God Don't Make No Mistakes (19 page)

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Authors: Mary Monroe

BOOK: God Don't Make No Mistakes
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CHAPTER 36
A
S IT TURNED OUT, I WAS A SEX
-
STARVED OLD FOOL AFTER ALL.
Despite the thoughts that I'd been having about Ronald, he broke me down anyway later in the month. He caught me at a weak moment on that sunny, bright Sunday.
Lillimae and I were in the living room on the couch watching TV. We were in the middle of
Family Feud
when a news bulletin interrupted the show to report the tragic death of Princess Diana in an automobile accident in Paris earlier that morning. We watched in horror and silence. When the news ended, I promptly turned off the TV.
“My Lord. What a mess! Who would have thought that a beautiful, sweet, beloved woman like Princess Diana would die in such an ugly way,” Lillimae commented, her voice full of emotion. “And just last month, she was sittin' on a pew attendin' the funeral of her friend Gianni Versace! I am so glad I got him to sign that napkin for me!”
“This is going to be all over the news for the next few days. I don't think I can stand to see it again today,” I said, returning to my seat on the couch.
“I can certainly understand that. But it's such a shame. Famous folks are droppin' like flies,” Lillimae lamented, shaking her head. “First Versace and now that pretty little Princess Diana. I wonder who's next. Life is so short.” Lillimae stopped talking and gave me a sorry look. “Annette, we shouldn't put off doin' anything 'til tomorrow that we can do today. Especially women our age. The older we get, the fewer chances we got to have some fun.”
I blinked at Lillimae. “Are you trying to tell me something, or are you having second thoughts about leaving your husband?”
“Both. I have been thinkin' about my husband a lot lately. When I talk to him, I miss him even more.” Lillimae glanced away, but within a few seconds she returned her attention to me and that sorry look was still on her face. “Have some fun before it's too late, Annette. Have a good life.”
Before I could respond to Lillimae's comments, the telephone on the end table rang. I leaned sideways on the couch and grabbed it on the third ring. It was Ronald. “Hello, baby. Can you get away for a little while?”
Just the sound of his voice made my crotch tingle. “For what?” I asked. My head was swimming because he had taken me by surprise.
“I'd rather show you. Meet me at the Princeton Motel,” he told me. “Can I go ahead and check into our usual room?”
Lillimae gave me a conspiratorial smile and started bobbing her head up and down like a rooster.
“I'll be there in twenty minutes,” I told him. I hung up and blinked at Lillimae. “Uh, I'm going to go out for a little while,” I explained, wobbling up off the couch. “Ronald wants to talk to me.”
“That's what I'm talkin' about,” Lillimae said with a wink. “Do enough ‘talkin” for me.” She laughed and gave me a dismissive wave.
The following week while I was with Ronald again in the same motel, same room, another news bulletin interrupted the movie that we'd been watching. This one was to report that Mother Teresa had died of a heart attack. “Damn! Famous folks are dropping like flies,” Ronald exclaimed, with an unlit cigarette dangling from his lip.
“That's the same thing my sister said just last week when Princess Diana died,” I remarked.
Ronald slapped my naked rump and then pulled me into his arms. “That's why it's important for us regular folks to live each new day like it's our last.”
Ronald didn't make thought-provoking comments that often. But the comment he'd just made was not something that I had not heard before. As a matter of fact, I thought about things like that almost every day now. I was going to live each new day like it was my last.
 
I was cordial to Pee Wee every time I saw him now, but as far as me attempting to get intimate with him again, that was one thing that I had a problem with. I just couldn't bring myself to do that yet.
I was thankful that he came to the house almost every week now to see Charlotte, and to give me some money. Most of the time during his visits, Lillimae, Muh'Dear, and Daddy were also present. But even if they had not been present, I had no interest in pulling Pee Wee upstairs to the bedroom.
Now that Pee Wee had spoken with Lizzie about her predicament, she had no reason to call my house again and get me all upset. And she had not called since that morning back in July. But whenever I saw her on the street with her belly poking out like a horse's behind, I got upset all over again.
Roscoe called me up at work the Monday after Thanksgiving and invited me to go to the movies. Before I could even accept or decline his offer, he added, “I've been dying to see you again! See, I've got a couple of pairs of pants that need the legs hemmed. I'll bring them with me.”
“Uh, don't do that. I'm going to be very busy the next few days,” I protested.
“Oh, that's all right with me, baby. I am in no hurry to get them back. And when you wash them, don't use a whole lot of starch like you did last time.”
