Then Sings My Soul Read online

  Chapter 35 - Tricia

  "Tricia, phone," Momma called. As I took it from her, she gave me a dark look. "It's some man." She stood by with her hands on her hips. I covered the receiver and gave her a pleading look. After glaring at me, she went back into the kitchen, .

  "Hello," I said, hoping it was Darien. I hadn't heard from him in a long while.

  "Was that your mother? Is she as pretty as you?"

  The last person I expected to hear from again was Hi C. His deep voice sent shivers up and down my spine.

  "I was thinking about you. Have you been thinking about me? What are you doing this evening?"

  I hated to tell him I was doing my homework. It sounded so juvenile. "Oh nothing. Just watching TV."

  "I got somebody I want you to meet. I'd like him to hear you sing. Can you be ready in a half hour?"

  "No problem," I said and gave him my address. I was so excited I didn't even think of Momma having any objections.

  "Not on a week night, you're not. And not with a grown man I've never met," Momma said, putting her foot down firmly.

  "Please. Just this once. It may be my one and only chance."

  "When I say no, I mean no! Tricia, school comes first. Or it should. Now I don't want to hear any more about this. When this Mr. Hi C. comes to the door, I'll talk to him."

  I went into my room and slammed the door. I couldn't believe it. She never stopped me before. Momma had always encouraged me to pursue my dreams. Now, all of a sudden, she pulls this! I was mad. "I'm going anyway," I told myself. "I'm almost eighteen. I can handle myself."

  I dressed, slipped out the door and ran down the stairs. When Hi C pulled up in a beat-up T-Bird, I hopped in.

  He let out a low whistle. "Whatachu know, Miss Jailbait?" he reached over and closed the door. Without saying another word, a lighted cigarette dangling between his lips, he pressed on the gas and we took off, racing across town to the 10 Freeway. I kept my eyes focused on the road, my right hand gripping the seat. In my mind's eye I could just see the headlines, "Teenager killed in a car crash. The driver must have been doing 90 when the car hit the center divider."

  We got off on Central Ave in front of a club on 54th. I wondered if my legs would hold me as I reached for the door.

  "Wait, lemme get that." Hi C jumped out and ran over to my side. "You can't open the door from inside."

  Somehow I managed to stand up without falling. My knees were shaking as I walked beside him into the club. From behind a curtain separating the entrance from the main room, I heard music. I hesitated. "Will they let me in?"

  He put an arm around my waist and gently pulled me along with him. "Don't worry. It's okay."

  "I don't know. I'll have to think about it," I told Hi C as he drove me back home. It had been an unbelievable two hours. I had a chance to sing solo and be backed up by Hi C and his new band. I knew all the words to the songs they played. We started out with "Saving All My Love for You," my favorite by Whitney Houston. Then I sang Chaka Khan's, 'I'm Every Woman." With each song, my confidence grew so that by the time I sang Donna Summers, "Last Dance," the people got up and grooved to the music. The crowd was great. I mean, it was like my dreams had come true. I felt like I was on my way. I could see doors opening.

  "We got a gig in San Diego next week. Can you get away?" Hi C asked.

  I thought about graduation. I was so close. Next month I'd walk down that aisle, get that piece of paper, and be done with it.

  "Yes. I will. I'll go with you."

  "Good. I'll call you with the details," he said. He stopped the car in front of my building and came around to let me out. "If only you were a little older," he whispered in my ear. Squeezing me to him, he pecked me on the cheek, jumped back into his car and was gone before I could catch my breath.

  "Tricia, is that you?" I turned around and standing a few feet away was Darien. I felt weak.

  "What are you doing here?" I jumped. He moved closer.

  "I was just walking by. On my way to see a friend who lives near here. What are you doing out this late? And who was that guy. You're dating older guys now?"

  I started to tell him about my evening with Hi C. Then, I hesitated. It wasn't none of his business. "It's late and I gotta go in."

  "Look, Tricia. It's been a long time. Can I call you?"

  "If you want." I started up the steps. Unlocking the outer door, I glanced back and saw him halfway down the block. He turned to wave.

