The Deal, the Dance, and the Devil (15 page)

“What’s up with the rental car?” Cashmere asked.

“Yeah,” Apollo chimed in. “I wanna go for a ride in that big ole Escalade. That’s what’s up.”

“Let’s go into the house,” I said, guiding my mother gently with my hand. I figured if she went first, Cashmere and her children would follow.

I peered over both shoulders, wondering if any neighbors saw us, hoping that none remembered the last time my family had visited; then, my nephews had bumped their bicycles across lawns, and busted a couple of front windows, but no one had called the police.

Behind closed doors, Cashmere’s boys really set it off—running to the left, dashing to the right, zigzagging their way through the living room, all the while releasing piercing screams that could shatter glass.

My children stood, frozen in amazement. Sure, they’d seen
their cousins in action before, but I knew that each time they were as shocked as I was.

I glared at Cashmere, then Marilyn. Wasn’t someone going to say something?

But my sister and mother did nothing—just acted like crazy was normal. I guessed in their world it was, but not in mine.

“Y’all hold it down now. And stop all of that running,” I shouted.

Cashmere barked back at me, “Why you always got to be on my kids like that?” She sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes before she plopped onto the couch. She shrugged off her winter-white coat and left it right where it fell on the floor. “Dang, Evia. You always acting like my kids don’t have any home training!” She yelled because that was the only way I was going to hear her above her home-trained children.

Finally, my nephews dashed up the stairs, and my children took off right behind them. Alexa, Alana, and Ethan had been through a few tough things this last week, but nothing was going to be as tough as keeping their cousins in check. I felt sorriest for Ethan. By the time those boys whirled through his room, there was no telling what would be left. I prayed that my son came out unharmed.

“So, Marilyn,” I began when it was just the adults, “what brings you guys around?”

“What!” she said, “I can’t come and see my grandbabies?”

“Of course,” though inside I thought totally different words.

“Yes, ma’am! I came to see my grandbabies.”

“Can I get you guys something to drink?” Adam asked after he hung up our coats. He eyed Cashmere’s coat on the floor but didn’t make any moves toward her. My mom still had hers on, like she didn’t plan to stay long.

Cashmere grabbed the television remote. “Nah, ’cause you
ain’t tryin’ to give me what I need to drink right about now.” She pressed buttons, trying to get the screen to change from its permanent state of black. “What’s up with y’all’s TV?”

“Nothing.” I grabbed the remote from her and turned the TV off.

Cashmere stood and folded her arms across her chest, like we owed her an explanation. For the first time I really noticed my sister—and the two yards (okay, maybe it was ten yards) of spandex that she had wrapped around her body and fastened with safety pins. Really … huge … safety pins. And this fashion statement was completed by short ankle boots that left her legs bare—no stockings, no socks, totally bare—when it was twenty-five degrees outside. Dang, wasn’t she cold?

I shook my head. I guessed hoochies carried their own heat.

“First y’all driving a rental, now your TV’s out. Something’s going on.”

You think? My sister, the genius.

My mother held her cigarette away from her lips long enough to ask, “Is that why you haven’t sent me my money?”

I glanced at Adam. It was time for him to take over before I said something they were going to regret.

Stepping up, Adam said, “We’re handling some things right now. I had to change jobs—”

My mother held up her hand. “Wait, you don’t have your big-time job no more?”

He shook his head.

The expression on my mother’s face explained where Alexa inherited her drama gene. The look of horror that had been on my daughter’s face was now on my mother’s.

I guessed Adam could see my mother’s heart attack coming, because he quickly added, “But I got another job.”

Marilyn breathed. “Are they paying you the same money you were making?”

“Marilyn!” I jumped in. “That’s none of your business.”

“I’m just askin’ ’cause I need my money.”

I sighed.

“We’ll send you something in a few weeks,” Adam said.

I could see by the way my mother glanced at Cashmere that something was up. Of course this was the reason for their visit, but what did they need money for? Food? Naw, they had their food stamps. It wasn’t anything the boys needed for school because Adam and I had taken care of uniforms and school supplies back in September. It was probably some garish outfit one of them wanted from one of those cheap shops around the way.

