Then Sings My Soul Read online

  "’bout time you showed up. You know we gotta be outta here by nine," Kanisha said pushing me into a dark mood. If I didn't care about singing, I woulda took off a long time ago. I didn't need nobody jumping on me. But I wasn't in the mood for a fight so I held my peace.

  We worked on a new number for about an hour. For some reason, I couldn't get into it and I told Gracie. She helped me through my part and I felt better since we had a gig this weekend. I'd use the money from it to pay for a dress I had my eye on at Marshalls.

  Our career was still in its early stage though we'd been singing together for a little over a year. When we started out, we sang at whatever functions popped up, every chance we got—singing contests, and local festivals. Then, some months back through some connection Kanisha had, we started singing backup in recording studios. It was fun, but hard work. Kanisha wrote fantastic songs. Though we hadn't gotten a chance to record anything she wrote for us, we were always hoping. Her reputation as a songwriter was growing, and so was our reputation as a group. She was the one who got us a manager. Harry was an okay manager as far as that goes. I knew he was making money off of us, but we let that slide as long as he got us paying gigs singing backup.

  *****

  "You want a ride home?" Gracie asked as we ended for the night. We walked downstairs together. The cool air felt good after that stuffy studio. Everybody smoked but me and by the time we finished I felt like I'd smoked a pack of cigarettes.

  "No thanks. Darien's supposed to pick me up." I expected him to be at the curb waiting but he wasn't. The boulevard was jammed packed with cars and strange people, a lot of them into heavy metal with powdered white faces, black tee shirts with Iron Maiden or Ozzy Osborn decals on their chests, death head medallions around their necks, and black tights.

  "I'd wait with you but I gotta get home by ten. I don't wanna miss seeing this jamming movie coming on. You be careful of these weirdoes. There's a full moon out tonight." Gracie swished down the street. I watched until she disappeared through a long line of people waiting to get into the movie theater.

  Where's Darien? I searched the traffic for his blue Datsun 280Z. Usually he'd be at the curb waiting for me when I came out of the studio. Darien's my boyfriend. I called him Mr. Love, not because we did anything stronger than kiss, but because he made me feel loved, like I was special. Though we'd been dating for a few months, I was still a virgin. I knew it was old fashion these days to be a virgin, but I believed in waiting for marriage. Besides, I wanted to make it in the music industry and if I had a kid, I knew I couldn't do both. And I wouldn't give up my dream even for him.

  I met him at a party I went to six months ago with Suni, my girlfriend from Compton. She was the type who couldn't walk three feet down the street without getting hit on by some guy. Not that she was pretty or nothing. She just had a look that guys were attracted to. And talk about promiscuous! (I learned that word from one of Oprah's shows), for Suni, hopping into bed with guys she just met was as normal as brushing her teeth. She invited me to a party thrown by some guy she knew. At first I didn't want to go, but she talked me into it. So I put on my dark blue dress and high heel pumps, and made myself look at least twenty. I had to slip out of the apartment before Momma saw me, or she would have grounded me. Anyway, I went and now I'm glad I did because that's where I met Darien.

  *****

  When this tall, handsome brother walked over to us and sat down, I thought for sure he was interested in Suni. So did she because she started flirting with him right away. But when he asked me to dance instead of her, I was so shocked I couldn't hardly say anything.

  He looked a bit older than most of the guys there. Actually, he was the most finest thing in the room. He had a neatly trimmed mustache and goatee. His wavy hair was cut short. He looked like a movie star; at least I thought so. Unlike the other guys, he wore a suit jacket, over a gray cashmere sweater, and dark brown slacks. The other guys wore oversize jeans, tee shirts with names of basketball and football teams and name brand sneakers. Most of them sported gold chains around their necks and Kangol caps, which they didn't bother to remove. When he held me close and I smelled his Paco Rabanne aftershave lotion, my head began to swim.

