Some Things I Never Thought I'd Do (11 page)

I was still looking at the photograph. He was so open, reaching for them as passionately as they were reaching back. This photograph left no doubt that a very intense exchange of energies was taking place. My question was, now that he doesn't do this anymore,
where does all that energy go?

“See? You can't describe it either,” Aretha crowed. “You're talking about what
they
did. You can't describe what
he's
doing. You just have to see it.”

I handed the photograph back to Lu. I would have liked a chance to look at it longer, but in a less public setting.

“Why did he stop singing?”

Flora shrugged, taking the photo from Lu's hands and running her fingers over it lightly. “I don't really know for sure. You know men can never tell you
why
they do what they do.”

“The first time I saw him sing at the party, he hadn't performed live in five years,” Aretha said. “And believe me, it was worth the wait.”

“You didn't throw anything on the stage, did you?” I had to tease her a little bit.

She laughed. “No, but it wasn't because—cover your ears, lil' bit!—it wasn't because I didn't want to.”

“Gross!” Lu groaned.

“I warned you,” Aretha said, still laughing. “He sang at the party last year for Lillie, Peachy's wife, because everybody knew that would be her last one.”

“That time didn't make me want to throw things. That time just made me cry,” Aretha said. “He came right down to the table where Lillie and Peachy were sitting and sang right to her. She loved it. We all did.”

“Maybe he'll sing something this year.” Flora handed Lu back her picture. “Who knows?”

“He'll only sing if I ask him to,” Lu said.

“And since when are you his agent?”

“Since I interviewed him for my school project. I know everything about Daddy Blue being a singer.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Flora laughed, “but if you've got any influence, use it. Regina deserves a chance to see your godfather in his element.”

“Would you like to hear Daddy Blue sing?”

Would I ever!
“I'd love to hear him sing.”

“Then consider it done,” Lu said, sounding just like Blue for the world.

Aretha laughed. “Good for you, lil' bit. Make yourself useful.”

It was after two and time to pursue afternoon plans. “I'm going to head back upstairs,” I said. “Thanks for everything. It was lovely.”

“My pleasure,” Flora said. “I'm sure I'll see you before Saturday, but if I don't, why don't you just come on down at eight?”

“I won't be late.”

Aretha and Lu were teasing each other again, and I knew Flora was getting ready to clear her voice of worry and call her husband for some sweet talk. My afternoon loomed lazily ahead with nothing but the still unread newspapers to claim my attention. I was about to open my door when Lu's head popped out and she took the steps up two at a time.

“You keep this,” she said, thrusting the photo of Blue Hamilton into my hand.

Had she read my mind?
“Why?” “Now we're even,” she grinned, and headed back downstairs before I could hand the picture back. I'm glad I didn't. The universe is going to get tired of sending me the stuff I ask for if I keep sending it back like the wrong lunch order.

So, I went inside, closed the door, and sat down to take a good long look at my neighbor
in his element
, but before I could even get started good, from across the hall came the faintest sound of someone singing.

17

J
USTIN'S RESTAURANT ON A BUSY
afternoon is like a scene out of an urban romantic comedy. The people at the bar sipping peach martinis from perfectly frosted glasses were slender, stylish, and solvent. The dozen or so well-dressed people already seated at the linen-covered tables were examining their menus and conversing with waiters who wore identical well-pressed shirts and equally interchangeable smiles. The hostess was a tall, very thin young woman the color of bittersweet chocolate, beautiful in that angular way fashion models cultivate, and wearing the kind of little black dress that rarely leaves New York City.

She smiled a greeting and guided me to a table in the far corner of the room, where Beth and her assistant were already sipping their Perrier with lime. I had to smile. I had arrived ten minutes early and Beth had been here long enough to order drinks. She didn't get where she is by being careless. This woman was good.

“Gina,” she said. “You remember Jade from the other day?”

“Of course,” I said, taking the chair the hostess offered before she floated back to her station. We exchanged our greetings, and I asked the waiter for a Perrier of my own. We'd order lunch later.

“How was Albany?” I said.

Beth and Jade exchanged a look and then a smile.

“That good?”

