Little Black Girl Lost (27 page)

N
apoleon was sitting behind his desk when Johnnie, escorted by Fort Knox, entered his office. He gestured for her to sit down while he finished the conversation. She stared at him, wondering if he was going to bring up the previous night's diversion, but he never looked at her. She thought all day about what happened between them, just as Napoleon knew she would. It was all a part of his plan to take her from Lucas. When she passed out, he thought it all out. Johnnie was young and beautiful, just the sort of woman he wanted on the side.

He wanted to kill Lucas, but that would make it impossible for her to be with him. Something more sinister must be done with him.

“So, he's there right now?” Napoleon asked, looking at a picture of a nude black woman on the wall, determined to acknowledge Johnnie only when absolutely necessary. “Okay, we're on our way. We'll meet you in the parking lot.”

He hung up the phone and looked at Johnnie. She was absolutely gorgeous, even when she wasn't dressed up. She was wearing a pair of dark slacks and a dark blouse. Napoleon could tell she'd made the effort to downplay her looks, so he played it cool—like nothing ever happened between them.

“Let's go. They're waiting for us in the parking lot of the Savoy.”

They rode in silence the entire way. Napoleon knew she was expecting him to hit on her again, so he didn't. His plan required him to keep his word to her. That way, when Lucas was out of the picture, she'd have the freedom to choose him. When they pulled into the parking lot of the Savoy, Johnnie said, “Napoleon, I hope you know nothing is going to happen between us after tonight.”

“I know. And I'm glad.”

“You are?” she asked, surprised at what he'd told her.

“Yeah. It was a mistake. I feel bad that I even put you in that sorta position. Besides, it wasn't exactly the way I thought it would be.”

Confused, Johnnie asked, “What do you mean by that?”

“I don't wanna hurt your feelings, kid.”

“Hurt my feelings? Hurt my feelings how? And I'm not a kid anymore.”

“Well, it wasn't that great. You know how you want something really bad and when you get it, it ain't what you think it's going to be?”

“So, I wasn't good enough for you?”

“No, sorry,” he said, smiling within.

“Well, what did I do wrong? I thought you enjoyed it.”

“Look, there they are. Let's go,” he said and got out of the car.

“Napoleon,” Bubbles began, pointing at the exit that Johnnie had come out of a few times. “His car is right over there. All we gotta do is wait.”

Looking at him now, Napoleon seemed more dashing to Johnnie than he ever had. He appeared to have everything in control. She stared at him, totally unaware that Lucas was watching her, quietly seething. A crooked smile escaped her lust-filled mind and etched itself on her unsuspecting face. From his black alligator shoes to the white sports coat that hugged his muscled shoulders, she studied him as though he was a book to be absorbed.

Lucas' anger was boiling over. He was about to lose control when Napoleon said, “Okay, Bubbles, you ride with me. Lucas, you and your girl can ride together.”

“Okay, Napoleon,” Lucas said, trying hard not to let on that he knew about them. “Johnnie, Bubbles' car is way over there—outta sight.”

“Here you go, kid,” Bubbles said, tossing him the keys.

Lucas caught them, grabbed Johnnie's hand, snapping her out of the lustful trance, and practically dragged her over to Bubbles' car. He opened the door for her then slammed it when she got in.

“What's the matter, baby?” Johnnie asked when he got in the car.

“You fucked Napoleon, that's what's wrong!”

“Huh?” she said, shocked that he knew. “What are you talking about?”

Lucas backhanded her. “You know what the fuck I'm talkin' about, Johnnie! I'm not stupid!”

W
atching the exit door from the front seat of Napoleon's car, Bubbles asked, “So, are you satisfied now?” referring to his romp with Johnnie.

“Naw. I ain't satisfied,” Napoleon replied. “I'm a long way from being satisfied. Gonna have to get rid of the kid.”

“Why? You got what you wanted,” Bubbles said. His heart went out to Lucas.

“Well, I want some more. A lot more.”

“Napoleon, that girl ain't but sixteen years old.” Bubbles scowled. “What the fuck are you thinkin', man?”

“I'm thinkin' I found a glittering jewel in a land where jewels don't come along very often.”

“Don't tell me you in love with her.”

“No, old friend. Love it ain't, but there's a lot I can teach her.”

“You mean to tell me some sixteen-year-old girl's pussy is that good?”

“It's more than that. Look, Bubbles, I'm not going to explain myself to you. You'd never understand.”

“So, tell me about it. What happened?”

“We fucked and it was good.”

“You mean she gave it up willingly?”

“You damn right. Begged for it, as a matter of fact.”

“What did you do, eat her out?”

“Uh-huh. I ate the pussy like it was the nectar of a Georgia peach. You ever eat a pussy, Bubbles?”

“Naw. Thought about tryin' it out, though. When I was in the joint, I kept hearing the white boys talk about eatin' pussy. That's all they talked about. Like it was better than dickin' a bitch.”

“Black women say black men won't eat pussy. Is that right?”

“Cain't speak for other men. I just know I don't. Never had to. My dick has always been good enough.”

