Butterflies in Heat (22 page)

David was flustered. "I'll never forget him," he muttered.

"As you know," she went on, "Ned always shows basket.

I want Numie to do the same." She glanced imperiously at Numie, challenging him to defy her.

The look was familiar, an obvious copy of Leonora at her most haughty. "Hey," Numie protested, "don't I have something to say about this?"

"Child, I happen to be paying the bill," Lola said sarcastically. She feared her position was being seriously threatened in front of David. "When you get enough bread to pay the bill, then we'll welcome suggestions, I'm sure."

Numie swallowed hard. He'd had his fill.

"Don't you understand nothing?" Lola asked. "I can't have Ned putting on a better show than you. You just can't get it that I'm not only doing a favor for you, but for the whole mother-fucking white race."

"Some favor!" Numie said.

"A well-built man like you shouldn't be embarrassed," David added. Eyes narrowed, his lips set in a sheepish smile.

The man's coyness not only made Numie uncomfortable, but added to his increasing anger. "I'm not embarrassed" he said. "That's not the point. I don't like being ordered around like this."

"It's okay," Lola assured him. "With David, you can let it all hang out." This was said with such authority she hoped to end all argument.

"I understand what you're looking for, Miss La Mour," David said, moving quickly. "Something nice, slim, and snug. I have the exact item. Bet it'll fit without alterations."

"It had better," Lola said. "Got no time for alterations." She wet her lips, then, looking into a full-length mirror, decided she needed more lipstick. She'd have to coat it on heavy to compete with Dinah. Opening her purse, she noticed her watch. "We're practically due at their place right now."

"What's your waist size?" David asked.

"Thirty," Numie said, sighing.

It was a signal to Lola that he had decided to cooperate.

"Better check that," David said, his lips curling in anticipation. From a nearby counter, he took a tape measure, wrapping
it
around Numie's waist. "Right you are. And now the inseam." Dropping to his knees in front of Numie, he placed his hand inside the seat of his crotch.

Instinctively Numie withdrew at his wet-fingered touch, then stood firm.

"Watch and make sure you take the right kind of measurements," Lola said, hawkeying every move.

Numie tensed. The bald man clearly repulsed him—too many echoes of his past.

Getting up, David buzzed to the back, returning with a pair of white slacks. "Try these on"

Looking around for a dressing room, Numie asked, "Right here?"

"Sure," Lola said, "we ain't got no time for formalities."

"I'll draw the blinds up front," David said, hurrying to the door. But he was back in a moment.

Lola was boring her eyes into Numie.

Sucking in his breath, he started to strip. Tossing his shirt aside, he slowly unbuttoned his fly, sliding out of his jeans. He wore no underwear. Kicking his sandals aside, he stood straight. He grinned nicely, but it was one of defiance.

Lola was enjoying exhibiting him. It showed David the kind of white man she was capable of attracting.

David, though, was nervously mopping beads of perspiration from his forehead. His thin lips were twitching.

"The pants, man," Numie finally said.

"Oh, yes," David managed to say, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

Numie squeezed into the pants. "They're hardly my size," he said.

"Go on, try them on," Lola ordered.

The fabric clung so tightly it was all Numie could do to zip them up. "They pinch like hell," he said, grunting.

"Those pants do just what I want them to," Lola said. "I'll show that Dinah a thing or two" A snarl of dark jealousy consumed her face. She applied even more make-up, as if to cover it.

"Even the length is perfect," David said, mincing forward.

"Thanks," Numie said. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Still in a nervous sweat, David said, "I didn't mean it that way ... what I meant..."

"It
don't matter," Lola said with a snort. "We got no more time for explanations." Snapping her purse shut, she turned around. "That cotton-knit sweater with the short sleeves is just right, baby."

Numie slipped it on.

"And this tie," David said anxiously, "for his belt. A great
outfitl"

"Charge it to my commodore," Lola said, parading to the front.

