Twisted Oak: A Sexual Odyssey (3 page)

I was carefully opening the door when I could hear Ty pleading, “Please, Sunny. I just thought that maybe you could give her a job at the bar, you know, the real deal as a barmaid or something. She’s a good kid that got caught up in bullshit back home. She wants to get clean and go legit.”

“Ty, you know that isn’t my call. I’m not sure I can do anything to help.”

“What the hell, Sunny? That kid about got herself killed last night. Is that how you roll now? You don’t give a shit? Where do you think you’d be if Mr. Delacroix had that attitude when he find you?”

The sound of the slap was loud; I jumped and almost dropped my pack. Memories of my mother falling victim to so many men flooded my mind. I wanted to run and hide, find a safe place, but I was in unfamiliar territory. I had to settle for a safe place within myself, but my emotional wall was thin, my sack full of mortar empty: my heroin was gone.

“I’m sorry, sir. Oh lawd, I am so sorry.”

“Ty, that hurt me more than it hurt you. I promise.”

“I know it was a hurtful thing to say. Please forgive me,” Ty said quietly.

Sunny’s voice softened. “You were kind to the girl and she is sweet. Let’s see what Mr. Delacroix has to say when he gets back. He may have a position for her.”

“I have to go. I can’t stay. I’ll just leave her.” Ty’s voice was shaking.

“Oh, no, you won’t. You found her. She is your responsibility. You’ll stay right here.”

“Sunny . . .”

“Ty, get yourself together. He’ll be here soon,” Sunny said.

“She ain’t mine, Sunny.”

“Well, she ain’t mine, either. Now sit up!” Sunny’s voice was harsh again. “And really, Ty, the Ebonics has got to stop, especially when Mr. Delacroix gets here.”

I heard Sunny get up and so I walked into the living room trying to pretend not to have heard the conversation. “Ty, you okay? You don’t look so good,” I said.

“Yeah, cher, I’m fine. I’m fine like powdered cocaine.” He smiled a sad smile, his face reddened by the hitting.

Sunny walked in looking as beautiful and relaxed as ever. You would never know he just beat a man half his size. The tray he carried had four coffee cups and spoons, a large French press, cream, and sugar. “Shall we sit on the balcony and wait for Mr. Delacroix?”

Ty and I followed obediently and sat in the morning sun around a small iron table. Sunny poured cream in the cups and then filled them to the brim with coffee. The caramel-colored concoction was, indeed, the best cup of coffee I had ever tasted, but I was afraid to ask why, so we sipped in silence. Ty kept his head low and I worked to keep my hands steady.

“No sugar, Ty.”

“Yes, sir.”

Moments passed quickly as the juggler came by and a man played the guitar for us. A young woman waved hello to Sunny and knew him by name. I felt like royalty looking down on loyal subjects, like nothing could touch me or affect me.

Sunny gasped and gazed toward the alleyway where Ty said Mr. Delacroix had found him. I followed Sunny’s gaze and my eyes fell on a tanned shirtless man donning red running shorts and black running shoes. His thick, dark hair was sticky with sweat and morning shadow darkened his jawline. The people cleared a path, as it seemed he expected them to. Seven hundred years ago, I would have heard the words, “The King approaches!” but it was 1987 in New Orleans, where the only kings were Mardi Gras kings and even they were clowns.

I never dreamed Mr. Delacroix would be so young and beautiful. Even from there, I could see and feel his electric blue eyes. I understood why Sunny gasped in admiration, but I did not understand why Ty cowered.

“Let me do the talking,” Sunny instructed as he rose to press the button that unlocked the gate below.

I looked at Ty and he smiled. “Now ya know where I get it. Just hush and be honest when he aks you somethin’. You be okay. Jus’ wait till he aks.”

I could not tell if Ty was talking to me, or himself. He was shaking like a leaf. I squeezed his hand to let him know I would be okay and he quickly drew it away.

“Don’t be touchin’ nobody,” he said.

Sunny was standing at the door with a glass of water when Mr. Delacroix arrived breathless and sweaty. Delacroix was almost as tall as Sunny, but not quite. His body was as solid and wide as Sunny’s, all hard muscle and sinew, but his complexion was darker. His forearm flexed as he drank from the glass. Sunny handed him a towel to wipe his face and neck. Mr. Delacroix handed Sunny the empty water glass, flung the towel around his neck, and walked past Sunny without a word, holding each end of the towel with hands that were strong like a boxer’s, but soft like a woman’s.

“Ty, what have we here?” Mr. Delacroix’s voice was steady, cordial, and steely with an essence of the South. His eyes fell to mine and my heart stopped. They
are
electric.

“Good morning, Mr. Delacroix,” Ty stammered.

“Tyrone, it’s a glorious morning, indeed. Now tell me about your friend. Where did you find her?”

