Soulful Strut (7 page)

“Get off her case, Yarva. She’s been through
just as much as anybody.”

The angry slap of the screen door as Denise
let it go drowned out Yarva’s response. Monette did not bother to
look back. Denise ran back toward the living room. When Monette
passed on her way to the hall phone, Denise was sitting down.
Moments later, she heard Denise curse in frustration because a
commercial was on.

“I don’t need to know about car insurance. I
ain’t even got a car,” Denise yelled. The pretty blonde on the
television screen kept right on smiling, which made Denise call her
a dirty name.

Trudy came out of her office. She smiled at
Monette and was about to speak when Denise cursed again. She went
into the living room. “Clean up your language, Denise. And
shouldn’t you be helping in the kitchen?”

“Nope. Ain’t my turn. I wasn’t cussin’. You
know I turned over my life to the Lord,” Denise replied.

“Well, give him your mouth next Sunday when
you go to church. I know your voice when I hear it,” Trudy replied.
She walked out into the hallway again and winked at Monette. The
twinkle in her blues eyes contradicted the stern tone.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Monette laughed as she picked up the phone.
“Hello.”

“Hey, Nette. How you doin’?”

The female voice startled Monette. Some time
must have passed, because the voice asked if anyone was there. “Uh,
yeah. Mama?”

“Girl, you sayin’ I sound sixty-three years
old? I’m your baby sister by ten years, remember. You done forgot
your own people.” Rita gave a rough laugh that sounded like she
could spit out gravel.

“Oh. Hey, Rita.” Monette didn’t know if she
felt disappointed or relieved that once more her mother hadn’t
reached out. “You need to quit puffing up two packs of Marlboros a
day, ’cause you sound seventy.”

“I’m glad to hear from you, too.” Rita
laughed again. “Same smart-mouth, I see. Guess they didn’t
rehabilitate that out of you.”

“So how you been?” Monette sat down, since
Rita seemed in the mood to talk on her own dime.

“Fair. Hey, somebody told me you was on TV
the other day.” Rita coughed, cleared her throat, and then
continued. “That’s real good for you.”

“Thanks.” Monette knew Rita and her other
three sisters did not get up early in the morning. They preferred
late hours and sleeping in, a lifestyle Monette had once shared.
“How are your kids?”

“Dayna is pregnant again. Can’t tell her
nothin’, ya know? The others okay. My baby, Keon, is a high school
football star. He’s probably gonna graduate and even get a
scholarship to college. He better. That’s the only way he’s gone
pay for it. You know none of us got any money.” Rita paused.

“That’s great. Looks like it was just
yesterday he was crawling around on the floor in a dirty diaper.”
Monette hoped he would break the family cycle and make it out of
the ’hood for a reason other than going to jail.

“Tall like his daddy, who ain’t paid child
support in years.” Rita went back to the theme of money.

Monette suppressed a sigh. The conversation
was taking a familiar turn. “I left a message for Mama. I hope
she’s not sick or anything.”

“Nah, she’s okay. I mean for her. I keep
trying to get her to slow down on those beers. Hump. You know how
she is.”

Monette could have added that it might help
if Rita gave up drinking, too. Instead she opted to steer in a
safe, neutral direction. “She has her own mind. How is Aunt
Lorraine and the rest of ’em?”

“She’s living with KayKay now. Got too sick
to live on her own.”

Rita went back to dropping hints about too
little money and too much trouble for the Victor family. Still,
Monette was glad to hear that her mother wasn’t ill and the rest of
the family was okay. Despite Rita’s litany of woe, Monette knew
that nothing had changed. She waited for Rita to wind down to the
real point of the phone call.

“And rent is so high. My landlord oughta be
shamed to charge us for living in this shack. He should pay me.”
Rita smacked her lips to make her point.

‘Try living rent free where I just came
from,” Monette deadpanned.

“Girl, you still crazy.” Rita let out another
gruff laugh full of artificial mirth.

Monette glanced up to find Trudy gazing at
her. The director went back to her office. “Listen, I have to go.
We can’t stay on this phone too long. I appreciate you calling to
check on me. I’m doing fine. Tell everybody I said hello.”

“Yeah. I will. Look here, Mama got these
expensive pills she got to take and my rent is behind. Dayna ain’t
half taking care of the two kids she got so I’m takin’ up the
slack. If you let me hold fifty dollars until the first of the
month it would help.” Rita spoke in a rush to get her plea out
quickly.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Monette drew a
circle in the dust on the shelf before her.