“I don't think I want company tonight, Roscoe. I'll take a rain check on that movie.”
“Okay, then.” He sounded disappointed, but I didn't care. So was I. I was disappointed that he was still treating me like a maid. “Well, do you mind if I drop my pants off tonight anyway? You can hem up the legs whenever you get a chance.”
“Do you know that dry cleaner on Alice Street?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“I always go to them when I have clothes that need to be altered. They do all my cleaning too.”
“Oh, but they have some high and mighty prices,” Roscoe complained.
“Yeah, but it'll be worth it in the long run. You'll get what you pay for.”
Roscoe didn't waste any more time talking to me that night. I had wanted some company, even his, but not bad enough to agree to another one of his domestic requests. But the next couple of times that I called him up, he was too busy to see me. And I couldn't even catch up with Ronald at all. He had changed his home telephone number, and no matter how many times I called his cell phone number, my calls went straight to voice mail. He did not return any of my calls.
It didn't take long for me to really begin to feel the pinch of loneliness. I cooked a huge dinner the next Sunday evening that I ended up eating alone. Muh'Dear and Daddy had been invited to eat dinner with some church members. They had taken Charlotte with them. Scary Mary had invited Lillimae and me to spend the day at her place to help celebrate her birthday. Lillimae eagerly accepted the invitation, but spending the evening in a brothel with a madam and her prostitutes didn't appeal to me at all.
After I'd eaten as much as I could stand, I curled up on the couch to watch some of the pre-Christmas programs. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt so abandoned and lonely.
 
Lillimae had begun to spend so much time with Daddy that she was out of the house more than I was. Charlotte had a busy social life, so her disappearing acts were as frequent as Lillimae's.
I had called up Rhoda every day since the last time I visited her house a couple of weeks ago. Each time she declined my offer for us to get together for drinks or lunch.
Today, when she finally found time to have lunch with me at a burger stand near my work, she seemed unusually depressed. “I guess you've heard about my daughter,” she choked, ignoring her cheeseburger.
I was not hungry. I'd only ordered a cup of tea and some fries. I took a few sips of my tea and swallowed a few fries before I responded. “What has she done now? Have you heard from her? Do you know where she's staying?” Rhoda had not seen or heard from Jade since that fiasco on her front porch last summer. There were rumors about Jade floating all over Richland. One busybody told Rhoda that she heard Jade was living with a rich Arab guy in Akron. Another person said she had seen Jade entering a halfway house with her suitcase. No matter where the girl was residing, she was still partying up a storm. A lot of people, including me, had seen her staggering in or out of one bar after another.
“She's stayin' with Cecil Thigpen,” Rhoda said with a profound groan. “That's where she's been all this time.”
“Hollywood? The fool who runs the Liberty Street projects?” I wailed. Cecil Thigpen was a thirty-five-year-old thug who had been in and out of jail since he was ten years old. His crimes included everything from purse snatching to pimping. Because of his flashy outfits, manicured nails, and Diana Ross–like hair weave, we all called him Hollywood.
“Uh-huh. He's been shot so many times his body must look like a sieve. It's just a matter of time before somebody else tries to take him out.”
“Oh Lord. I am so sorry to hear that, Rhoda. I thought Jade had a little more class than to associate with a lowlife like Hollywood. I heard he beats on his own mama!”
“Well, at least him and Jade have that in common.”
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go there,” I apologized. I know you are trying to forget about Jade hitting you.”
“Annette, there are a lot of things in my life that I want to forget. Jade slappin' me is not one of them. I will never forget that. And I am goin' to make sure she never forgets it either.”
“I just hope that she comes to her senses before she gets into some serious trouble. Living with a criminal is not going to improve her life in any way. She needs to get up off her butt and find a job.”
“She did. That's the other thing I wanted to tell you.”
“Well, at least that's one step she's made in the right direction,” I said with a forced sigh of relief. “Who hired her?” That question came out sounding a bit harsh, so I tried to soften the blow. “Maybe a job will help her mature faster.”
“You remember Chet Stargen, that young bank manager at Richland First National? Pee Wee, Bully, Otis, and a few of their buddies took him to a strip club for his bachelor party last night. Chet is about to marry one of the Brice girls.”
“Uh-huh. But what does that have to do with Jade?”
“Jan Brice is one of Jade's home girls.”
“And?”
“And the bachelor party was at that funky strip club over on Willow Street. The one they call The Cock Pit—and believe you me, that's an appropriate name for that damn place,” Rhoda snarled.
