Kiss of Noir (19 page)

“You never came to redeem it, you goddamn fool,” Ellis replied.

“But why didn’t you—”

“I did!” Ellis bellowed. I was astonished that Ellis had mastery of the situation, so I peeked cautiously over the countertop. “I phoned you every month. I visited you at work. I talked to your wife. I took you out for a beer before I sold it,” Ellis said.

Tears coursed down the man’s face. He cocked the hammer. Tension rose in the silent room. I held my breath. Cleo’s lighter flared, startling everybody as he lit a cigarette. Ellis, as if reading my mind, pressed down on my shoulder, stopping me from rushing the man as I had been planning.

“That’s the only thing my daddy left me,” the man blubbered, the rifle barrel quivering.

“Put that thing down, you dumbass cracker,” Ellis said and held out the box of tissues.

The man set the rifle on the floor and mopped his face with the tissues. “I’m sorry, Ellis, I just…”

Ellis went around the counter and held the man’s shoulder. “No problem.”

“You know who got my watch?”

Ellis shook his head. “Man, you shouldn’t pawn things you want back and then stay drunk until they’re gone. Ain’t cool. You know I’m in business here, right?”

The man nodded, hanging his head.

“I don’t have time to babysit your shit and give you money. That’s for your mama. A deal is a deal and you gave me the shaft. I’ve gotta protect myself and my family, you know?”

The man nodded. I slowly stood. The pleasant men were burbling over a set of tires. Cleo watched Ellis with a bright, proud smile. Their fedoras were cocked identically.

“So don’t come in here and pull that shit. I’ve got money for
loan
and you don’t pay me, what am I supposed to do?”

The man shrugged.

“So, you see? I did what I had to do. I’m sorry about it, man, but I can give you a great deal on another watch. Look just like it, okay? Now go on home and dry up.” Ellis squeezed the man, turned him in an about face, and pushed him toward the door. Cleo picked up the rifle and removed the bullets, pocketing them before handing the gun back to the man. The man waved weakly as he stumbled out, dragging his gun on the ground.

“Ellis,” I said. “I’ll be damned.”

“My man!” Drew cried.

“Naw, naw,” Ellis shook his head. “Don’t be too impressed. He comes in like that about every two months. Damn rifle has probably never even been shot.”

“You mean he’s still not over his gran’s watch and he threatens you regularly?” I asked.

“Naw, what happens is, he pawns stuff all the time and never pays it out. He puts that rifle in my face about all of it.”

“I’ll bet he pawns the gun next.” Drew laughed.

“Yeah,” Cleo said. “And, little brother, everything he owns is some precious heirloom from his daddy. It can say Wal-Mart right on it and he still has a sob story about how it was passed down.”

Ellis laughed, his teeth gleaming. He slapped Cleo’s back. To me, Ellis had never looked stronger, handsomer, or more powerful. In my mind, he grew tall in respect and deep in legend.

“And, Nora, if he ever comes back looking for a watch,” Ellis rummaged in the storage cabinets below the display cases, “show him this one. Mark it up another hundred and fifty percent and then come down fifty percent
slowly
, all right?”

“But it’s already marked up…” I trailed off, everyone waiting. “Oh, okay. How do you know it looks like his daddy’s?”

“’Cause it
is
his daddy’s.” Ellis smiled, his eyes hard.

“Don’t say nothin’,” Cleo said to me.

“My man, my man, my man, mmm, mmm, mmm,” Drew said. I nodded.

“Okay.” Ellis clapped, brisk to the bone. “I’ll take this.” Ellis zipped the bank bag fat with the deposit. “And see you all later.”

After Ellis left, I straddled a chair and lit a cigarette, still shaking over the morning’s drama. I massaged my scalp, trying to integrate everything. “How did he do that?”

“It’s his business. Anyone would do the same,” Drew said.

“No, I wouldn’t,” I declared.

“You’re blood, ain’t you? You could do it,” Cleo said.

I regarded him sourly through my fingers as I held my head. “You’re wrong, old man. I do well when my opponents only have a ball.”

“Or a pussy.” Drew cackled.

