by Mary Monroe
I knew that Helen had found out what I was up to when she stumbled across an issue of The Spectator with my first ad in it. She’d shared that information with one of the tricks she’d stolen from me, and he told me. Even if her brother, David, had not seen my ad, I was sure that Helen’s angry mother would eventually tell him about me, if she hadn’t already blabbed.
Clyde shook his head. “I got a urgent call for a blonde from a dude who knows a dude who pays three thousand for an all-night date. Dude plays golf with my partner, Lou. His regular chick got drunk and rolled down another trick’s spiral staircase and broke her leg in three places. I wouldn’t have such a clumsy cow workin’ for me,” Clyde said, his lips snapping over his words. “Especially if she gonna cost me a three thousand dollar date.”
“I have a blond wig,” I blurted, half joking, seeing huge dollar signs in front of my hungry eyes. The most I’d ever been paid to do an all-night date was a thousand dollars. To me, that was a lot of money, but not to the wealthy tricks. One particular trick who was in high-level management at a downtown bank told me that the majority of the businessmen who paid for sex were clever enough to incorporate their payments into their business expenses. It was funny knowing that a blow job and a fax machine both fit under “miscellaneous” on an expense report. I often wondered about the uptight men who’d interviewed me for office positions before I contacted Clyde. Those smug suits with their Palm Pilots, e-mails, and conference calls—well, I made more money than some of them now.
“What you smilin’ about? What’s wrong with you?” Clyde asked, giving me a suspicious look.
“Nothing. I just thought of something funny,” I told him.
Clyde gave me a serious look, and then his eyes lit up like fireflies. A strange smile slid across his face.
“Are you all right?” I asked, leaning toward him, my hands back on his shoulders.
“Uh, yeah…where is your telephone book?” Clyde was already moving around my living room, searching. “I need to look up a number, and I need some privacy. Right now!”
I handed Clyde the telephone book and started walking out of the room. I was disappointed, but not surprised to find my daughter, Juliet, hiding outside the doorway.
“What the—girl, what do you call yourself doing?” I hissed, talking in as low a voice as I could manage. Now that I was so important to Clyde, I wanted to keep him happy for as long as he needed me, and for as long as I needed him.
Looking over my shoulder, I saw Clyde frantically dialing a telephone number and looking toward the door. I tried to wrap my arm around Juliet as I escorted her back into the hallway. “Juliet, you shouldn’t be listening in on grown folks’ conversations. Nice little girls don’t do things like that.” I don’t know why I was trying to smile. I could smile until my teeth fell out, and it still wouldn’t faze this difficult child of mine.
“I heard you talking to a man on the telephone the other day about a new apartment. We moving?” Juliet stopped outside her bedroom door. She reared back on her young legs, slapped her hands onto her narrow hips, and looked up at me with a pleading look in her eyes.
I held my finger up to my lips. “Shhhh… I don’t want you to repeat that to anybody,” I said, praying that Clyde didn’t hear her. “Uh, one of these days you’re going to hear something you don’t want to hear by eavesdropping. Now, get back into your room and watch that big-screen TV I bought for you,” I said, trying to sound firm enough to get through to Juliet. An extreme pout popped up on her face.
I chased Juliet to her room and shut the door. Then I leaned against the living room wall, trying to hear Clyde’s conversation. He was speaking in a low voice but I could hear him anyway.
I should have known who it was he had called. It was that Megan he was talking to; the White woman who had caused him so much grief.
Chapter 36
MEGAN O’ROURKE
It had been about three months since the day I’d run into Clyde Brooks in Oakland. As far as I was concerned, he was out of my life again. This time for good, I hoped.
Even though I had not seen Clyde for years, every now and then he crossed my mind. But there was no room in my life for him. And, as hard as it was for me to admit, there was no room in my life for the daughter we’d created. My other kids filled that space.
I had received a letter from my son, Josh, complaining about the weather in Australia and the navy’s bland food. Heather called me up a few days ago from Robert’s grandparents’ home in Dublin, Ireland. Her five-minute voice mail message instructed me to locate and secure her an apartment in Berkeley no later than August. No matter what else, it had to be near campus—and cute. The thought of my being alone on a permanent basis in the house with Robert didn’t appeal to me at all.
After twenty-two years of marriage, to say that Robert and I had grown apart would be putting it mildly. We lived together, but we led separate lives. Even in the bedroom. On a typical day, he was up and out of the house before I even opened my eyes. Some nights he didn’t return until I was already in bed, usually asleep.
Our sex life had dwindled to once a month, maybe. And even then, it seemed like we were in different locations. There was no passion, no foreplay, and for me, no satisfaction. And it did me no good to complain, which I did until I was literally blue in the face. Sexy lingerie, wine, adult toys, candlelit dinners, and other tools of seduction didn’t work either. The man I’d married had become a stranger right before my eyes. And a hostile one at that.
“For Christ sakes, Meg, is sex all you think about?” he’d said one night three years ago when I’d greeted him at the front door wearing nothing but a smile and holding two glasses of wine. We had not made love in more than three weeks. I’d sent the kids to my parents’ and turned off the telephones. With a brutal scowl on his face, he pushed past me and went into his office. I was asleep when he joined me in bed.
