Then Sings My Soul Page 16

  When Mama told him I was going to have a baby, he said that was the last straw. He called me a whore. Said in their small community, their reputation would be ruined. It wasn't enough that they were raising my son; now I come back carrying another man's child. No. He wouldn't allow me to stay there any longer. I could see Mama was hurt, and I understood. I gathered Melvin's things and my own and started for the door. Mama stopped me.

  "Sarah, you a grown woman, and I know we ain't got no right to tell you what to do. I apologize for the way Isaac talked to you, but you got to understand. He's a proud man. Leave Melvin with us. You gonna have enough trouble providing for that baby inside of you."

  "As soon as things straighten out, I'll come back for him. I promise. And Mama, I'm so sorry."

  I hated to leave my son, but I knew Mama was right. It would be hard for me with one child, let alone two. So, four months pregnant and alone, I kissed my son goodbye. He didn't understand what was going on. It broke my heart. I went quickly out the door, walked to the Greyhound station and I caught the first bus to Philadelphia.

  Chapter 38 - Hazel

  ˚

  Hazel walked quickly down the dark deserted street towards her car. Glancing at her watch she saw that it was 2 AM. Hearing footsteps behind her and thinking it was Donald, she turned. Two men hastened toward her. In a panic, she began to run, but they caught up with her before she could reach her car. The darkness hid their features; they seemed like apparitions in the night, yet they were real. One pushed her up against her car and held her there. The other grabbed her bag and rummaged through it. She tried to scream but the one holding her had a gloved hand over her mouth. He smelled of tobacco, stale beer, and sweat. She struggled to free herself, kicking out and connecting with her assailant's knee. He cried out, "Ow!" momentarily releasing his grip. "Bitch," he whispered, grabbing her around the waist. "Hurry up," he said to his partner.

  "Nothing here," the other man said, tossing her bag and its contents to the ground.

  "Please, if this is a robbery, take my money. It's not much," she pleaded. The shorter of the two laughed. Hazel could see his mustache and goatee in the shadows. He was fat and held an unlit cigarette between his fingers. The taller one who held her had broad shoulders and a thick neck. He looked like a bouncer.

  "We ain't looking for money. We want the book. Where is it? Did you give it to Porter?" His voice sounded hoarse like sandpaper.

  "What book?" Hazel's mind raced, her breath short as if she had run a marathon. "I don't know anything about a book."

  "Does Porter have it?" The short one repeated.

  "I told you I don't know anything about a book."

  "If you know what's good for you, you'll stay out of this," the tall one said pointing a thick finger in her face.

  Released from a tight grip, Hazel watched as the men hopped into a blue Cadillac that was double parked beside hers and pulled away with screeching tires. As they drove off, Hazel noticed the license plate, "LADELUK." She grabbed hold to the side of her car to keep from sinking to the ground.

  It took several minutes before she could steady herself, to slow down her racing heart. Her breathing having returned to normal, she stooped to pick up her purse and its contents. She hadn't realized how scared she was until she reached for her lipstick, wallet and coins. Her hands were trembling so much she could hardly grasp her belongings. Managing to recover as much as she could see in the dim light, she scrambled to her car. Once inside, she locked the door, started the motor and drove as quickly as she could to Kevin's house.

  She had to ring his buzzer several times before she heard his voice, heavy with sleep. He wore only a pajama bottoms, his chest and feet bare. Once in his apartment, all she could do was to lean against him. His arms held her tightly as he stroked her back.

  "I've never seen you so glad to see me. I'm flattered," he said. "Maybe I need to leave town more often."

  When she had calmed a bit, she recounted the evening, the meeting with Donald, and the subsequent encounter with the two men. She followed him into the kitchen where he brewed a pot of coffee. As she sat at the counter watching him, she felt completely drained.

  "I told you not to get involved in this. It's Donald's mess. Let him handle it," he scolded.

  "But I am involved. The girls are, too."

  "How are the girls mixed up in this?"

  She explained how Foster had accosted Tricia and Shanell in the street and the break-in. Kevin's jaw tightened as he listened. "Damn," he said. "First thing you gotta do is to make sure your kids and your mother are safe. Then you'd better go to the police."

