Soulful Strut (35 page)

“At least you can find humor in the
situation. One day we’ll look back on tonight and laugh. Meeting
the rest of the family will be a breeze compared to this.”

Monette pulled away from him and stood. “I
can’t even think about that right now. Listen, I’ve got an early
day tomorrow. Let’s just call it a night.”

Jayson tugged at her hand. “Come on, baby.
Let’s listen to some music to smooth us out. What about some Najee
or maybe Lalah Hathaway?”

“Jayson, I’m not—”

He grabbed the sound system remote control
and hit a button. A silky tinkle of piano keys flowed from the
speakers into the room around them. Still seated, Jayson wrapped
his arms around Monette’s waist. “Don’t go just yet.”

More than the music or even the way his touch
stroked her senses, Monette responded to the need in his voice.
What she heard was how much he wanted to be close to her. Deep
inside, Monette knew Jayson wasn’t after sex. He craved the
intimacy of simply being near her, which made her body ache to have
him. Ignoring the voice that told her that ultimately their
relationship couldn’t last, Monette wilted into his embrace. His
strong arms supported her for a long time until finally she sank
down to straddle his lap. Jayson opened her blouse and buried his
face between her breasts. Monette closed her eyes to the truth and
breathed in the sweet, salty scent of him.

Hours later, Monette beat violating the
Sunday-night curfew by fifteen minutes. Jayson kissed Monette hard
one last time before he let her go. She walked through the kitchen
after the staff let her in the locked back door. After refusing an
offer of a late-night snack, Monette went to the living room. Still
too keyed up to sleep, she decided to watch television. Monette
flopped on the sofa, grabbed the remote and turned it on. Careful
to keep the sound low, Monette just stared at a series of silly
local commercials without seeing them.

“How’d it go?” Candi said over Monette’s
shoulder.

Monette jumped, and the remote flew across
the room. “Damn, Candi. Quit sneaking around scaring the crap outta
people.”

“Went that good, huh?” Candi found the remote
and dropped it in Monette’s lap. She sat in a chair.

“Sure. The kid warmed right up to me,”
Monette said. “Even got to meet her mother. Saundra looks like she
was a Victoria’s Secret model in a previous life. Oh, not to
mention I met fifteen of her mother’s closest sorority- sister
friends. Lovely evening being stared at like a freak.”

“I’m sure all his friends will be impressed
to read your best-selling book. Learn all about your prison record
and stuff.”

“What are you trying to say?” Monette stared
at the television until the picture blurred.

“Nothin’. Nothin’ at all.” Candi stretched,
yawned and stood. “Not so easy to blend into his bourgie world and
leave us lowlifes behind, is it?”

Candi strolled out without looking back.
Monette tried to breathe around the tight feeling in her chest. She
listened to the soft creak of the fifth step as Candi went
upstairs. The muscles in her face ached from the effort not to cry.
For an hour she sat with nothing but the glow from the television
lighting the room. When Monette finally went to bed, she spent
hours lying awake, feeling a familiar lack of hope.

***

Monday morning Monette sat across from her
guest, a black conservative eager to talk about her views on the
problems in the African-American community. The woman was dressed
in a suit that would have made many a church lady proud. The
olive-green jacket flared at the waist, and the skirt went down to
her ankles. She wore a polite smile that covered a razor-sharp
tongue. She’d called in to Monette’s show the second week Hot Topic
aired, and she had become a regular. Her skill at lobbing verbal
fire-bombs had really worked on Monette’s nerves and increased
ratings. Even the mayor had phoned a couple of times. By the end of
the first ten minutes, Monette wanted to strangle Chaz. Having the
woman on the show had been his idea. Harolyn Baker was in the
middle of a long tirade about single mothers when Monette cut her
off.

“Much as I hate to interrupt, we have to take
a break.” Monette exhaled and gazed at her. “Mrs. Baker.”

“Yes, Ms. Victor.” She stared back at Monette
with a prim expression.

Monette picked up her ink pen and scribbled
something nasty on a pad to keep from saying it “When we go back on
the air. I’m going to take phone calls.”

“Excellent.” Mrs. Baker’s eyes sparkled at
the thought of taking on more opponents. She knew most of Monette’s
listeners were probably itching to tear into her.