“Send it by next Tuesday. If you mail it
today I should get it by then.”

“I can’t make a promise. Like I said. I’ll
try.” Monette ground her back teeth until her jaw hurt. She would
send the fifty dollars. They both knew it.

“Right, right. So, you doing okay.” Rita made
it a statement because she really had no question about Monette’s
welfare.

Monette wanted to reveal her well-hidden
anxiety about being in the spotlight. She wanted to tell someone of
her hope to use those fifteen minutes of fame to help others. But
she knew Rita would only listen to calculate how much money to ask
for next time.

“I’m fine. Maybe you can get Mama to call me
next time.”

“Sure, Nette. I’ll go over there later today.
She’ll be happy to hear you’re doing so good.” Rita sputtered at
her own humor.

“Bye, Rita. Thanks again for calling me.”
Monette hung up fast before Rita gave her any more reasons to feel
depressed. The phone rang back immediately. With a groan she picked
up the receiver.

“Yeah.”

“Nette? It’s me again. You hung up so fast.
What? You got a plane to catch or something?” Rita chuckled deep in
her throat

“What is it?” Monette did not get the joke
one damn bit.

“I’m just kidding around with ya, girl. Look,
I just wanted to say we’re glad you got out of that place. Me
especially. For real.”

The rough edges of Rita’s voice softened. She
sounded more like the baby sister Monette remembered. The little
girl Monette would surprise with a treat of peppermint candy to
take her mind off their mother’s drinking and sleazy boyfriends.
Monette’s throat tightened, and a tear slipped by before she could
catch it. When Trudy’s sensible loafers announced she was coming
Monette wiped her cheek until it was dry. Trudy glanced at her and
pointed to the wall clock to remind Monette of the time limit on
phone calls. Then the director kept walking to police another
resident, no doubt ‘Talk to you later,” Monette said, meaning it
this time. Candi came down the hall. She gazed at Monette for a few
seconds. “You all right?”

“Sure. That was my little sister, Rita. She
says Mama is doing okay. The rest of the family is about the same.
Doing what they usually do.” Monette sniffed, cleared her throat
and stood.

“So you don’t need to worry about ’em,” Candi
said firmly.

“Probably not,” Monette said. She shoved both
hands in the pockets of her blue jeans.

Candi looped an arm through hers. “C’mon,
girl. Let's take a walk. The sunshine will make us both feel
better.”

Monette allowed Candi to pull her along.
Candi kept up a stream of chatter, a mixture of house gossip and
funny stories. As Candi talked, it was clear she didn’t expect
Monette to contribute. Monette nodded and walked; her mind still on
the phone call. Even after so many years, Monette still missed
having the kind of family she’d always wanted. With Candi working
so hard to cheer her up, Monette put forth her best effort to
cooperate.

***

Monday morning Monette sat in the radio
station booth, trying to relax. She tried not to feel
self-conscious. Her producer, Irvin, gave Monette a thumbs-up
signal through the glass window that separated them. He got a
string of commercial announcements going with the ease of a pro.
Monette groaned at how inept she must look and sound on her first
day. Irvin had helped her out a couple of times by cutting off
callers who’d gone on too long. Watching Irvin made her think of
her oldest child. Karl was only a year older than Irvin. Monette
had been thirteen when she’d gotten pregnant the first time. She’d
been fourteen when she’d given birth. For the first few years she’d
tried to be a good mother, not that she’d had any role models. Then
the teen years had taken hold and she’d gone crazy. Watching Irvin,
young and successful, Monette wondered how far Karl might have gone
if she’d done better as a parent. When Irvin grinned at her,
Monette smiled back and pushed away the guilt. Karl had forgiven
her, and she had to forgive herself as well.

Jim leaned back in his chair and loosened his
tie. “This isn’t as bad as I thought. At least you’re here to help
me out.”

Irvin came through the door that separated
them. “You did fine. Better than most hosts on their first day.
Good show.”

“Thanks.” Monette didn’t believe either of
them.

In her mind Monette had stumbled through the
first few minutes of her debut. Not a good sign for how her radio
career might go. Still, Jim seemed relaxed, and she had Irvin on
hand for support Nikki waved through the window set in the door
leading to the hallway. She opened the door and only stuck her head
in.

“Working it like a pro, girl. I’ve a
commercial to record before my show. Keep it goin’ strong, sista.
Much love.” With that Nikki winked at her and shot off like a brown
rocket.

