Waiting to Exhale (16 page)

Chapter
7

I was all set to let the phone ring, because here it is two days before I'm supposed to be moving, and the girlfriend who had promised to help me drive just flaked out on me. Her boyfriend waits until this morning to tell her he doesn't think it's such a good idea. And to top it off, the sale of my condo fell through, so for now I'm stuck with this damn place.

"Hello," I said in a hostile voice.

"Savannah?"

"Who is this?" I asked, even nastier.

"This is Lionel, but if I've caught you at a bad time, I can call back a little later."

"Lionel?"

"Have you forgotten me already?"

"No. I'm sorry for yelling. It's been a rough day."

"Well, I was trying to catch you before you left. I wanted to take you out to dinner, since you disappeared on me so fast New Year's Eve."

"I just had another party to go to, and I wanted to get there before midnight."

"Well, can I at least take you out for a farewell dinner?"

"The movers'll be here tomorrow, and I was just on my way out to get something."

"Can I meet you somewhere?"

Why not? I thought. "Do you know where Yamashita's is?"

"Yep."

"I'll be there in about ten minutes."

"I'll see you in fifteen."

I was sitting at a table by the window when he walked past. I waved and smiled. Steam was jutting out of the tea spout, but I decided to wait until Lionel sat down before I had some.

"So hello and goodbye," he said, and took off his coat and gloves. Before he sat down, he rubbed his hands together.

"Hi, Lionel," I said.

"I could use some of that tea to warm me up," he said.

I wanted to say I could warm you up faster than some Japanese tea, but instead I said something deeper. "It is freezing out there." Then I poured us both a cup.

"So are you all set to go?" he asked.

"Sort of. This girlfriend of mine who volunteered to help me drive can't go now."

"Does that mean you're driving by yourself?"

"It looks that way. I mean, I can do it. I just wasn't prepared to drive a thousand miles by myself."

"I'll help you."

I almost choked on the tea. "What did you say?"

"I said I'll help you. It shouldn't take more than sixteen, seventeen hours."

"But you don't even know me, Lionel. And I don't know you."

"Well, from what Paul told me, and from what I've seen, you seem like a pretty nice lady. I give you my word, I'm not a serial killer or a rapist," he said, and held up his hand like a Boy Scout.

"Look, I really appreciate this offer, but do you realize what you're saying?"

"I do."

"But what about work?"

"I work for myself."

I swallowed my tea and started playing with my chopsticks. Hell, it might just be fun. Sharing a drive this long with a real man. It's not like he's a complete stranger. I mean, after all, my brother-in- law knows him. Right? "Are you sure about this?"

"I'm positive," he said, and brought his little cup to his mouth and drank it in one swallow.

"Don't you sell fire trucks?"

"No no no no no. I haven't done that in five years. I import all kinds of doodads and trinkets from Korea and Japan, but I'm working on some other things too."

"Well, let me say this, Lionel. I could fly you back to Denver the same day if you need to get back."

"That won't be necessary," he said. "I've always wanted to see Phoenix. I've never been to Arizona, so I might just take a few days and check the place out. I've heard a lot about this place called Sedona. And hey," he said, leaning forward, "let's play it by ear." He looked at me like it was all settled, then at the menu, and said, "So what're you gonna have?"

I wanted to say that what I wanted wasn't on the menu, but I ordered ginger beef, and Lionel said he didn't eat red meat, so he ordered vegetarian tempura. While we waited for our food, we talked about how great it was that after twenty-seven years, Nelson Mandela had finally been released from prison yesterday. We spent an hour talking about apartheid in general, and then we lightened up the conversation and talked about how boring Denver was. By this time, it had registered that in two days this man was going to be sitting next to me in my Celica for one whole thousand miles of interstate highway.

He insisted on walking me home. When we got inside the lobby, I thanked him for dinner, said good night, and he kissed me on the cheek. I guess I was somewhat smitten, because when I got on the elevator, I visualized us turning off some deserted road, not being able to contain ourselves, and making passionate love in the back seat of my car. But I forgot about that hump in the middle. Damn. Now I wished I drove something big. Like a Buick.

Bernadine had left a message and said it was important, so I called her. "Hey, girl," I said, when she answered.

"Hey. I've been meaning to call you," she said in a tired voice.

"What's wrong, Bernie?"

"Girl, John left."

"I know you're lying."

"It's going on two weeks now."

"And you're just now telling me this shit?"

"I was fucked up, girl."

"So why didn't you call me? I'da caught the next plane out of here, and you know it. Damn, Bernie."

"I'm okay now. Really."

"Wait a minute. Back up. Where'd he go? And why'd he leave? Wait. Let me guess. Another woman?"

"A white one."

"Get the hell out of here!"

"Anyway, now that it's sunk in, I'm glad the motherfucker's gone, but I just didn't want you coming here not knowing what the deal was."

"Are you sure you're okay? You don't sound so hot to me."

"I was out there for a minute, but I mean it, I'm fine. Just tired. I'll be glad when your black ass gets here, though."

"Me too. What about the kids?"

"I haven't told 'em yet. They think John's on another one of hi
s b
usiness trips. I'll tell 'em. As soon as I figure out the best way. Anyway, I've got a lot to tell you when you get here, girl."

"I really don't believe this shit."

"Believe it, girl."

"Well, guess what?"

"What?"

"My so-called girlfriend flaked out on me, so now this man named Lionel is helping me drive."

"The one you met at that New Year's party?"

