Little Black Girl Lost (18 page)

A
fter Sheriff Tate's bribe was paid, Napoleon took Lucas to his home in Rivera Heights. He lived on Long Island Boulevard, just two blocks away from Earl, who lived on Superior Lane. As they rode through the neighborhood in the 1951 Chevrolet Styleline convertible, Lucas was astonished by all the luxury. The mansions were huge and the grass was so green. In the shack he lived in, all they had was dirt. Nothing grew in his front yard, not even dandelions. Rivera Heights was even more impressive than Ashland Estates.

Lucas began to understand Johnnie's reluctance to give up her home and all the trappings of a kept woman. He decided right then that he too would live well. When he got himself together financially, he and Johnnie would marry and start a family. And Ashland Estates was the perfect place to start.

“Napoleon, how much you gon' pay me to run numbers for you?” Lucas asked when they pulled into the driveway.

“How does twenty-five a week sound?”

“I was thinkin' more like fifty.”

“Fifty?” Napoleon repeated. “I've never started any runner off with that kind of dough. Then again, none of them were smart enough to ask, Lucas. I can see I was right about you. You're a smart kid who can handle himself on the streets. Stick with me and you'll make a lot more than fifty a week.”

“Yeah?” Lucas said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Napoleon said. “Now, let's get you cleaned up. When that gal of yours sees you, she won't even recognize you.”

Lucas was dazzled by an elegance he was unprepared for. The size of the living room was staggering. There was thick carpeting, expensive furniture, a cobblestone fireplace, plants in large orange pots, all sorts of ceramic trinkets, and a grandfather clock that was chiming.

“Wow!” Lucas couldn't help saying. “This is really nice, Napoleon.”

“Thanks, my man,” Napoleon said, then called out for his wife. “Marla!”

Marla walked into the room wearing an apron around a pair of cream-colored pants and a sleeveless cream-colored blouse with zigzag patterns. Marla was a 38-year-old, five-six blonde bombshell. To look at her, you couldn't tell she had two children in college. Marla was flattered when she saw how Lucas was staring at her, like he wanted to rip her clothes off and thrust himself inside her with no regard for her. She found Lucas attractive too and smiled.

“Lucas, this is my wife, Marla,” Napoleon said gruffly, unaware of the thick cauldron of lust that was brewing. “Lucas is going to be working for me at the club. Get him some of my clothes, and burn the ones he's wearing. I'm going to take him shopping.”

Lucas was taken aback a little by the way Napoleon talked to his wife. There was no way he'd talk to Johnnie like that.
But hey, it ain't none of my business.

“Lucas, why don't you take a shower?” Napoleon asked. “When you're done, take a dip in the pool. Marla will find you some clothes while I make a run. I'll be back in a couple of hours. Make yourself at home.”

“Are you hungry, Lucas?” Marla asked, sounding like a dutiful wife and mother. “I just baked an apple pie. Would you like a slice with some vanilla ice cream?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Lucas said. “But can I take a shower first?”

“Sure,” Marla said. “Right this way.”

“Don't worry, Lucas,” Napoleon said, opening the front door. “Marla will take good care of you.”

Marla could smell the funk through the perfume like everyone else, but she too said nothing. She took him to the nearest bathroom. “Hand me your clothes when you take them off, and I'll get you something to wear when you go shopping with Napoleon.”

“Thank you,” he said, entering the bathroom.

When he took off his clothes, he realized he didn't have a fresh pair of underwear to put on. He took off everything anyway and handed the bundle to her through the door.

“H
i, Benny. Hi, Brenda!” Johnnie said, excited to see her brother and sister-in-law. “Where's little Jericho?”

“Hi, sis,” Benny said and stood to his feet.

Johnnie ran over to him, hugging him with all her might.

“Let me look at you, girl,” Benny said, taking a step back, his hand on her shoulders. “You sure filled out since I saw you last. How long has it been?”

“About five years,” Johnnie said. “I was eleven then.”

“Five years,” Benny said, shaking his head. “Has it been that long?”

“Uh-huh. Five years,” Johnnie repeated. “Y'all must be tired. Y'all ready to go?”

“Naw, what we ready for is an explanation for what happened to Marguerite,” Brenda said firmly. “What that good for nothin' sheriff got to say?”

“Yeah,” Benny said, “I know it was Richard Goode. Mama told me she was seeing him. Said she had a plan to get some money outta him. She told me that right after she told me about the house Earl bought you out there in Ashland Estates.”

“Apparently Mama told you a lot of things, Benny,” Johnnie said, lowering her head.

“Look, Johnnie, I know it ain't yo' fault you got involved with that child molester,” Benny said, hugging her. “But you don't have to stay here. You can come out to the coast with us. Start all over. You're a good-looking girl. You can find a decent man out in San Francisco to take care of you.”

“What if I don't want to be taken care of, Benny?”

“What?”

“You heard me. What if I don't want to be taken care of? What if I want to take care of myself? What if I want to be on my own? I have a house in my name. I'm getting a job and I have some stocks, plus I have the insurance money Mama left me. I can take care of myself.”

