Blue Collar Blues (36 page)

Khan fought her way through the pickets and down the ramp to the security-guard station. From behind her she could hear Daddy Cool warning her to stay back.

A few seconds later, she stood behind Ron and listened to him arguing with the security guards.

“Look, Ron. We don’t want any trouble. You have to move back. You know the rules of the contract.”

“Are we supposed to abide by the rules when the company is bringing scabs in here to do our work?”

“Ron,” the security guard said, “you can do what you want in the streets, but this is private property. Don’t make me have to physically remove you.”

As the scabs began to file in, ten more guards exited the station and formed a protective line for the scabs into the plant. A line of vans had just come into view.

“I’m telling you to get back, Ron. Otherwise, I
will
call the police and have you arrested. I hope that won’t be necessary.”

Khan was feeling what her uncle felt now. Seeing the scab workers file out of vans, workers who had probably practiced her sewing job for the past two weeks somewhere while she was separating the jewelry she planned on selling to cover her bills, made her mind trip to the insanity level. “Fuck that shit!” she yelled, then stepped beside Ron. “Uncle Ron, who are these people? These people have no rights here.”

“I’m sorry to say, Khan, but we could be those people unless we get this contract settled. These are our jobs and we’re going to fight to keep them. These are our people—laid-off union workers—out of work trying to feed their families too. I feel sorry for them, but they can’t have our jobs.”

Ron pulled her small body back behind him and said, “Shhhush” under his breath so she wouldn’t draw attention to herself. By that time one more van had stopped in the lot, and two more joined in, waiting.

Three committeemen whose role was to keep the union members in order came up beside them.

“Trouble, Ron?” one asked.

“No,” he said, backing up. He smiled viciously at the guards. “We’re going to do as the guard says. We’re going to get off company property.”

But Khan could tell by the sound of his voice that he had something planned. All five backed up the ramp slowly, all the while watching the guards and the van. The jeers from the union workers became louder.

Sweat trickled down Khan’s face, and when Ron grabbed her hand she could feel the sweat on his hands intermingling with hers. The other committeemen were breathing hard and sweating profusely as well. She clutched her uncle’s hand more tightly and began to pray.

Something was about to explode.

As doors of the fifth and last van opened, spawning more scabs, the union workers were propelled into action.

“Here they come!” a union worker shouted. “Scabs! Scabs! Assholes trying to take our jobs! Get out of here!”

__________

The calls began coming in for R.C., first from his business manager, then from his bookie. They all wanted money. Tomiko was nothing short of astounded at how much debt R.C. had incurred. She’d been able to convince him to give up the alcohol, but she wasn’t so sure of how much headway she’d made on his gambling habits.

Tomiko and Bonnie were in the kitchen feeding Kip milk from a bottle since he was too young to feed himself. “When the casinos are open next year in Detroit, I don’t know what will become of R.C. I hope he realizes he can’t beat the casinos before he loses the shirt off his back. Every day you read in the papers about people losing their homes, cars, jewelry, because of gambling,” Tomiko said in exasperation.

“Here,” Bonnie said, taking the kitten from Tomiko, “let me do that. You have to have a little faith, Tomiko. Mr. R.C.’s been in worse shape than this and pulled through. He’s a survivor. I know he appears to be down and out, but don’t give up on him. You’re good for him. I found the eight hundred number for Gamblers Anonymous in his pants pocket. At least he’s trying to do better.”

When the phone rang, Bonnie answered and then reluctantly handed it to Tomiko.

“Hello,” said Tomiko. “May I help you? This is Mrs. Richardson.”

“This is Alexander. Tell your husband that he can’t keep avoiding us.” Alexander was one of R.C.’s bookies.

“Excuse me? Who is this?”

“His payment’s overdue. He’s got ten days or we’ll get him good. He knows that.” The line went dead in her ear. For the first time, Tomiko feared for her husband’s life.

Tomiko calculated the days until October 1. She had just over three weeks. If only she could get R.C. to the ranch, maybe he would confide in her.

Things had been going so well between them. R.C. had even met her grandparents and told her afterward how meeting them actually made him feel closer to her. In the past weeks, Tomiko had renewed faith and hope for their marriage. She was determined not to let his gambling get in the way of this hope.