"Yep. And we may have to spend the night at a motel, but we should be there sometime on Friday. As soon as we hit the city limits, I'll be at your front door."

"Then I'll leave the key under the mat. I'm taking the day off. I have to talk to my lawyer about John's and my financial disclosure statements. She said she found some discrepancies. I don't know what that shit means, but I'm sure it's probably some more of his bullshit. I hope it won't take long. I've got errands to run, have to pick up the kids and then stop by my mother's."

"I still don't believe this shit, Bernie."

"Girl, some days it's hard for me to believe too."

"Did you tell Geneva?"

"Not yet, but you know she'll be glad to hear it."

"You're not sitting around that house going crazy by yourself, are you?"

"I was, but remember I told you I wanted you to meet Gloria and Robin?"

"Yeah."

"Girl, you'd swear I was dying and they were trying to save my life. Robin took the kids this past weekend, and Gloria dragged me to see The War of the Roses because everybody had said how funny it was, but halfway through it, I walked out on that shit and went two doors down and Men Don t Leave was playing, so I kept right on walking until I came to Steel Magnolias. It was good, girl. Anyway, they won't let me do too much of anything by myself. But I've gotta go. I've got to read Onika Messy Bessey for the zillionth time and then help John junior with his science project, something with vinegar and baking soda. So I'll see you when I see you. And don't worry about me. You just have fun getting here."

After I hung up, I watched Yasmine jump across some crates and boxes, and all I could say was, "Damn."

I pulled in front of Lionel's house at 5:30 a
. M
. Yasmine was in her travel carrier, and I stacked her on top of a suitcase on the back seat. The trunk was full. I'd bought some toys for Bernadine's kids, which was stupid, because they took up most of the space. I had filled a thermos with Five Alive and crushed ice, bought some plastic cups, a big bag of potato chips, and a few pieces of fruit, which I put in an Igloo.

His house was tiny, and there was a rusty old car hiked up on stilts-or whatever they call them-sitting in the snow-covered driveway. I didn't see a jeep. I was looking for the doorbell but couldn't find one, so I knocked. Lionel came to the door in a hooded black sweatsuit, and even in twilight, with a mouth full of toothpaste, he looked good. "Come on in," he mumbled. "I'm almost ready." I sat down on his sofa, which was really a futon. It was so low I almost broke my neck when I landed. There wasn't what I'd call a color scheme or a "look" he was aiming for in here, but everything looked clean. Bachelors, I thought, and chuckled. There was also a musty odor that I couldn't quite identify because the mist of some kind of air freshener still hung in the air.

I looked around the room. His stereo looked just like the one I had in college. There were hundreds of cassettes stacked on top of each other. Books were opened, lying in a variety of places, and right next to me was The Art of the Deal, by Donald Trump. Two sets of weights lay in the middle of the floor in the next room, which, if it had had a table in it, would have been the dining room. Men. I shifted my weight to get more comfortable, and that's when I saw two overstuffed gym bags sitting on the other side of the front door. How long was he planning to stay in Phoenix?

"Are you making fun of my bachelor pad?" he said, coming from the back of the house.

"No. I was trying to figure out how we're going to get your bags in my car."

"Don't worry. I'll get 'em in," he said.

He pu
. T
on one of those sleeveless down vests, picked up his bags, locked the front door, and went outside. He turned to face me and was grinning again. "You look like the kind of lady who'd drive a red car," he said, and opened the passenger door. "What's that in the cage?" he asked, while he stuffed his bags in the back seat.

"That's Yasmine, my cat. Please don't tell me you're allergic to cats."

"No," he said. "I just can't stand 'em."

We gassed up at a Chevron station, went across the street to a Circle K, bought some coffee and doughnuts, and hit Interstate 25. He insisted on driving, which was fine with me.

"Don't you drive a jeep?" I asked.

"Not anymore. I sold it a few months ago."

"Oh," I said, and decided not to ask why.

The first two hundred miles were enlightening. Lionel did most of the talking. He told me he used to be in real estate and had acquired some property, but when he discovered how much money there was to be made selling fire trucks, he disposed of it and used the money to buy two trucks. Things went well for a couple of years, but then the bottom dropped out: too much competition, and fire departments weren't replacing their trucks as fast as they used to. He said he could only sell in his region-which was shrinking. That's why he bailed out and went into business with a buddy, who had convinced him that importing Korean and Japanese "junk," as he called it, would be even more profitable. But over the past year, things weren't going so hot. The market for junk had also become saturated, and his partner wanted out because he and his wife were opening a bed-and-breakfast near,one of the ski areas. Lionel had to buy him out. It took all of the money he had on hand, and after that, most of his "backers" backed down. He tried to convince them that African art was about to become a big thing in the States, but they didn't go for it. So now, he said, he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

"So what's your next step?" I asked.

"Pork," he said.

"Excuse me?"

"Pork. There's a lot of money in pork."

"I thought you said you were vegetarian."

"I am, but what's that got to do with anything?"

"Well, if you wouldn't eat it, how could you sell it?"

"Do you think that everybody who owns a liquor store is an alcoholic?"

"Of course not."

"I know this guy who's one of the biggest pork exporters in the country, and I've been trying to get in touch with him for months. I met him at a ranch in Cheyenne, and he told me if I ever wanted to get into pork, to give him a call."

"And?"

"He hasn't called me back. As a matter of fact-and this is so coincidental I can't believe it-right after I got home from dinner with you, a good source told me this guy's gonna be in Phoenix day after tomorrow. I know the hotel he's staying at and everything."