“You enjoy it, though, don’t you? Having opponents?” Cleo said.

“Yeah, but that’s my job.”

“Same thing.”

“My man is right,” Drew said. “Ellis is successful because he’s a dirt gatherer and he doesn’t look or act like he’s a dirt gatherer.”

“And he knows how to keep his mouth
shut
,”
Cleo added.

“And all that’s in you too,” Drew said.

I removed my hands from my face. “What do you mean, he’s a dirt gatherer?”

Cleo shrugged. “Look around. Pawn is a dirty business. Useful, necessary, but dirty. There are problems, tragedies, failures, losses all through here.”

“And that’s not all,” Drew said. Cleo glared at him for a second.

“Well,” Cleo said, scratching his head underneath his hat.

“Tell me, Cleo, I’m blood,” I said. I hated to use the relativity card, but I would to find out what the hell this was about.

“There’s more.” Cleo rose and led me to one of the back rooms where Ellis kept his office and there was a wall of battered metal filing cabinets. Cleo removed a key ring from his pocket and unlocked one, pulling out a drawer and removing a manila folder.

“What is this?” I said, seeing the label marked “Threats.”

“Ellis ain’t stupid. He keeps a record of all of them just in case. I told you, pawning is dirty.”

I leafed through the notes. Some were just Ellis’s handwriting recording an unpleasant phone call. Others were notes scrawled hard in anger and threatening property damage. There was a police report of a stabbing.

I held it up to Cleo’s face. “He got stabbed?”

Cleo took the report, squinted at it, and nodded. “Not serious, though.”

“But stabbed?”

“Only in the leg. Ellis knocked him down. The nigga pulled a knife and went for anything close.”

“My boy was stabbed,” I said.

“Pull yourself together. It was years ago.”

“Who was it?” I snatched the report, belligerent and ready to kill. Cleo pinched it back and returned the report to the folder.

“Calm yourself. It’s all settled. You’re not in it.”

“But…was he? Sayan…” I stammered.

“It’s the South. You got to expect things like that. You’re not from here. You wouldn’t understand. So don’t try.”

“The South? What the hell does that mean?” I yelled. Cleo gave me such a look that I subdued myself. I looked at the filing cabinets. “What is up with all this?”

“Oh, you know how it is…small town, a black man with money. You sell your shit for a little relief, then the money’s gone, your shit’s gone, and you start to blame Ellis for your troubles.”

“But he needs protection.”

“That’s why he saves all this. For evidence, just in case. Don’t you worry none. Ellis can handle himself.” Cleo replaced the file, slammed the drawer, and locked it.

“There’s more,” Drew said.

“Tell me,” I said, surprised to hear that old familiar tone in my voice that I had used on my players. Cleo and Drew stared. It pleased me. I felt big. I straightened my spine, threw back my shoulders, planted my feet, squared my jaw, fixed my eyes, and repeated, “Tell me.”

Wordlessly, Cleo motioned for Drew to watch the store as Cleo led me deeper into the back to a closet. He opened the door and exposed an enormous safe. Cleo knelt and twisted the dial, jerking the handle down; the thick, heavy door swinging wide. I held my breath. Cleo leaned on the safe’s door waiting to see if I would understand it.

“Envelopes?” I reached in to remove a fat 81/2 x 11 envelope.
Chappelle
was written across the top in Ellis’s hand. The envelope was sealed. “Are they stocks? Bond? Confederate notes?”

Cleo shook his head. “Secrets.”

“What kind of secrets?”

Cleo shrugged. “Anything. Everything. Whatever someone knows and shouldn’t know and needs a loan. Now this is serious money.” He gestured to the stacks and stacks of innocent-looking envelopes.

“I don’t believe it.” I said. “This is filthy, nasty.”

“You think he can turn a profit on unwanted vacuums and used, broken-down TVs?” Cleo snorted.

“Other people do, don’t they?”

“Maybe. Don’t really care.” Cleo started to push the safe door closed.

I stopped him with a grip on his arm. “For real, what is all this?” I regarded the envelopes again.