“What about school, Johnnie?” Brenda asked.

“What about it?”

“Don't you wanna better yourself?”

“I have, Brenda. And it didn't have nothin' to do with formal schoolin'.”

“You think this is what your daddy would've wanted for you, Johnnie?” Benny asked.

“Who cares what he thinks? Any man that would leave his wife and daughter, promising to send for them, and never comes back, doesn't even matter to me.”

“Is that what Mama told you?” Benny asked. “She told you that he left to find a job and didn't come back?”

“Yes, she told me the whole thing. About her and Louis Armstrong, the fight between him and my daddy over her—everything. She even told me about his running around on her then getting mad because she did the same thing.”

Dumbfounded, Benny shook his head. He looked at Brenda, wondering if he should tell Johnnie the whole truth.

“You might as well tell her, Benny,” Brenda suggested. “She needs to find out sooner or later.”

“Sit down, Johnnie,” Benny demanded.

“What's going on?” Johnnie asked, uneasy with what was happening.

“These are the wrong circumstances to hear this, but Mama lied to you about your daddy and my stepfather. Johnny Wise was a good man. He was good to me and he was good to our mother. I even took his last name when I left New Orleans. What happened between our mother and Johnny was her fault. She told you he was running around on her. Well, the truth is she was running around on him.”

“That's not true,” Johnnie firmly disagreed.

“Yes it is, Johnnie. I saw her with a lot of different men. She just couldn't stop prostituting herself. For all I know, she ran my father off too.”

“Well, what really happened?” Johnnie asked.

“Mama had Sheriff Tate run him outta town. That's what happened.”

“What?”

“That's right. Sheriff Tate and our mother had been seein' each other for years. Tate wanted to keep seeing her, and Johnny was in the way. So, he trumped up some phony charges against him. He told him if he didn't leave town, he would see to it that he went to Angola Prison for a long time.”

“How do you know this?”

“I heard Tate say it. I was right upstairs in the bedroom.”

“So, my daddy didn't abandon us?”

“No, Johnnie, he didn't,” Benny said. “She wanted to keep whorin', and he wouldn't stand for it. That's why he beat her. Frankly, I don't know many men that would put up with that kinda shit.”

“Where is he now, Benny?”

“He lives in East St. Louis. He's got a wife and four kids. He's happy now,” Benny said and laughed a little. “I guess the sheriff will let him come back for the funeral now that she's dead.”

“You talked to him?”

“Yeah, we've kept in touch the whole time. He's bringing his family in. They should be here in a couple of days. You wanna know what's strange?”

“What?”

“I'm pretty sure he never stopped loving our mother.”

S
adie saw a two-door 1952 two-toned Mercury Monterey coupe pull into Johnnie's driveway and park next to Marguerite's Oldsmobile. She came out of the house with some peach cobbler to meet her new friend's family. Sadie found Benny exceptionally attractive. His bone-colored pullover shirt fit him like a glove, showing off his boxer muscles. He had a well-muscled chest, powerful looking arms, and a thick, muscular back. She wanted him. Then she saw his wife getting out of the car, carrying a baby swaddled in a blanket. She heard a faint cry from the infant.

Brenda said, “Johnnie, he needs changing.”

“Hi, Johnnie!” Sadie said, a little excited.

“Hi, Sadie,” Johnnie said with equal enthusiasm. “I want you to meet my big brother, Benny and his wife, Brenda.”

Brenda turned around just in time to see the lustful looks Sadie was giving her husband. She looked at Benny to see how he was responding to the wanton looks. As she suspected, he was already thinking of a way to leave her and baby Jericho so he could slip his rod into Sadie. While she hated the idea of Benny sleeping with other women, Brenda put up with it because she loved him. She prayed every night that God would deliver him from the spirit of lust, but so far, she hadn't seen any results from her nightly supplications. Brenda spoke cordially to Sadie and even forced a smile, but inwardly, the heart that was broken by the man she loved ached a little.

“Can you show me where the bathroom is, Johnnie?” Brenda asked.

“Yeah, come on in, y'all,” Johnnie said, pretending not to notice what had just happened between Benny, Brenda, and Sadie. “You too, Sadie.”

As they walked in the house, Benny said, looking Sadie's sensuous body over, “Yeah . . . that peach cobbler sho' do look good to me. I bet it's sweet too.”

“It's very good,” Sadie said, acknowledging his not so subtle flirtation.

Benny and Brenda were far more impressed with Johnnie's house than they anticipated. While they were both proud of how well she'd done for herself, they were also angry that a sixteen-year-old girl had been bought and sold like chattel.

“Let me show you where the bathroom is, Brenda,” Johnnie said.

“Where's the kitchen?” Benny asked. “I wanna get me a piece of that good-lookin' cobbler.”

“Sadie, you mind showing Benny the kitchen while I show Brenda where the bathroom is?” Johnnie said.

Sadie went over to the stained glass cabinet and took out a small plate decorated with an assortment of colored roses, and placed it on the table. Benny watched her every move. He especially liked the way Sadie's hips swayed from side to side. The shorts she was wearing were tight, showing off her shapely butt. Benny shook his head and bit down on his bottom lip, thinking it would be nice to bed her.

