Little Black Girl Lost (12 page)

J
ohnnie went back and forth between Sears, the new house, and the hotel just before she moved out of the Savoy. With the money Earl had given her, she bought several bedroom sets, bathroom ornaments, towels, rugs, drapes, and other decorative furnishings. By the time she finished, the house looked like the palace she envisioned. She was especially proud of the king-sized, hand carved cherrywood bed she picked out. The head and foot-boards had winged angels playing trumpets carved into it, and the four bedposts almost reached the ceiling. She also purchased a mirrored bureau that stretched from one end of the wall to the other, with ten-foot armoires at each end. One armoire would be used for clothes and the other housed the portable RCA television.

Johnnie was walking to the front desk of the Savoy to check out. A week passed and Robert Simmons hadn't had any contact with her. Johnnie stayed out of sight until the day she was ready to check out. This, of course, was all a part of Johnnie's plan to get him to tell her about her mother and her dealings at the Savoy. She believed if Simmons didn't see her for a while, he would become even more infatuated with her. She knew Simmons would be more desperate to have her, fearing it would be his last opportunity. When she reached the desk, Simmons was reading the morning mail.

“Robert,” she said softly, “I'll be checking out this afternoon. I have some errands to run this morning. When I return, I'll be ready to check out.”

“I see you've decided to call me Robert.” He grinned.

“I thought it was the least I could do. You have a wonderful hotel and a great staff. I felt as if I was at home. Thank you.”

Noticing the change in attitude, Simmons fell right into her trap.

“Well, since this is your last day with us, perhaps you'll have that dinner with me?”

“I cain't do dinner, but I can do lunch if you like.”

“How about Trudy's Café?”

“Sounds good, but can we eat on the terrace? It's such a beautiful day out.”

“Cool. What time should I expect you?”

“One-thirty okay with you, Robert?”

“Fine. I'll see you then.”

“Until then,” Johnnie said, walking toward the exit.

Myron smiled and opened the door for her. Simmons watched her as she went through the door. He shook his head wantonly and said to himself, “Yeah, I gotta get me some of that.”

Johnnie walked into Glenn and Webster's amidst the usual stares, wearing a navy skirt, a white blouse and a pair of navy-and-white pumps. She saw Cynthia Lamar sitting at her desk, filing her painted red nails.

“Do you have an appointment, Ms. Wise?” she asked, looking for a fight.

“Are we going to have to do this every time I come to see Martin, Cynthia?”

“Let me tell you something. Martin is mine, and no colored wench is going to change that. No matter how much money you have, you'll always be a nigger to him.”

“And you'll always wonder what we have that you don't that makes your men chase after us with little regard for their own cracker women. Now, are you going to announce me or do I have to barge in like I did last time?”

With a stoic look on her face, she picked up the phone and said, “Your voodoo princess is here.” Then she hung up.

Johnnie was about to say something when Cynthia beat her to the punch.

“I know, my mama, right?”

“That's right,” Johnnie said and walked into the office grinning.

“How are you today, Johnnie?” Martin asked, extending his hand.

“Wonderful, Martin,” she said, shaking his hand and taking a seat. “I'm moving into my house later this afternoon.”

“Great. You must be elated.”

“Quite elated, actually.”

She didn't know what elated meant, but went with it anyway. She figured it must mean excited or something.

“So, what can I do for you today?”

“A couple of things, actually, Martin,” Johnnie said, crossing her legs. “I want to diversify my portfolio a little more.”

“What companies are you looking at?”

“Well, I was at Sears quite a bit this week, and I noticed how many people were buying televisions.”

“So, you're interested in one of the television makers?”

“Not exactly. It's my opinion that the market for the makers of televisions will be up and down. Some will even go out of business. So, I'm thinking of going to the source.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I'm thinking of investing in the networks. I think they will last regardless of what television is on the market. What do you think?”

“I think you're on to something,” he said, thinking,
I better get some of this before she figures out how easy this shit really is. If I wait too long, she won't need my advice.

“You really think so?” Johnnie asked, feeling good about herself.

“Yes, but I think you should also go with AT&T Corporation.”

“Why, should I do that?”

“I'll be glad to explain it to you over dinner at your place. You name the date and time, and I'll be there, portfolio in hand, ready to chat about the market, among other things.”

“First things first, Martin,” Johnnie said and tossed a wad of money on the table.

“How much is this?”

“Five thousand dollars.”

Martin counted the money and began making out the receipt, thinking,
You must be every bit as good as Earl says. I can't wait to get you in the sack.

“How do you want to spread this out?”

“I'd like to put some in AT&T, but since you won't explain it to me, I guess I'll have my dinners with a man who can appreciate my natural talents.”

“If I explain everything now, I won't have a card left to play later. That is, if I'm going to get the opportunity to appreciate your natural talents up close and personal.”