My mother grabbed Cashmere’s coat from the floor and tossed it to her before she started tying the belt on her own. “Well, I guess I’ll have to wait.”

Adam frowned. “Is something going on, Marilyn?” he asked, always the family man.

“Well, Cashmere and I wanted to hang out a little tonight and we needed some money to pay for a babysitter.” She paused and grinned at Cashmere, then me. “Unless—”

“No!” Cashmere and I said at the same time.

My sister added, “I’m not leaving my kids with her.”

I smiled; I’d always known there was a God.

When my mother’s plan didn’t work, she asked Adam, “So when you getting your first check?”

I wanted to yell at her again, but then I thought, why waste a good scream?

“I’m not sure, but I always take care of you, right?”

She smiled at my husband like she loved him something lovely. “Yeah, you do.” She paused. “But, look here. Can you break me off a little somethin’? ’Cause you know, you guys haven’t sent me anything in a while and.”

She stopped right there as if she didn’t need to finish the sentence.

Adam actually reached into his jacket, pulled out his wallet, and pissed me off. What about the money we needed for our house, and for Ruby, and the fact that we had one car?

But there was nothing to say, because Adam believed in family—no matter how bad you really wanted to deny that you even knew them.

Adam handed a single bill to my mother. She studied the money, grunted, then shrugged as if she understood that was all she was gonna get.

To Cashmere, she said, “Get your brats and let’s get going.”

“Ain’t nothin’ but a word. No TV, nothing to eat or drink around here.” She paused at the foot of the steps. “Apollo! Y’all come on down here! And don’t make me wait ’cause I’ll leave your behinds right here with Evia for two weeks.”

I started to climb the stairs and get those boys myself, but the four came barreling down. I guessed the threat was as scary to them as it was to me.

The twins and Ethan followed, looking worn out.

My mother’s good-byes weren’t as warm as her greetings; now that she’d gotten at least a little of what she’d come for, there was no need to pretend anymore that she loved anyone in this house.

Even though the cold air rushed inside, we stood at the open door, all five of us, watching my mom, Cashmere, and my nephews scramble into their truck. We stayed until the rusted metal was out of the driveway, then out of sight.

With a collective sigh, we staggered into the living room. My mother, sister, and nephews had blown through and put an exclamation point on an already horrible week.

“Anybody hungry?” I asked, though I didn’t make any kind of move toward the kitchen.

The no’s, were as weak as I felt.

Alexa yawned and was the first to stir from where she
lay stretched out on the floor. “I’m going upstairs,” she said. But then, as if a thought just hit her, she jumped up. “Mom! Daddy!” Her eyes were wide, her energy was back. “I know how we can get our cell phones back on. And even our cable and TV!” Alexa turned so that she could see her father and me at the same time. “Apollo said that all we have to do is call the telephone company and put the phone in my name or Lan’s name.”

“How are we supposed to do that?” Adam asked. “You don’t have a job.”

“Ah-ha!” Alexa exclaimed, pointing her finger in the air as if she was about to make an excellent point. “You don’t
need
a job. All you need is an address—I got that. And a Social Security number—I got that. And good credit—I got that, too. Apollo said they don’t ask your age or nothin’. Just like that,” she snapped her fingers, “they’ll give you a phone or anything else you want.”

Ethan rolled over. “I have a Social Security number. Can I get something?”

“Well, first, I think we should all get new cell phones,” Alexa said as if she was in charge. “I want that Droid—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Adam shouted. “Hold up!” He took a deep breath. “Apollo told you that you could do that?”

“Yes,” the twins said together. Alexa was grinning like she thought her cousin’s idea was brilliant. Alana wore a frown, as if she wasn’t so sure.

Adam glanced at me with a look that said it was my fault that we were related to those people.

“Well,” Adam said, “we’re not—”

Alexa interrupted him. “It’s okay to do it. Apollo said that Aunt Cashmere does it all the time.”

“Yeah,” Alana piped in. “He said that all of them have all kinds of things in their names.”

Alexa picked up, “Apollo has the lights in his name and Rashaun has the cable in his name and Shuquan has the …”

I groaned and lowered my head. I’d been married to Adam for all these years and we’d been through so much together. We had no secrets, told no lies. He knew everything about me, and I knew all about him.