“Did you want more tea?” Monette almost added
that she might want prune juice instead, to relax that tight- assed
attitude. Instead she matched Mrs. Baker’s tearoom manners and
returned her proper smile.

“No, thank you.” Mrs. Baker sat with her
hands folded in her lap, cool as ice water.

The jingle on a commercial for Kwik-Bite Deli
ended, and Monette turned on the microphone before Irvin signaled.
“We’re back with Mrs. Harolyn Baker, the current president of the
Baton Rouge Black Republicans Society. Okay, audience, it’s your
turn. Let us have it.”

As expected, the phone lines were jammed. The
first three callers did indeed vociferously disagree with Mrs.
Baker. Monette even had to end one call quickly. The man let loose
with a stream of cuss words in his defense of women on welfare.

“Now come on, people. You know we can’t have
that kinda language up in here. This is a family show,” Monette
admonished.

“That person just confirmed what I was
saying. Our moral values have been eroded by an ‘anything goes’
attitude. People who live a twisted lifestyle shouldn’t be
surprised when they suffer the consequences,” Mrs. Baker put in
with force.

That crack sounded personal. Monette slapped
the lighted button on line six hard enough to make the panel
rattle. Mrs. Baker’s eyes widened and she drew back. “Next
caller.”

“I just want to compliment you both on a
clear presentation of both sides,” a familiar male voice said.

“Jayson?” Monette blurted out.

“Good morning, Monette. I’ve had the pleasure
of being on several community service committees with Mrs. Baker.
She has been instrumental in working through the YWCA to help young
women,” Jayson went on. ‘The black community isn’t one voice, and
that’s a good thing. Our diversity of views makes us strong.”

“That’s local businessman and fellow
conservative Jayson Odum, listeners. You might recall we had a
debate a couple of weeks ago. Thanks for calling in,” Monette
replied.

“Glad to join in the discussion. I think
you’ve both made good points. Thanks for giving more than one point
of view on the issues. Have a great day, ladies.”

“Hold on. So you agree that all our troubles
rest on the backs of single mothers?” Monette prodded. Candi’s jabs
about how Jayson and his friends really saw Monette pricked at
her.

“That’s not what I said,” Mrs. Baker said
quickly. “Studies show that families headed by women suffer in
poverty at greater rates than two-parent households. We all know
what problems go along with poverty.”

“What about the effects of a little thing
called rampant racism?” Monette retorted.

“We can’t blame racism for teenagers carrying
guns and killing each other or anyone else in their way. Racism
doesn’t put a crack pipe in a young woman’s hand or make her
neglect her own children.” Mrs. Baker tapped a forefinger hard on
the tabletop as she spoke.

“I’m not blaming single mothers either. But
the choice to have children you can’t afford is not ‘the system’s’
fault,” Jayson added mildly.

Monette mentally put his name right below
Chaz’s on her hit list of people to strangle. “Thanks for that
insightful observation. You have just reduced a complicated issue
to quite a one-dimensional viewpoint.”

“Not so complicated if you accept that
individuals can control their lives,” Jayson replied.

“Which helps our people feel empowered,
unlike what this culture of victimhood does to them. Tell young
women and men they can make a better life. Stop patting them on the
head and saying, ‘Poor, baby. You can’t help being dysfunctional.
The system made you do it’. That is ridiculous.” Mrs. Baker leaned
forward as she spoke with passion.

“Good way of saying it,” Jayson replied.
“Look, we want dignity for people who feel powerless. In that sense
I think we all agree.”

“We’ll end on that note of harmony. Thanks to
Mrs. Baker for appearing on Hot Topic." Monette nodded to her, and
ended the call telling Jayson she’d talk to him later.

“My pleasure and thanks for having me. I’ve
enjoyed exchanging views with you.” Mrs. Baker reverted back to her
ladies’ club luncheon tone now that she wasn’t preaching.

Monette shook hands with Mrs. Baker. One of
the student interns showed her the way out through the maze of
sound rooms. Once alone, Monette let out a noisy sigh and an
expletive. Irvin tapped the plate glass between them. He pointed to
the phone and held up two fingers. She pressed the lit button, and
Jayson started talking.