“The card you hold is your knowledge of the market, Martin. That alone will be your calling card.”

Johnnie watched him to see if her flirtatious words would be enough to get him to divulge his rationale for investing in AT&T. If it worked, she knew she would have no trouble getting the rest of the information out of him.

“So then, if I tell you why you should invest in AT&T, I still get to come to dinner?”

“No. You get to come to dinner because I want you to. You get to explain why I should invest in AT&T because it's your job.”

“Okay, you got me.” Martin laughed. “AT&T is an innovative company.”
Innovative. That's another word I don't understand.

“Innovative, huh?” Johnnie repeated, trying not to let on that she didn't have a clue what he was talking about.

“Just three short years ago, AT&T invented a technological marvel called the transistor. They're currently working on the first transatlantic telephone cable, and they're looking into launching the first earth-orbit commercial communication satellite.”

“That's good enough for me,” Johnnie said. “I'm sold.”
I've got a lot to learn about this investment business.
“Well, Martin, I'm kinda in a hurry. Let me give you my new address so that you can send my dividend check there from now on.”

“Okay, sure. Where do you live?”

“In Ashland Estates.”

“Ashland Estates? It's pretty expensive out there, isn't it?”

“For colored folks? Yeah, probably so.”

“What's the street address?”

“Number 3415 Imagination Drive,” Johnnie said and picked up her purse. “Okay, just so we're clear, we're investing in NBC, ABC, CBS, and AT&T, right?”

“Right.”

“I'll be calling you Martin,” she said with a quick wink of the eye. “Keep your motor runnin'.”

A
fter buying a dictionary at Cambridge Bookstore on Main Street, Johnnie waited for Simmons in Trudy's Café while looking up words. The word “transistor” led her to the word “semiconductor”; which led her to the word conductor; which helped her to understand that a transistor was a semiconductor that manages or controls electricity. The word “innovative” was already added to her repertoire of words. She couldn't wait to use it.

Robert slid into his seat without making a sound. He was wearing a navy blue suit, a white shirt with a blue-and-white tie and expensive cologne.

Johnnie closed her dictionary and put it back into her purse. She decided to play to his ego before springing the trap she knew he'd fall into.

“My, my, my, don't we look and smell like the rich and famous,” Johnnie said with a wide smile, showing her perfect teeth. “I see you've decided to wear the same colors I'm wearing.”

“Yeah, I wanted you to see how good we looked together,” Simmons said, feeling like a hunter about to capture his prey.

Trudy came over to their table frowning, and practically threw the menus at them. Her blood seemed to boil even more when she realized Robert was so enamored with Johnnie that he didn't notice she was furious with him. They'd had sex together right after breakfast that very morning.

Johnnie could feel the thick tension in the air, but pretended not to notice Trudy's rage.
She doesn't like the idea of Robert having lunch with me in her restaurant. I can use her attitude to set up the trap.

“What would you like?” he asked, still oblivious to Trudy's indignation.

“I'll have a chef salad and an iced tea, please.”

Trudy was so upset by the sight of the two of them all dressed up like they were going to a ball sponsored by one of the local social clubs, her face looked like she had been sucking lemons.

Still looking at Johnnie, he said, “I'll have the ribs and fries.”

“Anything to drink?” Trudy asked, hoping he would look her in the face, so he could see how badly she wanted to slap him.

“I'll have an iced tea too,” he said, completely ignoring her.

Fed up, Trudy snatched the menu out of his hand and stormed off. Finally realizing something was wrong with Trudy, he glanced at her as she stomped off to the kitchen.

“I wonder what's wrong with her,” Simmons said.

“Perhaps it's your innovative style, Robert,” Johnnie said, feeling good that she was able to work her new word into the conversation so quickly.

“What do you mean, innovative?” he asked.

“Certainly an educated man like you knows what innovative means.”

“I know what the word means,” he said, feeling a little insulted. “I'm just unsure what you mean by it.”

Trudy returned and placed Johnnie's chef salad and their drinks on the table.

“I'll bring your ribs and fries out in a couple of minutes, Robert.”

“Thank you, Trudy,” he said. “Is there anything wrong?”

As far as she was concerned, he had a lot of nerve asking her if there was anything wrong. She folded her arms and tapped her foot on the carpeted floor then she walked away in disgust.

“I wonder what's wrong with her,” Simmons said, shaking his head.

“You're much too modest, Robert,” Johnnie said. “You know what's bothering her. You're still screwing her and yet you have the nerve to have lunch with me in her restaurant.”

“I'm innovative how?” he asked, avoiding the insinuation.

Johnnie shook her head, nearly frowning as disgust overcame her. “You can be creative when you want sex, but your selection of women is way beyond the normal bounds of decency.”

Before he could respond, Trudy came back with his meal and practically threw it on the table. She stormed off again. Ignoring the way she threw his food at him, Robert picked up a bone and took a bite.