  He asked me my name. "Tricia," I said. He said his name was Darien. His voice was sexy and nearly as deep as Barry White's. I figured he must be at least twenty. I hoped I looked older than the other girls there. I know I was dressed differently. Most of them wore short, tight dresses showing too much skin on both ends and cheap looking weaves. My hair was permed. I'd just gotten it done a little over a week ago. Usually I wore my hair in a ponytail, but that night I had it in a French twist.

  After that one dance, though, he disappeared - just up and left without saying a word. I guess I couldn't blame him for leaving. Most of the guys at the party were real deadbeats who seemed more interested in drinking and whatever else they were doing in the kitchen, dropping lines on the few girls there - the same line over and over again. "Where have you been all my life? Heaven musta sent an angel like you."

  This one guy tried to talk to me. I told him where to go. No sooner did I turn my head did he hand that same line to Suni! Now I was sitting right next to her; can you believe it? She fell for it. Next thing I knew she was on the floor slow dancing with him, letting him feel her up. Then she came up to me and said, "Call you tomorrow," and left with him! Luckily I had my bus pass.

  So anyway, I didn't think about Darien until one day Shanell and me went into Music, Music. She had some extra money and wanted me to help her pick out a CD. Who should ring up our sales but Darien! And he remembered me right off.

  "You're the one in the dress with all those zippers and the shapely legs," he said smiling at me like we were old friends. I blushed. Shanell was at the other end of the counter looking at some magazines.

  "Why'd you leave the party so soon?" I asked, my smile trying to match his. I wished I had worn a dress instead of my old torn jeans and raggedy tee shirt.

  "I'm not one for parties. I only told my buddy I'd drop in and when I saw all those guys standing around, I felt even less like staying."

  "Excuse me!" the man behind me cleared his throat. "Are you done? I can't stand here all day waiting while you two get acquainted."

  "You don't have to be rude," Darien returned. He took the man's purchase and rang it up. I moved over to the magazine rack and waited. A line had formed. He hustled them through, smiling at each one, really being a good salesman. When his line was empty, I went back to his counter. He apologized for the man and asked for my phone number. "Can I call you later when I get off?" And sure enough he did. The rest was history.

  "Say Baby, can I talk to you?" This ugly looking guy called me from the other side of the street. I started wishing I had gone along with Gracie. Hollywood Blvd. was not the best place to be by yourself at 9:30 in the evening. Darien, I'm gonna get you for this.

  Mr. Ugly came over and I could see he was high. I braced myself for battle but his friends were right behind him. They hauled him off and apologized. Two hard looking sisters strolled by and gave me dirty looks. Long flowing wigs—one blond, the other pitch black—hung almost down to their backsides. Their low-cut blouses showed more than half of their bosoms, while short tight skirts hugged their bulky frames like plastic wrap. Their high-heeled boots looked painful, and their faces had so much makeup on, they reminded me of circus clowns. One of them whispered loud enough for me to hear, something about- "working the streets."

  The other one snorted, "Hey, Jailbait, who you think you are working my corner? You betta be gone by the time I get back." They laughed.

  What if the police think I'm standing here trying to pick up customers? I started to panic. Maybe I better take the bus, I decide. And just as I was walking toward the bus stop, Darien pulled up in his Mustang.

  "Where're you going?" He asked, opening the door.

  "Darien, I've been waiting a half hour." I got in and reached over for the seatbelt. I was mad.
/>   "You knew I was coming. I'd never leave my Huggy Bear stranded." He leaned over and kissed me. I started to thaw.

  The freeway traffic was heavy. I sat back listening to KJLH, slowly relaxing with my eyes closed. I must have fell asleep because when I woke up the car had stopped, where, but in front of his pad.

  "Day, I got a test tomorrow, and I got to get home and study." I protested as he smoothly steered me into his building and up the stairs to his door.

  "I promise I'll take you home in a half hour. I just want you to listen to this bad jam I picked up today."

  I went in reluctantly knowing I'd probably have to fight my way out again.

