Femme Noir (13 page)

An old black woman with a good, strong build got out of the car. She wore a crisply starched gray maid’s uniform. She walked to the casket. She carried a large white cloth that could be a diaper or a towel and wiped her eyes continuously. I edged up to a shrub so that I might hear better. What I heard was copious wailing. The woman was talking to Michelle and sobbing. Ashamed to witness such a private scene, I turned away. The woman eventually calmed herself. Perspiration dripped from my nose and as I pinched it away, I resumed watching. The woman opened her great pocketbook, removed a small Bible, read from it, then threw it in the hole and walked away, head high, without looking back.

I waited a while longer and stood with a groan. My knees popped. I began limping back to the car, working the kinks from my body and trying to breathe. Instead, I fell into a frenzy of sneezing. I decided to take another capsule.

As I approached her vehicle, a marker caught my eye. I was incredulous. No way, that just couldn’t be. I read and reread the name to make sure I wasn’t seeing things.

“Billy Bob Pigman,” I whispered, shaking my head. “Unbelievable.”

I had to drive around the entire cemetery because the little road was one-way. On the way out, I was surprised to see a beautiful monument to the blacks who had died in the Greenwood riot, a large Jewish section, a Greek section, even a small what I guessed to be Cherokee section. Again, Tulsa amazed me.

I decided to freshen up quickly at the hotel before going to Queenie’s. I counted on seeing Max and wanted to smell good. I rinsed rapidly in the shower, used lots of deodorant, and put on khaki shorts and a tight white T-shirt. I posed in the mirror, pleased with my muscles, hoping not to sweat too much.

Chapter Fourteen

Driving up to Queenie’s, I discovered that there was no parking. The cars filled the lot and lined the street. Why weren’t there any valets? I finally parked in a church lot and cursed the block I had to walk because doing so, I was soaked and my crisp fresh shirt was limp. But the ever-present wind baked me a little dry before I went inside.

A quadruple blast of dark, cold, smoke, and music assaulted me as I pulled open the heavy door. After having been blinded by the brightness outdoors, now I was blinded by the darkness within. There was a live band playing and I listened and watched until my eyes adjusted.

Someone yelled in my ear, “Delaney!”

I turned around and grinned.“Weatherly!”

“Where have you been?” Sloane was smiling dopily and carrying a bottled beer by its mouth. I shrugged, the music momentarily rendering me thoughtless. The lead singer was a lovely woman with a sexy overbite and glossy black hair cut in a swingy pageboy that swept her jawline in time with the music. She writhed and groaned to the blues the band played.

Lila was singing about drinking poison if the judge didn’t set her papa free.

“They’re good!” I shouted.

Sloane nodded and said, “Our own white Lady Day. Drink?” Sloane held up her beer.

“Yeah!” I shouted, “Gin and tonic!” The drink would secretly bond me to Max.

Sloane met my eyes and grinned before going to get the drink. The song ended and riotous applause and cheers rose out of the blackness that hid the audience. The dance floor was crowded too, I noted. Maybe I could slither over and ask Max to dance and just hold her close because there was no room for anything else. To hell with Max’s little friend who brought her to the funeral. Life was too short.

Sloane reappeared at my elbow and handed me a cold glass sparkling with clarity. It was a beautiful drink. I smelled it. Tangy, sugary. I tasted it. Gently bubbly, tart, edgy, and sublimely sweet. Mmm, this was very, very good. I felt a snap inside as if I had found a part of myself as I swallowed. Max’s tongue would taste like this at first, then as we went deeper, I would get Max’s real flavor. Maybe at the back of her throat she would taste like honey. Like pecans. Like milk. And her red, swollen, slick cunt when I finally, softly put my face there would taste like pineapple. Then, as I went deeper, it would taste dark and meaty. Her backside would be rich and fragrant and earthy like fresh truffles. “Thanks,” I told Sloane, “I’ll get the next round.”

“Sure, pal. Lila’s got deep pockets. It’s all free today, so you buy me as many drinks as you’d like.”

I was sure Sloane deliberately waited for me to take a big gulp before casually announcing, “Max wants to see you.”

I barely escaped choking and spitting all over the floor. I put my napkin to my mouth and coughed, but not too much. Could’ve been a coincidence. Sloane watched. I looked at the stage as the singer announced a break before her next set.