But right now, forget about crawling under a rock. I almost wanted to move to another country.

Adam told our children, “That’s not the way we do things around here.”

“What’s wrong with what they’re doing?” Alexa asked.

“Well, let me see … does Apollo have a job?”

“No, but …”

“Do you think the cable company and the telephone company and all the rest of those companies know that your cousins are kids when Cashmere calls up and does that?”

“No, but …”

“So, how can you say it’s a good idea?”

“Because, Daddy, they
have
cell phones and they
have
cable. Whatever they’re doing over there is better than what we’re doing over here.”

I couldn’t imagine how much those words hit and hurt Adam, because they sure stung me.

Softly, he said, “Well, we’re not going to do it that way. In our home, we do things decently and in order. Understand?”

Adam looked from Alexa to Alana and they both nodded. When he turned to Ethan, our son said, “What did I do?”

“Nothing. None of you did anything. I want to make sure you understand how we roll in the Langston home. We’re clear and cool?”

“Yes,” they sang together.

The mood was back to the way it’d been all week—tight and heavy. The children sulked toward the staircase before
Alexa turned around and asked, “Daddy, are we going to have everything turned back on soon?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice full of surety and authority.

They nodded as if they believed him, but then glanced at each other as if they did not.

When the last bedroom door closed, Adam laughed. “Be glad I rescued you from those people, woman!” he kidded.

But I didn’t laugh. Cashmere and my mom were turning my nephews into criminals before they even reached middle school. And now their antics had reached into our home.

“Oh, come on, Shine,” Adam said, hugging me. “Don’t take this so seriously.” He hugged me.

It was hard not to be at least a little serious, and a little sad. Our children were already trying to find ways to provide what we couldn’t give them, and it had only been a few days. What would happen if the days turned into weeks or months? What would happen if Adam didn’t …

I shook my head and held my husband tighter. I refused to have those thoughts. Adam was going to get that job; all I had to do, like Bishop Cash always told us, was believe.

Chapter 22

J
UST ONE MORE DAY.
J
UST ONE
more day. Just one more day.

That was the mantra I sang as the praise and worship team belted out “The Center of My Joy.” Not that I wasn’t getting my own praise on, because that song was the truth—Jesus was the reason I was still standing, I was still smiling.

I had lots of joy; nothing but joy.

But still, all I could think about was that we had only one more day before Adam’s final interview.

My mouth stretched wide in a yawn, and I pushed my hand against my lips, trying to stifle the sound. I was downright exhausted; I hadn’t had more than two hours’ sleep last night even though I’d gone to bed tired. But sleep hadn’t come easy. I’d lain staring up at the ceiling, as if signs of our future had been hidden in the crevices of the stucco. I’d kept wondering what was going to happen to us.

It hadn’t been until the break of dawn when I’d finally allowed the mantra—just one more day—to lull me to sleep.
But those two hours of sleep hadn’t been enough; right now, I felt like laying my head on Adam’s lap the way I used to do with Big Mama when I was little and got sleepy at Solid Rock AME.

“Let the church say Amen,” Bishop Cash sang when the choir sat down. The congregation complied, but once was not enough, because Cash added, “Say Amen again.” The church once more did as we were told.

“All right now.”

Cash hadn’t said more than ten words, and already he was patting the edges of his forehead with his handkerchief. Although the domed sanctuary was air-conditioned, I was sure that glass ceiling always heated Cash up a bit. The sun beamed through, shining bright, giving the Bishop the appearance of being the only one in the room who was in the light. Cash had planned it that way, no doubt.

The Bishop said, “Now that we’ve all paid our tithes and offerings”—he paused for the church to add more Amens—“let’s get to what y’all paid for. Who in here wants to hear a good message?”

“I do,” and chuckles rang through the sanctuary.

I wiggled my butt far back into the oversized pillows on the pew and wondered how I could close my eyes for just a couple of minutes without anyone seeing me. This was one of those times when I wished Cash would have us open our Bibles. Then I could put it on my lap and pretend that I was reading. But even without the prop, I tucked my neck and closed my eyes. I just needed a minute or two or four. Maybe fifteen—that would be enough.