My thoughts were reeling. Sunny was just like Delacroix and Ty was just like Sunny. A bicycle bell went off in the square. I felt like Alice in Wonderland sitting with the Mad Hatter, the Dormouse, and the White Rabbit. The dizziness came in waves.

“Mr. Delacroix, I find . . . found her on the other side over near Washington Park this morning around four-thirty. She say she . . . said she was hungry.”

Mr. Delacroix glared at him impatiently. “Ty,” Mr. Delacroix said sweetly, “you’re such a bright and beautiful and talented young man.” His tone turned to disgust. “If only you could speak.”

The electric blue eyes laser-pointed at Sunny and Sunny looked away. “It makes Sunny look bad too. It was his project to break you of that street trash talk, and it looks like he failed.”

The moments of silence that followed were heavy and thick. I felt physically weighed down.

“Tyrone, you found her near Washington Park and she said . . .”

Without lifting his eyes from the floor, Ty recounted slowly, in very nearly perfect grammar, the story of our early morning odyssey. Mr. Delacroix stood behind Ty’s chair. Ty closed his eyes and jumped when Mr. Delacroix’s hands fell on his shoulders, but when Mr. Delacroix stroked his face and neck and kissed the top of his head, he melted into the caramel goo I had seen when Sunny kissed him earlier.

“See, Tyrone, how wonderful you can sound? I don’t think you realize the nature of your voice. It’s a gift that you should not ruin with that black boy vernacular.” His fingers went white as he squeezed Ty’s shoulders. I could see Ty’s body shudder. “Sunny, this coffee’s gone cold. What does my day look like?”

“Sir, you’ve got a meeting at the exchange at nine-thirty and then your afternoon is blocked from twelve-thirty to two-thirty for meetings at Twisted Oak.”

“Okay, Sunny. You know this means I’ll need you here by six. Don’t be late and don’t be distracted.”

“Yes, sir,” Sunny said.

“I know you have business at the bar, so I’ll free you by eight.” He sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if that bar is a good idea. For the time being, I’d like a fresh pot of coffee and my regular breakfast ready by the time I get out of the shower. And keep your schedule open today unless I tell you otherwise. I may have a project for you. Tyrone, I’d like to speak to you alone regarding the treasure you’ve found,” he said with a wide, gleaming smile that set his blue eyes off like rockets. He glanced at me with intense curiosity. “Come, Tyrone, it looks like you’re my personal valet this morning.”

I was puzzled when Ty followed Mr. Delacroix without hesitation down the hallway and into the master bedroom. I thought he did not like Delacroix and I could have sworn he was terrified a moment ago. Sunny cleared the table. I watched the circus in the square, not knowing what else to do, and became fascinated by the palm readers. Maybe I could learn how to do that.

“So, Susan,” Sunny said as he sat down next to me, “what do you think about our freak show circus?”

I was not sure if he meant the goings-on in the square or the goings-on in the apartment, so I decided to be diplomatic. Everything was becoming a blur. “It’s all very interesting to me.”

“Certainly this is better than the youth hostel. I’ve been in that rat-infested roach motel and I assure you that Ty has done you a great service by bringing you here. In this family, we’re in the business of helping folks just like you reach their highest potential.”

“Family?” I asked. My head was swimming now.

“Mr. Delacroix, if he chooses, will explain it all to you in good time. In the meantime, let yourself relax. You’ve found yourself in the safest place in New Orleans. I want you to know that whatever happens today, whatever decisions you make over the next few days will change your life one way or the other in dramatic fashion. Rest now. That way, when the time comes, you can think thoroughly with eyes wide open.”

I needed some rest all right; nothing seemed to make much sense to me.

He went to the kitchen and I heard the clang of pots and utensils and the fridge open and close. A cupboard opened, shut, and water began to run. I was feeling tired and every inch of my body ached. I wondered if Ty could score me something. I hated the feeling of withdrawal.

Ty and Mr. Delacroix entered the living room and walked toward the French doors. “Like I said, Mr. Delacroix, I don’t lay no claim to anything. I only ask you to please live up to your side of the deal.” Ty’s melodious voice boomed; he sounded like a different person.

“Would you prefer something in writing? I’ve got something handy that I can easily produce right now.”

“No, sir. Verbal is fine. I trust you.”

“Thank you, Ty, I know you do.”

They shook hands and hugged like brothers. “I know I’ve done the right thing, Mr. Delacroix.”

“You’re a good friend. I’ll make sure she understands that from the get-go.”

The two men joined me on the bright balcony. It was getting warm, and sweat was beginning to make my jeans stick to my legs. I was feeling slightly sick.

“Susan,” Mr. Delacroix spoke gently to me, “what exactly brings you to New Orleans?” His eyes in the sunlight were bright blue. “You can be honest with me about everything. What happened to you?”

