Then Sings My Soul Read online

  It almost cut my heart in two to think about that. I went home feeling worse than before I came. Only this time Sadie had planted a seed that Willie Joe's actions fertilized. There's nothing worse than a suspicious wife. Every time I looked at my husband, all I could see was him taking another woman to bed and me carrying his child. I didn't like myself then because I lived and breathed just to find out who he was cheating with. I searched his clothes for telltale signs. One day I called in sick from work and followed him. When I discovered he was going to Sadie's place, I nearly died. I told him what I'd learned when he came in that evening. He was shocked to find me home. We had a big fight. I told him to get out and I never wanted to see him again. He got down on his knees and begged me to forgive him.

  "I don't know what's happening to me. I don't want to cheat on you. I love you," he pleaded. "I just can't help myself. Please. Give me another chance. I promise it'll get better."

  I thought about our baby. What chance would I have trying to raise a child alone? And besides, I still loved him. I told him he could stay.

  Chapter 23 - Hazel

  The doorbell rang and Hazel, thinking it was the girls, opened it without asking the usual, "Who is it?" or looking through the peephole. There stood two men, one short and the other tall, both overweight, ugly and wearing rumbled suits that looked as if they'd slept in them. The short one flashed a badge.

  "I'm Detective Garvey and this is my partner, Detective Bowler. We'd like to ask you a few questions. May we come in?"

  Hazel's heart jumped. She clutched the collar of her robe. "Has something happened to one of my girls?" she asked in a trembling voice.

  "No Ma'am. May we come in? It won't take long. We'd just like to ask you a few questions?"

  Hazel stood aside to allow the two men to enter. Detective Garvey sat down on the couch. From his breast pocket, he withdrew a small notepad and pen. Detective Bowler, the taller of the two, walked over to the window and glanced down at the street. He took out his handkerchief, blew into it, stuffed it into his back pocket and leaned against the wall. Hazel noticed he was carefully surveying the room.

  She sat on the arm of the chair, wondering if they could hear her heart thump.

  "Do you know a Donald Porter?" Garvey asked.

  A wave of relief flooded her. It's about Donald, not my girls.

  "Yes, he's my ex-husband," she responded.

  "Have you seen him lately?" Garvey did the talking while Bowler moved from the window to peer at the photographs hanging on the wall.

  Hazel's mind raced. "Is he in some kind of trouble?"

  "Let's just say we want to ask him some questions. It's nothing that concerns you, Ma'am."

  "When was the last time you saw him?" Bowler asked, standing near the kitchen door and peering in.

  Hazel, recovering her composure, straightened her shoulders. "It's been a while," she said vaguely. What was Donald into now? Whatever it was she needed to find out.

  "If you see him or hear from him, give us a call," Garvey said as he struggled to get off the couch.

  "Can you tell me what this is about?"

  "Sorry to disturb you, Ma'am," Garvey said ignoring her. He strode to the door. Bowler followed. Garvey reached into his breast pocket and handed her his card. They left.

  After closing the door, Hazel went to the closet and picked up the box with Donald's mail. The box was almost full. She had expected him a few days ago as he came every two weeks; however, it had been weeks since she'd last seen him. Having no way to get in touch with her ex- husband, she was torn whether to open the envelopes or throw them away. Oh well, she thought, replacing the box. It's his problem. But this is the last time he's going to use my address.

  The ringing phone startled her

  "Hey Baby." It was Donald.

  "Two detectives were here looking for you."

  "What did you tell them?"

  "I didn't tell them anything. I don't know anything. Donald, what have you been up to?"

  "I told you I'm in business. It's legit. I swear."

  "Well, you'd better take your legit business somewhere else because I'm not going to have my home used as your mailbox anymore."

  "Yeah, I know. I was calling to tell you I got my post office box."

  "That's good. So when are you coming to pick up your mail?"

  "There's a slight problem. I can't get over there. You gotta do me a favor. Could you bring it to me?"

  "Why can't you come and get it?"

  "I don't have transportation at the moment."