“Now, what do you mean when you say the normal bounds of decency?” he asked and took another bite.

“You're good, Mr. Simmons,” Johnnie said, calculating his responses every step of the way.

“Mr. Simmons again, huh?”

“That's right,” she said with a straight face. “You wanna play games? Fine. We'll play games.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about.”

With a quizzical look on her face, Johnnie said, “So, you're not screwing my mother? It's bad enough that you're screwing Trudy at the same time, but my mother, Robert? And you're trying to screw me too.” She paused briefly. “Oh, I get it. You're keeping it in the family, right?”

Confused, he said, “Where did that come from?”

“So, you're not screwing my mother?”

“Hell, naw.”

“I suppose you're going to tell me you're not screwing Trudy either.”

“That's none of your business,” he said with a polite smile.

“You're right, but screwing me and my mother at the same time is my business.”

“Did your mother tell you that?”

“No, she wouldn't tell me it was you, but I know it's you. Who else would it be, Robert? You're the ladies' man. Am I wrong?”

“I am a ladies' man. That part is true,” he said with conceit oozing from his pores. “But your mother and I have no dealings whatsoever. And I can prove it.”

Johnnie sat there quietly, hoping that his vanity would compel him to tell all. She curled her lips and said, “A real man would take responsibility for his own doing.”

“I am a real man,” Simmons said, feeling somewhat humbled by her attack on his manhood.

“A real man would tell the woman he's interested in the truth. If you had a relationship with her and it's over, that's one thing. But to flat out lie about it is quite another. I don't want you to think that I'm a totally unsympathetic woman. I understand. If you've had the mother and you want the daughter, you cain't tell the daughter that you've had the mother because you know I wouldn't want to have anything to do with you.”

“Listen, Johnnie,” Simmons said, hoping that if he told her the truth, all would be well between them. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Yeah,” she said, barely able to contain herself.

“I'm not seeing your mother, but I know who is.”

“Who?”

“You gotta keep this to yourself,” he said in hushed tones. “If this got out, there would be a scandal of epic proportions. Not only would there be a scandal, but there's likely to be a full-scale race riot, church burnings, lynching, and only God knows what else.”

Skeptical, Johnnie laughed. “Who is it, Richard Goode?”

“Uh-huh. Been goin' on for a while too.”

“Mr. Simmons,” she said, straight-faced, “you sure can tell some real whoppers. Ain't no way. My mother wouldn't screw a Hitler wannabe like Richard Goode for any amount of money.”

“That ain't all she doin'.”

“What do you mean?”

“They're doin' some perverted shit too.”

“What do you mean?” Johnnie frowned.

Simmons finished cleaning a bone and took several swallows of his iced tea. “I shouldn't be tellin' you this, but since you won't believe me, I'll tell you. After they finish with the sexual part of their interlude, she ties him to the bedpost and beats his naked ass with a riding crop. Then he tells her he's ready and she sticks a dildo in his ass.”

She didn't know what a dildo was, but acted as if she did. “A dildo, huh?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you saw this?”

“Yeah, I've seen them about a hundred times,” he said, not realizing that he would now have to explain how he could see something like that.

“Were you in the room?”

“No,” he said.

“Then how do you know?”

“Trust me. I know.”

“So, you spy on your guests?” Johnnie frowned. She got what she wanted. Now it was time to dismiss him and be on her way. “You are a truly pitiful human being. You wanna screw both mother and daughter while you're already screwin' Trudy. First you make up this ridiculous story about a well known Klansman and my mother. Then to make matters worse, you bring dildos and homosexuality into it. Like I said, you're very innovative.”

“But I'm telling the truth.”

Johnnie stood to her feet and said, “I don't know which is worse; you attempting to screw me and my mother at the same time or you telling me this unbelievable story and expecting me to fall for it. Let me give you a tip, Mr. Simmons. The one thing a woman treasures above all else is honesty. You, sir, have made a mockery out of the truth. Shame on you.” She walked out.

Robert began eating his ribs again, unaware of the game that was just played on him.
Ain't this some shit. You tell the bitches the truth and they don't believe you. Fuck it. From now on, I'll lie my ass off. Here I am sitting here all dressed up with no place to go, nobody to screw and a stiff dick in my pants.

He looked up and saw Trudy staring at him. She was still angry with him for ignoring her. He raised his hand and called her over to the table.

“What, Robert?” Trudy said with her arms folded.

“Sit down, baby,” he said, thinking,
I can always get some from Trudy.

“Why should I?”

“Because you know how I feel about you.”

“Uh-huh. I suppose that's why she left.”

“That's exactly why, baby,” Simmons said. “She's been after me since she got here. She told me she was checking out this morning and asked me to have lunch with her. I thought it was the least I could do.”

“For real, Robert?”

Simmons, looking as sincere as he could, said, “For real, baby.”