  "I can't go to the police. What am I gonna tell them? They're already looking for Donald, and they're looking for two women in connection with Foster's murder. I don't want to go to jail." Her voice rose in desperation. Tears began to flow. Kevin held her until she grew calm. He guided her toward his bedroom. Kicking off her shoes, she stretched out on his unmade bed. He lay down beside her, cradling her into his arms. Soon she was asleep, her breathing slowed, steady and deep.

  When the darkness disappeared and the sky began to lighten, Hazel awoke suddenly. She glanced over at Kevin who was snoring soundly. The clock on his nightstand announced 5:30 AM. Throwing off the covers, she saw that she was wearing only her slip, bra, and panties. Realizing he must have removed her clothes, she saw them folded neatly on the chair. She dressed hurriedly trying not to wake him.

  After scribbling a note, she placed it on the pillow, and then slipped quickly out the door. Once in her car, she drove home, barely noticing the night retreating hastily as dawn made her flashy entrance in orange, pale blue, and golden yellow, forecasting a warm day ahead.

  Hoping the girls were asleep, Hazel turned the key and entered the apartment. There on the couch lay Tricia. Beside her, on the floor, wrapped in a comforter, lay Shanell. Deciding not to wake them, Hazel kissed them gently on the forehead, went to her room, put on her nightgown and slipped between the sheets for a few hours of sleep. However, sleep wouldn't come. In her mind she relived the encounter with Donald and the two men.

  "I don't know what I'm gonna do," she said to herself. "But I know I gotta do something."

  *****

  A few hours of sleep behind her, Hazel dodged the girls' questions about the previous evening as she gulped down her breakfast and set off to work.

  "I'll explain it to you when I get home this evening."

  "But Momma..." they protested. She hurried out the door and as she passed the Frazier's door, it opened. Mr. Frazier stuck his head out.

  "I know you in a hurry, but what I been meaning to tell you," Mr. Frazier, dressed in his bathrobe and morning stubble, spoke slowly. Scratching his belly and removing the stocking cap covering his gray hair, he took a sip from his cup of coffee. "I got some information on that number you gave me."

  Hazel's heart jumped. "Thank you, Mr. Frazier, but I gotta go. I mean, I'm late. I'll stop by on my way home this evening."

  "Well, I thought you was in a hurry for the information." He turned to go back inside, disappointment written on his face.

  "I'm sorry. Yes, I've got time. Go ahead. What did you find out?" If she was going to be late, she reasoned, did it matter whether it was a few minutes or thirty minutes. She followed him into his apartment.

  "I had a friend check the numbers you give me against the post office boxes. Only one number matched." Mr. Frazier went over to his desk and started rummaging through the drawers.

  Hazel sat on the edge of the sofa waiting.

  Mrs. Frazier entered the room pulling her robe tightly around her stocky frame. "Good morning Mrs. Porter. My, isn't this a beautiful morning?" She walked over to the window and peered up at the sky; then over at Hazel. "I see you're on your way to work. How are the girls? Would you like a cup of coffee?"

  Before Hazel could respond, Mr. Frazier broke in, his voice laced with vexation. "Can't you see we're talking business! Just wait a minute."

  "Thank you bu
t I've already had breakfast," Hazel said feeling responsible for causing any animosity between the couple. Mrs. Frazier went back into the kitchen.

  "Like I said, only one number matched. It's a post office box belonging to one of them big corporations located downtown," her neighbor said over his shoulder.

  "Do you have a name?" asked Hazel.

  "Let me see. I wrote it down on a piece of paper." Mr. Frazier searched the end table drawer. "I thought I put it in this drawer. Now, where's my glasses? Gertrude!" he called. "Have you seen my glasses?"

  Mrs. Frazier came shuffling back, her house slippers making a flip flopping sound on the hardwood floor. "What are you looking for?" her tone matched his earlier harsh tone. She scolded him for making a mess. "Is this what you're looking for?" She strode over to the mantle where she picked up a tiny scrape of paper. Then she retrieved his glasses from on top of the newspaper where he'd laid it. "You wouldn't be able to find your head if it wasn't screwed on!"