“Is everybody listening to a different show
or something? I’m barely coherent up in here,” Monette said with a
grimace.

“No way. The proof is right there. Our phone
lines are lit up with callers.” Irvin nodded at the large numbered
buttons in front of Monette. “We’re going back in a minute.” He
went back to the control room.

“They’re right, Monette. You’re being too
hard on yourself.”

The tightness in her chest eased a bit Jim
and the others were right. Beating up on herself wasn’t going to
make things easier, and she had to stop. “Okay. Time to stop
feeling sorry for myself and do the damn thing.”

Just then lively music for the last
commercial came on. A male voice urged listeners to take their cars
to Quality Car Care Centers. The announcer went on to list all the
benefits of Jayson’s repair shops. Monette wondered if Jayson was
listening. For some reason that thought made her nervous again. She
had so much to prove.

“When it comes to your car repair and
maintenance needs, make the quality choice. Take your car to
Quality Care Auto Centers, with two convenient locations to serve
you.”

When Irvin nodded and pointed to Monette, she
inhaled and exhaled quickly. Then she flipped the switch that
turned on the two microphones. “Welcome back to the show. This is
Monette Victor, and you’re listening to Hot Topic. Since this is my
first show I’m just getting acquainted with everybody. My guest
today is Jim Rand, director and founder of The Justice Project Jim
is also my lawyer. More than anyone else, this guy is the reason
I’m sitting here right now. Tell us about The Justice Project
Jim.”

“Sure. We’re part of the Tulane Law School in
New Orleans, or at least we were before the hurricane.” Jim shook
his head sadly. In Louisiana everyone knew he meant Hurricane
Katrina, the 2005 storm that had changed everything for that
city.

“I want to add quickly that Jim and other
dedicated folks have worked hard to bring that school and city back
since then,” Monette cut in.

“Thanks, Monette. Anyway, the project was
started back in 1997. We modeled it after the fine work of Barry
Scheck’s Innocence Project. Some might remember him as a member of
O. J. Simpson’s legal dream team.” Jim nodded at Monette.

“Who can forget that trial? Wish I’d had the
late great Johnnie Cochran repping me at my first trial instead of
a green public defender,” Monette replied with a nod back.

“I hear ya. The Justice Project carefully
reviews the cases of those inmates who apply to be represented by
one of our three attorneys. We only work on appeals. Our specialty
is death row cases and those serving mandatory sentences of ten
years or more. Some of the brightest law students in the country
help us investigate. We’re very selective of the cases we take
on.”

“Thank the Lord I was one of those cases. Now
tell these people the truth, Jim. You didn’t believe me at first,
did you?” Monette grinned when Jim’s eyes went wide. She loved
putting him on the spot.

“Okay, if you want to go there. You’re right.
I didn’t believe you. Let’s face it, your story sounded fantastic.
Why would a respected DA frame a woman for no apparent reason? We
receive dozens of letters each month, protestations of innocence
from inmates who swear they were framed. I’d have to say that at
least ninety percent of those are stories that should start with
‘Once upon a time’—pure fairy tales made up by guilty people
looking for a free get- out-of-jail ticket.”

“And folks, that’s not what Jim and his
people are about. They are not looking to put a lot of thugs back
out on the street just because,” Monette added.

“No, but the system can go terribly wrong, as
it did in your case,” Jim said with fervor.

“For those of you who may have been on the
moon or someplace else far, far away I’ll hit the highlights of my
story. More like low lights actually. Anyway, I partied too hard
the wrong way and with the wrong people. I won’t talk about all my
mistakes, especially the men because ladies, I’m planning a whole
show on that subject. But back to my tale of injustice. In one more
stupid decision I had an affair with Winn Barron, the district
attorney for Pointe Coupee Parish, where I lived at the time. Fast
forward through a lot of expensive gifts and trips. I finally moved
on to another no-good man. Winn wasn’t happy about that He used two
of my shady so-called friends to frame me. When they were arrested
on some heavy-duty drug charges, those chumps copped a plea and
offered me up in exchange for lighter sentences. Yeah, they lied.
Big time. Winn made it clear they’d better or he would make sure
they got life without parole. I tried to tell folks it wasn’t true.
Naturally my past exploits didn’t make me credible. Like Jim said,
why would the DA want to frame me? I was convicted, got a mandatory
sentence of ten to twenty-five years.” Monette paused to let Jim
take over.