I was visibly shaking now and it was hard to think clearly. “I’m not sure where to start because I don’t know where it really started. My life’s always been fucked up. I tried hard to stay legit with my job, but it didn’t pay, and then I got tied up with some drug dealers.”

“Tied up?” he asked urgently.

“Well, not tied up literally. I mean tied up financially. And I think I got addicted.” This was the first time I had admitted to this. I felt relieved and ashamed. My stomach hurt.

“Addicted to what, Susan? You can tell me. There are no judgments here, not in my house.”

I glanced at Ty, and Sunny looked at me sympathetically. They had both worn my shoes and look at them now, so beautiful and successful. It was clear they owed their success to Mr. Delacroix.

“If you want my help,” he began, and I was sure he was reading my thoughts.

“I do want help.”

“That’s the first step, then, isn’t it? And your friend here, Tyrone, he brought you to the right place. Don’t ever forget how he saved you, okay? Can you say thank you to Tyrone for me?” Mr. Delacroix asked, sipping his coffee.

“Oh, Ty.” The tears came from nowhere. I never cried, and now I felt like a fool. “Ty, thank you so much.”

Mr. Delacroix nodded to Ty as if giving him permission to hug me and I fell into his arms with relief. Ty held me as I lay my head in his lap. My head hurt so bad it felt like someone had taken an axe to it. I could feel fingers taking the ponytail out of my hair. I did not care.

“Susan, you have to sit up because we have to have this conversation now.” Mr. Delacroix’s voice was firm, but soft around the edges like southern grass or clouds.

I dragged my sore head out of Ty’s warm nest and sat as best I could on the hard iron chair in the harsh sunlight. Ty continued to rub my back.

“Susan, I can take care of you. I think it’s best if you stay here for a few days until you’re feeling better, but I need to know what you’re coming down off of so I can be prepared.”

I know I must have looked terrified, but Ty assured me, “Cher, he know what he doin’.”

“Ty,” Sunny said, “speak well or don’t speak at all. We all know you can.”

“Sorry, sir,” Tyrone said. “Susan, Mr. Delacroix has helped so many people like you and he is good at it. He can help make you better.”

“Just mostly cocaine, but I was into barbiturates, too, and something else to help me sleep. Now I’m just a damned mess and I can’t seem to do anything.”

I could not bring myself to be fully honest about my drug use. Heroin was a large part of my problem, but was it that bad? Maybe I was lying to myself.

“I’m here, Susan. I’ll see you through this, but you have to trust me.” Mr. Delacroix’s voice was earnest and his eyes filled with . . . what was it? Hope? He was so dear in that moment, so real with me. He asked, “How long has it been since you’ve used?”

“I don’t know. I can’t remember.” Another lie. How could I be honest with a complete stranger? I began sobbing again. My arms hurt.

“Let’s take this one moment at a time for now, beginning with new friends having breakfast, okay?”

“Okay,” I whispered, “thank you.” I shivered even though I was sweating.

Mr. Delacroix looked down to his plate of three eggs, one sitting in a small cup with the others lying on their sides, and a few fresh raspberries scattered around artfully. Sunny poured the coffee as he had earlier: first the cream, and then the coffee. Ty gladly took another cup when Sunny handed it over, and Mr. Delacroix gingerly capped the top off his egg with a knife and sprinkled pepper on the inside.

“Ty, did she use when she was with you?” he asked.

“No, sir, not one bit. She seemed okay, but it was fucked up, her being out that time of day, especially where she was headed. God, we don’t even wanna know what coulda happen.”

“So this means it’s at least six or seven hours without if you found her at four-thirty like you said.”

“Yes, sir, it was right at four-thirty. I checked when I saw her because I couldn’t believe my eyes when I seen a white girl just then in that place.”

“Thank you, Ty. You’re excused. Go to the hostel and collect Susan’s things, as she’ll be moving in here.”

“Oh, there’s no need to do that,” I said. “All my stuff’s in my bag.”

All eyes were on me and not a word was spoken.

“Susan, don’t interrupt,” Mr. Delacroix finally said in a matter-of-fact tone.

I took the cup with trembling hands and sipped the magic potion. “Sorry.”

Ty leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Cher, remember what I said about waiting to be aksd?”

“Tyrone, the word is
asked
,” Sunny said.

Mr. Delacroix interjected, “Okay, Tyrone, I suppose you’re off the hook. Sunny, you’ve got your project now and its name is Susan. I think you know what to do. Recall fondly your first days here with Miss Collette; how she cared for you.”

Did I sense a wave of sadness in those blue eyes?

“Sir, shall I have her ready at six as well?” Sunny asked.

Mr. Delacroix laid a tender hand on Sunny’s cheek. “Ah, na-na, cher, that’s our time. Just you and me. But I have to run now because I can’t be late.”

Mr. Delacroix was so dark and beautiful, and Sunny was a boy god surrounded in light. A trombone cried out from the square and people cheered. All I wanted was one pill to make me smaller.