  "What happened to the BMW? Donald, what are you really up to?"

  "I'll explain it to you when you come. Can you meet me at ten o'clock tonight at the pier in Santa Monica?"

  "Are you kidding? You're asking me to drive all the way to Santa Monica at ten tonight? You must be crazy."

  "Hey, you want to get rid of me, right? This is the last time, I swear, Baby. I won't bother you no more."

  If this is what it takes to get rid of him, I'll do it, she reasoned. She thought about asking Kevin if he'd go with her. After calling him and getting no answer, she left a message for him to call her. The door opened and Shanell walked in.

  "Young lady. Where have you been? It's 6:30."

  "Over at my friend's house,"Shanell answered, throwing down her backpack and heading for the kitchen. Hazel knew she should get on Shanell about coming in so late, but her mind was still racing about the police's visit and Donald's call.

  She prepared a tray for her mother, and then went into the kitchen to continue cooking dinner. As she entered the kitchen, she heard Tricia singing.

  "Got a gig tonight, Mom. This may be my lucky break."

  Tricia peered under the lid of the pot and stuck a fork in to taste the stew Hazel had simmering. Shanell was cutting up salad greens. Tricia grabbed a slice of tomato. Her sister didn't protest.

  "Tricia, stop that!" Hazel said. "Dinner's almost ready. Set the table and tonight is your turn to wash dishes."

  "I'll wash them when I get back from the gig." Tricia continued to sing as she set the table. "Can we make this quick. I've gotta get dressed."

  Dinner was a quiet affair. Hazel couldn't concentrate; her mind on Donald and the police. Shanell's was on her day at Gloria's. Tricia's was on tonight's engagement. When they finished their meal, Shanell helped Hazel clear the table while Tricia went to her room to get dressed.

  At 9:30 Hazel started out for Santa Monica. It was a mild evening; stars filled the sky; a bright moon bathed the street in shadows. There was little traffic as she drove along Venice Blvd. to Lincoln. She turned off on Ocean Avenue and down a side street where she searched for a place to park. She was still a ways from the pier, which was lit up with the newly restored merry-go-round, eateries and wall-to-wall people. A gentle breeze blew against her skin.

  Though it was late April, Hazel shivered as she strode quickly towards the pier. How was she going to find Donald in this crowd? She'd put his mail in a shopping bag. Carrying it to the end of the pier, she stopped near the railing and waited not daring to sit down on the benches stained with the remains of the day's fishing, and the droppings from the gulls. Few people ventured to the end of the pier at this time of night.

  The food kiosk was closed and stood like an abandoned hovel. A few lovers, their arms tightly around each other's waist, kissed, stood for a while, and then walked back to the lights and the crowd.

  She noticed a man coming towards her. At first she thought it was Donald but as he passed under a lamppost, she saw he was thin, medium height, and sported a beard. He wore a dark blue hoodie, and of all things, dark glasses. She wondered how he could see. Stopping a few yards from her, he lit a cigarette. She began to feel uneasy as she turned away. If Donald isn't here in five minutes, I'm leaving, she thought. Glancing down at her watch she saw that it was 10:15. When she turned around, she had the strangest feeling that the man had moved closer. Maybe it was her imagination.

  She thought about the
girls at home and the argument that had broken out over Tricia's dress. She couldn't find her new dress or something like that. She had accused Shanell of taking it. Tricia had turned the place upside down looking for it. To quiet the storm, Hazel loaned her a dress she could no longer wear. It had gotten too snug. Reluctantly, Tricia put it on. She looked pretty good in it, and with her face made up, she looked older than her seventeen years. Hazel cautioned her to be careful and as usual, she waved her mother off. "Oh Momma, You worry too much. I can take care of myself."

  The man had moved closer, Hazel wasn't mistaken. Now he was barely an arm's length away. Suddenly he reached out for the shopping bag.

  "Gimme that!" he said, as he tried to grab her arm. His breath smelled of liquor. Jerking her arm away, she swung at the man with her purse hitting him in the head. He stumbled. Just then a couple appeared from the other side of the darkened kiosk seemingly unaware of what was happening. Hazel didn't wait. She began to run back towards the lights and the people, and didn't stop until she reached her car.