“Great show. I had to keep hitting my speed
dial to get through. Finally had to call Chaz, and he got me
on.”

“Yeah, that was a real treat,” Monette
replied. She put as much frost as she could into her tone.

“I’m not the enemy just because we have
different opinions, baby,” Jayson said gently.

No, he was just miles apart from her in every
way she could imagine. “Right. Anyway, I better get going. I’ve got
meetings.”

“Really?” Jayson’s voice implied he didn’t
believe her.

“You know how it is around here. Crazy all
the time. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” Monette tried to put a
smile into her voice.

“Okay, baby. I’ll call you tonight. Think
about dinner, maybe Wednesday.”

“Can’t do it, sorry. We have our group
session then. I’ll let you know.”

Monette exchanged good-byes with him, with
assurances they would see each other before too long. Moments after
she hung up, Chaz and Nikki came in. Chaz frowned at her, and Nikki
looked worried.

“Have you seen today’s paper?” Nikki handed
the Advocate to Monette.

“There’s a big article about your Pardon
Board hearing. Seems this reporter got a hold of letters objecting
to your request,” Chaz added before Monette had a chance to read
the headline. He rubbed his freshly shaved jaw. His heavy black
eyebrows pulled tightly together.

The reporter had somehow gotten to a few of
her old crew. Tiffany, a woman she’d partied hard with in the past,
was quoted. She described Monette as the sexy black woman who loved
wearing red and having a good time. Winn’s name was only mentioned
once. Most of the article was about Monette’s misdeeds, and it
painted her as the ultimate bad girl. The reporter even listed some
things Monette had done that she hadn’t included in the book.
Tiffany and friends had long memories. If Monette knew Winn, cash
and a dose of intimidation had probably helped clear out their
cobwebs. Monette might have been flattered by the characterization
and the media attention back in the day. Now all she could think of
was Jayson’s reaction. She could just see Jayson’s phone ringing
like crazy with his friends and relatives calling. Monette’s
fingers itched to rip the newspaper to shreds. Lot of good that
would do. She stuffed the newspaper into the garbage can.

“Winn’s been busy,” Monette said, and then
looked at Chaz.

“That should send ratings through the roof,
so you should be smiling.”

“Controversy is one thing, but this.” He
avoided looking Monette in the eye. “Our advertisers could get
jumpy. We’ve already had calls from a couple of them.”

“So what if a few of them pull their ads. I
bet we replace them like that.” Nikki gave a double snap of her
fingers.

“Yeah, but a couple can turn into a stampede.
Best tone it down the next few shows. Talk about the latest
fashions or safe stuff.” Chaz, the bold go-getter who reveled at
stirring the pot, had vanished.

“You mean topics like the hot new lipstick
colors for summer or how to take care of your pet goldfish,”
Monette tossed back. She glanced at Nikki and rolled her eyes.

Chaz’s eyes narrowed. “Funny. I’m just saying
we need to let things blow over a bit. The suits get nervous when
big advertisers get nervous.”

“Whatever happened to a fearless radio forum
willing to take on the tough issues?” Monette crossed her arms and
gazed at him.

“We need advertisers to stay on the air,
ladies. Let’s play our cards right and live to fight another day.
Let me know what the next three shows will be about. I have to go
reassure my jumpy bosses.” Chaz strode away.

“Might be just as well for you, too, Monette.
What with the decision on your request for a pardon still hanging,”
Nikki said with a shrug when Chaz disappeared around a comer of the
hallway.

“I don’t see getting a pardon. Politics.”
Monette flipped a hand and walked with Nikki to their office.

“Louisiana-style politics at that. I know
what you mean.” Nikki shut the door once they were inside. “But
don’t your lawyer and the director at the halfway house have some
connections of their own?”

Monette shook her head. “I doubt seriously
either of them can beat Winn’s connections, honey. His family
doesn’t just have low friends in high places; he’s got at least
half a dozen relatives in high places.”

“Sorry, girl. But you beat him once, so I’m
not counting you out just yet.” Nikki winked at her, and then left
to do her show.

Monette hissed out air as she faced a mirror
they’d hung on the wall. The woman who stared back did not look
like a vixen capable of pulling off the impossible. Were those
worry lines around her mouth? Her eyes were red from too little
sleep.