“Better than that,” Beth said. “It was
remarkable
.” Beth had only recently begun accepting speaking engagements again, and her followers were eager to see her, to support her in her loss and hear her new message, honed by tragedy but grounded, as always, in hope. She had booked a limited tour of the state over the next few weeks, and every appearance so far had been standing room only. The voter registration that Son had insisted on was going great guns, and, according to Beth, the lines to register were now as long as the lines to buy her tapes and get her to autograph her books.

Three years ago, when I was still on staff, Precious Hargrove told Son she intended to run for governor. He told her he intended to have registered twenty thousand black women to vote by that time and promised to talk to Beth about an endorsement. They shook hands on it, even though, at that time, I thought his estimate was unrealistic. From what Beth was saying, it was right on target.

“We've registered nearly—” Beth interrupted herself. “How many did we estimate, Jade?”

Jade flipped open a small notebook and scanned the page, flipped one more and found what she was looking for. “As of two nights ago, we estimated four thousand for the first two weeks.”

“Four
thousand
? You're averaging …” I did the math quickly. Most of the venues where Beth spoke held a thousand people. She'd done eight gigs so far. “… five hundred a night?”

Jade said it with me. Beth was nodding with what can only be described as a hungry look on her face, and I don't mean for Justin's exotic menu offerings. This was a recognizing-the-next-level-of-your-own-power look, and, to tell the truth, it scared me just a little. Beth's ego was her blessing and her curse. When Flora said Blue had to deal with a struggle between his dark side and his better instincts, I understood immediately. Beth is involved in that battle, too, even though she would certainly deny it. Son was the one who had helped keep her on the high road. Looking at Jade, with her well-organized briefcase and her own hungry look, only slightly less predatory than Beth's, I didn't think she would be the one to provide the necessary balance.

“That's impressive,” I said as the waiter deposited my Perrier near my elbow and disappeared.

“It's
remarkable
,” Beth corrected me. “And these are all new voters. First-timers. They don't know the candidates. They don't know the process. They're
electoral virgins
!”

Jade scribbled the words in her notebook and, in parenthesis, she added EVs, and underlined it twice.

I had to admit,
remarkable
was the word for it. At this rate, by the time Beth wound up this tour at the ceremony in a few weeks, she would have the ear of almost twenty thousand EVs with new voter registration cards and no clue as to how to use them. Son's promise to Precious Hargrove was about to become a reality. He would have loved it.

“Precious Hargrove is going to love you,” I said.

Jade opened her mouth to say something, but a fast look from Beth stopped her before she got out a single word. She looked quickly down at her notebook, as if she might have missed something crucial after she made a note of the phrase
electoral virgins
for posterity.

“Why is that?” Beth said, taking a small sip of her Perrier and dabbing her lips.

Jade avoided my eyes.
What were they up to?

“Well, aside from your general
remarkability
, she stands to gain quite a bit from your endorsement. Twenty thousand votes and counting is nothing to sneeze at.”

“Exactly,” Jade agreed with an enthusiastic nod.

“That's why we've got to keep our options open,” Beth said firmly.

She slid that
we
in like I couldn't notice, but I did. “What options are those?”

“It's too early to say,” Beth said smoothly. “That's the whole point.”

“You aren't thinking about endorsing someone other than Senator Hargrove, are you?”

Son would turn over in his grave if she threw her support to any of that motley crew of good ol' boys and party hacks who wanted to run. She shook her head and shared another little smile with Jade, which made me want to shake them both until their teeth rattled, as my mother used to say. Nonviolent to the core, my mother never actually shook me at all. I think she knew just the
idea
of rattling teeth would give me pause for thought and time to regain my senses.

“No, Gina,” Beth said slowly. “Nothing like that.”

“Thank goodness,” I said. “You couldn't ask for a better candidate than Precious to motivate your troops.”

“Well, that's not altogether true,” she said. Jade was looking like the cat who swallowed the canary. “There's one person who might be even better.”

“Who?” This game was getting on my nerves. “Me,” Beth said with a triumphant smile. “What about me?”

Now I was thoroughly confused. “What about you? You're not a politician.”

She gave me a big smile. Jade did, too, with her little Mini-me ass. Was this her ridiculous idea, or did Beth come up with this on her own?

“That's probably a plus,” Beth said. “People don't trust politicians anymore. You know that.”

