by Pearl Cleage
I tried to picture the scene. Madonna trying to make a dent in Beth's armor and Beth not about to let her.
“So I just stuck it in the closet,” she was saying. “Because I was still thinking ifI could get it to her … Ifshe could see how happy Son was with us, if she could see what a sweet baby Junior is, maybe she'd feel differently.”
I lifted out one of the tapes. first birthday party, the label said, september 6, 2001.
Our eyes met when I looked up, and she was clearly the damsel I'd been sent to rescue from the dragon lady who was her child's grandmother.
“Will you help me?”
“Yes,” I said. “I will.”
46
ISTILL CAN'T FIGURE OUT WHY Beth is doing this,” I said to Blue when we were finally headed back to Atlanta. “How can she not claim her own grandchild?”
“Remember a couple of years ago,” he said, back on the interstate now and cruising, “when Ralph Abernathy published a book about his life? Since Martin Luther King was his best friend, he talked about him, too, but some of what he had to say about Brother King's relationships with women other than his wife didn't sit well with the King family and some of the good reverend's movement friends. So they organized a press conference and called Ralph to task for tearing down the memory of a bona fide hero when, according to them, black kids need all the role models they can get. Do you remember that?”
“Sure,” I said. “There was a big story in Jet and everything.”
He nodded. “The thing is, they got it wrong.”
“Because they didn't want anything to tarnish his memory?”
“Because a lie can never make you stronger, no matter how many times you tell it.”
“But what about the importance of role models for black kids? That's a real thing, isn't it? If all their idols are shown to have feet of clay, who are they going to look up to?”
“Think about it this way. If Dr. King is a living saint, a perfect being, it gets me off the hook. I know I can't live up to all that, so I don't even have to try. But if he was nothin' but a man, with faults and flaws just like me, and he still did all those brave, unselfish things, then I can't dismiss the challenge of his life. I still have to step up, with all my doubts and imperfections, and be a man, just like he did. Just like Brother Davis was trying to do.”
That made so much sense I wished I'd said it. “Can I quote you when I talk to Beth?”
He smiled in the darkness. “You better give me an alias if you do. I don't think I'm one of her favorite people.”
“Fine with me,” I said, feeling like I knew what I had to do and was ready to do it, but not tonight. We'd done enough for one night. “How about ‘Sweet Thing’?”
He laughed low in his throat. “Sounds good to me.”
47
IT WAS AFTER MIDNIGHT WHEN we pulled up in front of the house, and I was looking forward to curling up with Blue, but every light in Flora's place was blazing.
“Wonder what's going on at Flora's?” Blue said as we headed up the walk.
I knocked on the door, and Kwame opened it. Over his shoulder, I could see Flora and Aretha fussing over ShaRonda, who was sitting on the couch holding Lu's hand and looking shell-shocked.
“What happened?” Blue walked over to Flora quickly as Kwame closed the door behind us.
ShaRonda's eyes filled up with tears, and, from the looks of her eyeliner, she'd been crying for a while. The carefully chosen outfit she had worn to the Ashanti concert to celebrate Lu's birthday was ripped and dirty like she'd been fighting somebody in it. We had stopped by to say hello to the girls before we headed down to Macon, and they were in a flurry ofgetting ready for the big event, but something had obviously gone wrong. Terribly wrong.
“She's okay,” Flora said. “She's had a scare, but you're safe now, baby. You're okay now.”
Lu, already in her pajamas, was nodding like a silent amen corner. Aretha went and sat beside ShaRonda on the couch and handed her a tissue to wipe her eyes.
“Thanks,” ShaRonda whispered.
Blue looked at Kwame, and his eyes narrowed. “Didn't you take them to the concert?”
Kwame didn't blink. “Aretha and I both went with them. And we took her home afterward. This happened after she got there.”
Flora looked at ShaRonda, who was sniffling. She had skinned her knee and there was a little circle of blood on her white stockings. “You know Mr. Hamilton, don't you, ShaRonda?”
She nodded.
“Can you tell him what happened?”
The girl looked at Aretha, who patted her arm gently.
“Just tell him what you told us, okay? Don't be scared.”
ShaRonda looked at Lu, who was still nodding. “You can tell him.”
Blue pulled a chair up closer to where she was sitting. “You're not scared of me, are you, ShaRonda?”
She shook her head, and Blue smiled a little. He had been doing this all night, and it looked like he wasn't through yet.
“Good. Who was bothering you?”
“It was my uncle DooDoo,” she whispered.
Blue's expression never changed, but I know mine did. Damn! Was there no escaping this fool? Were we going to have to wait around until he killed somebody before we could figure out what to do?
“When we got home from the concert, he … he was there with three of his friends and that one named King James, and they were smoking weed and watching these nasty videos.”
Blue's eyes never left her face as the words tumbled out, slowly at first, then faster and faster.
