Somewhat Saved (20 page)

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Authors: Pat G'Orge-Walker

BOOK: Somewhat Saved
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Jasper coughed again. “He's an oncologist. I see an oncologist.”
“Psychiatrist or oncologist, it's the same thing.”
“Only you would think so.” Jasper's fatigue was almost audible.
“If I die in that girl's arms, I don't care. She's gonna know I'm her daddy. And I'm not leaving until she does.”
“Having money has truly caused your stupidity to run rampant.” Sasha was running out of insults and none of his resolve seemed to have lessened. “I guess you'll want to get a room here, too.” She was giving in and laying all her hopes on whatever assistance Sister Betty could offer.
“That's already taken care of.” He produced a hotel keycard from his shirt pocket and tossed it on the table. “I see you don't keep up with much anymore. You used to know just about everywhere I had a dime planted, so Areal could be comfortable.”
Jasper shot forward, the pain evident as he did. Some days, he couldn't tell where he hurt because his entire body ached. “I keep a room in just about all fifty of the United States in case my child—” He couldn't finish because the cough started again.
Sasha turned her head to keep her stomach from churning as he deposited more of the yellowish gook into another napkin. “You've already taken a room here in Las Vegas?” Sasha feigned surprise, although nothing would surprise her from that point on.
He caught another wind and answered, “Of course, I have investments right here in Las Vegas. I've had money invested in this hotel since the first pile of dirt was removed to build it in 1991.” He often had to speak quickly and say as much as he could at one time, before another coughing fit came on.
“I'm seeing my child, Sasha.” He was adamant.
And as many lies as Jasper had told in the past, at that moment, Sasha knew he spoke the truth. She almost felt sympathy for him because he was about to find out much more than he'd ever wanted.
Sasha fell back against the chair and sighed. She felt something she hadn't felt in many years and she couldn't get used to accepting it. She felt defeated. Jasper had a ton of money to back his efforts and a free suite inside a luxury hotel. All she had was Sister Betty and hopefully Sister Betty's unwavering faith and favor with God. As for her relationship with the Almighty, its foundation was shaky and for that, she was truly repentant.
Jasper's cell phone rang loud and sudden. It had caused both Jasper and Sasha to flinch. Neither of them had a doubt that it was her sister, Areal.
28
Upstairs in Bea's hotel room her bladder went into overdrive because she was nervous. After meeting with Zipporah for what was supposed to be a light breakfast, it kicked like an epileptic mule on crack. Every time she tried to place a telephone call, she had to hang up and rush to the bathroom. It was on her fourth trip that she realized there was a telephone
in
the bathroom.
In between handling her business, Bea placed a call to really handle her business. After the third ring, she heard a message requesting her to leave a message.
I hate these newfangled inventions,
she thought. As soon as the beep sounded for her to speak, she changed her tone.
“Sasha,” Bea said as sweetly as possible. In between shifting her weight on the toilet and keeping involuntary groans and growls to a minimum, she continued. “I'm on my way downstairs to the casino. Do you want to go together? Either way, call me back.”
Bea hung up and left the comfort of the bathroom. She sat down on the sofa and retrieved the envelope from her dress pocket. She vacillated between a longtime habit of trying to make Sasha's life a living hell, her need particularly at her age to stay close to Jesus, and her desire to get closer to Zipporah. Never having children meant she was on unfamiliar ground, but she felt up to the task.
Bea also needed to keep Zipporah's home situation a secret. Of course, Bea's idea of keeping a secret meant she'd only tell two or three people.
 
 
While Bea sat sipping tea upstairs in her hotel room and wrangling with deciding her next move, Zipporah sat in one of the large round chairs in the rehearsal hall of the Luxor. Holding the sheet music tightly in her hands and scanning the lyrics didn't necessarily mean she was focused. Her mind was still on Bea and the photograph. Even with the slight differences between her and the young woman, Ima, Zipporah had had to look real close to make sure the woman wasn't her.
She reasoned that she shouldn't have been too surprised. Everyone looked like someone that someone else knew. She remembered that it was only several days ago, when Mothers Blister and Pray Onn arrived in Las Vegas, some thought they were the actresses Mother Love and Irma P. Hall. She couldn't see the resemblance but that didn't matter. The crowd clamoring for an autograph had thought so. It was all in the eye of the beholder.