  Once inside, she locked the doors and drove, her body trembling, not sure where she was going. When she stopped her car in front of Kevin's apartment, she was still shaking. Once inside, he held her in his arms until her heart stopped racing and her breathing slowed.

  "Drink this," he said, handing her a shot glass of Southern Comfort. The mellow liquor coursed through her body warming her insides and relieving the tension. She relaxed in Kevin's arms with her head on his shoulder, not speaking for almost ten minutes.

  "Now, tell me what happened," he asked gently. She told him about her appointment to meet Donald that evening at the pier, about the police earlier that day, and about the man who grabbed her arm.

  "I don't see the connection. Some drunk tried to steal your bag. That happens all the time especially that time of night. You know you shouldn't have been out there alone in the first place."

  "What was I gonna do, Kevin? I just want to get rid of Donald once and for all."

  "You don't owe him anything. You shouldn't have agreed to accept his mail. You told me he was a hustler. Why would you let yourself become involved with him again?"

  Hazel listened patiently while he scolded her. Then she said, "You're right. I overreacted." She got up to leave. "I must be watching too much television."

  She turned down his suggestion that she stay the night. "You've got to be up early in the morning to catch a flight. Besides, Shanell's home with Ma'dear and I need to get back."

  "What are you going to do about his mail? If I were you, I'd toss it. Like I said, you don't owe him a thing." He walked her to her car and kissed her deeply. "I'll call you when I get back." He had to fly to San Francisco in the morning on an assignment.

  It was midnight by the time Hazel reached her door. Tricia hadn't gotten in yet, she noted with annoyance. Shanell and her mother were asleep. She undressed for bed, but before settling down she went into the kitchen and dumped the contents of the shopping bag onto the table. Then she began to open the envelopes.

  Chapter 24 -Tricia

  What a night! When I found my brand new, never-worn dress balled up in the back of the closet, I was ready to kill Shanell. She pretended that she didn't know anything about it but who else woulda done that? So finally, she admitted that she did it and even apologized. Momma put her on punishment, but that didn't help me. I needed something to wear that would make me look older and sexy. Momma dug into her closet and pulled out one of her classy dresses that she wore when she and Kevin went out nightclubbing. She said it had gotten too tight. It was a sleeveless, lime green velvet shift with a scoop neck and fringes along the hemline. Since I was a little bit smaller than she was, she pinned it up and when she was through, it didn't look half bad though my own dress would have been just right. She loaned me a pair of her earrings and single strand pearl necklace and helped me do up my hair. I slid my feel into a pair of wedgies that made me look taller and accented my legs.

  "Now, don't go thinking you're grown because you're still underage," she said.

  "But Momma, I'm almost eighteen."

  "Not for another month. You be back at a decent hour." She made me turn me around and nodded her approval.

  I called Gracie and told her I was on my way to her house. I didn't have to wait long for a bus, and thank goodness, it wasn't crowded. When I got to her apartment, Gracie was putting the finishing touches on her makeup. She wore a low-cut green sweater that showed plenty of cleavage, and a long black skirt that had a split that went up to her thigh.

  "Girl, where'd you get that dress? It's jamming," she said as she walked around me. I told her it was my mother's. "My mom never had clothes that look like that.

  "When we get to making some real money, we can start buying outfits that match. For now, we do the best we can." She stepped into some high heel black shoes. "These are gonna kill my feet, but what the hell. It's only for tonight." She grabbed a pair of sandals, "just in case. On second thought...." She changed from the high heels to the sandals. "Until we get there."

  I redid my makeup, adding more mascara and rouge. Gracie combed my hair into a different style and I had to admit I looked good. We got into her car and she drove over to Kanisha's.