"Thanks for your business," David said, panting like a puppy. "It's always a pleasure to serve you, .Miss
La
Mour." He turned to Numie, his eyes wandering instinctively to his crotch where they lingered. "And you're welcome here any time you need anything."

"Don't you go worrying your
bald
head about his needs," Lola said, casting him a murderous glance. "They're well taken care of." She possessively linked her arm with Numie's, strutting out into the darkened street, her wrap-pants flaring into the night.

In the Facel-Vega, Numie dreaded another night with Lola. He had to leave her and soon, yet he wanted to stick around to meet the Commodore. To turn against Lola now would ruin everything with the Commodore. And the Commodore seemed to run this town. Numie wouldn't have much of a chance at anything unless he continued to please.

After freshening her make-up, Lola grabbed hold of Numie's arm again.
It
was comforting to have a virile man at the wheel.

It
was all he could do not to pull away from her. His stomach was churning, his blood pounding with rage. He was resenting Lola for exhibiting him back at the men's shop. Who did she think he was? Some prized stud who'd perform tricks at her command?

Look at her, he thought. What a slob! She was so glamorous, she kept telling everybody. Yet everything about her was cheap and vulgar.

She disgusted him, yet he feared her in some strange way. He stared at her, barely disguising his hatred.

Even without her contacts, Lola knew she was being eyed intently. Lust, she suspected, was burning in Numie's eyes. Smiling, she patted him affectionately. "I know you're hot for my gorgeous bod," she said. "What buck in his right mind wouldn't be? But I can't put out your fire—not now. Later, later. "

Eyes back on the road, Numie did not answer. A day with Lola was a terrible dream, but maybe it would all be over soon. Any minute he'd wake up and find his life had taken a wonderful new turn—and he'd be free.

Her fingers now snaking up his arm made his skin crawl. But still he drove on.

Just the sight of her face, those obscene lips, made him feel unclean.

This creature had him in her power.

And he'd allowed it.

But how in hell could he get out without ruining his last chance in Tortuga?

"Slow down," she called out. "We'll miss their place in the dark. All these nigger shanties look the same to me."

The hot night had forced everybody from his shanty. Lazily the people lolled on their porches or else hung out their windows, swatting mosquitoes. An ice-cream vendor's cart tinkled across the cobblestones. A child, refused money for a cone, cried out.

The screen door to Ned and Dinah's had a gaping hole in it. The boards of the little front porch were rotten.

Lola didn't bother to knock. Barging in, she said, "Girl, get your skinny ass out of that bedroom. You got company, child.
Class!"

"Lola," Dinah called from the back bedroom. "Get a drink and park your fanny, honey. I'm getting into something real sexy"

Lola quickly looked at her wrap-pants, fearing Dinah was going to appear better dressed than she was. "I can't drink that rotgut liquor Ned steals," she said. "You know my commodore will let me drink only toddies, made with aged rum."

"I ain't got no liquor to age around here," Dinah yelled back. "Ned drinks it up too fast."

Their little three-room shanty couldn't have looked shabbier. After the day it was built, no one had ever cleaned it up. Lopsided bamboo shades covered the windows in the living room. Their ruffled, graying
valances—once
stiff and white—were limp from dampness. In front of the frayed sofa where Nliinie was sitting lay an imitation Persian rug; and cabbage rose-patterned linoleum had been placed under the dining table in the comer.

"Well, have your boy friend—if he's here—pour me a drink," Dinah called again. "Bottle's in the kitchen."

Lola grandly motioned for Numie to get a drink. Being waited upon, once so exotic and uncomfortable for her, was now perfectly natural.

Frowning, Numie was heading for the kitchen. Greasy oilcloth lined the open shelves. He opened the refrigerator for ice. Looking in, he caught sight of moldy lumps ofleftover food and slammed the door. Shades of Tangerine's apartment. To get a glass, he pulled back a plastic, orchid, polka-dot curtain over the sink. Immediately, a pair of cockroaches ran out, darting down the wall and under a fire-engine red bucket. He poured some cheap whiskey into the glass.

