“Move, Mr. Coleman. I can’t stay here.”
I began crying, feeling the one constant slipping away, never to return. I went to give her a hug, but she wasn’t having it. “Get away. Don’t touch me,” she shrieked. “I must go. Now!”
“Lorenda, wait. Please. Is it something we’ve done? Is it something I’ve done? We can talk.”
She glared at me in such a way that I was frightened.
“This . . . this is a crazy house,” was her final condemnation as she fled for the elevator.
Tanner and I stood in the doorway, waiting for our now former housekeeper to catch the elevator. For a full minute we waited in the hope that she would return.
“Know anything about this?” he asked.
“No.”
“Hmm. Well, there goes the best housekeeper I’ve ever had.” He threw his arms up in frustration. He went back inside, urging me to follow and close the door.
“There goes the only housekeeper I’ve ever had,” I mumbled, my heart feeling more than the relationship between employer and employee. You might say Lorenda had been the closest I’d had to a mother since . . .
“Bianca, close the door. She’s gone.”
“Okay.”
“You can’t let this get you down, Bianca.” Tanner tasted his soup. He looked impeccable in his dark suit and crisp white shirt, having ordered for both of us earlier. He’d coaxed me to Figueroa, one of the finest establishments in town, thinking a night out would lift my spirits. With the events earlier, my appetite wasn’t up to par. If he’d known everything, his wouldn’t be either.
“I can’t help it. This has been a day from hell. I’m sorry that I’m being a downer on our evening. I think I just need to go to bed.”
The mention of bed in that context bothered him. I believe he was expecting a full-blown evening out tonight . . . with dessert later. “What did the doctor say?” he asked.
“I’m fine. Just stressed out.”
He chuckled in the middle of a spoonful of bisque. “I really don’t see what you have to be stressed out about.”
“You have no idea,” I muttered. I hated when he took that tone.
“Want to tell me?” His spoon clinked in the empty bowl as he wiped his mouth with the napkin. “Are your shoe shipments arriving too late for the spring collection or something? Is that your idea of stress? The mayor will be appointing me as chair on his inner-city development committee next week. I’m supposed to come up with a plan for Hunter’s Green . . . without bulldozing the hellhole. Now,
that’s
stress.”
My cell rang in my purse, stopping me from being less prudent with my comeback. I decided to answer it and use that time to cool down.
“Hey, girl,” Rory said. “Sorry I missed your call earlier. Issues with Morris’s father. Your message said you were at the doctor. Everything okay?”
“Yeah. It was nothing. Thanks for calling me. Look, I’m going to call you tomorrow. I’m at dinner right now.”
“Out? Like in a restaurant?”
“Yes. Me and Tanner.”
“About time Mr. Clucker got with the program. Wine and dine and maybe a sixty-nine. Something I swear by.”
I laughed. “Good night. I’ll talk to you later.” As I hung up, I accidentally hit the wrong button. It showed recent calls, many I didn’t recognize. They’d been blocked with a *67 too, so my number wouldn’t be identified. I dropped my cell back in my purse, too weary to worry about it now.
“Rory?” Tanner asked, already knowing the answer. I smiled and nodded. “At least the whore gives you a lift.”
“Tanner, I’ve told you how I feel about the name-calling. And just what’s that supposed to mean, anyway?”
“Nothing. I’m just ticked that she can bring the most energy out of you that I’ve seen in days. Just thought we could go out after this . . . see the sights. But sleep is all that’s on your mind.”
I sighed. He didn’t mean the riverfront or Cray Gardens. Visits to the spot he had in mind always left me feeling dirty. “How about next week?” I feebly offered.
“Can’t. I’ll be busy with the committee you just ignored. Remember?”
“I guess I’ll have to make it up to you.” I did my best to project enthusiasm, although I was never good at faking it. In order to fully please him, I almost had to become another person.
“Uh-huh,” he grunted as he looked at our entrées being brought over.
Although the rest of our meal was delicious, the conversation was limited.
Stunted
, perhaps, was a better word.
At least I’d be taking my sleep aid on a full stomach.
16
PUMPKIN
“
I
’m here,” I spoke into the receiver.
As I exited the cab at the Radisson, I admired the new Motorola cell phone I’d purchased. The custom color matched my eyes perfectly. Bianca’s old Nokia lacked a sense of style, just like her. At least with the money I now had, I would no longer have to use hers.
After tipping the cabdriver, I tightened the trench coat I was wearing.
Cold night tonight.
And I’m the coldest
, I whimsically thought from behind my designer shades as my stilettos one-two-stepped into the lobby.
The atrium was bisected by trails of guests returning from their evenings. It was that time for most. Drunken conventioneers, shuffling back to their beds with incredible tales of things terribly un-incredible. I stood in their midst, a rock dropped in the middle of swarming ants, parting the wave as I looked and waited.
Two characters looked out of place in the lobby— more Holiday Inn or Motel 6 types, if you asked me. The big black one looked like he had asthma . . . I could imagine an inhaler strapped inside his black leather jacket where a gun would probably go. The pale one looked to be Spanish or something, with a dash of
el negro
thrown in. Even though they huddled close, looking shifty, I didn’t figure them to be gay. They were waiting for someone too.