I turned to Jade. “Is this your idea?”

She shrank back a little, but she didn't take low. “There's a groundswell of support. Everywhere we go, people are asking her to run. They're practically begging her to just consider a draft.”

“You've never even run for office,” I said, incredulous. “Your work has always been outside of those channels, remember?”

“Times change,” Beth said coolly.

“You can't have thought I'd think this was a good idea.”

“I had hoped you could get behind it,” she said. “It was always Son's dream.”

That made me mad. “Son's dream was never for you to let your ego get you into a race for a position you're not qualified for even if you win.”

“But you do concede that I could win?”

This is not why you came down here
, I reminded myself.
Don't take the bait.

“I don't concede anything,” I said calmly. “This hasn't got anything to do with me.”

“It does if we announce my candidacy at the dedication ceremony,” Beth said, watching my face for a reaction.

She got one.
“What?”

The waiter who was headed our way heard my shriek, reconsidered, and turned around.

“Calm down, Gina. Nothing is settled yet. I haven't committed anything to anybody.”

That was probably true, but at this point I didn't care. This was only my problem if I let it be.
Take a breath
, I said to myself.
Let it go!

“Well, keep me posted,” I said. “You'll probably need a different kind of speech if you decide to do this.”

I could have added “and a different kind of person to write it,” but that speech was still part of my contract, money already promised to the weasel, so I focused on the reason I was here in the first place, conjured up a mental picture of his handing me a piece of paper that read paid in full, and waved at the waiter to let him know it was safe to return.

“Exactly,” said Beth, nodding to her clone who nodded back.
“Exactly.”

18

E
VERYTHING WENT GREAT AT
Morehouse this morning. The dedication committee was so happy that I actually know what I'm doing, they're practically beside themselves. When I showed them the rough draft of the script for the video biography I'm putting together, Mr. Freeney looked like he couldn't decide whether to kiss me or run around the room three times fast. In fact, he was grinning like a Cheshire cat during the whole meeting. It wasn't until we were winding things up that he let the rest of us in on why.

“As most of you know,” he said, still smiling broadly, “the president of the college recently extended an invitation to state senator Precious Hargrove to serve on our host committee. I am happy to report that she has accepted our invitation and agreed to serve as one of our cochairs.”

He turned to me, practically beaming. “As you are aware, I'm sure, the senator and Mr. Davis worked together on many projects that positively impacted the neighborhood around the college, as well as the college itself.”

The other members of the committee nodded as one head to affirm Freeney's assessment, and I nodded, too, but inwardly, what he said made me cringe. Precious Hargrove had no idea she had just agreed to serve on a committee to honor the son of a woman who was getting ready to stab her in the back.

“That's wonderful,” I said. “I'm sure Beth will be pleased to hear it.”

For the last few days, I couldn't seem to get away from the honorable Ms. Hargrove. She'd been topic A at lunch with me and Beth on Tuesday. Here she was on Thursday claiming her place on the committee. Plus, they were going to be raising money for her at the party on Saturday night. If anybody could match my landlord for proactive presence in the neighborhood, Precious Hargrove seems to be the one. I hope Beth's ego doesn't push her into a race against this woman. She might get more than she bargained for.

Mr. Freeney dismissed the meeting on that upbeat note. I stayed around long enough to answer a few questions about who was responsible for what between now and our next session and then headed home. I had made a dent in all those boxes, but there was a lot more still to do, and I had just started searching for the rest of the shots I'd need for the video.

So far, Beth's fears had been unfounded. If Son had a secret life, he also had enough sense to cover his tracks. Sometimes I almost wished I could find something scandalous. Something that would set Beth back on her heels for a minute. Something that would prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that she hadn't been in absolute control of her greatest creation. Something to indicate that he finally had found a woman strong enough to get him away from his mama. But so far, nothing.

My task for the afternoon was to start sorting a huge box that held a jumble of photographs, most of them unlabeled and undated. The people standing with Son and Beth are always smiling broadly. Son and Beth are usually smiling, too, but their expressions are always more controlled. Not unpleasant, but with none of the giddy pleasure that shows so clearly on the faces of their fans.