  I couldn't believe it. What a night! I thought. I skipped up the stairs, almost reaching our apartment when I remembered. Momma will probably ground me for this. Then again, maybe she'll be happy for me when she hears the news. Yeah right, I opened the door as quietly as I could. Luckily the apartment was dark. Everybody was asleep, I hoped. I breathed a deep sigh and rushed to my room. I started to undress in the dark when suddenly the light came on.

  "Where've you been? We've been looking all over for you." Shanell said, rubbing her eyes and stretching. "You're in trouble. Momma's ‘bout to have a fit."

  "You'll never believe it. Hi C took me over to a club across town and I sang. He wants me to go with them to San Diego. This could be the break I've been waiting for." I got into my pajamas and jumped into bed.

  "San Diego? How you gonna get there? And what about school? Momma's not gonna let you go. You know that."

  I didn't want to think about that. I was so filled up; I still hadn't come down. "Is Momma asleep?" I asked turning out the light.

  "No. She got a call from Donald. He told her to meet him somewhere and she rushed out."

  I bolted up. "From Donald? And she rushed out?" I felt my stomach turn over. "You shouldn't have let her go. This is bad. I leaped out of bed and started to put on my jeans and tee shirt. "What time did she leave? And where did she say she as going?"

  "I don't know. She didn't say. There's nothing you can do. She told me to stay here and watch Ma'dear."

  As I tied my sneakers, I suddenly realized I had no idea where Momma went.

  "You're scaring me," said Shanell. "She don't have nothing to be afraid of from Donald, does she?"

  "I don't know. I hope not." I sat back down on the bed, a helpless feeling washed over me.

  Chapter 36 - Hazel

  Neon lights from The Blue Flame were the only illumination on the otherwise dark street. Hazel hurried toward the bar on the corner. The closest parking space was half a block away. A man and woman stood outside the door arguing. As Hazel approached she heard snatches of their conversation. "But Baby, I didn't know she was your sister..." "Like hell you didn't. If I ever catch you even so much as looking her way..."

  The smoke hit Hazel in the face, thick and suffocating; the smell of stale alcohol assaulted her nostrils. She peered through the haze at her surroundings, searching for Donald. The bar had quite a few patrons considering it was a weeknight. Over in the corner Bobby Blue Bland sobbed from the jukebox muting the conversations.

  "Oh Baby, Won't you come back home...."

  At the end of the bar sat two men, their heads together in an animated exchange. Perched on a bar stool at the other end, a woman dressed in a tight fitting short dress gazed indifferently at Hazel as she blew a long stream of smoke into the air. Hazel drifted toward the back table where she saw a man hunched over his drink, his head bobbing to the music, his shoulders moving to the rhythm. He wore a hat pulled low over his brow. As she neared him, his head went up and he smiled at her, his mouth spreading into a gold toothy grin. She stopped midway.

  "Hazel." she heard a voice near her whisper. "Over here." She turned and there, standing in the shadows beside a door marked "exit," stood Donald. Hazel could barely make him out, his head, a silhouette outlined by the red neon exit sign. He clutched her elbow and steered her to a small table beside the jukebox.

  "Beer okay with you?" he asked. "Be right back."

  She pulled a tissue from her purse and wiped the table where someone had spilled liquid and pushed aside the empty glasses. Taking out
her cigarettes, she lit one and blew the smoke into the already smoke-filled air. The tightness in her stomach began to ease as she waited for Donald to return. He came back with two frosted tall glasses and two bottles of Guinness. He set them down and cleared the other empty glasses and bottles from the table, moving them to a vacant nearby one.

  Hazel observed her ex-husband, noticing how much thinner he looked than when she had seen him last. His jacket looked worn. She saw a stain on his shirt collar. His fingers were no longer encircled with flashy rings. His shoes were scuffed, and his face, usually smooth shaven, was covered with stubble. When he looked over at her, she noticed nervousness in his manner.

  As he sat down beside her, an unwashed smell permeating his clothes made Hazel instinctively move back a fraction of an inch. She hoped he didn't notice.

  "Did you bring the book?" He asked in a low voice.