  He lived in one of those secure apartments, the ones surrounded by iron bars. You needed a special card to get into the underground parking lot and building. There was no way to just drop in without the person you were coming to visit knowing about it. No outside bells or intercom systems. I thought it was stupid.

  Darien's apartment was so neat. You'd expect a single young man to keep his place like a pigsty. At least that's what I thought. But not Darien. He was a very orderly man. His sister, who practically raised him when their parents died, used to live there, he told me, but moved out when she got married and left the place to him. Luckily the landlord didn't raise the rent. He told Darien he wouldn't if he would do a little maintenance wherever needed for the other tenants. And thanks to his job at Music Music, he was in good shape moneywise and everything else.

  There was nothing fancy about the apartment. His sister left him the furniture. A couch, dining room set, a bed, worn but comfortable, sports magazines, and a bookcase filled with books, some paintings Darien did when he was into his "artist period," whatever that is, and an expensive sound system he bought with his first month's salary.

  "A half hour," he said. "Just stay a half hour and I'll drive you right to your door, I promise."

  "But I was supposed to be home by nine. My mother's gonna kill me."

  Darien put on a CD and before long, he had me in his arms dancing to Luther Vandross and moving me toward the couch. The man was all over me, kissing my neck, rubbing his hands all over my body. I knew this was gonna be the night I'd lose my virginity. We were breathing heavy and I felt my insides melting. I wanted him as bad as he wanted me. Then Whitney Houston began to sing "Saving all my love for you," and I knew I couldn't give in. I couldn't let it happen even if I had to lose him. I pushed him away.

  "When are you gonna grow up!" he exploded. "We're living in the eighties. What's the big deal?"

  "Day, you know how I feel. Why do you make me have to go through this every time we're together? I told you I got a future and I don't want to blow it."

  "Blow it! Haven't you heard of the pill, condoms and all the other things they have to keep you from getting pregnant." He shook his head. "I like you a lot but baby, we can't keep going on like this. There are plenty of other girls out there who..."

  Now it was my turn to explode.

  "Well, you'd better go out there and find them!" I picked up my purse and started for the door. He didn't try to stop me until I got to the street. Then he came running up.

  "Hold on. I'm sorry. Wait while I get my car. I'll drive you home."

  I was trembling, thinking as he drove that maybe I was wrong. I knew one day he would go out and find somebody else who wasn't such a prude and then where would I be? I really didn't want to lose him.

  We didn't say anything when he stopped in front of my house. There was nothing to say.

  *****

  "Do you know what time it is?" Momma was sitting on the arm of the sofa by the window, her face lined with worry. "You were supposed to be home by 9:00. What's gotten into you? You know I don't want you out late on a weeknight."

  I glanced over at her as I took off my coat. I could tell she wasn't that angry because when she gets mad, her voice gets real low. I told her Darien was late picking me up.

  "How did your rehearsals go? When are you all going to start making money from all this?" She got up and began to straighten the covers on the couch. I watched as she dumped out the ashtray and cleared away the dishes—a glass and dish of half eaten strawberry pie.

  "I don't know. The manager said some guy wants to hear us sing, so on the weekend, we got to go to a studio over on Venice."

  "You just be careful. Those people in the music business can be pretty terrible."

  I followed her into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, took out some bologna and cheese and made myself a sandwich. My mind was on Darien. I wondered how long I'd be able to hold him off. Not that I was a goody two shoes, or anything like that. It was just that I'd seen too many of my friends and girls I used to go to school with get pregnant and have to drop out. Then the guys that they are so in love with dump them and they have to raise their babies by themselves, put the kid up for adoption or have an abortion. I knew a girl that had so many abortions she was sick all the time. And if we started having sex using protection, where would that lead? Would he still respect me or would I become like all the other girls who sleep around? I wasn't even aware that I was alone in the kitchen.

  "Did Momma tell you Ma’dear is coming to live with us?" Shanell popped in interrupting my thoughts. She grabbed a pickle from my plate. I slapped her hand away.

  "Ma’dear? Why? For how long?"