  "Titus Corporation." He read the address and handed the paper to Hazel. Taking off his glasses, he smiled a smile of satisfaction.

  "Thank you for your help," Hazel said rising and moving toward the door.

  "If there's anything else you need, you know where we live," Mr. Frazier joked. Mrs. Frazier laughed.

  Fifteen minutes late, Hazel thought as she glanced at her watch. What would be her excuse? The car wouldn't start? One of the girls was sick? No, she never liked to use that one in case one of them did get sick. Starting up the car, she reached for her purse and pulled out a cigarette. With one hand on the steering wheel, she used the other to search her pocketbook for her lighter. It wasn't there.

  "Damn!" she thought. "I hope it isn't lost," she muttered aloud.

  Kevin had given it to her, an expensive lighter with her name engraved on it. Giving up, she tossed the cigarette out the window as she swung into traffic and headed toward the Santa Monica Freeway. Pulling into the parking lot, she decided to make one more effort to find the lighter. Reaching her hand under the passenger seat, she felt something. A book. She pulled it out and saw that it was the black book! 'How did it get there?' she wondered. It probably fell out of her jacket pocket when she went down to meet Donald. She hesitated before thrusting it deep into her bag. Remembering the incident with the men the night before, she shuddered. She shoved the book back under the car seat. It'd be safer there unless someone stole her car, she reasoned. Getting out, she locked the car door and hurried into the building.

  Chapter 39 - Tricia

  When I got out of school today, who should be waiting at the curb but Darien. I was so surprised it took me almost a minute to get myself together. There he was leaning against the car looking fine. He wore a long sleeve gray shirt open to show a black tee underneath. The sleeves were rolled up to his strong forearms. He had on black jeans and black Nikes. His intoxicating smile lit up his whole face and almost made my heart stop. I caught my breath. Patrice, my girlfriend, flashed a flirtatious smile up at him; he gazed at me.

  "Hi there, good looking. My name's Patrice. What's yours?"

  "Patrice, this is Darien." I cut her off. Hoping she'd get the hint, I said, "I'll see you tomorrow."

  She took her eyes off Darien and threw a grin at me. "See ya later, girl. See you Mr. Fine looking." She walked away switching her skinny behind like she had something to switch. Darien watched her go. When she reached the corner, she turned around and blew a kiss at him. He looked down at his feet, shoving his hands in his pocket.

  "So, Darien," I asked. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

  "Naw. I got the day off so I thought I'd give you a ride home."

  "All the time I been knowing you, you never did this before."

  "There's always a first time. Get in." He opened the passenger side.

  I climbed in and he headed across town. I wondered what he was thinking but I didn't say anything. When we got almost to my block, he turned off at the park and cut the engine.

  "I got to be getting home. The nurse leaves and I got to tend to my grandmother," I said.

  "I just want to talk to you. It won't take long." He turned towards me and took my hand. "Listen, Tricia. Let's forget about the past. I miss you. I want to see you again."

  I didn't know what to say. On the one hand I missed him, too. But on the other hand, I had too much on my mind to want to add Darien to it. There was Hi C. He'd asked me to go to San Diego with him to introduce me to some important people who could help my career. Then there was the upcoming final exams. If I went to San Diego, I'd miss an important biology test and maybe not graduate. I couldn't let that happen. Mostly, though, was the trouble with Donald. I didn't want Momma to go through this thing alone. She was playing detective and I didn't like that. It was too dangerous. Now here comes Darien and with him I knew the question of sex would come up again. I wasn't ready for any more emotional trips.

  Darien was watching me, waiting for my answer.

  "Let me think about it," I said.

  "What's there to think about? Either you want to get back together or you don't. Is it that old guy I saw you with the other night?"

  I couldn't believe it! Darien was jealous. It's funny how guys never get jealous until they think they've lost you. I wasn't ready to play any games so I told him no. Then I told him I had to go.