  "Wait here while I run up and get her," Gracie said as she parked in front of Kanisha's building. It was almost 7:45 and already my stomach was bubbling over with that nervousness I always got when I had to perform. Somebody said that was good because when you're on edge, you do better than when you're all relaxed. I certainly wasn't relaxed. When I spotted a group of guys hanging out near the end of the block, I checked to make sure all the doors were locked and prayed they didn't notice me. I slid down low in the seat. The last thing I needed was to be hassled.

  Suddenly I heard Gracie calling me. I rolled down the window and looked up. She yelled for me to come up. She needed my help. After locking the car, I walked up to Kanisha's apartment on the third floor. Gracie opened the door quickly and I followed her to the bedroom. Sure enough, Kanisha was stretched out on the bed sound asleep.

  "Damn door was wide open and she's half dressed and dead to the world. Can you believe it?" Gracie shook her and yelled at her while I went into the kitchen and made some instant coffee.

  We managed to get her dressed and poured the coffee down her throat. Though she was still high, at least she was awake enough to help a little. Between Gracie and me, we got her into the car. By the time we reached the club, she seemed to have gotten herself together. Both Gracie and me decided that this was the last gig we'd do with Kanisha. Talk about being pissed off!

  The nightclub was crowded; the air thick with cigarette smoke and a mixture of smells, alcohol, perfume, cologne and who knows what else. A man reached out for my hand as I tried to keep up with Gracie and Kanisha on our way to the stage. We passed a table full of women who looked us up and down. One of them whispered to the other and they burst out laughing. "Don't pay them no mind. They just jealous," Gracie said.

  Just then I heard the announcer introducing Big Jim. The big man, dressed in a white suit, mopped his brow as he walked out on the small stage. We put our things down behind a curtain and rushed after him. Three stools were set up along the side, near the back of the stage. That's where we sat- out of the spotlight with three mikes in front of us.

  We were seated by the time people stopped clapping. Big Jim started off with his hit, "You got me blowing my mind over you." The crowd loved it. I looked over at Gracie. We were thinking the same thing. Once on stage, even though we were in the shadows, it was like magic. Suddenly Kanisha was wide-awake and on fire. That's the way she was. We didn't have any trouble following Big Jim. Everything went great. The feeling in the air was electric.

  Between sets, I saw Hi C at the bar talking to a lady. They were holding hands and he was whispering in her ear. I didn't hang around. I followed Gracie, Kanisha and the bass player to the alley behind the club where they lit up. The bass player passed around a pint of whiskey and
a joint. Gracie and Kanisha took a swallow. They didn't offer me any.

  When the gig was over, Kanisha told us about a party going on across town. Gracie was ready. She was always ready to party. I remembered my promise to be home at a decent hour so I said, "I think I'd better go home."

  "Take the little kid home before her mommy comes looking for her," Kanisha said.

  Gracie turned to me. "I'm not gonna stay long, but if you're sure you want to go home, I'll drop you off." I felt bad about spoiling their fun so I gave in.

  We all piled into the drummer's car. Everybody was in a good mood, even Kanisha. The party was at somebody's apartment in Compton and it was in full swing by the time we got there. The place was wall-to-wall people, loud and stuffy. Some people sat on a gray couch that looked like it had seen better days, some leaned up against the wall, a few even sat on the floor. About three couples in the center of the room tried to dance. The music was so loud you had to yell to be heard. I stuck close to Gracie. Kanisha disappeared somewhere. Somebody passed around a bottle. "Try it, just a sip," Gracie said. I frowned. "Come on, Tricia, loosen up."

  I took a sip. It tasted terrible; I almost gagged. Then Gracie handed me a glass of soda.

  "Dump the liquor in. It'll taste better."

  I felt myself relaxing and before long I was laughing like a fool. I was surprised when Hi C came up and asked me to dance. I hadn't even noticed him there. It was a slow song playing on the stereo and he held me so tight I felt like I was gonna pass out. I thought about Darien and wished he was here. I rested my head on Hi C's shoulder and felt him nuzzling my neck. I didn't stop his hands sliding over my butt.

  "So, Jailbait. What's your next move?" he whispered. His breath smelled like cigarettes and spearmint gum.