Liar's Game (40 page)

“Don’t playa hate.”

“I was the closest to them, so they could’ve killed me. Hell, for all I know, you could’ve shot me in my head a minute ago.”

Gerri said, “And if you want to know the truth, all that crap you say about Vince hurts me, ’cause I know men are probably saying the same thing about me. You probably feel the same way about me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Hell, if you ain’t noticed, I’m a single parent. With two kids. I wish I could count the number of men who disqualify me because of that, and because I was married to Melvin. That pisses me off every time. You think that just because I have a failed marriage, because I’ve reproduced effectively, you think that means I don’t deserve to be loved anymore?”

I had no answer to that.

Gerri said, “Niggas like you make me sick.”

“I’m not a nigga.”

“Then stop acting like one.”

I went off on her ass. “Since we’re talking about niggas, as you say, you’re the worst one I know. Jefferson fucks you over, and now you’re going to make Butter get an abortion. What kind of mess is that? Hell, you have a daughter. What if somebody like you did the same thing to her?”

“Shut up, Dana.”

“I hope you rot in hell. You’ll do anything just to keep a man. Niggas like you is why women like me feel the way we do.”

A moment passed. All she said was, “Ouch.”

I blew a ton of heated air out my nostrils. “Gerri, we need to reevaluate our friendship.”

Gerri hissed, then mimicked me, “Reevaluate?”

“We can’t be friends. Can’t be friends if you could do Butter like that. Especially over some no-good that’s dogged you out.”

“I don’t believe this shit. I let your no-credit, no-money, homeless ass sleep in my house, eat my food, shit in my toilet, ain’t charged you a damn dime, and this is the thanks I get?”

“Whatever. If some bitch was doing that to your daughter, you’d have a different attitude. What goes around comes around.”

I’d said it. No way for me to take it back. Didn’t want to. Should’ve said that a long time ago.

“No wonder Vince slapped your silly ass.”

That pretty much wrenched my heart out of my chest.

Both of us were crying, too choked up to talk. All this drama, everything that had happened tonight had both of us a little crazy. I know that it had me running too high on emotion, about to O.D. on adrenaline. It was dangerous, both of us being so high-strung in a speeding car that offered no space.

I put my hand on top of Gerri’s. She held mine tight.

“Sorry, Dana.”

“Guess I needed to hear that.”

“Me too. Guess I needed to hear that too.”

My sister. My friend. My road dawg.

If we weren’t friends before this day, we were definitely friends now.

“I mean it, Gerri, don’t encourage Butter.”

“Maybe I’m pissed off and saying it wrong. I wasn’t trying to encourage her. I was explaining to her her options, in a realistic kinda way. The same way I would talk to Stacy if she was in that predicament. Butter’s young. If she popped out a baby right now, with no skills, no income, she’ll be raising a county baby. That’s what I told her.”

“And her reaction?”

“She didn’t want to hear it, just started shouting, ‘Jefferson can afford it.’ Told her what I’ve gone through with my kids, that she can’t depend on Jefferson. She couldn’t see through those resentful eyes, told me I was playa hatin’. That’s where her head was at.”

“That bad?”

“All I can say was, it got ugly. It’s hard to act like Iyanla Vanzant when you’re dealing with the Jerry Springer generation.”

“Well, leave that drama between Butter and Jefferson.”

“You’re right,” she said after a second went by. “Time for a reality check. I need to take my losses, stop before I get in way too deep, let Jefferson and Butter work it out. Ain’t my pot to be pissing in.”

I patted her hand. Squeezed it a few times.

“Dana, since we’re telling each other off, you need to lose your childish vision of the world and grow the hell up. Stop thinking about what Dana wants and develop some sensitivity to other people’s lives and learn to admit when you’re wrong.”

Simply, I said, “You’re right.”

A moment passed.

Gerri said, “Tonight.”

“What about tonight?”

“This is my last night at Blondies.”

“When did you decide that?”