“That's what you say. But I've eaten many black women who had men with big dicks, and they love it. You think it's just the nine inches I put on 'em that keeps 'em comin' back? No. It's the way I ate that pussy. I eat pussy like its goin' outta style.”

“That's how you ate her last night, huh?” Bubbles laughed.

“Yeah, man. I ate her so long that all she could do was coo like an infant. Then I fucked her like she's never been fucked. I fucked her so good that she passed out.”

“Say what?”

“Yeah. She passed right the fuck out she came so hard.”

“So, did she blow you too?”

“No, but she will.”

“Sure she will.”

“Bubbles, let me tell you something. When you eat a woman's pussy right, you won't have to ask her to blow you. She'll do it because she wants to.”

“Bullshit! It's hard to get a black woman to suck my dick. She might slobber around for a minute or two, but that's it.”

“Then she tells you it's too big or her jaws hurt, right?”

“Yeah.”

“She's just playing to your ego. Try this. Stop asking her to suck you, and you start eating her. I don't mean for a second or two, either. I mean put your face in that muthafucka. Eat that muthafucka like you eatin' a watermelon. No offense.”

Bubbles laughed.

J
ohnnie's face felt like it was vibrating from the sting of the slap. She held her hand to her jaw, trying to figure out how Lucas found out so quickly.

“First it was Earl, now it's Napoleon! Who else you fuckin'? Maybe you are a whore!”

With that, tears streamed down her face. To be called a whore, even in question form, cut her to the center of her being. It was different being called a whore by Lucas. He was the one person who never looked at her that way. He always respected her, and now even he was referring to her in those terms.

“Marla was right. He was after you,” Lucas continued. “That's the real reason he sent me and Bubbles to watch Goode all night. Just so he could get some from you. Ain't it?”

“I did it for you, Lucas,” Johnnie said desperately. “He knows about you and Marla. He told me he was going to kill you. He said if I did it with him, he would let you live.”

“I know. I read the letter last night.”

“You knew, and you did it with me last night anyway?”

“Yeah, so what? He's white. How good could he be in bed? That's what I thought last night until I saw the way you was lookin' at him a few minutes ago.”

“It didn't bother you last night, but it bothers you now?”

“Yeah. And last night I needed some.”

Johnnie was quiet as she contemplated what he said.
All men are like that,
she heard her mother saying.
They all want what you got between yo' legs. Don't hold their weakness against them.

“So, what does this mean for us?” Johnnie asked. “Are we finished? Don't you want me anymore?”

“I'll think about it,” he said gruffly. “You need to be thinkin' about whether you want me the way you was lookin' at him.”

“I do want you, Lucas. Why do you think I've done all that I've done? Just because I wanted to do it? I want a better life. Don't you?”

“Yeah. Why do you think I'm working for Napoleon?”

“Then we both have done things we didn't necessarily want to do, right?”

“But you enjoyed it with him, didn't you?”

“No, I didn't. It was something I had to do. It was business, that's all. I swear. I won't do it again. Can you say the same thing about Marla? Can you tell me you won't do it with her again? You had an excuse before. Now that Earl's gone, we can be together like you wanted. Isn't that what you said? You wanted him out of the picture. Well, he's out now. Let's put the past behind us, baby, and move forward, okay?”

“That's easy for you to say. You're a woman. You're supposed to understand how men like to have a variety of women. It don't mean I don't love you, though.”

Johnnie folded her arms. “So in other words, you're gonna keep fuckin' Marla, even after what I did to save your life. You're gonna go back and do it again, aren't you? Marla must be better than me if you can't give it up. That's all I gotta say. I mean, if you know he'll kill you over this and you still go back, it must be made of gold or something.”

“No. I'm not gonna do it with her again,” he told her, but he was lying. He wanted Marla one last time, then he'd leave it alone—he was sure this time. “Look! Here he comes!”

R
ichard Goode didn't realize he was being followed until he was halfway across the Lake Pontchartrain Causeway. Thoughts about his new demimonde distracted him, having finally found a black prostitute willing to do all the things Marguerite used to do. His preoccupation with black whores caused him many sleepless nights. Being a preacher with such thoughts about women, especially black women, produced a moral battle within him.

He fought long and hard against his flesh, but in the end, his flesh won out more times than he'd like to remember. Recalling that the Apostle Paul was known to beat his body to bring it into submission was an idea that would surely work for him. In his twisted mind, he needed to be severely beaten for being who he was—the Grand Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan. Who better to punish him for his bisexual tendencies than a black woman who he swore never to bed? Besides, no self-respecting white woman would do such things, even if she were a whore. However, another problem arose.

At some point, he began to enjoy the beating. In fact, the idea of being beaten with a riding crop appealed to his latent homosexuality. Before long, he gave into that as well. Soon, he accepted who he was—a hedonistic bisexual whose political beliefs mirrored those of Adolf Hitler.