“Oh, she does? And she sent you to tell me?”

“Sort of.” Sloane swigged her beer. In anticipation of my thoughts Sloane said, “She’s not here. She’s at home, alone, expecting you. I ’spect you can find your way, right? It’s near Swan Lake.” Sloane grinned.

At her suggestions, I rebelled. “What makes you think I’ll go?” Even as I said it, my mind told me not to make a fool of myself in front of sharp Sloane.

She clinked her beer to my drink. “Uh-huh” was all she said.

“I’m gonna mingle,” I replied in a tough voice and walked away casually. Sloane’s knowing look infuriated me. “I’m gonna mingle?” I cringed at the memory of saying something that stupid. Why didn’t I just give it up and own my obsession? Sloane seemed like a friend…but my pride and fear prevented it. Maybe after a few more drinks, I could drop the ego. Yeah, I’d be an alcohol-infused butch, my eyes rolling with drunkenness, quoting movies, singing songs, and putting my arms around everyone within reach, declaring that I loved them forever, really and truly, I mean it. Never having been a sloppy drunk, I shuddered at that idea too, convinced to my everlasting embarrassment that if I were ever going to be messy, it would be in front of Sloane, and I definitely didn’t want that. First, I must find a cigarette; then I could face the rest.

I looked the crowd over, wondering what to do next. I spotted Darcy, Ava-Suzanne, and Jhoaeneyie, but too late to avoid them.

Jhoaeneyie engulfed me in a bear hug and rubbed my back. I shoved her away, but she held on to my arm. “Hard stuff,” Jhoaeneyie said, her head tilted. “Real hard stuff. Are you okay? Do you feel safe, deep down inside?”

I used my stone cold stare to glare Jhoaeneyie to silence.

“Stay healthy. We need you.” Jhoaeneyie released me.

“Here.” Darcy thrust a big colorful drink into my free hand. “It’s a juicy pussy.” Darcy swigged hers. “Try it,” she urged me as Ava-Suzanne tittered and sipped her own.

“I prefer to get mine on the outside. I like them better on the hoof.” I smelled the drink. “Hmm, tropicale.” Cloying, canned, oversweet fruits. Well, I could pose with it for a while.

“So, what have you heard?” Darcy asked eagerly.

I shrugged. “Just part of that last song.”

“No, no.” Darcy frowned. “About
us.
What did you hear?”

“Tell us everything,” Jhoaeneyie said.

“What?”

“I figure the entire community is buzzing and you would’ve heard something by now.”

“Yeah, your hotel isn’t under a
rock,
is it?”

I stared down my nose at Darcy and Jhoaeneyie in disbelief. Ava-Suzanne licked her lips.

“We’re really private, so I thought I’d get your version and then tell you the true one,” Darcy continued, trying to smother her eagerness.

“We really hate these messy lesbian rumors, but what are you going to do? It is the system we live in,” Jhoaeneyie said. The band announced a break and cleared the stage.

“I ain’t heard shit.” I cocked my head. Darcy was pale and deflated.

Jhoaeneyie shook her head. “Unbelievable.”

“Oh, well, never mind. I guess you’re just out of the loop.”

“Uh-huh, that’s it,” I agreed.

Ava-Suzanne sucked a cantaloupe chunk. She looked like an albino tree frog.

“Well, what do you think?” Darcy gestured to the empty stage.

“Just great. They’re going places, I think.” I put my face in my drink as if it were an oxygen mask.

“Yeah, I’ve known them for a hundred years,” Darcy boasted. Ava-Suzanne simpered on her shoulder.

“Oh, they’ve been struggling for so many years.” Jhoaeneyie puffed. “I’m glad to see them finally getting off the ground. We’re real proud. I’ve watched them come up for a long time. Poor dears.” Jhoaeneyie tilted her head and smiled ruefully. “But we’ve been their number one supporters cheering them on just
forever.
”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m the one who told Lila to start singing in the first place,” Darcy said. Ava-Suzanne nodded in agreement. Darcy continued, “We are real tight. I can introduce you if you like. Sometimes I sit in with the band.” Then, she added with false modesty and a bad British accent, “Sort of like the fifth Beatle, you know?” Ava-Suzanne and Jhoaeneyie laughed. I stared. “Lila tries to get me to sing, but I tell her, look, that’s your thing, not mine, understand? See, I’m real visual. Music isn’t second nature. At least not yet.” Darcy searched my face for a response.

