Borrow Trouble (7 page)

I
nez stayed in Barbados for ten days. I received a postcard from her, letting me know that after she left that island, she was going to stop off in Jamaica for an additional few days. Unlike Inez, I didn't like to run away from my problems. I liked to sit down with someone who cared about me and talk things over. Inez was the best listener I had ever known. There was not a psychiatrist, or a bartender, in town that I would rather tell my troubles to before Inez.

I was glad that I had made the decision on my own to try and get pregnant, but this was something that I wanted to discuss with my best friend. Not that I wanted her to give me any advice, but it would have been nice just to have her around to listen to me.

I enjoyed being married. I felt like a totally different woman. I looked and acted differently. And other people noticed, even some of my second-grade students. “Miss Beakes, why come you all the time smiling and humming stupid songs now?” asked Walter Marrell, the most obnoxious youngster in my class this year. Walter looked like a gnome, with his lopsided head, long ears, and round, flat nose. But he still liked to draw attention to himself. His small black eyes seemed to look right through me as he anxiously awaited my response.

“Walter, you must remember that I am Mrs. Webb now. No more Miss Beakes. I got married,” I said proudly. I stood in front of my class, with the latest Harry Potter book in my hand, preparing to read a few excerpts to them.

“Why did you get married, Miss Beakes?” the same boy asked, with a giggle, his two front teeth missing. “Now you got to sleep in the same bed with a strange man.” The whole class snickered.

“Walter, married people sleep together. Now if you don't mind, let's confine our attention to our good friend Harry Potter,” I said firmly, holding up the front of the book. I didn't read much for my own pleasure, but when I did, it was usually a novel by a popular African American author, like Carl Weber or Mary B. Morrison. I'd already read most of the classics and more textbooks than I could remember, so Harry Potter was as much a treat for me as it was for my students.

But Walter seemed more interested in my story than Harry's. He occupied a desk at the front of the classroom, right across from my cluttered desk, so he was hard to ignore. “My daddy makes all kinds of strange noises when he's in the bed with my mama,” Walter announced, facing his classmates. Then he turned to me. “Miss Beakes, do you and your husband make a lot of strange noises in the bed?” This time the class roared with laughter.

The bell rang before either Walter or I could say another word. And the subject was never brought up again. At least not in my classroom. I wanted to share cute little stories like this one with Leon, but he didn't have a lot of interest in what went on in an elementary school. I didn't bother to tell him about little Walter's comments. However, I told him about the time that Mindy Stargen came to school with a condom she'd found in her father's pants pocket, blowing it up like a balloon during show-and-tell. Leon didn't laugh or even comment about that incident, or any of the others that I shared with him, even though I gave him my undivided attention all the times he held me hostage for hours on end, repeating conversations he'd had with difficult taxpayers. Inez seemed to be the only one who was genuinely interested in my day-to-day life, and that's why I spent so much time hanging around her nail shop.

The two sisters that Inez employed, Pat Jenkins and Shonda Jones, got sick of me coming into Soulful Nails while she was still out of the country, whining about how I needed to talk to Inez. Their impatience and exasperation showed on their faces each time they saw mine. But I didn't let that stop me.

“She didn't tell you what hotel she was going to be staying in?” I asked, looking from Pat to Shonda. Both of them had on more make-up than Ronald McDonald. Like Inez, they thought their shit didn't stink, but in a good way. I was one woman who was not afraid to admit that I admired and envied confident women.

Impatient customers were lined up in chairs along the wall like convicts. Pat and Shonda were both frantically filing and buffing the fingernails and toenails of the two women who occupied the seats in front of them.

“Inez didn't want nobody to know how to find her,” Shonda said, tossing her head back so that her blond weave flopped and fluttered like a scarf. She handled the nail drill like it was a Gatling gun, looking up from the customer in front of her just long enough to glance at my shabby nails and give me a disgusted look.

“If Inez calls, tell her to call me,” I ordered, curling my fingers into a fist to hide my raggedy nails.

Just when I was about ready to start climbing the walls, Inez came home four days after my last visit to the nail shop. It was Halloween night, so when I went to answer the doorbell, I carried a large bowl that I had filled with suckers and other goodies.

“Trick or treat!” I yelled as I snatched open my door, expecting to see the faces of some of the neighborhood kids grinning up at me. I was shocked to see Inez standing in my doorway, loaded down with gifts and souvenirs.

What was even more shocking was the fact that Leon was with her. “This handsome devil you married was sweet enough to pick me up and drive me home from the airport,” Inez squealed. She leaned toward me and air-kissed my cheeks.