One night, about a month later (we’d just made love), he turned to me with a rare smile. “You look different. Did you do something to your hair?” he asked. I shook my head. The difference in my appearance was my twenty-pound weight loss. Then I decided I would “do something to my hair.” I became a brunette for six months after being a blond all my life, and my husband didn’t even notice it.
Hobbies and trips didn’t help, and there’d been many over the years. I belonged to a women’s club, a book club, and a group that traveled together. It was no wonder I focused almost all of my attention on my children. But then even that had caused problems. I didn’t just “mother” them; I “smothered” them with attention. Josh had joined the navy right out of high school. He called home frequently but his conversations were brief. Heather was a little more attentive. She called a lot, but usually only when she wanted something. Like that damn car she’d requested.
It was my daughter Heather I was thinking about, and how much she looked like Clyde’s daughter, the night I got the telephone call that increased my distress.
“Hello, Meg.” Even before he identified himself, I knew it was Clyde Brooks. “This is Clyde Brooks.”
If a vampire bat had flown through the window and landed on my neck, I couldn’t have been more startled. I had to strain and press my legs together to keep my bladder under control.
“Where the hell did you get this number?” I demanded, whispering even though I was alone.
“Is that any way to greet a old friend?”
“Why are you calling here, Clyde?” My mouth got dry, and my breath caught in my throat.
He laughed. “If you didn’t want to be bothered, you shoulda got a unlisted phone number.”
“What do you want?” I wound the telephone cord around my fingers, cutting off my circulation to the point where I felt faint. Lines of perspiration started sliding down my back like snakes.
“I need to see you. I need to chat with you about somethin’ real important.”
“That is out of the question, Clyde. Now if you will excuse me—”
“Woman, if you hang up on me, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. I need to talk to you.”
“We have nothing to talk about, Clyde,” I said in a steady, hushed tone.
“Oh, yes we do. Me and you, we got a whole lot to talk about. Now unless you want me to make a little trip to Steiner Street to discuss it in front of that nice husband of yours, you’ll do what I tell you.”
“What do you want, Clyde?” I asked, whimpering.
“There’s a bar on Front Street called O’Grady’s. It’s a nice little Irish place so you’ll feel right at home. Meet me there tomorrow at noon. If you get there before me, get a booth in the back so we can have some privacy. I advise you to be there, and don’t be late. If you don’t show up, you’ll be fryin’ fish or scrubbin’ toilets by the time I get through with you.”
“Clyde, I’m begging you not to do this to me. If I’ve hurt or offended you in any way, I’m sorry. But I have a new life, you have a new life. What good could come from us associating with each other now?”
“That’s what we need to talk about. You just have your ass at that goddamn O’Grady’s like I told you. Do you hear me?”
I took my time replying.
“Woman, you listenin’ to me?”
“I’ll be there,” I said, my voice shaking so hard my teeth clicked.
I crawled into bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t respond when Robert rolled in after midnight. I was in the same position and hadn’t slept at all when he left the house the next morning.
Clyde was already seated and clutching a drink when I arrived at O’Grady’s the next day at noon. Wearing dark glasses and a sport jacket, he looked out of place among all the Financial District suits and ties.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked, sitting down across from him, clutching the eel skin purse Robert had brought back from his fishing trip to Baja for my birthday. He had not wrapped it or removed the price tag. I had showered a couple of hours ago, but I still felt hot and sticky. I’d pulled my hair back into a ponytail and wrestled myself into a blouse and skirt. Like Clyde, my eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark glasses.
“What you wanna drink?” he asked. “My treat.” He took a sip and shook his glass at me. “This is some good shit.”
I shook my head. “What do you want from me, Clyde?” I asked, nervously tapping my fingers on the table.
“I need a little favor. I need a favor real bad, and I need it real quick.”
“And what does that have to do with me?”
“I’m havin’ some financial difficulties this month.” He paused and cleared his throat. “I thought you’d be able to help me out a little.”
I started to rise; he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back to my seat.
“You arrogant nig—”
Clyde gasped and held up his hand. “Now I know you ain’t goin’ there, Goldilocks.” He frowned and gave me a disgusted look. “I swear to God, you just as White as you can be. But if you,” he paused and pointed a finger in my face, “ever spit out that N word at me again, I will show you a nigger. It didn’t bother you when you was wallowin’ around in all them motel and hotel beds and the backseat of your mama’s car with my nigger ass.”
I sighed. “I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean that.” Clyde gave me a long, brutal stare, as if one apology was not enough. “I said I was sorry.” I let out a painful breath and shifted in my seat. My backside was numb. My legs had cramps. “Now would you tell me what it is you want from me, so I can get out of this place,” I said firmly.
Clyde tilted his head and started talking out of the side of his mouth. “This is the deal: I love my daughter more than I love life itself. She’s got some serious problems, but I wouldn’t trade her for five normal kids. I think I love her more because of her condition because I know she’ll always need me.” He paused, as if to let his words sink in. “Do me a favor and get that frozen look off your face.”
