Blue Collar Blues (20 page)

“Why? I didn’t see no news of your quickie Mexican divorce in the papers.”

“Don’t, Kahn. I’m serious.”

“So am I. Go to hell.” She hung up. And when the phone rang again, and then continued, she turned the ringer off, said good night to her fish, and went to bed.

The next day, Khan finished work by one. When she pulled up in front of her condo, she spotted a UPS truck parked near the curb. The driver was already ringing her bell and she hurried to sign for a small package. Once inside her little front hall, she ripped open the box and was shocked by what she saw.

She was tempted to put it on. She then remembered that she had chores to do. She walked past the couch and casually threw the small box on it, then ambled to the laundry room and started on a load of clothes.

As she sauntered around her small, colorful condominium, Khan thought about the gleaming diamond ring and note R.C. had sent her:
You’ll always be my baby. Do you forgive me?

He wanted her forgiveness. And, actually, part of her understood that it’s possible to love more than one person at a time. She wanted to open her heart to R.C., but she just didn’t want to get hurt again.

She finished spraying the necks and arms of her white shirts with Spray ’n Wash, then heard the rinse cycle finish and peeked inside. She removed the plastic bubble still filled with fabric softener and frowned. “I knew this damn thing wouldn’t work.”

Just as she was inspecting the bubble, the phone rang. Her hands were wet with cold water. She shook her hands and let the machine pick up until she heard Thyme’s voice.

“Hello, Thyme,” she said after picking up the phone. “Do you know how this fabric-softener bubble works?”

“I have no idea.”

Khan balanced the cordless phone beneath her chin and went back into the laundry room. “What a rip-off,” she said, lifting the top of the washer and dropping it back into the darkened water.

“So what are you up to?”

“Not much. What about you? Is Cy away again?”

When Thyme called Khan on a Friday, it usually meant Cy was traveling.

“He’s in Mexico,” Thyme said dejectedly. “He comes home Sunday night. I still haven’t told him about the lawsuit.”

“You better, girl. Aren’t the subpoenas going out soon?”

“Yeah, my lawyer called last week and said they’d be delivered the week after next.”

“So you’ll be alone on Fourth of July weekend?”

“Yeah.”

“You know you’re welcome at Ron and Ida’s.”

“I know. Maybe I will.”

“I have an idea. Wouldn’t it be fun to spy on R.C. and his new wife?” Khan asked. “I heard R.C.’s having some grand opening celebration for his seventh dealership in Bloomfield this afternoon.”

“And why would you know what R.C. is doing?”

“Oh, I make it my business to read the papers,” Khan said, laughing. Khan had also been watching Tomiko in the commercials. The ring from R.C. had bolstered her spirits, made her feel impish. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Hundreds of multicolored helium balloons were released into the sky just as Khan and Thyme arrived. Loudspeakers touted Champion’s sport, midsize, and four-by-four pickup trucks.

Tomiko, with a seductive smile plastered on her face, was wearing a violet evening gown, getting in and out of shiny new trucks while cameras filmed her every move.

“The bitch has got good taste,” Khan mumbled, observing the skimpy dress. “In clothes, that is.”

Thyme drove past the action and slowed down. “The commercials don’t do her justice. Even you have to admit.” Thyme nosed her silver Presidio into a vacant spot and parked.

“Yeah, and I bet her vagina dentata is pretty, too.”

“What’s that?” Thyme asked.

“A pussy with teeth.” Getting more serious, Khan said, “Don’t park here,” and pointed to a parking space three rows back. “We can see everything from over there.”

“I didn’t think he’d pull it off,” Thyme observed, peering through her rearview mirror as she backed out of the space. “I guess the laid-off Champion workers didn’t follow through on their threat to picket.”

“Thank God. Our fight is with the Mexicans, not the Japanese.”

Thyme finished parking, then turned toward Khan. “Look! Here she comes.”

“She may be smiling, but the bitch don’t look happy.” Khan was easing back on the front seat and cocking her shoulders back in mock black attitude. She pushed the wide sunglasses she wore down low on her narrow nose. “Something’s up with her.”

“Give the girl a break, Khan. I’m sure she had no idea about you and R.C. She’s not at fault. R.C. is.”

“You’re right. Where is that conniving bastard?” Khan fumed. “He’s not out here. I can spot that asshole a mile away.”

Stunned that she hadn’t seen it before, Thyme asked, “What’s that on your finger?”