“When I saw the gun in that boy’s belt, I thought about my kids. Imagined myself in a coffin, being planted six feet under. Wasn’t ready for that. That was a sign. I should be at home. I need to be at home. Need to be back in church, trying to get right from the inside out.”

I stared out the window. Wiped my eyes with my ashy knuckles, licked the tears from the back of my hand, then found a tissue and blew my nose. I handed Gerri a tissue. She did the same.

I followed Gerri through a side door of Blondies. “Mustang Sally” thumped from every speaker. China Doll was onstage under the spotlight doing acrobatic moves, swinging from a pole, rolling into an upright split.

Gerri said, “Come on in the back.”

“You sure about that?”

“C’mon.”

When I stepped into the den of mostly naked vixens, my nose scrunched, eyes burned a little. Too many perfumes, so much nail polish in such a small space. Dancers’ eyes rose from the vanity tables. Sharp looks at me. Gerri undressed, neatly hung her dress clothes up in a pink metal locker, pinned her hair, then slipped on a black leather G-string.

Gerri took over the conversation. “Some fools just tried to jack me.”

She told the whole story, about what had happened at the comedy club, how Tia had shocked Claudio like he was at the end of his Green Mile, then gave blow by blow of what went down under the overpass. Women were applauding and pumping their arms in the air. Our whacked victories had become their victories. We’d changed from being Lucy and Ethel to Thelma and Louise.

One of the girls, who had an angry rattlesnake tattooed on her belly, jumped in, “Maybe one of the customers had you followed. When I was dancing at the Barbary I was followed; at Angels I was followed. Then when I was working over on La Cienega, these white boys tried to jack me in front of Trashy Lingerie. I came out of my heels and ran through six lanes of traffic all the way back up to Acapulco Mexican restaurant to get help.”

Gerri’s pager went off.

She cursed.

I asked, “Same three digits?”

“Why would somebody keep paging me and put in three digits?”

“What three digits?” one of the girls asked.

“Three-oh-four. It’s a West Virginia area code.”

Most of the girls paused, and half the room laughed.

“That ain’t no damn West Virginia. Cinnamon Delight, somebody is calling you a hoe.”

“What?”

“Any ten-year-old knows that if you turn your pager upside down, 3-0-4 looks like H-O-E. Just some fool playing games on your beep-beep. That’s probably who was following you. Some customer after your kitty kat.”

“Couldn’t be. Those were boys. Too young to get in here.”

“Never too young for kitty kat.”

Everybody was ragging on Gerri, and even though a shallow grin was on my face, hiding the fear that had been in my heart all evening, once again I glanced from woman to woman, from sister to sister. Wondered how a room full of black women who came from a legacy of queens ended up like this, stripping for anybody with a dollar in his hand.

Then Gerri said, “Major announcement.”

The girls listened up.

She said, “This is my last night. Y’all can have this crap.”

“What’re you gonna do?”

“Mind my own business and leave others alone.”

They all laughed.

Gerri’s eyes stayed on me while she made her short speech. Still, the environment, I couldn’t take it anymore.

I said, “Gerri, I’m going out front.”

“I won’t be long.”

“When you shaking your rump?”

“Next. Slow crowd tonight. The girls say nobody’s tipping, so I’ll be retiring after one, no more than two sets. Going home, get a good night’s sleep, then get up and have some oatmeal, wheat toast, and turkey sausages with my children.”

I shifted back and forth.

She said, “You’re staying at my place tonight, right?”

I shrugged. “Okay.”

A dancer wiggled her breasts and said, “Cinnamon, I’ve been trying to go home with you for a long time. You trying to hurt my feelings?”

Gerri painted on her scarlet lipstick as she retorted, “It ain’t that kinda party. I like mine dark, wide, and long.”

“We can go by the Pleasure Chest and pick one up on the way.”

Gerri gave her the finger. The other girls laughed.

Tonight, both of us were wound too tight. My misplaced anger and frustration had been flying all over the place. Damn muscles were knotted up like monkey fists.

I put my hand back on Gerri’s hand. A hardworking woman.

“Gerri, how does a person like me get to be as selfless as you, the way you are with your kids?”

“Time.”