That evening, when R.C. came home, he handed Tomiko a check for twenty thousand dollars. She hid her disappointment that he was gambling for such high stakes; did he think he could hide from her that bookies were after him?

She told him about her plans to drive to Kentucky on Thursday. Trying to sound upbeat, she claimed that she needed to put some highway miles on her new car. She didn’t mention the phone call from the bookie.

“No. Not alone. Kentucky’s at least seven, seven and a half hours away. You’ve never driven that far alone.”

They were getting ready to go see
The Man of La Mancha,
which was playing at the Fisher Theater. Robert Goulet was the featured star. Tomiko remembered reading the play in Japan in her eleventh-grade literature class. She always loved it and looked forward to seeing the play on stage.

“Friday then,” Tomiko volunteered. “I could leave early Friday morning and be there by one.”

“I can’t leave Friday, either. If you wait until Saturday I can drive down with you.”

A huge shipment of Mishimoto’s Muresame sports cars was due in at two of R.C.’s dealerships on Thursday. And Champion’s hot new Atlantic was a week overdue and expected to arrive at four of R.C.’s dealerships on Friday. Angry customers had been waiting for the cars they had ordered in July, and it was now September. R.C. was adamant that he wouldn’t rest until his customers were driving their new vehicles.

“By then the weekend will be half over.” She began undressing him. “Please. Please, R.C. This means a lot to me. I haven’t had a weekend off in months. And you know we both could use some time off. C’mon, fly down Saturday night.” She had him down to his shorts and shirt by then. “You can drive back with me.”

He gave in, of course, and Tomiko figured it was the best she could do to get him out of Michigan.

Taking special care to dress, Tomiko slipped into a Louis Féraud black bugle-beaded bodice that exposed her midriff. The outfit was cutting-edge vamp. As she moved, she showed off her sexy ankles and shapely legs. R.C. was pleased. She’d even helped him pick out a new winter-white wool three-piece suit at Jack’s Place in Southfield for the occasion. No one could tell the Richardsons they didn’t look suave.

“You know what?” Tomiko teased. “You and I are looking so fine tonight, the actors in the play are liable to step off the stage and compliment us on our
slamming
clothes when they see us walking down the aisle.”

“There you go bragging again. You beginning to sound more and more like a soul sister when she thinks she’s looking spiffy.”

They arrived late and, sure enough, heads turned when they walked into the theater. But Tomiko stopped when she saw a face midway down the aisle.

It was like an itch that she couldn’t scratch. She wanted to ignore it but couldn’t. It was somewhat of a relief to see a man sitting beside the woman.

When Tomiko saw a blond-haired woman smiling at her, she slowed and nodded to the woman and the dreadlocked gentleman seated beside her. Though Tomiko had never seen Khan, she remembered Bonnie’s description of her: “Darla” smile, short blond hair, and tiny body. Tomiko’s instincts told her that this had to be Khan. Tomiko couldn’t tell what R.C.’s response was, but he didn’t miss a step behind her.

“Good evening,” Tomiko whispered to Khan. The man sitting beside her with his arms around her shoulder smiled and returned the greeting.

Throughout the night, Tomiko barely watched the play she had so longed to see. Her mind and heart were on the woman behind them, the one in the background who had threatened their marriage. Was she still a threat? Tomiko wondered.

When the play was over and they rose to leave, she felt relieved to see that Khan and her date had already left the theater.

* * *

On Friday morning, Tomiko rose while it was still dark and had coffee with R.C. before he left for work and she headed off to Kentucky at five.

R.C. hesitated outside the front door after he’d kissed her good-bye for the fifth time. “I charged an extra battery for your cell phone. It’s in the glove compartment, as well as the Triple-A road service card in case you have a flat or something.”

“You told me.” She fell into his arms and hugged him tight.

“And the map. I’ve made several markings for alternate routes just in case—”

“You showed me.” Tomiko opened the door and shoved him back inside. “Now I’ve got to get going. I’ll be fine. I’ve got everything . . . more than everything I need.”

R.C. pretended he was trying to remember one more thing.

She spoke in her sexiest voice. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“What? Tell me.”

“It’s better if I show you.” She felt his smile when he kissed her again. “I’ll call you when I get to Cleveland, and the moment I cross the Kentucky state line. Okay?”