“And when I came in, he said, ‘Girl, you look good! Come in here and let me show my boys how good you look!’ So I went in there and waved at 'em, but when I got ready to go upstairs, one of them told DooDoo to pour me a drink. And I said I wadn't but twelve, and I didn't want no drink, and he said …”
She bit her lip, but she didn't cry again. “He said I'd like it better if I was a little drunk and Uncle DooDoo started laughin', and I said what you talkin' about? Like what better? And one of the other guys said, ‘Leave that girl alone, King. She ain't nothin’ but a kid,' and the guy said, ‘I got hos out working right now ain't but ten.’ Then he asked my uncle if I was a virgin, and my uncle said he guess I was.”
I felt like I was going to be sick. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath.
“So, he said that was worth something, and he reached in his pocket and handed my uncle a hundred dollars, and I said what you think you payin' for? I ain't nobody's ho, and my uncle told me to shut up and go upstairs. I told him I wadn't going, and he hit me.”
Her face was swollen and blotchy, and one eye was puffing up. “The others just laughing and reaching in they pockets for some money, too, even the one who said to leave me alone. I know he ain't gonna help me either, so I ran upstairs and locked my door, but I know that ain't gonna stop 'em, so I … I jumped out the window.”
“You jumped out of an upstairs window?” Aretha said, hearing this detail for the first time.
ShaRonda nodded. “That's how I hurt my knee. They was gonna turn me out if I hadn't left. Everybody scared of 'em. That girl he was talkin' about, the one who ain't but ten? That's Neicy's cousin. She went to our school last year.”
Lu's eyes widened. “Are you talking about Tiffany?”
ShaRonda nodded miserably and looked at Blue. “I thought my uncle DooDoo would take care of me, but he just took the money and started laughin'. He just kept laughin', so I ran over here.”
Aretha hugged her, and she leaned into the embrace like it was all that stood between her and the abyss. Watching them, I realized it probably was.
Flora looked at Lu. “Why don't you give ShaRonda something else to put on, and I'll be in there in a minute, okay?”
“You want to take a shower?” Lu asked her friend gently.
ShaRonda nodded.
“Come on.”
The two of them walked slowly to Lu's room, ShaRonda limping just a little, and shut the door
behind them. Flora and Aretha and Kwame and I were all watch ing Blue, who was sitting so still he looked like a statue. King James and DooDoo's reach had extended into Blue's territory twice in one night. I had a feeling there wouldn't be a third time.
Finally, Blue looked at Flora. “I'll put a man out front in case these young niggas have completely lost their minds,” he said. “You all right?”
She nodded. “I'll keep her here until I hear from you.”
He stood up, turned to me, and took my hand. “Walk with me?”
“Sure.”
“Mr. Hamilton?” Kwame stood up quickly. “I'd like to go with you.”
Blue looked at him. It was a long look, but Kwame didn't flinch. I admired that, and I'm sure Aretha did, too. It's always a pleasure to watch a man you care about step up in a crisis.
“This ain't for you,” Blue said quietly. “But thanks.” Kwame didn't argue it.
Blue and I headed outside. He closed Flora's door behind us in the hallway and took me in his arms. The sweetness of kissing Blue still made me weak in the knees, and I hugged him close.
“I've got to go,” he said against my cheek.
“I know. Be careful.”
“Careful as I can,” he said, kissed me again, and walked out into the night alone.
48
BETH'S SCHEDULE CALLED FOR her to return to Atlanta from Gainesville last night. At seven thirty this morning, I rang her front bell. She's an early riser, and she answered the door fully dressed in dark pants and tunic. She looked surprised, but not disappointed to see me.
“You're out early.”
“May I come in?”
“Of course,” she said. “I just put on a pot of coffee.”
I followed her into the kitchen. The house was quiet, and as we walked through the spotless, formal living room, I wondered how Beth could rationalize doing business with the likes of DooDoo and King James.
She took down two mugs and poured us each a cup of coffee. “What's up?”
“Tell me about your grandson,” I said.
She put her mug down. “Did you find something else?”
“I talked to his mother.”
“You did what?”
“I talked to his mother. She's hiding out because the guys you sent to her house threatened to cut her throat.”
She stood up quickly and walked to the window. Outside in the branches of her magnolia tree, three bright red cardinals were chasing one another. Her silence surprised me. I had expected her to have a lie ready. An intricate denial commensurate with the severity of the accusation, but she didn't say a word. She just watched the birds. Fine with me. I had come here for an explanation, and I was prepared to stay until I got one.
“This is not a game, Gina.”
“Don't patronize me,” I said. “How in the hell did you hook up with these thugs in the first place?”
She turned back to me. “It's not hard to find people to do whatever you need done in Atlanta. You should know that. I sent Jade back to the old neighborhood to ask around. She came back with the names of some brothers who could get the job done.”
“How can you call those hoodlums brothers?”
Her smile was more of a sneer. “You're not in much of a position to be self-righteous, are you?”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you think your landlord does in addition to collecting your rent?”
If she thought sniping at Blue was going to distract me from the task at hand, she couldn't have been more wrong. “Tell me about your grandson,” I said again.
“I don't have a grandson,” she snapped, her voice ice cold. “But I'll tell you this. I'm not going to have my Son's legacy be that he was one more black man who couldn't keep his pants zipped up. Is that what you want? Haven't we got enough stories like that? How many times does the curse of Jesse Jackson have to strike before we figure it out!”