“Like I told you, it’s people’s sins. Where the bodies are buried.” Cleo laughed at his own joke. I was mute. “Embezzling, thievery, assault, sexual peculiarities and peccadilloes, who is whose daddy, stuff like that. Regular humanity as it has been since before Jesus.”

“How does it work?” I still couldn’t absorb it. Ellis, a blackmailer! I hoped that if I could get Cleo to explain it then I could prove it false and point out where he had gone wrong. A misunderstanding.

“Well, they come to him. He never solicits this sorry trade. I don’t remember how it started, but let’s say a husband needs to confidentially cover a whiskey debt. He has nothing to pawn but information. So he gives Ellis all the evidence of some foul doing, signs the contract, and takes the money. If the secret isn’t eventually bought back, Ellis goes to the victim to sell it and reclaim his money. If the secret is redeemed, all the evidence goes back to the seller, no questions asked, no further action. No copies are ever made and Ellis forgets he saw anything. Slick, huh?”

I felt queasy. “Are you sure that’s what this is? Cleo, are you certain?”

“Shit, all that is enough of a scandal powder keg to blow us to Kingdom Come.” The tinkle of bells rang faintly.

“Customer!” Drew called.

“I gotta take a walk,” I said.

“Sure, you go on.” Cleo returned to the front with a smile. I let myself out of the back door, my head spinning.

That night at supper, Ellis and I sat at the dining room table alone as Sayan, in the den, caressed her belly and stared at the television, which issued continual weather warnings about the approaching hurricane.

“Baby, come away from that,” Ellis said. “Everything is getting cold.”

“You two go on and eat,” Sayan called back. “I’m just fine.”

“You’ve go to eat. Come on now,” Ellis said.

I just watched, trying to assimilate my new unsettling version of Ellis. How much did Sayan know? Would she care? I was undecided about mentioning anything to Ellis. What could I say? He was a grown man, successful and supporting my own sponging black ass while I regained my bearings.

“Why are you so quiet?” Ellis asked as he spooned peas on to Sayan’s empty plate first, mine second, and his own last.

Startled, I shook my head. “Nothing. Hard day at the office.” I tried to look into his eyes for some guidance but he was dishing up food and yelling for Sayan.

“Baby, please come eat with us. I’m not playing. The hurricane will be there after supper!”

“Just a minute,” she replied.

“Don’t make my food sit wrong,” Ellis said.

I smiled, marveling at the stubborn little battles of marriage.

“Don’t make me snatch you bald-headed for worrying me to death,” Sayan retorted.

Ellis slapped a heap of sweet potatoes on each of our plates. Then he scooped some tomato salad next to that. Last, he dished up the chicken and rice Sayan had baked that afternoon. I started eating until Ellis’s gentle unblinking stare stopped me. After all these meals in all these weeks, I still wasn’t used to the seemingly constant prayer. I dropped my fork.

“Right. Sorry.” I mumbled and bowed my head, taking Ellis’s hand. Ellis shook me loose.

“Not without Sayan,” he said. “Kendake Sayana Kibibi, turn off that TV set!”

“I’ll eat out here. It says the storm is gathering strength in the Gulf and it’s headed straight for us.”

Ellis sighed, rolling his eyes. Then he winked at me. “Jesus!” I pressed my lips together in muted amusement. Sayan was in the doorway in a flash, her brows knitted together. Ellis grabbed my hand and we bowed our heads.

“Ellis, what have I told you—” Sayan bellowed and seeing us praying, she finished meekly, “Oh,” and joined us, clasping our hands and closing her eyes.

Sayan stayed for the entire meal and we ate in comfortable silence. All of us went to bed early.

The next morning, I woke to the smell of bacon. I slipped into a T-shirt and shorts and padded to the kitchen where Sayan sat at the table and Ellis, in a pressed shirt, suit pants, and an apron, tended several pots at the stove.

“Nora, you need to go shower,” Sayan snapped. I looked down at myself, puzzled. “You got to get the funk out of your face.”

“Don’t mind her. I cooked breakfast as a surprise and I didn’t know bacon would make her sick,” Ellis said.