“Where’s Jack?” I blurted, desperate to derail this line of talk. Darcy, Jhoaeneyie, and Ava-Suzanne turned together and gestured to the bar where he sat alone, smoking and drinking thoughtfully. He was still in his cemetery suit.

“I think I’ll go over and say hello.”

I pulled away, but Darcy said, “Good idea, we’ll join you.”

“Hey, Jack.” I clapped him on the back and put my empty glass and the juicy pussy on the bar, shaking my head for the fruit drink and nodding at the bartender for a refill for Jack and me, saying as if experienced, “Tank and tonic.” I also sent a beer to Sloane, pointing in the smoky darkness. Jhoaeneyie, Darcy, and Ava-Suzanne sat on Jack’s other side.

Darcy leaned in with an approving smile. “Good choice, girl. That’s the best of the British gins.”

“Yes, I know,” I stated indifferently.

“Hey, baldy. I remember you. You’re the…the…” Jack grinned impishly and shrugged. “A lot going on for me right now. So sorry. Whass your name? Mr. Clean?”

“Nora,” I said, delighted. The bartender slid our drinks toward us. “Thanks.” Free drinks or not, I knew to tip well and passed Jack his bourbon.

“Oh, thass right, you’re the generous charmer.” Noticing my hungry look that only another smoker recognizes, Jack passed his pack. I thumbed the match into flame and inhaled with a grateful sigh.

“You gotta teach me that,” Jack said.

“Any time.” I smiled, blowing smoke to the ceiling. I lit another match for Jack as a demonstration. Ava-Suzanne pointedly began coughing. Jack rolled his eyes and lit a fresh cigarette himself.

“You know, Ava-Suzanne grew up with Michelle. Lived right next door. Silver spoon up her twat.” Jack giggled. I stared at Ava-Suzanne, who glared imperiously. Jhoaeneyie watched, her eyes sharp with prurient interest.

“We were estranged at the time of her death,” Ava-Suzanne said frostily.

“You know, Jack is Michelle’s cousin,” Darcy said to me across Jack. Jhoaeneyie smiled with satisfaction. Stunned, I looked at Jack for confirmation; he stared straight ahead. He lifted his shoulder, nodded imperceptibly, and drained his shot. Then he leaned close to me.

“You know, Darcy Tate used to be plain old Roberta Johnson before she changed her name,” he whispered.

I felt loose and goofy and I laughed. “Figures.”

“And Jhoaeneyie hasn’t been a therapist for years. She had her license revoked for inappropriate conduct,” Jack continued.

I laughed again. “Naturally,” I said. “So, you’re Michelle’s cousin?”

“Yeah.” Jack grinned, turning to me, his eyes red. “We go…we went way back.”

“You were close?”

“Used to be. Before she burned
all
the bridges.”

“What does that mean?”

“She shat on everyone but me, and I thought it would never happen between us, but it did and I ended our relationship. About that time, she also shat hard on Sloane and had to leave town. I heard she went straight to Los Angeles.” He said it in a tone that implied, I heard she went straight to hell. “And she hooked up with some sucker there. Maybe that’s who killed her. Either that or the governor’s men. She died there in some dump apartment.”

I was impassive. “She died in LA?”

Jack frowned. “Oh, you didn’t know.”

“No, I did not.”

“How did you know Michelle, anyway?” Jhoaeneyie demanded.

“I was the sucker in LA.”

Jack stared. Darcy stared. Ava-Suzanne stared. Jhoaeneyie stared. It was as if the bar got silent.

“I guess none of you knew
that,
” I added.

“No, no, sorry, I just didn’t.” Jack shook his head.

“
You’re
the ex?” Ava-Suzanne asked derisively. Darcy elbowed her. Jhoaeneyie smirked.

“Yeah, what of it?” I asked angrily. I was ready to wipe that twig.

“Nothing,” Ava-Suzanne said, venomously sweet. “I just didn’t realize Michelle was so…
diverse.
”

I snapped to Darcy, “You want to control your mannequin’s mouth before I have to get ugly, you get me?” Then to Ava-Suzanne, “I don’t know what your problem is and I don’t care. You just shut up and stay out of my way, dig?”