It had better not be Henry
, I thought. I started to call him, tell him I’d meet him in back or something.
But he was already emerging from the hallway elevator. A dark Italian suit was his choice for the night . . . my suggestion. He probably had to sneak back to his place to get it. I liked the cuff links he’d picked too. The man could be impressive if not for his shortcomings. Probably needed a good woman for guidance. He was a fun pastime and eager to please. Unfortunately he was a broke
and
broken man, and Pumpkin wasn’t one for reconstruction projects.
I buried the thought to motion to him. He’d already seen me, but I wanted him aware of the two men now standing. It was too late, so I decided to get to him first.
Grabbing his arm, I placed a kiss on him before he could inquire about my unusual appearance for our evening out.
“To your left,” I hissed for only him to hear. I felt the flinch go through his body, revealing who the architects of his pain were.
I tried to push him in the opposite direction, but his resolve seemed to strengthen.
“It’s all right,” he said calmly. “Just some friends of mine.”
I stayed in his arms, turning to face the ogres. We were in a hotel lobby, but you never knew what people were capable of. I was living testament to that.
“We’re going to be late,” I reminded him.
“Shit, Henry. That’s her, ain’t it?” The dark one’s mouth creased. Looked like he wanted to taste me. “Your window washer? Lupe, she’s . . .”
“Amazing,” Lupe finished. Yeah. I got that a lot. And that was before they felt the flow.
“Henry, shouldn’t you be out working on my money?”
“And shouldn’t you be out working on a diet?” I snapped. Sorry. Couldn’t help it. His ass had it coming. Henry’s grasp on me tightened.
“Bitch got a smart mouth, Henry.”
No, he did not just ignore me.
“Would love to put it to work.”
“You don’t know who you’re messing with, you fuckin’ frog,” I spat. “I will—”
Henry cut me off. “Kash, c’mon, man. I’m trying to have a nice evening with my woman. We can deal with this later.”
“Sure will, boy. And it ain’t gonna be fingers.” Lupe made a cracking sound.
“I gotcha, Kash. Don’t worry. You’re my boy. And I gotcha.” He patted Kash on his shoulder in an unusually calm, upbeat manner. He then led me away.
“Time is ticking, Henry.”
“I know. I know,” he answered, not bothering to look back.
As we sped away in his car, I had to know.
“What did you do with the money I gave you? I mean . . . you paid them, right?”
“Pumpkin, I don’t know where we’re going, but you are on fire.” He laughed like a madman.
“They wouldn’t have been there if you’d paid them. What the fuck did you do, Henry?” I groaned, briefly removing my shades.
“Relax. I did the smart thing. That would’ve only been an extension.” He slowed for construction on the turnpike. Once past, he accelerated again and continued with his train of thought. “Made an investment.”
I didn’t like it, didn’t like it at all. Men like that didn’t give many second chances. It looked to me like Henry was on his third.
He followed my instructions, arriving at the docks. I could sense his nervousness about the surroundings, the same as the night we’d met. Cute. A couple of turns on the uneven dark streets and we’d found a valet parking lot. It was unusual for the area and for the time of night, but he listened to me when I said it would be okay. After surrendering his keys to the fine sports car, we left down the adjacent alley on our journey.
“Kinda late for dinner?” he asked, probing in his own nervous yet cute way.
“Keep walking,” I said.
He stared, expecting something to jump from the shadows and crawl spaces all around us. A rat scurried by, on the hunt for a late-night snack. I heard Henry’s breathing change at the sight, but didn’t break my pace. Half a block farther, I suddenly stopped. My partner for the night, still looking around, ran into me. He wasn’t given a chance to apologize.
An imposing figure emerged from an unmarked door, amused at Henry’s routine.
I approached him.
“Invitation only, ma’am,” he said.
I lowered my shades, expecting the challenge. “You mean I came dressed up for nothing?” I undid the trench, revealing the French maid outfit to both him and Henry. “I thought I had an open invitation, seeing as I turned this place out last time I dropped by.”
When he was finished eyeing the merchandise I had on display, he smiled. His eyes came back to mine.
“Yeah. You’ve been here before.” He chuckled. “And with that kind of attitude, you can’t help but be welcome.” He stood aside, turning the knob and pulling the heavy old door ajar. Sounds greeted us from deep within, calling out to me. My heart began pumping, giving up its refrain. Leaving my trench undone, I entered. The doorman had let me past, but decided to press Henry some more . . . see if he really knew where he was, or if he really belonged. The suit certainly helped, but his jitters were a detriment. I could hear the questions playing in my companion’s head.
“He’s okay. He’s my prop for the night.” Shaking his head, the doorman granted Henry safe passage after checking his cast for anything that could be concealed.
Immediately upon entering, we descended the stairwell into the basement below.
“Is this a club?”
“Of a sort,” I said. Low, measured tones best for the evening.
“I’ve never heard of this place. And I’ve been everywhere in this town.”