Whispering, Benny said, “Sadie, what you gon' be doin' later tonight?”

“Whatever you want me to do for as long as you want me to do it,” Sadie replied, looking into his brown eyes. She went over to the counter, picked up one of Johnnie's pens, wrote her telephone number on a piece of paper and handed it to Benny. “Put this someplace where you won't lose it. I'm looking forward to tonight.”

On their way to the kitchen, Brenda purposefully talked to Johnnie loudly enough for Benny and Sadie to know they were on their way to the kitchen. That way she could at least have the pretense of ignorant bliss.

“So, your sister tells me you're a professional boxer,” Sadie said, attempting to give the appearance of innocent conversation as Brenda and Johnnie entered the kitchen. “Would you like some peach cobbler, Brenda?”

P
eering around the bathroom door, completely nude, Lucas shouted, “Mrs. Bentley, I'm outta the shower.”

“Okay,” Marla said. “I'm coming.” Moments later, she knocked. Lucas cracked the door just wide enough for her to hand him a pair of black swimming trunks. “When you're decent, come out to the patio. You can have your pie and ice cream out there.”

“Okay, ma'am.”

“Call me Marla, Lucas,” she said. “We're down to earth. Having lots of money and white skin isn't necessarily synonymous with bigotry.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Lucas said, unsure of what she'd said.

“Don't take too long, okay? The ice cream will melt.”

Lucas slid his long, muscular legs through each opening of the trunks, then tied the string tightly. Looking in the mirror, he made an Atlas pose and smiled at himself. A few moments later, he pulled back the curtains and looked at the pool. He saw Marla wearing a two-piece bathing suit and got an immediate erection.

When Marla heard the patio doors open, she turned around and looked at his bronzed body. Her eyes dropped to his bulging crotch. She took a deep drag of her cigarette and blew out smoke rings.

Lucas couldn't help staring at her in that hot pink bathing suit, which showed off her vivacious curves. When he saw her staring at his stiff shaft, he sat down quickly, picked up his fork and dug into the pie and ice cream. To his surprise, the pie was still warm. He could feel Marla staring at him behind those dark shades he'd seen Marilyn Monroe wearing.

“Aren't you going to have some, Marla?”

“No, Lucas. When a woman reaches my age, she has to be careful what she eats.”

Lucas opened his mouth to ask her how old she was, then quickly changed his mind, remembering the lesson Sadie had taught him earlier that morning. Marla recognized his desire to ask a question and invited it.

“Don't be afraid to ask me whatever's on your mind,” she said, feeling in control.

“That's okay, Marla,” Lucas said shyly.

“Don't be coy,” she said, sure of herself. “If you want something from a woman, you have to be courageous. What's the worst thing that could happen?”

Lucas shrugged his shoulders and continued eating without looking at her.

“Look at me, Lucas.”

He stopped eating and looked Marla in the face. He couldn't see her eyes and it made him a little nervous. She took off her sunglasses and watched how his boyish face revealed his desire to have her.

“Do you think I'm pretty, Lucas?”

Embarrassed, Lucas lowered his eyes. He felt like she could see right through him.

“Well, do you?” Marla repeated.

“Yes,” he said reluctantly.

“And I bet you wanna know how old I am, don't you?”

He nodded.

“I'm thirty-eight.”

Lucas opened his mouth to say something again, then quickly closed it.

“Don't worry about it, Lucas,” Marla said. “You're probably thinking I'm old. You should know that women are like fine wine. We get better with age.”

He nodded his head and finished off the rest of his pie and ice cream. He couldn't help looking at her, wondering what it would be like to recklessly thrust himself inside.

“Would you like some more pie and ice cream?”

“No, thank you,” he said, lying.

“So, how old are you, Lucas? Twenty-two, twenty-three?”

“Seventeen.”

“You're just a baby,” she said, grinning. “Tell me, are you a virgin?”

Feeling like he had to prove that he was a man, he said, “No. I've had plenty of girls.”

“Plenty, huh?”

“Yeah, plenty.”

“Any of them women? Or were they all little girls who have yet to understand their own sexuality?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean have they all been teenagers? Have you had a woman my age yet? I can teach you the art of making love and make you a strong yet sensitive lover. Would you be interested in learning how to make love to a real woman?”

“Marla, I already have a girl,” he said, doing his best to resist the temptation to accept her offer. “Besides, Napoleon is my friend. He gave me a job and everything.”

“Napoleon is your friend? That's a laugh. Napoleon doesn't have any friends. He uses people to get whatever he wants. One day it's going to catch up with him.”

Stunned and confused, Lucas wondered about their relationship. Napoleon was rude to her right in front of him, and Marla obviously had no respect for him. Yet, they were man and wife. It made no sense.

“I know you want me, Lucas,” Marla said, interrupting his thoughts. “When you change your mind—and believe me, you will—I'll be available.”

Having no idea how to respond to such an offer, he asked, “Is it okay if I take a swim now?”