Nasty (25 page)

“Yep…like a man, Javon.” Tarik readjusted his tie.

Javon looked so cute in his suit. They had decided to bring him along at the last minute when the babysitter fell through.

Tarik looked at the clock on the wall. They would arrive so late, it didn’t make any sense to leave. “Sherry, I’m sure it’s over by now. Maybe let’s just skip…”

“Now you know you have to go. These things never start on time. Just call up someone and tell them we’re on our way.” Tarik looked at Sherry and Javon. His family. He thought about how Eli had given up his family so easily. He still couldn’t fathom how a man walks away from the people you love most in the world. He could never abandon Sherry or Javon or the new baby Sherry and he were bringing into the world. He went over to Javon, picked him up, and gave him a big hug.

“Why you hug me, Daddy?”

“It’s ’cause I just love you. That’s all. I just love you.”

Sherry looked at her husband and thanked God for blessing her with such a good man.

The ceremony was at five. It was almost six o’clock. Javon had fallen asleep in the backseat. Deep in thought, Tarik drove
slowly. Sherry had to nudge him once or twice to drive off after the traffic lights turned green.

“Are you giving the eulogy?”

“Who me? I didn’t know him that well. Mr. Thompson’s going to say a few words Mama prepared.”

“He wanted to be cremated?”

“Eli wasn’t fancy. He wanted no frills. He even told us not to claim the body so that he wouldn’t be a financial burden.”

“What?”

“Well, if no one claims the body, the corpse is sent to Potter’s Field.”

“But your mother wouldn’t have that, I guess.”

“You know, I finally figured it out about those two. I always kind of wondered why Mother was so committed to caring for Eli.”

“Well, she is a nurse, and she’s genuinely a compassionate person.”

“No. It went way beyond that for those two. He wasn’t just another patient. I saw them together and how they were with each other. I’d never tell Carlos or Jonathan this, but I’m certain that for my mother, Eli was the one.”

“The one what…he was a damn dope addict!” Immediately regretting what she said, she softened and added, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to talk about your father like that.”

“Let’s get this straight for once and for all. Pops was my father. Eli was a tragic person who figured out life too late and I’m cool with that, too. And you’re right; he was a junkie who didn’t give a shit for nobody but the next high. But I think…I mean…I know there was a time that he wasn’t a junkie. And that was the time he was the one for my mother. They were soul mates.”

Javon’s eyes opened, only to discover he was still trapped in
a car seat. Impatient with the journey, he whined, “Daddy, we ’dere? We at the sleepytime place?” Sherry and Tarik stole shocked glances with each other. Evidently, he still remembered the explanation about death they’d shared with him a few months ago when he’d asked about his first daddy. The response that comforted him best was that death was a very long sleep; a sleep so good that you never wake up.

Sherry smiled and leaned back to readjust his belt. She patted his head. “We’re almost there, sugar pie.” Tarik looked at his son through the rearview mirror, marveling at how precious he was. “Baby, give my brother a call. Tell him we’re almost at the sleepytime place.”

Happy that he would finally see where his first daddy had fallen asleep, Javon clapped his hands joyfully.

T
hey held the service in a small intimate chapel on the second floor of the Thompson Funeral Home. Ophelia placed the copper urn containing Eli’s ashes on a prominent pedestal located in the front of the room. She looked at it for a few moments. Discovering Nicola’s identity had the unfortunate effect of reminding her of what an asshole Eli had been. The intense sadness she originally felt about his passing had mellowed considerably.

She shook her head and turned around to find the woman who should have been her daughter staring out of a window. The faintest trace of maternal urges compelled her to go to her. Comfort her in some way. At the very least try to understand and treat her like a human being who’d been shortchanged so early in life. Ophelia, not knowing Nicola’s full story, intuitively knew losing two parents at such a young early age and growing up in a group home had to be a hellish existence.

Instead of reaching out to her, she made a mental note to try to be civil with her when Carlos brought her around. Regardless of her history, Nicola was still a hoochie mama playing her son.