Khan reared her right shoulder back and smiled. “Just a little something.” Her mouth turned up in a smug smile as she admired the emerald-cut diamond ring. “Isn’t it just perfect?”

Thyme pulled Khan’s hand closer to hers. “My goodness, that must be four carats.”

“Four-point-three.” She flipped her hand in a half arc. “Before you ask, I’ll tell you the dope, okay.” Her hand went back up. “Now don’t say nothing. I know the brother is married.”

“Have you talked to him? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Look, Thyme. I was mad. Okay? I’m still mad. I don’t like the brother. Okay. But he called and begged to see me. I refused. Okay. Then the brother sent me this
bad-ass
ring to show me how sorry he was. Okay? I still may send the shit back, but this is a
pretty
bitch.” She blew on the stone and shined it across her lap.

Thyme frowned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Look, I don’t know about you and Cy, but R.C. and I got memories, you know.” She laughed. “I remember when we went to Las Vegas for New Year’s. Girl, we had a ball. We stayed at the MGM Grand Hotel. Our room was on the fifteenth floor. You shoulda seen me looking like Spider Woman, butt-naked up in the window screwing R.C.’s balls off with spotlights shining all over us.” She laughed so hard tears fell.

Thyme didn’t join in on her laughter. Instead, she looked down at Khan’s ring, then directly into her friend’s eyes. “I’m disappointed in you.”

“I haven’t done anything yet. But I’m thinking about it. My pussy is throbbing so bad, like it just wanted to reach out and grab something. Shit! I ain’t been screwed in ten weeks. And I’m used to having regular sex, okay?” She opened her legs wider. “I just can’t think about doing the dating scene again. The ring makes me feel respected. It’ll take months before I feel comfortable enough to go to bed with a new man.” She exhaled deeply. “I’m sorry—I can’t wait that long.”

“Is sex that important to you?”

“Damn right. Don’t tell me you and Cy ain’t shaking the sheets every time the lights go out.”

“Khan.” Thyme blushed. “Cy’s a busy man.”

“Too busy to
fuck
?” Khan mumbled under her breath. “That’s the
first
thing a black man takes care of.” Khan could feel Thyme’s silence.

“As I said, he’s busy.” Thyme’s voice was defensive. “But it’s not like I have to worry about him being out with another woman. Cy’s completely faithful.”

“How beautiful,” Khan said with intentional sarcasm. “Let’s go.”

Thyme started up the engine. “Oh, so you don’t believe me. You’re saying that my man is cheating on me like yours did?”

Khan paused, trying to control her growing anger. “I ain’t saying nothing like that. What I’m saying is that like you, I love my man. And when a woman loves a man like I love mine, you’re liable to believe anything.”

The two friends let the radio keep them company as they drove home.

* * *

The beginning of July was vacation time for most hourly employees at Champion Motors. It was a time when many filled their children’s plastic pools with water and ice cubes, set out plastic palm trees in their backyards, and pretended they were in Jamaica. Salaried workers took real trips to exotic places. Last year, Khan remembered, Thyme and Cy had taken a ten-day cruise to Alaska. Not this year, Khan thought. Thyme and Cy were supposed to have left for Martha’s Vineyard before Cy had to go away to Mexico on business.

Now, as Khan got ready for the annual barbecue, Khan hoped that Thyme would come by the party. They’d been friends too long to let a silly misunderstanding come between them. That day Khan dressed in the gold crocheted top she’d been working on for months, and a pair of skin-tight black jeans. She rolled the top back on her sunroof Saturday morning and drove toward her uncle’s home on the other side of town.

When she entered his yard through the back gate, she could see the lusty smoke from the grill curlicuing in a haze of whitish gray, then disappearing into thin air. Neighbors on both sides of Ron and Ida Lamott’s home stood by the fence, smiling, talking like they couldn’t wait for the show to begin as they watched Ron perform his yearly magic tricks.

Khan had to admit, her uncle Ron’s crib smelled like paradise. Hickory coals smoldered beneath two-inch steaks and quarter-cut chicken parts, and beautiful cuts of baby back ribs bubbled a cinnamon brown on another grill. Ron Lamott wore a smile on his face as wide as the colorful apron tied around his broad behind. She tried not to think of Ron cheating on Ida.

The backyard was filled with people, most of whom worked at Champion, including the deejay, Angeldust, who worked in the roll goods warehouse. Positioned at each corner of the backyard, four speakers blared B.B. King’s blues.