  He let go of my hand, started the engine, and drove me to my door. As I was getting out he said, "I'm not going to let you get away this time. I'll call you."

  I stood on the steps watching his car until it disappeared around the corner, my heart doing flip-flops. I'm not getting involved again, I told myself. I don't need no complications! I turned and went upstairs.

  Miss Nurse was waiting when I opened the door. "Bout time," she said as she got her things and left. I peeked in on Ma’dear. She was awake and watching TV. Beside her sat the tray of food the nurse had fixed for her - broth, toast, Jell-O, and apple juice. I sat down on the chair next to the bed and watched her eat. She seemed to be getting stronger each day. It had been almost three months since she came to live with us and I was starting to feel comfortable around her. Though I wished I could talk to her like I'd seen Shanell doing. I hadn't gotten to that point. I wanted to ask her advice about Darien, HiC, and my career. But I couldn't. I felt too uncomfortable. How can you talk to somebody who can't answer back? I could see she understood what people were saying by the look in her eyes.

  After she had eaten, I took the tray into the kitchen; then I went into my room and began to study for my biology test on Monday, the same day I was supposed to be in San Diego to sing. I didn't have much time to think before the door opened and Shanell came banging into the room. She dropped her backpack on the floor, switched on the radio, and began to change her clothes. That put an end to my studying. I closed my book and went to the kitchen to start dinner.

  Momma came home later that evening. She looked tired and worried. It seemed that some people at work were given pink slips and it was just a matter of time before she'd get hers.

  "What's a pink slip?" Shanell asked.

  "It means you're about to be let go," I said. I'd learned about it in my current events class. Shanell and I tried to cheer her up.

  "Look Momma, you can get a job anywhere. You got plenty of skills. It shouldn't take long to find something else," Shanell said.

  We fixed a special dinner for her and to celebrate my 18th birthday. "One day, when everything settles down, I'll take you on a shopping spree." Momma said, as she cut slices of cake for each of us. Shanell handed me a cute pair of earrings she said she'd been saving up for from her allowance. This was the first time we all ate together in Ma’dear's room.

  That evening, as I lay in bed, I knew what I had to do. Hi C said if everything clicked, I could make big bucks. He said I had a lot of talent and that once things got started, there'd be no stopping me. Maybe if I went to San Diego and became a hit, I could make enough money to give to Momma so that she could
open her own business like she always wanted. I would go with Hi C and be back in time to make the statewide exams. After all, exams were going on the whole week. I'd just miss one day. I decided I wouldn't tell Momma or Shanell. When I came back, I'd have a big surprise for them. That was my plan.

  Monday morning, instead of going to school, I threw some things in Momma's overnight bag, a black tee strap dress I'd bought on layaway with the money I got from the gig with Big Jim Thornton, Momma's sequined pumps, (I knew she would probably have a fit but it was for a good cause); and makeup. I wrote a note explaining I would probably be late getting home, that I was studying at my friend Patrice's house, but at the last minute, I tore it up. Then I walked over to the park, sat down and waited.

  Hi C told me to meet him in front of Fred's bar and Grill around noon. At eleven o'clock, I hopped on the bus that would take me across town. The bar wasn't open. It wouldn't matter. I wouldn't have gone inside anyway. I stood in the alcove and waited. A half hour passed, some people walking by didn't pay me no mind, but others stared at me and then at my overnight bag. I felt real uncomfortable like I was a streetwalker. One man even came over and asked me how much I charged. I moved away from the door when I saw a cop car drive by slowly as the cop took a long look at me.

  Where was Hi C? I wondered. I made up my mind that if he didn't come in the next fifteen minutes, I'd go home. Just as I was about to leave, I saw his raggedy-ass yellow T-Bird. He swooped into an empty parking space nearby.

  "I see you're ready to fly." He grabbed my bag and threw it onto the back seat, came around and kissed me on the cheek. His breath smelled like whisky and cigarette smoke. Usually he looked cool, together, like the world would just have to wait for him, but today he seemed up, I mean, like he had extra energy. I figured it must be the excitement of the gig. I was excited too. So much was riding on this trip.