Nicola stared out of the window. She was numb. When Ophelia first explained how Eli’s negligence had stopped her
from becoming their foster child and ultimately their adopted daughter, a rage penetrated through her that she hadn’t felt since she burnt down the Martins’ house with them in it. She wanted to reconstruct Eli’s ashes to throw him in the very same flames; only after first cursing him out for being so worthless.

Rather than dwell on the past, she immediately fell into her old pattern of burying her feelings and locking them away as soon as possible. Since Nicola made a habit of not crying over the things that did or didn’t happen, she forced herself to stop lamenting over past circumstances she could not change.

“A penny for your thoughts, beautiful.” Carlos grabbed her around the waist. Instantaneously, Nicola summoned her thoughts back into the present. A time she could do something with.

“Isn’t it wild? We could be brothers and sisters. I’m…I’m really glad old Eli messed up…the way he did,” Nicola lied to herself and Carlos.

Never questioning her lack of remorse, he kissed Nicola on the cheek. “I’d much rather have this kind of relationship with you,” he added, “…besides, from what you told me, life didn’t turn out too bad for you…now did it.”

Nicola smiled politely. He didn’t know about the hell she went through in her childhood. She hadn’t even told him the full story about why she and Harrison divorced. She looked at him as he stared at her with loving eyes. He was in love with a woman he knew nothing about. What a fool.

Carlos grabbed her hand and led her out of the chapel. “Follow me.” Jumping at an opportunity to abandon her gloomy thoughts, she obediently followed Carlos down a long hallway.

Waiting at the end of the hall next to the bathroom was Carlos’s destination, the gallery entrance. A sign hanging from a brass doorknob warned patrons not to enter. Construction of
a new office was underway. Carlos eagerly proceeded through. “Don’t worry about the sign. I pulled a few strings,” he said, trying to impress a very unimpressed Nicola. “I know the owner. They’re just about finished with the work. He said it was okay to come in and check out the art.”

He held the small of her back as he escorted her into the gallery. From the entrance, Nicola and Carlos could see directly into a partially constructed room that was located at the rear of the 1,000-square-foot space. The only furniture inside the owner’s new office was a beautiful chaise longue lined with genuine leather.

The “what-coulda-been” blues kept trying to bring Nicola down. She needed something to help pep her up. Help her stop thinking how Eli had blown her chance for happiness. When she saw the chaise longue, she immediately knew the biggest blues chaser in the world was hanging not on the wall but right between Carlos’s legs. She dragged him into the office, happy to discover the chaise longue was big enough for the both of them.

Nicola stood in front of Carlos and grabbed his crotch. With deliberate intent, she ripped down his zipper, reached into his pants and forced his instantly responsive rod into her welll-ubricated mouth.

Shocked, Carlos pulled back and stuffed his semi-hard tool back into the safe haven of his underpants. “Nicola, please, baby, please, not here. Not with my mama down the hall. Not at a funeral. Didn’t I give you enough this morning?”

“I’m too nasty for you, baby?”

“Yes, Nicola, I think you’ve hit my limit. We cannot fool around in the funeral parlor.”

Like a spoiled child, Nicola pushed out her bottom lip and turned her back on Carlos.

He zipped up his trousers and pulled Nicola out of the office.
“Baby, I brought you here because of the art, okay? Let’s look at the nice pictures on the wall. I’ll take care of other things; later.”

Nicola looked at Carlos. He didn’t know it, but later would never happen for him. This would have been their last time together. After finding out about his mother, she wanted nothing more to do with him or his family.

But she did like the pictures that graced the walls of the modest gallery. Nicola was in her element. Next to sex, art was her biggest passion. Thompson’s collection was indeed impressive. Nicola stopped in front of an original painting by Annie Lee. It was called “Blue Monday.” A lithographed copy of the same picture hung in her dining room.

“I know how she feels.”

Carlos looked at the painting depicting a black woman sitting on the side of the bed with her head hanging down, obviously dreading the day ahead and contrasted her with the vivacious woman he had fallen hopelessly in love with.

“Nicola, I don’t see you like that at all…not one bit.”

She turned around and kissed his cheek. “I don’t think you see me at all.”

Confused, he looked at her with a puzzled look. “What you talking about? Of course, I see you; all of you.”

“You go on back to your family. I’ll be along shortly.”