I didn't know much about the other strip clubs in Richland, but I had heard a lot of nasty things about The Cock Pit. This hellhole attracted some of the lowest forms of humanity in the city of Richland. In addition to the horny old businessmen and frisky frat boys, the other patrons ran the gamut from dirty-looking old men to pornographers in town looking for some fresh new small-town talent. The last time I drove past it, a dirty-looking old man was standing outside in the parking lot masturbating in broad daylight. A woman I knew who worked in the taco stand next door to the strip club complained about having to step over used condoms in front of the building on her way to work each day. What could be more skanky than that? In addition to the used condoms littering the parking lot, there was a lot of drug activity, prostitution, and violence associated with that dump. Because there was an elementary school two blocks away, a few religious groups had been trying to get that club to either shut down or relocate to a seedier part of town. Church members from various congregations paraded around town on a weekly basis with signs and passed out flyers condemning that place. But, unfortunately, none of those protests had done any good. And when a camera crew followed some protesters into the club one evening, the strippers and the club owner not only taunted them with insults, but a few of the strippers threw rocks and mooned them, shaking and patting their naked behinds like it was going out of style! The place was still as rowdy as ever.
“Guess who's doin' nude lap dances at that sleazy hole in the wall?” Rhoda said, her voice so weak now I could hardly hear her.
“I'm afraid to ask.” My chest tightened. I knew Jan Brice and her two younger sisters. They were from a pretty wild family; Daddy was in prison for robbing a bank, Mama sold bootleg liquor, both of the younger sisters had several kids all by different men. Dorothy Brice, the youngest, was just four years older than Charlotte! “One of the Brice girls, and I am not surprised.”
“Close. Jade is workin' there. She's been workin' there ever since I kicked her out of the house.”
CHAPTER 37
A
S CORRUPT AS JADE WAS, I HAD A HARD TIME PICTURING HER
performing nude lap dances, stripping, and doing whatever else females that desperate did in front of a room full of horny men. As a matter of fact, those were the last things that I expected her to do. One reason I felt that way was because she looked down on people she referred to as “skanky.” That list included the low-rent community, people who shopped at thrift shops and discount stores, women who wore tacky hair weaves, and anybody who went to the low-end bars.
Despite the fact that Jade had participated in and won a “hot body” contest one night in her favorite high-end bar, she despised the women who entered the monthly wet T-shirt contests at the bars that catered to the ghetto crowd.
“Oh my Lord in heaven! Has Jade truly lost her mind? I am surprised they haven't closed that place down yet,” I hollered. “They get raided several times a year!”
“I know. But they pay a fine and are back in business the next day. Truly shady people are way too sly to get caught in criminal acts. And when they do, the charges mysteriously disappear. I heard that The Cock Pit owners have mob connections and lawyers who can perform more magic tricks than David Copperfield. And half of the cops on the Richland force go there, and so do a lot of Richland's most prominent businessmen. In addition to all that, the club's owner have to be payin' off somebody downtown. In this world, that's all it takes. When you grease the right palms, you can practically get away with murder. Or any other crime you're involved in. You've been around enough thugs to know that by now.”
“Yeah, but people have been making a lot of noise about that particular strip club. We rarely hear anything about the other three in this town.”
“Well, those other places are tame compared to that damn Cock Pit. The girls can't even remove their G-strings in those places. They can only go topless. I heard that the men can get whatever they want in one of those Cock Pit private rooms, and not have to worry about gettin' arrested or anything. And since you brought it up, what about Scary Mary? She's been pimpin' women out of her house for years, and she's been raided more times than I can count. You and I both know she's payin' off the right people downtown. She'll be in business for as long as she wants, just like that damn strip club.”
“I never thought Jade would stoop this low,” I allowed, shaking my head in disgust. “Especially in a disgusting place with a name like The Cock Pit.”
“The young mother of one of the kids in my day-care center, she used to work at The Cock Pit,” Rhoda revealed. “Her stage name was Hot Stuff. Can you believe that?”
“You mean Debbie Young? I had heard about that, but she seems to have turned out all right,” I replied. “Working at The Cock Pit didn't do her much harm.”
A sad look crossed Rhoda's face. “Yes, it did. That's where she contracted HIV... .”
“Damn. Well, I know that Jade will protect herself if she's going to be having sex with any of those perverts. She's smart.”
