and Thibodeaux,” said Amanda.

  “So let’s make up this chocolate cake and get it ready to go in the oven as soon as the chicken and broccoli are done,” said Solange.

  Solange turned on some music and began tossing together the chocolate cake while she danced around the kitchen. Amanda thought that if a drug company could package Solange’s moods, they would make a fortune. Nothing ever seemed to get Solange down and as far as Amanda could tell, Solange did not worry. And she had plenty of reason to worry. Her mother was hiding out in Jamaica with Auntie Tina and she was babysitting three kids. Plus Solange had to put up with Michael watching her and trying to boss her around. If Amanda had been Solange, she would have been plenty worried. Hey, she wasn’t Solange and she was plenty worried anyway.

  Soon the cake was in the oven and Michael, Solange, and Amanda put the food on the table.

  Solange looked at the food and said, “Where is the giblet gravy?”

  “The what?” asked Amanda.

  “The giblet gravy. Didn’t the butcher give you a package of giblets with the chicken?” asked Solange.

  “There was a package filled with some disgusting bloody stuff, but I threw it in the garbage,” said Amanda.

  “Oh honey. Well, that’s okay. I will teach you how to make giblet gravy this weekend,” said Solange.

  “That’s all right,” said Amanda. “I really don’t want to ever do anything that would mean I had to touch the things that were in that package. I am going to be a vegetarian in July.”

  “Okay,” said Solange. “Why July?”

  “That’s after the trial and it will be the first time I will be able to be me again,” said Amanda.

  “You are right. That will be a great time for you,” said Solange. “I know this is tough but you, Thibodaux, and Peter have been really great. And I have loved spending time with you. So let’s eat, even without the gravy.”

  Michael said, “I heard from my brother. He will be here tomorrow and by the time he gets here, my Dad should have figured out what we are going to do next.”

  “Don’t you think your Dad should ask us what we want to do?” asked Amanda.

  “He is talking with your Mom and Aunt Tina. They are working it out,” said Michael.

  “But what about the FBI?” asked Amanda.

  “My Dad has been talking to them and they finally agree with him that there had to be a leak for those thugs to have found you in New Jersey. They still don’t know how they found you,” said Michael.

  “I can’t believe that the FBI thinks it is a good idea for us to just disappear on our own,” said Amanda.

  “You are not on your own and the FBI has also heard from both Auntie Tina and your Mom and they both told them that they don’t want the FBI involved anymore. My Dad, Auntie Tina, and your Mom assured them that you would show up in June to testify so for now, the FBI is letting them call the shots,” said Michael.

  “Oh,” said Amanda.

  “Your Mom is especially mad at the FBI. She told my father that she really wanted you to live at home in Connecticut, but they insisted you would be safer living with their former agent in New Jersey,” said Michael.

  “I really wish Peter and I could have stayed with our Mom,” said Amanda. “Everyone knows us in Greenwich and people would have noticed if someone tried to hurt us or was watching us.”

  “I am picking up DJ at the airport at 3 p.m., so I won’t be at the dance studio to pick you up tomorrow when you get out of class. But DJ and I will be there by 5:30 or so,” said Michael.

  “So, when you finish your class, just come down stairs and watch my class,” said Solange.

  “Okay,” said Amanda. “Oh, there’s the buzzer. I guess the cake
is done.”

  “Well, go get it,” said Solange. “There are potholders next to the stove.”

  Amanda went into the kitchen and took the cake out of the oven. It smelled heavenly. Amanda changed her mind. She would eat chocolate cake.

  After dinner, the three of them washed up the dishes while the cake cooled and then Solange showed Amanda and Michael how to make chocolate icing using more of the cocoa, powdered sugar, butter, evaporated milk, and vanilla. Solange iced the cake while Amanda called Peter.

  “Hi, Peter. We want to come over and bring some chocolate cake for you and Thibodeaux. No, we made it. I know, I know. I will tell you all about it when we have time to talk. I will call you when we are outside your dorm. Can you two come down and meet us in the parking lot? Hey, are you okay? I miss you,” said Amanda.

  Amanda suddenly felt depressed. She had been glad that Peter and Thibodeaux were hiding at the Catholic school because it seemed like such a safe place. But listening to Peter’s voice just then reminded her that they did not have their parents and she was the only family that Peter had right now.

  Solange packed up half the cake in a plastic container and then put some plastic forks, paper plates and napkins in a bag. They walked out of the apartment and down the stairs to Michael’s car.

  “You probably should not try to cook dinner tomorrow night. My brother and I have some business to take care of and we need to leave you alone after we drop you off. Why don’t we just stop somewhere and get some take out for you two to eat tomorrow?” asked Michael.

  “That’s fine with me. It was really interesting seeing what food looks like before it is served in a restaurant or in frozen packages at the supermarket, but now that I know, I know,” said Amanda.

  Solange looked at Amanda and burst out laughing. But Amanda had lost her sense of humor again and did not join in.