Back in the living room, he was making for the sofa ... and Lola.

"Dinah's lover man ain't here yet," she said. "He's always late." For about the ninth time, she inspected her lips in her compact mirror, then slammed her purse shut. She moved closer to Numie, whispering under her breath.

"Probably knocking off a quick piece somewhere, if I know that buck."

Numie withdrew slightly, not inviting this intimacy.

Lola noticed that he had seemed to pull back. Did she have bad breath? She decided she was mistaken. "Ned can go one round after the other. No letting up."

Numie's eyes flared. "And how would you know?"

"I saw him ball five chicks in one night," she said, deliberately on a campaign to make Numie jealous. "When he finished the second round with each of them, he begged me to get him another set."

"You exaggerate," Numie said with disgust, perfectly aware of what Lola was doing. He didn't feel jealous at all, however. He just wanted to go out on the porch and breathe some fresh air.
"If
super fly's so spectacular," he said with a biting edge to his voice, "what are you doing with me?"

"Now, don't you go getting your feathers riled," she replied, a smile crossing her face. She could just sense the jealous fury inside him. "In the black community, I'm always known for dating white johns."

Numie sighed. He saw the picture clearly. Tonight was part of the same exhibition that had begun at the men's shop. "What am I? Some sort of status symbol?"

Lola resented this. "Honey, don't flatter yourself. You were nothing till I got you out of jail and put some decent clothes on your back."

"Thanks!" He was just about ready to get up and walk out when he was interrupted.

At that moment, Dinah barged into the room. She was wearing hot pants two sizes too small and a blouse that showed her breasts. Her mouth was red coated, flaming. A spray of freckles covered her light-brown face, resting under a coppery Afro hairdo. She was strutting around the living room, showing off her trim, boyish figure.

Numie was contrasting her natural beauty to Lola's contrived look.

Lola fumed. "Child," she said, "you put on too much lipstick."

"You're
one to talk," she answered. Then smugly she said, "Besides, Ned likes to work it off." Her eyes searched every nook of Numie, beginning at his feet. The tight pants were creating the desired interest. "Ain't you gonna introduce me to your good-looking stud? My, is he handsome! Blond hair and blue eyes—what a turn on"

Lola smiled triumphantly, delighted that Dinah was pleased at her latest acquisition, yet nervously jealous at the same time. "Numie, Dinah," Lola said.

Numie smiled at her. She was that breath of fresh air he needed. He wasn't particularly attracted to her, but he admired her openness and frankness after having lodged so much time putting up with the posturing of Lola and Leonora. Glad to meet you," he said, handing her the whiskey he'd poured in the kitchen.

Dinah tongued her lips, making her lipstick all the more vibrant. "I knew Lola had something special, the way she talked on the phone. But I had no idea—no idea a'tall—that it'd be this good." Her expression suggested she wanted to get plugged into the action. "Why, if Lola hadn't already staked her claim, and I wasn't holing in here with the most jealous stud south of Birmingham .. "

"I think this conversation has gone far enough," Lola said, burning with irritation. The evening wasn't going at all the way she planned it. Dinah was stealing the show. Those god-damn hot pants!
If
only Lola had legs she could show off. But hers were bony. "Where's Ned?" she asked. He was her one hope. He'd throw a little cold water on that brazen black pussy. "I'm not used to waiting, " she announced.

Ned was suddenly at the door. Dressed entirely in white, he was an attractive animal, tall and big boned. He had light brown skin, with a velvety complexion. His lips, handsomely full and sensual, gave" way to a greeting smile of gleaming white teeth. He held his strongly cleft chin high in the air. His nostrils—broad, but carefully chiseled—sniffed the foul smell of the shanty. Piercing their way into Numie was a set of copper-brown eyes.