“She's not smart enough, Annette. She's makin' some bad choices right now that she'll never be able to live down.” Rhoda let out a mournful howl and shuddered. “Dammit to hell! I never thought my own child would end up doin' some shit like strippin' and lap dancin'. That's one step from bein' a skanky-ass prostitute!” Rhoda was one of the few people who knew that I'd turned more than a few tricks during my teens. I had been so desperate to get money to leave home with, I didn't care how I got it. But I was one of the lucky ones. I'd gotten out of the business before it destroyed me.
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean that the way it sounded,” she said. “I never thought of you as a skanky-ass prostitute.”
“Well, that's what I was. But that just goes to show you that anybody can make a bad choice. And I don't know if what I'm about to say next will make you feel any better, but it's because of the bad things that I went through that made me the woman I am today. Looking back on it now, I think that my being a teenage prostitute made me see firsthand just how ugly that lifestyle, or anything close to it, can be. I'm a stronger woman because of it, and I am proud of myself.”
“Well, you should be. I'm proud of you, too, girl.” Rhoda cleared her throat. “Annette, you don't have to call to check on me every day, or visit with me. I'll be fine. You get on with your life. I know things are movin' real slow between you and Pee Wee, but you've still got Ronald and Roscoe to keep you busy. Enjoy them both while you still can.”
“I will,” I chuckled. I planned to do just that.
However, something told me that things between Pee Wee and me would soon speed up. I knew that it was just a matter of time before we ended up back in bed. I knew that grooming another man to be a possible replacement for Pee Wee was not going to be easy. I had not met another man I liked in months.
As much as I liked Roscoe, I had almost reached my breaking point with him. Last week when I refused to wash a basket of clothes for him, he went to the Laundromat on his own. But he still had the nerve to bring that same basket of clothes to my house for me to iron. And I had refused.
I was proud of the fact that the last couple of times I went to his house, I refused to wash his dishes or “hit a few spots” in his living room with a dust rag and his Dirt Devil.
I really missed being intimate with Pee Wee. I saw Ronald a few times in the interim, but knowing that I was never going to have a real relationship with him made me miss my husband even more. But it was impossible for me not to miss him. We had known one another for over thirty-five years. We had had a great relationship at one time. He had been a good childhood playmate first and then a good husband. And I had been a good wife, until a smooth operator derailed my common sense and talked me into his bed.
As hard as I tried, especially lately, I still couldn't see myself being married to another man. From the looks of things, if Pee Wee and I didn't resume our marriage, I was going to grow old alone after all.
I was surprised when Ronald called me up an hour after I got home from work that dreary Monday after my lunch with Rhoda. Christmas was still three weeks away, but Lillimae had already begun to cook up a storm. Today, she prepared turkey wings, green beans, and cornbread stuffing. After she and I and Charlotte ate dinner, I went to my bedroom. I was tired and my plan was to turn in early. It was only eight o'clock, and I was about to get into my nightgown when the phone rang.
“Hey, beautiful. I've been thinking about you all day. Can you get out of the house for a little while?” Ronald didn't beat around the bush when he wanted something. That was one of the things that I liked about him.
“Uh, I guess I could,” I said, twirling the telephone cord around my finger. The truth of the matter was, I didn't want to go back out. All I really wanted to do was crawl into my bed. But I hadn't been intimate with a man since my last tryst with Ronald. Since it was hard enough to hook up with him anyway, I had to see him when I could. “What about your cousin Nola and her kids from Detroit?”
“They are at that church tent revival that's been going on off and on for months. Can you meet me at the Come On Inn?”
“If your relatives are at the revival, why can't we get together at your place?”
“Because I don't like surprises. You know that. At least at a motel or the hot tubs, we don't have to worry about unexpected company disturbing us—like that time your mama caught us in the act in your bed. Now, can you meet me at the Come On Inn or not?”
Ronald had become a little too aggressive for my tastes lately, and I didn't like that at all. For the first time, I began to seriously consider breaking off my relationship with him. As much as I enjoyed his body, I couldn't tolerate his attitude as much as I used to. “Do you mind if I think about it for a little while? I was doing a few things around the house,” I lied.
“That's fine with me, but if you can't spare some time for me tonight, I don't know when I'll be able to see you again.” Ronald stopped talking, but I didn't respond soon enough. “I am going to start working a different shift, so it might be months before I can see you again,” he added.
I still didn't respond soon enough. “Annette, I really need to see you tonight. Don't you want to see me more than you want to do a few things around the house?” he whined in a voice that sounded like it belonged to a child.
“All right. I'll meet you in about half an hour,” I agreed. I gave in because the way things were going, my days with Ronald were numbered anyway. What harm could it do to me for me to see him at least one more time?

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