“He what?” I mouthed, puzzled. The bowl suddenly felt twice as heavy in my hand.

“I tried to call you, and everybody else I know, to come pick me up. Leon was the only person I was able to reach,” Inez explained, with a sheepish look on her face. Over her shoulder, I saw Leon dragging his feet up our walkway. There was an odd expression on his face. He looked like the grinning jack-o'-lantern I had set on our front porch banister a few days ago. “Your honey was sweet enough to bring me by here first.” Inez said the word “honey” like it was painful. I looked from her to Leon and back to her, trying to figure them both out. They were not acting like two people who couldn't stand one another.

I didn't know what confused me more: the fact that Inez had suddenly returned and come straight to my house, or the fact that Leon—who had just referred to her as the poor man's Paris Hilton the night before—had picked her up from the airport.

“Girl, I've been dying to talk to you!” I squealed, hugging Inez. I set the bowl of candy on the end table next to my sofa and threw my arms around her. She had lost a few pounds, which made her body look even more luscious. But with her hair hidden under a scarf and no make-up, she looked rather plain from the neck up.

“I want to hear all about Barbados and Jamaica,” I told Inez, smiling at Leon as he made his way into the living room.

“I'm going to fix myself a drink. Why don't I fix you sisters something, too?” he suggested, his gaze darting back and forth from Inez to me.

I looked at Leon and blinked. There was a nervous smile on his face.

“I'd like a
large
cosmopolitan,” Inez said, flopping down on the sofa, dropping the shopping bags on the floor.

“A cosmo it is,” Leon sang. “And I'll fill up the largest glass in the house,” he added, with a chuckle. He stepped forward a few feet, with his arms stretched open like he wanted to hug the world. This was one man who was full of surprises.

“And don't be stingy with the vodka,” Inez warned Leon.

I was surprised but pleased to see my best friend and my husband speaking in such a friendly manner. It was a reason for me to celebrate.

“I'd like a margarita,” I chirped, smiling at Inez as I eased down on the other end of the sofa. As soon as Leon left the room, I turned to her, with both my eyebrows raised. “It takes thirty minutes to get here from the airport.”

“True,” Inez said, tilting her head to the side, an amused look on her face. She slid the scarf back off her face, revealing mild sunburn on her forehead. “And?”

“And what did you and Leon talk about for thirty minutes?” I wanted to know. I was so pleased to see Inez that I didn't really care what she had discussed with my husband. It was enough for me to see that they had reached such a milestone in their “relationship.”

Inez shrugged. “Nothing much. I slept most of the way.” She rose, lifting one of the shopping bags. “I got you one of those straw purses you've always wanted.”

I sighed, suddenly slipping back into the slight and mysterious depression I'd been experiencing since my marriage. “Let's do lunch tomorrow. I need a sounding board,” I told Inez.

She glanced toward the doorway leading to the kitchen, and then she gave me a concerned look. “If you promise not to yell and scream at me about sticking my nose in your business, I can. I'll meet you at the deli across the street from my shop.”

“I just want you to listen to me.” I leaned toward her and squeezed her hand.

Inez gave me a bleak look, but she nodded. “Fine. We have a date.”

She turned all the way around and looked toward the doorway again. I didn't like the look on her face when she returned her attention to me. “Have you seen what's behind his mask yet?” she whispered, grabbing my hand.

I reared back, snatching my hand away from hers like I'd been burned. “What's that supposed to mean? Look, Leon is my husband now. If he is the demon you sometimes make him out to be, you should have told me before I hooked up with him.”

“I tried to,” Inez wailed, with an exasperated sigh. “He is your husband now, and I do respect that. I can put up with him if he can put up with me, I guess. The fact that he offered to pick me up from the airport says a lot. Don't you think so?”

“I love him and he loves me and that's all that matters,” I insisted. A few moments later Leon entered the living room, with our drinks on a tray. He sported a smile that covered almost half of his face. “Baby, Inez was just saying how nice it was of you to pick her up from the airport,” I told him, taking a long swallow from my glass.

“It was no trouble at all,” Leon said, scratching the side of his head. He plopped down on the sofa, next to Inez, even though there was more than enough room closer to me. It was the first time that I'd ever seen my best friend and my husband within a foot of each other.

I felt better already, and the strong margarita had a lot to do with that. As a matter of fact, I decided that I didn't need to meet Inez for lunch and cry on her shoulder, after all. I needed to be with my husband.

I
nez didn't waste any time getting back into the single life. A week after she got back from her latest jaunt to the Caribbean, I heard that she had found herself a new man. An Iranian this time. That didn't surprise me, but the way I found out did. Leon told me!