I liked looking at those photographs. They help me remember why I started working for Beth in the first place. These pictures remind me that her gift is making the possibility of female freedom, of female choices, of honor among women, seem as real and as vital as water. It's valuable and necessary work, but it won't help her get a health care bill through the Georgia state legislature or attach a child care amendment to a public education initiative. Those good ol' boys aren't impressed with
charisma
. They're impressed with
power
, and outside of the power to illuminate and motivate, Beth doesn't have any. An alliance with Precious Hargrove would be a step in the right direction, for both of them, but that can't happen if Beth insists on running herself.

The smell of Jamaican jerk chicken wafted out of the West Indian restaurant up ahead, but I wasn't tempted. It was too early in the morning for food that spicy. I know some people put Tabasco sauce on eggs, but I'm not one of them. I also resisted a sudden craving for Krispy Kreme, even though the hot doughnuts sign was flashing its ass off and the smell of all that icing will make you weak at the knees if you're not careful. Doughnuts I don't need. Not until after Saturday night, anyway. If it was going to be my coming-out party, I was going to come out looking good or what was the point?

When I turned down my street, the cars parked in front of the building reminded me that Flora had convened a meeting ofthe Growers Association executive committee at her place this morning. She was concerned about DooDoo and his boys harassing some of her gardeners. They needed a plan before the problem got out of hand. Flora had also invited Precious Hargrove as the state senator from this district, and she was pulling up just as I headed for my blue front door. Since I can't seem to get away from the woman, I decided I might as well reintroduce myself.

“Senator Hargrove?” I said, surprised to see her arrive alone.

“Yes?” She hit the auto lock on her gray Accord and came around the car toward me with the beginning of a smile that could adjust itself up or down depending on who I was or what I wanted. Precious Hargrove was a small woman whose political fearlessness and wellcrafted campaign ads made her seem to be much taller. Even in chunky three-inch heels, she wasn't much taller than I was. She was carrying ten to fifteen extra pounds, probably the result of all those fried chicken dinners she was obliged to consume with her constituents, but with her smooth brown skin and intelligent eyes, she was a handsome woman who could have been pretty if she ever decided to lean into her looks.

At forty, she had been in politics for almost one-third of her life and she was either comfortable in, or resigned to, the dark, boxy suits and crisp white blouses that seemed to be her professional uniform. She allowed herself a pair of small pearl earrings, but otherwise her style was stripped ofadornment. Senator Hargrove was all about business.

I stuck out my hand to show her I was, too. “I'm Regina Burns. I met you a few years ago with Son Davis.”

Her mental memory bank did a quick scan and came up with what she needed.

“Of course,” she said. “We were trying to get some people registered to vote, as I recall.”

I was impressed. “That's right.”

“Are you still working with Son Shine?”

“No. I live in Washington now, but I'm here pulling together the Son Davis Legacy Project over at Morehouse.”

Her face clouded. “Son Davis was a great loss. He had a bigger vision than most people realize.”

“Yes, he did. That's why I came back to do the project.”

The cloud passed. “I've agreed to be one of the cochairs for the ceremony on …” She hesitated.

“May fifth.”

She smiled. “So does this mean we'll be working together?”

“I guess it does.” I smiled back.

“I'll look forward to it,” she said, reaching into her pocket and handing me her card. “Here's my numbers. I'd love to talk with you about how the voter registration is going.”

“Even better than Son expected,” I said, wondering how much I could share with her without betraying Beth's confidence.

Before I could decide, I heard a sharp rapping on glass and turned to see two old women standing in Flora's front window. The taller of the two was gesturing at us to come inside. The growers were ready to greet their guest of honor, and I was holding up progress.

“I've got a meeting,” she said, a phrase she had probably said as often as her own name. “Perhaps we can talk again soon.”

“Actually,” I said, “I live here. Flora invited me to the meeting you're on your way to.”

She laughed, the small lines around her eyes testament to the fact that she did it often. “Well, we better get going before Bea Thomas comes out here to find out what's keeping us.”

We started up the walk together, still under the watchful eyes of the two ladies in the window. I hadn't really intended to go, but I liked Precious Hargrove, and this would give me a chance to see her in action.

“Is this your first growers meeting?”

I nodded and held the blue door open for her. She grinned and stepped inside.

“Well, get ready. These folks do not play!”