“How do you expect me to be, Clyde?” I retorted. “Do you think I want to be here?”
“Shit, I don’t want to be here myself. If you had invited me to your house, neither one of us would be up in here.”
“Finish what you have to say!” I snapped.
He let out great sigh and looked away before he returned his attention to me. “Now it ain’t been easy for me to take care of Keisha by myself all these years,” he muttered casually. “She gets help from the disability benefits, but that don’t cover none of the things that really keep the girl happy. Every time I look up, she wants somethin’ new.”
“You…you want money? From me?” My voice was so sharp, it whistled. “Is that what this is all about?”
Clyde removed his glasses and glared at me, pursing his lips.
“Somethin’ like that. Is that a problem?” he asked, one eyebrow lifted.
“Look, I don’t know what you think, but you are wrong if you expect me to—”
“No, lady, you wrong. Now you sit still and listen to what I got to say.” He leaned across the table, his chin in his hands. “I had some unexpected expenses this month. Keisha got a notion she wants to go on a cruise. See, I went on one recently and me braggin’ about it got her wantin’ to go. You know how young folks are. Last week I had to come up off two hundred dollars, just to get her a new hairdo. Thing is, I’m a few thousand in the hole. Last month I had to have a new roof put on my grandma’s house. I thought you’d be glad to help me out, just this one time. For that cruise for Keisha, I mean.” An obscene smile crossed his face.
“Well, you’re wrong. I wouldn’t help you out this one time or any other time.”
“Ahhhh,” he said, stretching his mouth open so wide I could see the back of his tongue. The look on his face was so smug, I couldn’t have removed it with a Brillo pad. “I think you will. Now, I need three thousand dollars by Monday. And don’t tell me you ain’t got it. If you ain’t got it, you can get it. I know what you worth, girl.”
“My husband handles all our finances. I even have to ask him for the household money.”
“Then get it from him. Tell him you wanna make a donation to some charity or somethin’—Save the Children, Save the Whales, Save the Niggers, save whatever ain’t been saved yet. Tell him you wanna take a cruise to Jamaica. Or, you can tell him the truth, tell him you wanna help out a old friend.”
I gave Clyde an incredulous look. “And what would I tell him the next time?”
Clyde shook his head and finished his drink. “Won’t be no next time. You do me this one favor, and you won’t never hear from me again. I swear to God.” I couldn’t believe he had the audacity to cross his heart.
I shook my head. “You’re crazy.”
“Three thousand. That’s all I need. Think of it as back child support. Listen, if you scared to ask your husband, get it from that nice mama of yours. She always was a real generous lady. My first Christmas in Oakland, she played Santa Claus and gave me a brand-new bike. She told me you helped pick it out. Remember that?”
“I would never ask my mother for that kind of money to give to you.”
“Then get it from Daddy Dearest. And don’t sit here and tell me you can’t. Old Man Carmody was always so fond of that good Irish scotch, he wouldn’t know the difference.”
“Never!” I shrieked.
Clyde shrugged. “Of course, you can always sell somethin’. I know you must have all kinds of jewels and shit that your hubby won’t miss.”
“I have nothing to sell!”
“Oh, but you do. Now listen close.” Clyde glanced around then leaned forward some more, his chin almost touching the table. “I know a way.” He paused again and sniffed, not taking his eyes off my face. “Remember back in the day when we needed a little financial assistance?”
My body felt like it had been turned to stone. “You’re sick.”
“Hush now and listen to what I got to say,” he ordered, holding up his hand, licking his lips. “With all due respect, you ain’t no bad-lookin’ woman. The yea
rs have been good to you.” Clyde leaned to the side and stared at my legs. “But knowin’ you, you done helped Mother Nature hold back Father Time with a little help from one of them cosmetic-friendly surgeons, ain’t you?”
“You are crazy!” I attempted to rise again, sliding my watch back and forth on my wrist.
“Unless you wanna find out just how crazy I am these days, you’ll sit your silk panty-wearin’ ass right back down and listen to me. Now you don’t want to make me mad. I ain’t the same tame little country boy you used to play with.”
I sat back down, trembling so hard, I couldn’t cross my legs.
“I got this friend, he got a friend, and he needs a little favor this weekend. You’d be surprised what a lonely man will do. All you gotta do is spend a little time with this lonely friend. You ain’t got to do nothin’ you don’t wanna do. You make him happy, you make me happy. I know you still remember how it works.”
“That was a long time ago, Clyde. You can’t ask me to…to sleep with a stranger for money.”
“Look, I never did. Must I remind you, you was the one who made that leap. ‘Clyde, I’d do anything to be with you.’ You remember tellin’ me that? Huh? You remember them escort services you hooked up with?”
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”
“Every time I looked up they was sendin’ you out to do your thing. And you enjoyed every minute of it.”
“I-I can’t listen to this anymore.” I couldn’t hold back my tears, and I couldn’t ignore the stares we were getting.