“How do you sacrifice when so much has been taken from you?”

“You just do.”

“You make it look easy.”

“I’m a mother. We make a lot of things look easy.”

Then she shook her head; her red lips turned way down.

I asked, “You okay?”

“That three-oh-four thing. Wondering who that could be. None of the customers know I’m in real estate. Nobody in real estate knows about this. At least I hope not. That would be tragic. Couldn’t be Melvin, he doesn’t play games like that. I hope one of my kids’ friends hasn’t found out about my midnight paper route. That would be so embarrassing.”

“After tonight you can deny it.”

“Yeah.”

I left the room. I bought a glass of wine, sipped half at the bar, and headed toward the back corner.

A crowd of women were a few tables over. My sensitive nose picked up their perfume long before I heard their girly-girly chatter rolling in the darkness. Barely noticed them because my mind was stressing over the scene with Claudio, but one of those women was checking me out in a major kind of way. Women did come in here to watch women too. And across the room a sister with golden hair was getting a lap dance. This was that kind of world.

I ignored them.

The night I’d lain with Claudio, another man was in my heart. I pulled out my c-phone and dialed what used to feel like home. The answering machine kicked on. I listened to the outgoing message, my own cheerful voice telling the world that nobody was around to take their call. A perky, cheerful message. I never realized how happy I’d sounded with Vince.

I pushed the end button. So symbolic. Turned power off.

My heart was still ringing.

Then it stopped.

Sand Dune Park. That truck was the same truck I’d seen at Sand Dune Park. That hit me all of a sudden. Had to be the same boys.

And somebody was staring me down.

The candlelight at that table was bright enough for me to see the sister had an earring in her nose, just like Naiomi has.

The sister leaned into the light and made strong eye contact with me.

I turned away. Didn’t need any more shit, not tonight.

The instant I turned away, I realized who she was. I leaned and stared that way. She had turned her back. Their candle had been blown out.

That was scary. Very scary.

I spoke out loud, “No way. Can’t be her up in here.”

I headed that way, slowly walked through the darkness, moved through the old school beat of Ice Cube rapping “No Vaseline.”

The D.J. did an upbeat intro, announced that crowd favorite Cinnamon Delight was about to take the show to another level.

When I was close to the table, the sister rose from her seat defiantly. Her face was made up to the teeth, and she was dressed in black Lycra pants, white cotton blouse, black jacket. Sister was pretty, looking grown, but still a child.

I said, “Butter?”

“Step off.”

One of her friends, a dark girl with short hair, I believe that was Chocolate Starr, said, “Who that?”

Butter said, “One of that three-oh-four’s friends.”

Then I knew who had been paging Gerri.

I asked, “What the hell are you doing up in here?”

Butter and her friends shared expressions, then nervous laughs. Two of the girls were in Jefferson’s group. My eyes went from face to face. And it made sense. This was the same crowd that I had seen out front the night I thought I’d seen Butter. I had seen Butter. She had been stalking.

“Butter, what’re you—”

The sister they called Big Leggs jumped to her feet, pointed at the stage, and said, “This is the same stupid routine she always does. She’s getting ready to turn her back and stick her old ass all up in the air.”

Butter twisted her lips. “Y’all still down with this?”

Pooh Bear said, “We got your back.”

“Starr, your brothers didn’t do it right.” Butter’s eyes were locked on Gerri. “Never send a boy to do a woman’s job.”

I was almost shouting. “Butter, what are you—”

Then Butter growled and shoved me so hard that I stumbled and flopped over a plastic chair, hit the floor hard. Hurt my leg. Bumped my head. Aching and limping, I got right back up in pain.

I screamed Gerri’s name, but the music smothered my warning. Ice Cube’s song masked the sounds of the ruckus.

Those sisters had became wolves, howling and racing across the room. All of them bolted to the stage and jumped up on the platform before Gerri could stop vibrating her butt and turn around. All except Pooh Bear. She was mortified. That girl ran two steps behind her friends, then made an abrupt U-turn and raced for the front door. She wanted no part of this scenario.