“Who told
you
that Inez was involved with an Iranian?” I asked him. We were in the new Range Rover he'd just purchased, on our way to Mama's house for dinner that Sunday evening. Mama had called up and invited us, and Leon had accepted without even checking with me. I had planned to spend the day grading papers and doing laundry. It didn't bother Leon when I told him that I didn't like always having to rearrange my schedule at the last minute. All he did was roll his eyes at me and give me a stupid grin.

“Nobody told me anything about that woman and her Iranian. I saw her with him at the Victory Club the other night,” he revealed, keeping his eyes on the road.

“I didn't know you still went to that club,” I gasped. I removed my arm from around his shoulder and gave him an exasperated look.

“There are a lot of things that you don't know about me, Renee.”

“I knew that a long time ago, Leon. The man I met that night in the Victory Club is not the man that I married. I am really getting worried about what other surprises you might have in store for me,” I said hotly. My ex, Robbie Dunbar, was meek and docile compared to me. But I was meek and docile compared to Leon. However, there were times that I was so assertive, I surprised myself as much as I surprised Leon. “I am not your fool, Leon!” I said in a loud voice.

“Don't you start that shit, woman. I am not in the mood for a fight.” He gripped the steering wheel, his eyes still on the road. Just from looking at the side of his face, I could see that he was angry. I didn't care, because I was angry, too.

“I'm not in the mood for a fight, either, but you brought it up. First, you tell me something about my best friend that I didn't know. Then, you tell me that you were at the same club where everybody in town goes when they want to meet someone.”

Leon turned sharply, giving me a harsh look. “I went there for a drink with some of my boys. You went there to pick up somebody, but I didn't. I just happened to be there that night I met you, doing the same thing I was doing the other night, having a drink with some of my boys.”

“Well, maybe I'll go there tomorrow night,” I said, with a snort, crossing my arms so that I wouldn't haul off and slap the side of his head.

Leon balled his fist and socked the steering wheel as he glared at me. Saliva was oozing from the corners of his mouth. “Look, woman, that's one place you don't go unless you go with me!”

“You can't tell me where I can go and where I can't go, Mr. Man. I don't tell you where to go,” I shouted, giving him the most incredulous look I could manage. “If Inez and other women can go there without their men, so can I. And if you can't give me one good reason why I shouldn't, you can just shut the fuck up.”

“I'll give you a damn good reason—I can't trust you!”

My mouth dropped open. “What? What have I done to make you think you can't trust me?” I glared at Leon's head, wanting to slap it on both sides. “I don't cheat!”

“The hell you don't!” he guffawed. “Is that what you told my man Robbie? If I recall, you were still engaged to marry him when I met you. We had quite a few dates before you broke it off with him. Did you forget all of that?”

“That was different,” I said slowly, my head spinning. “I…I didn't feel the same way about him that I feel about you. I wouldn't cheat on you.”

“And I am supposed to believe you?”

“You should believe me. I believe you when you tell me something.”

We were silent for the rest of the way to Mama's house.

“Why y'all both looking like undertakers?” Mama asked as soon as we got inside. There was an amused look on her face.

“I don't feel well,” I muttered, tossing my jacket onto the plaid sofa, next to my sister Frankie's lap, in Mama's neat little living room.

Leon remained silent and went straight to the liquor cabinet.

Frankie lifted my jacket with a flyswatter and inspected it with a sniff. With a giggle and a slight frown, she tossed it aside. “I don't like most of the mammy-made stuff you wear, but can I have that see-through blouse Inez brought you back from Jamaica?” Frankie asked, her eyes on the television in front of her. My sister was thirteen now and really into BET, MTV, and any other station where she could watch music videos. As much as she got on my nerves, I loved my sister more than words could say. Like Inez, I knew I could count on this nitwit when I needed her.

“No!” I snapped, flopping down hard next to her. I gave my kid sister a playful tap on her head, and then I grabbed a handful of her neatly braided hair.

“Leon must not be giving you any,” Frankie teased, saying it low enough so that I was the only one who heard it.

“Girl, you need to slow down,” I advised, shaking a finger in her face.

Leon sat down on the wobbly bamboo chair across from us.

“Don't y'all get too comfortable. I got a pot roast in the oven, a pot of pinto beans on the stove, and a gallon of lemonade in the icebox,” Mama said, coming into the living room, wiping her hands on her plaid apron. She still had on the white usher's uniform that she'd worn to church. “Leon, I am so glad to have you in the family. I thank the good Lord that I don't have to worry about my baby spending too much of her time with a jezebel like Inez now.” Mama let out a disgusted sigh before she started fanning her face with the tail of her apron.