“I don't hear any singing.” Chandler dropped down in the seat next to Zipporah. He was dressed in a light tan shirt and chocolate brown slacks. The slight five o'clock shadow from ear to ear gave him an extra ruggedness that was sexy—very sexy.
“Good morning.” Zipporah was glad to see him and thankful for the interruption.
“Hmmm,” Chandler said as he moved his chair closer to Zipporah, “you look well-rested and very attractive this morning. Are you wearing something new?”
“Oh, you mean this old lavender thing.” Zipporah lay the sheet music aside and immediately rose. She alternated turning her ankles and twirling. Suddenly she began to strut an amateurish version of a catwalk, as she modeled the new two-piece lavender cotton pleated skirt and sleeveless blouse. “It's a gift from my new manager.”
Chandler took one of her small hands in his and produced a smile that usually caused others to cave in to his whims. “He's got great taste.”
“You think so?” Zipporah's face blushed as she struggled to keep from laughing like a schoolgirl. Even as she removed her hand from his, she knew at that moment, she'd given him her heart if he'd asked. When had she surrendered her heart? She didn't know and it didn't matter. Looking down at her skirt, she noticed its purple color appeared brighter as if confirming, at that moment, all she was feeling.
While they sat and waited for some of the other performers to arrive, Zipporah was able to relax and bask in the compliments Chandler heaped upon her. She was thankful he was pleased and even more so when he announced that he had another surprise for her. It hadn't been more than twenty-four hours before that she'd wondered if she would have to sleep on the streets. Now, she was enjoying room service and an extremely handsome manager. Her only concern at that moment was when she would wake up from the dream.
“Do you mind if I join you two?” Sister Betty interrupted. Her voice was lively despite the full-sized bags under her eyes. The revelation from Sasha had completely drained her. No matter how hard she'd prayed after their gabfest, she couldn't quite get comfortable. But now she needed to put that problem aside and be supportive of her godson and seemingly, Zipporah, too.
Chandler stood and gave Sister Betty a hug and a kiss. He offered her his seat, telling her that he didn't mind standing.
Zipporah watched the interchange between godson and godmother. She also couldn't help but notice that although Sister Betty spoke primarily to Chandler, she'd kept her eyes upon her. It was as though she was examining her, and it began to unnerve Zipporah. It was at that moment that Zipporah began to think that most old people were a little crazy.
While Sister Betty, Zipporah, and Chandler passed the time chatting, Zipporah spied Alicia. She'd arrived early to the rehearsal.
Alicia was dressed in a tan T-shirt that hid little and blue jeans that accented the rest. After greeting Chandler with an overzealous hug, and Zipporah and Sister Betty with a nod, she moved on to speak with a few of the musicians. For reasons of her own, Alicia seemed to alternate between keeping things with Chandler all business, and the need to be the alpha female, when Zipporah was around.
“What did you do to Alicia? She acted like she didn't know whether to kiss you like an old friend or shake your hand.” Zipporah teased. The last thing she needed was her new manager and her new boss to start off wrong, but she didn't want them too close either.
“I didn't do anything,” Chandler replied....
And that's the problem
, he thought,
she was in the mood for chocolate and I wasn't feeling vanilla.
Bea meant to go directly to the casino. However, with her mind on all that was happening, she accidentally stepped off the elevator onto the same floor as the hotel restaurant.
Bea realized her mistake and was about to get back onto the elevator when she looked across the corridor. She thought her mind was playing tricks. What she now saw, right there leaning against a far wall outside the restaurant, was a vicious joke. She let her eyes roll, just ever so slightly as to not bring attention, and then she refocused. But the images were still there.
It was Sasha and she was with a man. He looked a lot older than Sasha, which meant he should've been a corpse, according to Bea. He also appeared to be annoyed, and Bea figured it was no doubt due to something Sasha had said or done. But it was something more. The man looked familiar. She looked away to gather her wits and decide which one of the current stressful situations she needed to deal with. Whether it was to be the Mothers Board election, Zipporah, her dwindling finances, or Sasha's apparent secret, she needed to choose one before she became totally stressed out.
The chatter in the corridor, along with all the sounds coming from within the restaurant, seemed to fade into the background. Her habit of not consistently taking her diabetes medication caught up with her. Bea suddenly clawed at the wall. And then she saw and knew nothing but the quietness.