“That's not the point,” I said, “and you know it.”
“That's exactly the point,” Beth snapped, then stopped herself and took a deep breath. “Don't you see, Gina? This means they win. This means everything they say about our men is true. That they lie. That they stick their dicks into anything that moves. That they can make a baby, but they're incapable of raising one.” Her voice was filled with rage and bitterness and disappointment. “I worked all my life to prove to everybody that was just a bunch of racist bullshit, and I could prove it because my son was none of those things. Do you hear me? Whatever they said about our men, I could answer, ‘Not my son!’”
“Son wanted to raise his child,” I said quietly.
She sneered at me, and her face was full of the pain of her loss. “Well, it's just a little late for that, isn't it?”
“Is it?”
“Yes, it is. Listen, Gina, my work is not about one kid whose mother thinks I owe her something. My work is about changing the lives of thousands of women and their sons. You're interested in some kind of soap opera, and I'm interested in changing the world.”
“Well, I guess you and DooDoo and King James have your work cut out for you,” I said, getting up to go. There was no reason to continue this conversation, but Beth isn't one to leave loose ends dangling.
“I'm sorry you're upset, Gina,” she said, “but there's a lot at stake here, and I can't afford any confusion.”
“What kind of confusion are you talking about?” I asked, wondering suddenly if she was getting ready to threaten me, too.
“The dedication is only a week away. I've seen the lovely video; Mr. Freeney says you've done a fine job with organizing the papers, and I know the remarks you're drafting for me will be perfect, but …” Her voice was all edges. “If you don't feel completely comfortable, I'm prepared to pay you what I owe you and call it square between us. I'm sure Jade and Mr. Freeney can do whatever else needs to be done.”
She was watching me, giving me a way out if I couldn't stand the things she was prepared to do to get what she thought she wanted.
“That won't be necessary,” I said. “I'll finish what I started.”
She nodded slowly. “I'm glad you're prepared to be professional about this. Just remember, my personal life, and Son's, are no longer your affair.”
“I see.”
“And don't worry,” she said. “Nobody's going to cut anybody.”
I thought of Madonna's frightened face, and suddenly I remembered something. I reached in my purse and drew out the envelope bulging with Beth's get-out-of-town money. I dropped it on the kitchen table.
“I think this belongs to you,” I said. Without waiting for her to pick it up, I walked out of the kitchen and through the perfect living room, let myself out the front door, got in my tacky little rental car and backed out the driveway before she could stop me.
There was nothing she could do about what I had in mind, so there was no point in wasting time talking about it with her. So Beth is trying to change the world, huh? Well, so am I. One little brown baby at a time.
49
THERE IS NOTHING EXTRAORDINARY about the video that Madonna wanted Beth to see. It is a little out of focus sometimes, like all amateur videos. The framing of the shots could be better, and the audio is often nearly unintelligible. There is a lot of laughing and even a loud, undeniably off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday.” Of course, there is cake and ice cream. Of course, there are parents and games and several tiny, bewildered, notquite-toddlers trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Of course, there are friends around to share the moment.
And, of course, the proud parents stand on either side of their tiny son, encouraging him to blow out that one brave candle and getting instead only a delighted grin until they blow it out themselves, laughing, and everybody applauds, and Son scoops up the birthday boy and kisses him and grabs Madonna and kisses her, too, and they all laugh again and cut the cake.
I watched it twice, then picked up the phone. Precious answered on the second ring.
“This is Sen
ator Hargrove. How can I help?”
“Regina Burns. How are you, Senator?”
“Just fine, thanks.”
“You remember when you promised to tell me the story of how Beth Davis got you into politics one day?”
“I remember.”
“How about we make this the day?”
50
AFTER I TALKED TO PRECIOUS, THE next person I needed to see was Freeney. He was the one who would be in the video booth working with the technician. If I was going to make this work, I had to have Freeney's help. Precious had agreed immediately, but her job wouldn't be on the line. His would.
Freeney was on the phone when I stuck my head in his office door. He waved me in.
“Yes, yes, of course,” he was saying. “Certainly. Absolutely.”
Sometimes I think half of Freeney's job is agreeing enthusiastically. He's good at it.
“Oh, yes. That sounds perfect. Just perfect. Yes. I will. Let me know what she says. Bye, now.”
He turned to me with a wide smile. Miss Ross, his perpetually napping calico cat, was curled up in her usual sunny corner of the oriental rug. She opened one eye when I first came in, but hadn't moved since.
“Is this a bad time?” I asked, borrowing a line from Blue.
“Don't be silly! Sit down.”
I took my favorite chair, the rocker. We had done a lot of work together over the last six weeks, and he was as happy as I was to be in the home stretch.
“Everything okay?”
“Couldn't be better,” he said. “The mayor has confirmed and Channel Two is definitely sending a crew.”
It suddenly dawned on me that what I was getting ready to do had the potential to backfire big time. Was I prepared to take responsibility for asking somebody to risk his job? It was my destiny that required the fighting of the dragon, not his.