“Inez is not a jezebel, Mama,” I said, with conviction, looking at Leon to see his reaction. “Is she, baby?”

“She's all right, I guess,” he mumbled, picking up the latest copy of
Ebony
off of the coffee table. “Mama, remind me to take a look at your dishwasher before we leave.” I had learned how to tell when Leon was nervous. He would scratch his head a lot and do annoying things, like tap his knuckles on the coffee table. He was doing both now.

“Leon tells me that Inez has got herself a new man,” I added, my eyes still on him.

“Already? Didn't she just get a divorce from her
third
husband?” Frankie laughed. “That sister gets around like a loose wheel! I hope she's using some protection. Me, if I was a man, I wouldn't touch her with a flagpole.”

“Frankie, did you finish all your homework?” Mama asked, shaking her head.

“Yes, ma'am,” Frankie mumbled, her head bowed submissively. Then she sucked in her breath, sprang from the sofa, and galloped across the floor to the telephone on the stand by the doorway. “Speaking of Inez, she told me to call her up, and she'd make me an appointment to do my nails for free. I'm going to baby-sit for her this weekend,” Frankie announced, with a huge smile, as she dialed Inez's number.

“Let me speak to her before you hang up,” I said. Leon shot me a hot look, and then he promptly started scratching his head some more. With all of the nervous scratching that he had been doing lately, I was surprised that his head didn't have holes in it by now.

I was glad when Frankie handed the telephone to me.

“Hey, Inez. I'll be by the shop tomorrow after work if you're going to be there,” I started.

“Sounds good to me. What's up?” Inez said in a voice that was exceptionally cheerful, even for her.

“You tell me.”

“That's what I want you to do,” Inez insisted, with a laugh.

“For one thing, I want to hear about your new friend,” I said, choosing my words carefully. Even though I was Inez's best friend, she would cuss me out and tell me to mind my own business as quickly as she would anybody else. I softened my voice, making it sound like I was only casually curious, not straight-up nosy. “Uh, Leon told me he saw you with him at the Victory Club the other night.”

“He's the one.” Inez sighed.

“Ok. He's the one what?”

“He's the man I've been looking for all my life, I think. He's from the Middle East and looks like a young Omar Sharif. His daddy's a sheik—I looked him up on the Internet—and he's worth a couple hundred million dollars,” Inez told me. The way she was swooning, you would have thought that she'd reeled in Lawrence of Arabia. “His name is Hassan Hassan. Isn't that an intriguing name?”

“Uh-huh. Like Sirhan Sirhan.” I sighed.

“Who?”

“Bobby Kennedy's assassin. He was from the Middle East, too,” I chided.

“Don't you start,” Inez warned, with a gentle laugh. “And whatever you do, don't make any remarks about him being a terrorist, or any of the rest of that shit that everybody thinks every man from the Middle East is involved in. Mama almost had a cow when she found out that Hassan's from Iran. ‘I didn't raise my girl to sleep with the enemy', she told me. And right in front of Reverend Beauchamp. You should have seen the look on his face!” Inez laughed again, so I knew she was not the least bit angry or concerned about what other people thought about her new lover. But she sounded eager to talk about him, so I did.

“Oh. Did you meet Hassan at the Victory Club, too?” I asked.

“Of course, I did. That is the place to go when you want some new meat.”

I glanced at Leon. His eyes seemed to be looking straight through me. “That's what I told Leon. He doesn't want me to go there unless I'm with him.” I didn't want to say too much in front of Mama and Frankie, so I let Inez do most of the talking.

“Fuck him! He is not your daddy. You can go to that club and any other club you want to go to without him. I tried to tell you that he was going to try and run your life. Tell you what to do. I tried to tell—”

“I'll come by the shop right after work,” I said, cutting her off.

I knew that Inez and Leon still couldn't stand each other. Even though they were cordial to each other around me. But I couldn't forget about him being nice enough to bring her home from the airport when she returned from the islands. Despite his macho attitude and his gruff demeanor, he was a good man, and I loved him. I knew in my heart that he was doing his best to tolerate my best friend. And, in her own way, Inez was trying to get along with him, too. She didn't have to accept a ride home from the airport with him. She could have called a cab. But she didn't. And I knew that it must have been difficult for her to sit by herself in the same car with Leon. I was glad that the two of them had made some progress in improving their relationship.

I was also glad that Frankie and Mama dominated the dinner conversation. I didn't have to say too much. Leon hardly spoke at all. But he did a lot more nervous scratching that day.