  "Yes," she patted her purse. "Listen Donald, I don't appreciate you involving me and the girls in whatever business you got going." She glanced around to see if anyone was near. "Did you have anything to do with your partner's murder?" she whispered.

  "No. Believe me, I didn't."

  "Well, what's this all about? If you don't tell me, I'm going to the police." As if she would. With disgust she thought about the article she'd seen in the newspaper. The article on the back page of the Times reported on the discovery of a body, "Leonard Foster, found stabbed to death in his office. Two black females seen fleeing the building are being sought in connection with the murder."

  "Believe me, Baby. I'm more sorry than you'll ever know about getting you involved in this. When this thing straightens out, I'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you and the girls."

  "When this thing is over, I hope I never see you again."

  "I can't say as I blame you," he said. Suddenly he smiled at her and reached for her hand. For a minute, Hazel saw the old Donald emerging in his smooth, easy-going manner. She pulled her hand away.

  "Tell me what's going on? Why are the cops after you? Where'd you get all that money? And what is this little black book?"

  "Okay, I'll tell you. First, would you like another beer?"

  She pushed over her empty glass. He looked around for the waitress and when he couldn't spot her, he picked up both bottles and rose. She watched him maneuver through the crowd to the bar and quickly return with two fresh bottles.

  "I can't tell you the whole thing," he said sitting down. "It has to do with this business venture that Leonard and I had going. It didn't pan out. That's all."

  "What didn't pan out? What was the business venture?"

  He shrugged. "It's not important. It just didn't work out. I'm sorry about Leonard."

  "Look, Donald. You haven't told me anything. You'd better start talking or I'm leaving." Hazel started to rise.

  "Okay. I'll tell you."

  He and Leonard had set up an escort service.' "It was going good for a while. But then, something happened. One of our clients was being investigated by the IRS, and we didn't know until they came sniffing around us. We closed down the business fast. I thought that was the end of it. What I didn't know was that Leonard got greedy and decided to blackmail the dude. You see, a little black book came into our possession. The book belonged to our client. One of our 'ladies' lifted it."

  "There's nothing in the book but a lot of numbers."

  "Yeah, I know. If the book falls in the hands of the IRS, this client would be in a lot of trouble."

  "So why don't you just give the book back to the client?"

  "It's not that simple. The problem is I know of the existence of the book, and that makes me a liability."

  "Are you saying whether or not you give the book back, we're still in trouble? That our lives are in danger?"

  "My life," he said. "I don't think they know about you. That's why I need the book, for leverage. I'm sure I can work out a deal."

  "Yeah, and end up like Foster."

  "No, Foster was stupid." He glanced at his watch and at the door, suddenly agitated again. "I gotta go. Give me the book."

  This time Hazel reached across the table to touch his hand. "Donald, you don't look good. Where have you been staying?"

  He reached into her pack of cigarettes and withdrew one. He lit it and inhaled deeply, not looking at her. "Here and there. I manage. Hey, I'm a survivor." He laughed. "You can't keep a good man down for long."

  He gazed at her for a long moment. "Did I ever tell you, you were the best thing that ever walked into my life?"

  Tearing her eyes from his face, Hazel felt her heart quicken. She reached into her shoulder bag for the book. "It's gone!" she said, frantically emptying the contents out on the table. "It's not here!"

  "What do you mean, it's gone?" Donald leaned over the table to inspect her now empty bag. "Did you have it when you left home?"

  "I thought I put it in here?"

  His voice began to rise, "Well, did you or didn't you?"

  "It must have fallen out."

  "Dammit!" He stood up quickly knocking over the chair. "I stayed too long. Look, I'll call you."

  Hazel saw him moving quickly to the door. He disappeared before she could rise. She glanced around the room at the bar patrons. No one even looked her way. Slowly she put her things back into her shoulder bag and started for the door.

  "Miss," she heard the bartender call her. "You forgot to pay your bill." A beefy man with a cigar stuck in the corner of his mouth handed Hazel a slip of paper. "The dude you were with said you'd take care of it."

  She peered down at the tab, took out her walled and handed him a $10.00 bill. He gave her the change.