He decided to wait until he was off the twenty-nine mile bridge before he made a run for it. The plan was to get home and get his shotgun. Exiting the bridge, he immediately turned off the headlights and floored it. Constantly looking in his rearview mirror, he could see dust flying everywhere. It wasn't long before he saw the Cajun restaurant where he met Marguerite. Whoever was following him, they were gaining ground, he thought.

Up ahead, he saw the lights of his farm about three miles away. Seconds later, Bubbles pulled up right next to him. Something inside Goode compelled him to see who was chasing him. He looked over and saw Napoleon and Bubbles; both were smiling. Instantly, Napoleon pulled out the German Luger and pointed it at him. Fear gripped Goode and he swerved off the road into a ditch. Goode managed to get out of the wrecked car and ran through the cornfields toward his house.

“He's heading for the house!” Bubbles shouted. “Lucas, drive up there and we'll run him right to you.”

Lucas' tires spun, throwing dirt and gravel. His adrenaline flowed and he found the excitement intoxicating. Goode was only about thirty yards ahead of Bubbles and Napoleon, but he was running for his life. His only chance was to get to the barn before they caught up with him. His heart beat like kettle drums, but he was almost there, almost safe. Goode was just about to run into the barn when Lucas, running at full speed, tackled him with the ferociousness of a Lawrence Taylor sack.

Goode screamed when several of his ribs almost gave way to Lucas' broad shoulder. The timing of the hit was executed perfectly. Lucas stood over his victim and said, “Now, that's how you hit a muthafucka. Eat your heart out, Grambling.”

Just then, Napoleon and Bubbles arrived, panting and sweating profusely.

“Let's finish this bastard!” Lucas shouted, kicking him in the ribs.

“Wait,” Napoleon commanded. “Let me catch my breath.”

Johnnie watched what was happening from the car, taking it all in. She needed to see him. She needed to look into his face and see this evil man who killed her mother.

“What's going on, fellas?” Goode finally said, catching his breath. “What did I ever do to you?”

Goode heard the car door slam shut and heard footsteps coming toward him. As the person came closer, he could tell it was a woman.

Johnnie looked down at him with a disgusted look on her face. “The day of reckoning is here, preacher,” she said.

Narrowing his eyes, Goode began to recognize the woman. “I know you,” he said, “You're Marguerite's daughter.”

Bubbles grabbed Goode by the lapels and snatched him to his feet. “Stand up when you address a lady.”

Goode laughed. “A lady? Ha! I bet she's a whore just like her bitch of a mother was before I put her outta her misery.” He laughed again. Lucas hit him in the nose, then in the body.

“All right,” Napoleon said. “Let's get this over with. Johnnie, you got anything you wanna say to this worthless piece of shit?”

“Yeah. I wanna know why you did it. Why did you kill my mother?”

“Because the black bitch tried to blackmail me, that's why! She threatened to go to the
Sentinel
about our arrangement. Wanted me to buy her a house in niggertown so she could be near you. The dumb bitch actually believed me when I agreed to do it.” He laughed. “If you sow to the wind, you reap the whirlwind. She got what was comin' to her, and I'm gonna get what's comin' to me, and I don't regret a damned thing. Now, let's get it over with.”

“Anything else, Johnnie?” Bubbles asked.

“No, nothing,” she said sadly, realizing that her good fortune had in some way caused the death of her mother.

“You're just like her,” Goode shouted just before the beating began. “You're a good for nothin' black nigger whore! Don't forget that! You can't change what you are!”

From the car, she watched the professional beating. The first blow to the nose with the German Luger was difficult to watch. His blood sprayed like a mist when the gun connected. Lucas and Bubbles took turns beating him mercilessly with brass knuckles and the Luger. The repeated blows to the face nauseated her, but Johnnie found the strength to continue watching—she owed it to her mother. Surprisingly, Goode never cried out, never begged for his life. With each blow, he looked at her and smiled. Is he enjoying this, Johnnie wondered?

“Is that enough, Johnnie?” Napoleon asked after taking a drag of a cigarette.

Johnnie snapped out of her moment of introspection. She looked at Goode, who still had a superior grin on his pulverized face. “I want him to feel what she felt. I don't want him smiling before he dies.”

“This sick son-of-a-bitch ain't gon' ever feel like that, Johnnie,” Bubbles said. “He loves this shit. I'm gettin' tired of whipping his ass.”

“Lucas, take his pants off,” Napoleon ordered. “We're gonna cut the muthafucka's nuts off.”

“No!” Goode shouted, suddenly gripped by fear. “Don't cut my balls off.”

“Oh, you afraid now, huh?” Bubbles asked sarcastically.

“No! Don't do it. Please don't do it,” Goode pleaded.

Bubbles and Lucas held the half-naked man down while Napoleon castrated him. “Aaaagh!” Goode screamed when he felt the sharp blade cut into his flesh.

Johnnie had seen enough. She could no longer watch the mutilation. She turned away and covered her ears. Even with them covered, she could hear his screams. “Enough!” Johnnie shouted, still looking away. “Just do it.” And with that, Bubbles put the Luger to the Klansman's head and fired.