  "That's the same thing I asked," Shanell said. "Momma said she had another stroke and can't stay by herself so she's coming to live with us until she gets better."

  In my mind I saw our grandma as she looked when we last visited her in Philadelphia. I always hated going there, but Momma took us every year for two weeks. We never did anything but stay inside because Ma’dear said crime was so bad.

  "Your grandmother can stay as long as she likes," Momma said coming into the kitchen.

  "But where's she gonna sleep?" Both Shanell and me asked the same question. We waited for Momma to finish her glass of iced tea.

  "She'll sleep in Shanell's room." Before Shanell could groan, Momma continued. "You can move your things into Tricia's room."

  Now it was my turn. I didn't want to bunk with a silly fourteen-year old, going through my things, leaving me no privacy. We'd shared a room since she was born, and up until a few months ago when we moved here from across town.

  "I know what this will mean, but you two will just have to do the best you can. Try to get along for me and your grandmother's sake."

  Shanell rolled her eyes at me and I did the same to her. I told Momma I'd do my best.

  That night, my mind went over what Darien said about finding somebody else. When I finally drifted off to sleep, I dreamed about Ma’dear. Though I loved her, I couldn't help thinking about how our lives would change with her living here. It had always been just the three of us except for about a year when Momma married Donald; and now Grandma...

  Chapter 2 - Hazel

  Hazel sat at the table for a long while reading and rereading the letter. It was from her brother Melvin. Ma’dear just had another stroke and the doctors said she could no longer live alone.

  "Look Sis, I tried to reach you but I couldn't. I'd take her in with Althea and me, but you know we just don't have enough room. Could you take over for a while until things straighten out between us?"

  When her mother had her first stroke, Hazel had rushed to her side. But then, she got better and since she lived in a senior citizens complex, Ma'dear assured her that she wanted to stay there rather than move out to California and live with her daughter. The one time she'd been out there had been almost disastrous for Hazel. Ma'dear was always trying to tell her how to raise her children, what to do with her life, showing her disapproval when Hazel met and married Donald. She made Hazel's life miserable. But that was five years ago. They parted on a low note. Though Hazel kept regular contact with her mother, things were never the same. Then when she and Donald divorced, Ma'dear said "I told you so" and things didn't get much better.

  Hazel was glad the apartment
was quiet when she came in late the next evening. Both Tricia and Shanell were in bed. She kicked off her shoes, set her pocketbook on the counter, and made herself of cup of coffee. When she took out a cigarette and tried to light it, she became aware that her hands were shaking.

  "You've got to come get her and let her stay with you awhile." She read the sentence again. When Ma'dear had a second stroke, Hazel hastened to Philadelphia again to get her; however, her mother was adamant. She didn't want to live with her daughter. She preferred to live with Melvin and his wife Althea. Hazel felt hurt but relieved. Since her breakup with Donald, her life was settling down. She had two lovely daughters, a good job, and finally she was able to pursue her dream; everything was falling into place. Now this.

  She didn't need the headache of taking care of a person she didn't get along with and who didn't want to live with her. It was almost eleven o'clock. She sighed, there was little else she could do except fly to Philadelphia to get her mother. Since the mornings were hectic, getting the girls off to school and herself off to work, she decided she'd tell them when she came home in the evening.

  The next day, Hazel sat at her desk wondering when she should go in to see her boss, Mr. Levine. Things weren't going well. Diana, her co-worker, leaned across her desk and whispered, "Did you hear the latest?" She kept up with everything going on in the building. 5'9, slender, with long red hair, Diana was very friendly with the bosses. Outgoing and flirtatious, she was liked by most of those in the office despite her association with the higher ups.

  "Several people in the front office got their pink slips. The big bosses say the company is losing so much money, they have to lay off over a third of the staff. From what I heard, though, we don't have to worry. Our jobs are secure."

  "Who're you kidding?" said Monica, her glasses caught the light and threw a glare across the rest of her face. "Just to be on the safe side, I'm looking around for something else. I don't need this aggravation."