  "Leave it to Donald to stick me with the tab," she muttered to herself. Then, shaking her head, she went out into the night.

  Chapter 37 - Ma’dear

  I had been living in Farmville for a little over six months and I was bored out of my mind. My only comfort was my little son, Melvin. He was growing so fast, it was all I could do to keep up with him. I had a piece of a job that I hated, working at the canning factory.

  One Friday evening as we were getting off work, my friend Sug asked, "You ain't going straight home are you?"

  Sug and me had become fast friends when I started working at the factory. A small woman who couldn't've weighed ninety pounds soaking wet, Sug was tough. I'd seen her pick up a ten-gallon can of tomatoes and throw it at the foreman because he complained about her being too slow. Luckily it missed his head or she woulda got arrested for assault. But I liked her. I couldn't tell her age but I figured she was a little older than me. We took to each other as soon as I started working there. I guess I looked completely lost and she felt sorry for me. Sug gave me advice, and cheered me up with her songs.

  I was feeling particularly down that day as we walked towards the gate. She had a knack for reading people.

  "What you need is a man," she said. "A man can stir up your juices, make you feel alive. A woman ain't meant to be alone."

  I told her about Willie Joe and about my son Melvin. I didn't tell her about Sadie.

  "I got just the man for you. He's my cousin once removed. 'come down from Detroit to visit for a while. I want you to come on over to my house this evening. We'll have dinner and I'll introduce you to Fred. You and him got something in common. Both of you can sit and talk about city life.

  I tried to protest. I needed to take care of my son.

  "What'chu got a mama for? One night out ain't gonna hurt."

  That night I told Mama I was going to a friend's house.

  "You need to get out once in a while," Mama said. "Don't worry about Melvin, I'll put him to bed."

  I didn't really want to go, but once I got dressed and started on my way, I began to feel pretty good. That was the evening that changed my life and I don't mean for the better.

  Fred was a big man, I mean big and husky, 250 lbs. and about 6'2. He was solid muscle. Said he worked on the docks from New York to Mississippi. He had a dark complexion with skin a
s smooth as velvet. He shaved his head but I could see that if he hadn't he woulda been bald anyway. He wasn't particularly good looking except when he smiled. He reminded me of Paul Robeson. His smile could light up the moon; and he liked to talk. He told me about his life, the jobs he'd worked, the fights he'd been in, the women he'd been with and what he liked in a woman. I was glad he didn't ask me about my life. Before the evening was over, I'd fallen hard for him.

  Fred met me every day after work and carried me over to his room where we'd stay for hours. I wouldn't get home until well after 10 o'clock. Mama started complaining about how I wasn't spending any time with Melvin. I felt bad but there wasn't anything I could do. Fred had captured my heart and soul. Gone was my thoughts about Willie Joe and my nightmares about Sadie. I moved into Fred's little room and for three months all I did was work and come home to him.

  Then I discovered I was pregnant. When I told him, he laughed. How could I let myself get pregnant? he asked. He didn't want to be a father. I thought in time, he'd change his mind. I thought he'd ask me to marry him.

  "Marry you!" he laughed. "I can't marry you. I'm already married. You wouldn't want me to be a bigamist, would you?"

  To say I was shocked would be mild. I almost went out of my mind. I started throwing things at him, pots, pans, the lamp, anything I could get my hands on. He just laughed and ducked out of the way. Then I collapsed on the floor in a heap of tears.

  "Nobody told you to get yourself pregnant. We was having fun, but I guess it's over."

  After throwing my clothes into a shopping bag, I dragged myself back to my mama's. I didn't tell her I was carrying another baby. I knew she would put me out for sure. Mama was a churchgoing hardworking woman who minded her own business, took in laundry, raised her grandchild like he was her own, and now, here I come with another baby. I must have been out of my mind.

  It didn't take long before she discovered my condition. She raised sand, but it wasn't her who put me out. It was my stepfather. Isaac Johnson was a deacon in the local church. He also ran the only grocery store in a community of busybodies. He and I never got along. I did my best to stay out of his way.