29
Sasha caught sight of Bea seconds after she and everyone in the corridor heard the loud thud of flesh hitting the floor. Bea had collapsed into what looked like a purple floral print ball of putty. Items from her pocketbook were scattered close to where she lay.
“Bea!” Sasha cried out in a way that made the onlookers part and let her through. “Bea!”
There must've been about fifteen people in the hallway outside the restaurant. Not one of them was a doctor but most of the crowd, some moaning and others just pointing, had Bea either dead or dying. But Sasha wasn't about to let Bea garner all the attention. Without an ounce of remorse or shame, Sasha shook Bea by the shoulders. When that didn't wake Bea, Sasha poked her with her cane and finally pinched her hard on the meaty part of her arm.
The pinch or a combination of all the unsolicited help from Sasha brought Bea around, slowly. Bea's wig had flipped and slid to the side of her head. The buttons had popped open on her dress, exposing a coral-colored bra that was once red. Its straps were tied in knots, where the clasps were missing. Bea's taupe-colored knee-highs had enough runs in them to look like train tracks. She looked a mess.
“Wake up, Bea. You're embarrassing me,” Sasha hissed. However, her words were sweet when she looked up with mock concern and told the onlookers, “She's going to be fine.” Sasha slapped the wig upright onto Bea's head, which caused the last bit of consciousness to return quicker.
Bea's head rolled from side to side until her surroundings and Sasha's maniacal smirk became clearer. She popped up. Without bothering to ask how she ended up on the floor, Bea's old thug tendencies reared their ugly heads. Instead of giving thanks for the help, she laid the blame and both her hands around Sasha's tiny neck. By the time Bea fully regrouped, it was Sasha's glasses, cane, and a pair of extra dentures that claimed space on the floor. There were also two pieces of Ex-Lax, but they belonged to Bea.
“Get your hands off of me!” Bea kicked wildly at Sasha.
With all their gyrations and hand thrusts, they'd actually not gotten off the floor. At first glance, they looked like two rabid wrestlers from the GWA, the Geriatric Wrestling Association.
The entire corridor looked on in horror, although there were a few gawkers who laughed. Out of the crowd of onlookers, Jasper was the only one not surprised. Watching Sasha handle her business was nothing new. She'd always been a scrapper and definitely a risk taker. After all, she'd risked the wrath of her only sister just to have a one-night stand with him. Of course, he'd known it at the time. He'd figured that if he'd not been faithful to his wife, how could it be expected that he'd be faithful to Areal?
As for Sasha, she had other problems and right then, they didn't include Jasper. “Shut up, you old crow,” Sasha whispered angrily as she slapped Bea's hands aside. “You keep fussing and they'll take your old butt back to Pelzer in an ambulance. Have you no class?”
Bea moved aside just in time to throw an evil look at a couple of strangers who'd dared to approach to help. Bea's cold and calculating look made the strangers retreat. They fled feeling confident that the old woman could handle whatever came her way.
Bea narrowed her eyes and fought to regain control of her breathing, which was coming in short puffs.
Sasha was just as winded and just as determined to get Bea to back off. “How are you going to stay on as the copresident of the Mothers Board from a sick bed?” Sasha could kill a bull with one hand and convince a jury the bull had spoken and called her a name. She was just that good.
All the fuzziness cleared as soon as Bea heard the words
ambulance
and
Mothers Board
. Suddenly she was back on task with a new plan formulating. All she had to give up was a bit of her dignity. But one more tussle with Sasha like that one and she'd have no dignity left.
While the mayhem was still going on in the corridor, Jasper determined it was a good time for him to leave. No one seemed to notice or be concerned with the elderly man hobbling along the corridor pulling an oxygen tank. And for that, Jasper was grateful.
The din from Sasha and Bea's little disagreement seemed to fade into the background as Jasper finally made it to the elevator. He could've gotten involved if he'd had the strength. He didn't and what little he had, he needed to take care of his daughter.
Age had gnawed away at his memory and every now and then a piece of his life's puzzle revisited. There was something about the woman on the floor that seemed familiar. He couldn't make out the name Sasha had yelled, but at the moment, it didn't matter. If he was supposed to remember, he would. What he was supposed to do, at that time, was to take care of his daughter. He wasn't letting anything stop him—not death, not Sasha, and not even Areal.
Of course, he hadn't counted on Bea.

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