As Khan walked through the thick crowd waving, smiling, and saying hello, she didn’t see Valentino and Sarah anywhere. Not that she was surprised. Valentino had sworn they wouldn’t go.

Looking at her uncle Ron now, Khan had to smile. She loved to see him this way. He was in his element. The lines of tension were gone from his face. He was calm. Cool. His secret barbecue sauce, which he gave as gifts every Christmas, was simmering on a burner next to the ribs. She inhaled the bomb sauce and felt her stomach cry out in need.

“Hey, Uncle Ron,” Khan said, giving him a strong hug. “Are those ribs going to be ready soon? I’m ready to grub.”

She felt him taking stock of her tiny body in a gentlemanly way. “Girl, you need to eat a slab all by yourself. Then maybe you can stop buying your clothes in the children’s section at Nieman’s.”

Khan turned around, modeling her skin-tight jeans. “You have to agree, Uncle Ron. They fit well.”

Ron snapped a dish towel against her buttocks. “Stop being so fast. You know damned well Pearl wouldn’t like it.”

Though she barely tipped the scales at one hundred pounds, Khan was certain that the men who whistled at her petite figure didn’t view her as a child. Khan knew that Mama Pearl wouldn’t exactly approve of her outfit.

Removing another dish towel from the rail, she popped her uncle in the head when he turned back around to the grill. He let her have her way for a minute. Then the tables turned. He snapped the towel tight, whopping the small of her back repeatedly into a weakened state until she surrendered. Now it was clear who was in control.

“I give. I give,” she whimpered. “Where’s Aunt Ida? I haven’t seen her yet.”

Khan felt her uncle releasing her. His head turned in the direction of a younger woman, not outwardly attractive, but turning heads all the same, near the back of the yard. She was introducing herself to other guests.

Khan recognized Thyme’s secretary. Just as Elaine turned to catch Ron’s eye, Khan caught hers. Khan’s antennae were instantly raised. Something in the air between Elaine and her uncle made Khan suspicious.
Damn, Ron, do you have that much action left in your old ass to pass around to three women?

Khan smiled without sincerity at Elaine, then at Ron. She was suddenly tired of the games men played. “I’m going inside to check on Aunt Ida. Tell the DJ to play an oldy but goody will you? Like ‘What’s Goin’ On.’” Not waiting for an answer, she entered the kitchen through the back door.

Ida was cutting up celery and bell peppers. She was in the process of making a tubful of potato salad. After they hugged and said hello, Ida released Khan’s hands, avoiding her eyes. Khan followed her gaze outside, where Ron smiled at everyone and turned over smoky slabs of meat. Elaine had stepped up beside him and was whispering in his ear.

“I’m not going to put up with this shit.” Ida’s hands shook and her bottom lip quivered as she chopped up the peppers and scraped them into the large bowl.

“Oh, Aunt Ida.” Khan placed both arms around her aunt’s wide shoulders. She thought about Luella and Ron, and now this. “Don’t pay any attention. It’s probably nothing.” Inwardly, Khan cringed.

Her aunt shuffled over to the refrigerator and filled a glass with bubbly liquid. Khan could smell the barley from where she stood. Her aunt downed half the glass of beer in one gulp. A foam mustache coated her upper lip. She tried to wipe it off and missed half of it. “Pressure. Ha. Nothing would take his mind off his penis. I ain’t never seen a man so in love with his private. It’s the first thing he washes when he gets in the shower.” Ida’s eyes were laughing, but her face was stern. “When he was younger it was cute.” Ida hiccupped. “Now I want to tell him so bad how much his face stinks.”

Khan couldn’t hold her laughter.

Ida finished the glass of beer. “I’m tired of smelling a penis face, Khan.”

They both looked out the kitchen window. Her aunt was watching Ron, and so was Khan, until she saw a familiar face—or should she say head? There was Buddy, dreadlocks down, talking to people as if he knew them personally.

“Do you know him, Aunt Ida?” Khan asked, pointing at Buddy. “I’ve seen him a couple of times at my condo.”

Ida’s eyes were still glued on her husband when she spoke. “That’s Viola’s nephew. He’s a nice boy—even with that hair. Viola was supposed to come, but she wasn’t feeling too well this morning.”

When Khan looked back, her aunt had opened a cupboard and took a sip of the drink that she had concealed behind the huge Tupperware bowl. Khan could tell Ida was getting tipsy. Ida then went to the cutting board and began cutting up the boiled eggs. Khan removed the knife from her aunt’s hand. “I’ll finish making the potato salad.”