“But, baby, I wanted to spend this time with you…”

“Go deal with all those media people. Go on; don’t worry about me.”

“Nicola, please…”

Nicola looked at him. Begging like a punk. Reminded her of Harrison. They were both pathetic. She decided right on the spot she’d had enough and yelled, “And…I’m not attending the
service. I’ll stay here. Just come get me afterward and take me home!” She turned away from him to look at the picture hanging before her.

Carlos was crushed. He wanted her by his side. “But…Nicola…you…you promised…”

“I said I’d go to the funeral parlor to see the art. Never said anything about the service. I told you, I hate funerals.”

Desperately trying to convince her otherwise, he put his arms around her waist and pleaded, “But you’ll get bored back here all by yourself, baby.”

“A service for a burnt-out junkie won’t be long, and besides,” she looked back at him and winked mischievously, “Nicola knows how to entertain Nicola.”

Laughing, she pulled away from him and paid full interest to the art, ignoring him totally. He wanted to protest, but she had told the truth. He did need to take care of business and the complete service wouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes. And she had said repeatedly how she hated funerals.

Still, he thought she could make this one sacrifice. He’d do it for her. He’d do anything for her. He loved her. He knew then, it was clear as a Windex-cleaned window, that she’d never make the same claim because she didn’t love him the way he loved her.

Dragging his poor, rejected body out of the gallery, he wondered why this woman, whom he had given his all to, couldn’t return his love. Could the answer simply be that he was in love with someone who didn’t exist? Was Nicola right? Did he not see her for who she really was? A chill went down his spine.

Or had his mama read her right the first time they met? She called her a tramp and a whore. Maybe she was screwing other men. The same green-eyed monster that forced him to rum-
mage through Nicola’s trashcans now possessed Carlos’s mind, body and soul.

Shaking his head, as if trying to erase all doubt, Carlos tried to compose himself before entering the funeral parlor. He could see that quite a few music industry people had arrived. He didn’t have time for the jealous band that was beginning to play in his head.

Instead, he went into the bathroom and forced himself to calm down. He had to totally reject his mother’s notions about Nicola and embrace the soothing thought that the woman he loved was really a fine lady who had a healthier than normal sexual appetite; an appetite that she allowed only him to satisfy.

Carlos relieved himself at the urinal. He looked at the mirror but it was his father, Hector Salinas’s face that stared back at him. Carlos’s mind snapped. He was no longer a confident young man on the verge of owning a successful record company. He was a seven-year-old boy watching his daddy rip a diamond earring out of his mother’s ear.

Hector, is you crazy! I just bought those earrings. There’s nobody else but you… You’re a slut and I’m sending you to heaven to purify yourself. I warned you to stop sleeping around… Hector. No, don’t do it. Don’t pull the trigger… Poppi, don’t shoot Mommy. We just bought those earrings at the store… Don’t lie for this slut. A man bought those earrings. Your mother’s bad boy. Real bad. I’m sending her to heaven to make her good… BAM! BAM! BAM!… Poppi! Mommy’s bleeding. Mommy’s bleeding. She’s not moving… Poppi bought you strawberry ice cream. It’s your favorite… Poppi, why you pointing the gun at my head. Please, Poppi, don’t point the gun at my head… Don’t worry, son. Just eat your ice cream. When you finish, you and me are going to heaven to be with your mama and everything’s going to be perfect for us. We’ll be happy in heaven because Mama will be a good woman in heaven. No other men. Just me and
you. Hurry up and eat your ice cream… HECTOR SALINAS! THIS IS THE POLICE! WE’RE COMING IN… Poppi, it’s the police…Poppi…don’t pull the trigger…BAM!

Lying on the bathroom floor in a fetal position, Carlos trembled. He heard the voices and he could see the scene as if it was taking place right in front of him. He saw his father putting the gun in his mouth and pulling the trigger. He heard it go off as his head exploded into a million pieces. He could see his father’s body collapse into a pool of blood next to his mother.

Someone kept banging on the bathroom door and yelling, “Hey, is anybody in there? Hello? Is anybody there?”

The noise revived Carlos and helped him grab hold of a thin thread of sanity that brought him back to the present. He yelled back, “I’ll be out! I’ll be out in a few!”