“Tomiko . . .” he said, softly stroking her chin.

“I love you, too.”

Forty minutes later, Tomiko was on the interstate. The highway was clear except for some minor construction. And when she reached the Cleveland city limits, she kept her word to R.C., calling him at the designated times until she made it to the ranch by lunchtime.

The next morning she should have felt exhausted, but instead she felt exuberant. Sunshine coated the tops of golden and russet trees. The air was warm and sweet for autumn. She mounted the mare Caleb tacked up for her and they roamed the acres of countryside R.C. owned. And with each breath she took, Tomiko couldn’t have felt freer. So free, in fact, that she hadn’t noticed until the setting sun was as vivid as gold, orange, and purple on painted glass how quickly the day had passed.

Back at the ranch, the housekeeper was preparing a light supper of chicken salad with homemade French bread. Tomiko could smell the bread baking in the oven the moment she finished riding the mare and exited the barn.

After taking a shower, she changed into a black brocade shift and cigarette slacks. By then it was just after seven. R.C. would arrive in less than thirty minutes. She spent the time standing by the window watching for him.

When she saw him, she felt a strange tightening feeling in her chest that she’d begun to feel each time they came together after a separation. At times, some of her former insecurity and distrustful feelings would surface. But when she saw his lovely smile greet hers, she couldn’t have felt happier.

Later that night, Tomiko surprised R.C. with yet another game—this one called Sexual Secrets. She also had purchased Sinful Cinnomon Spanish Fly Aphrodisiac and Dirty Dice.

But R.C. was refusing to play.

After watching R.C. read the directions for a fourth time, Tomiko said, “What’s wrong, R.C.?”

He was now on his feet, pacing in the large living room. “I’ve got to tell you what’s going on. Four times this month I won between fifty thousand and a hundred thousand bucks. A couple of times I didn’t spend it on nothing but gas and food, ’cause I lost it the very next day.” He stood up, pacing back and forth, placing his hands in and out of his pockets and occasionally rubbing his head. He stopped. “I remembered asking God to help me. I promised that this would be the last time.”

Tomiko smiled at him reassuringly. “I’m glad you realize how serious this is, R.C. I’ve read about all those people gambling over in Windsor having to file bankruptcy.” She shook her head. “There are so many sad stories. People are refinancing their homes to feed their gambling habits.”

“Not just that. They’re losing their lives. A few weeks ago a young man jumped off the Ambassador Bridge on his way home from the casino.” His voice was quivering. “I knew that man, Tomiko. It hit home. I have to stop, or I’ll be next.”

Tomiko couldn’t help it. She started to cry, shaking her head from side to side. Then she felt R.C.’s arms around her. “I love you, R.C. I always want you to be a part of my life.”

“I went to The Male Health Center to see a Dr. Agnew. He’s a urologist. I found out that I don’t have that problem. You know . . . what you’d thought before.”

“Are you okay?”

“Dr. Agnew said I’ve just been under too much stress. Gambling and the excessive drinking didn’t help, either.” She laid her hand against his cheek and caressed it. “Anyway. I’m fine now, so we won’t be needing this.” He took the Sinful Cinnomon Spanish Fly and tossed it in the trash can.

Tomiko took the cue and lay down on the bed. She stretched out her arms for him to join her. “We’ve toyed and joyed with each other, but my love for you goes much deeper.”

* * *

The next morning she was awakened by the smell of coffee. When she entered the breakfast room, Tomiko saw that R.C. was already reading the paper. Wearing only one of R.C.’s sleeveless T-shirts that barely covered her thighs, Tomiko leaned down to kiss him. “Morning,” she said.

He was working on a crossword puzzle. “Forty-two down, is . . .” She took the pencil from his hand and wrote in
excitement,
the answer to the clue, then sat across the table from him. “Mmm, that’s how I feel this morning.”

“Thanks.” He reached over and stroked her naked thighs, then began to ponder another word.

“What?” she asked, pouring a cup of coffee from the decanter. “You need some more help?”

When she sat back down he said, “Tomiko? You should know . . .” He shuffled for the rest of the words. “My money problems are pretty serious. We’re going to lose the ranch.”