Borrow Trouble (24 page)

Without thinking, Baltimore moved to slide out of the booth, but Franchetta had been watching the couple squabble as well. “Uh-uh, Baltimore. Please don't,” she begged, stifling his interference. “We're having too good a time for you to get tangled in that man's affairs. Besides, his business don't have nothing to do with you.” When Franchetta sensed that Baltimore's indecision teetered, she practically climbed on his lap to discourage him from causing a scene and ruining the first night out she'd had with a noncustomer in over a year. “Don't be a dope behind a girl who won't use the good sense God gave a dog to walk away after somebody's kicked her in the head the first time.” Franchetta's summation was correct. Baltimore had seen enough of mean-spirited men who acted out against women. He decided on the spot that Macy's husband needed a rudimentary course in anger management, even if it killed him.

W
hen three a.m. rolled around, Baltimore had seen enough of the flashy women and loud music for one night, so he made his way out front and hailed a cab. An orange Continental taxi pulled up to the curb. It quickly whisked him and Franchetta off to the north end of town. Franchetta, very intoxicated, snuggled up next to Baltimore in the spacious backseat, like a woman who was utterly in love and couldn't get enough of it. However, the man she couldn't seem to get enough of was seeing red, blood red. He was counting the seconds until he'd render Macy's husband sorry for handling her that way, especially in public. Baltimore would find a way to meet up with him and pull on his coattail for a discussion, man-to-man.

In the meanwhile, he had Franchetta on his arm and a bunch of money that needed to change hands. When they reached the pale yellow-colored house, Baltimore helped his date up the stairs. Franchetta laughed riotously when she came dangerously close to falling off the cement porch.

Daisy opened the door after hearing a commotion out front. “What happened to her?” she asked, wearing a childlike smile across her lips.

“Too much whiskey and beer,” Baltimore replied, struggling to hold Franchetta up.

“Looks like she fell in the bottle, but good,” Daisy concluded as Baltimore ushered Franchetta into the bedroom and closed the door behind them.

“Uh-huh, we're out there peeling white boys' peckers, and Frannie's tripping the light fantastic,” Melvina snarled, objecting wearily from the divan. “Ain't that a bunch of nothing?” she added, having not too long ago made it in herself.

“What's that?” asked Chick, returning from upstairs in her flannel housecoat and slippers. “Who done peed down your leg now?” she teased, plopping on the divan, next to Melvina. Chick lifted her legs and anchored her tiny feet in Melvina's lap. Instinctively, Melvina began massaging them.

“Nobody, child,” Melvina answered. “Frannie done went out and had herself a grand old time with Baltimore, and I would be up bitching about it, but I'm just too tired to care.”

“Tired ain't even the name for it,” Chick sighed, laying her head back against the divan. “I've had the damndest time trying to figure out what one of those white fellas wanted from the next.”

“Isn't that something?” Daisy contended. “Two of the mens tonight just wanted to look at me. Nothing else.”

“Look at what?” Melvina hollered in a comical manner.

“I on't rightly know,” Daisy said and chuckled. “We started kissing and fooling around. Then I gets naked, and they just stood there looking, like it was their first time doing that sorta thing.”

“Ahhh-ha,” Melvina laughed, still working the tension out of Chick's barking dogs. “I wish I could get my fee while a man was wasting his time gawking. I had three fellas in a row who all just rather squeeze and suck on my teets. Then, of course, I opened my legs and let 'em touch on it, too, expecting 'em to pull their peckers and go to work. But, they sat there, spilling their sacks while holding the little pink things in their hands. What a mess it was,” she said, curling her lips like she could have done without all that. “Although, it made for cleaning myself a jiff.” Encountering white customers wasn't such an infrequent occurrence, but those men were in the habit of cruising for dark-skinned entertainment and were a lot more comfortable in their midst. Some of the white men Baltimore had booked were well-to-do executives and captains of industry, as opposed to nine-to-five working stiffs looking for a diversion from their normal deviant trysts. But as far as the girls were concerned, it was all pretty much business as usual. Well, almost.

“What about you, Chick?” Daisy asked, watching Melvina rub away at her heels.

“Huh?” answered Chick, semisedated. “Oh, tonight was different, alright. The men paid up front, and there wasn't no haggling on the price, either. I guess because I'm small, white boys wasn't so flabbergasted after seeing me with my clothes off. Although my last customer, he was an odd one. Offered me an extra twenty if I's to slick my toes down with grease and then ram them up his lily-white behind.”

Daisy, who had been drifting off, tried to imagine such a spectacle. “So, what'd he say when you told him to go jump in a lake?”

“Nothing,” Chick muttered, half asleep during one heck of a massage. “I took the money, slapped some grease on my ones and twos, and mashed my foot so far up his tail that my ankle damn near got stuck.”

When Melvina realized what that meant, she flung Chick's feet from her lap and hollered frantically. “You nasty heffa! Got me rubbing your hooves what's been shoved up in some man's filthy crack. I'm gonna go and soak my hands in a tub of bleach. You'd do the same if you knew what was good for you.”

Daisy's eyes flew open wildly. She hoisted her leg up and peered at her size 10 foot, hoping she'd have an occasion to run into a customer with the same fetish. “You gotta admit, that's one for the books!” she wailed. “The white man paid Chick good money to put her foot up his ass. I know plenty of colored men who'd gladly stomp a big hole in it for free.”

“Oomph, he might like having it done at that,” Chick mused. “Y'all should have seen him, just a squealing like a pig and yanking on his privates, like nothing I ever seen. I took the money from off the dresser, got my clothes, and left him laying there, balled up like a baby, slobbering on his thumb.”

Baltimore walked away from Franchetta's room, tired and hungry. “Hi, y'all. What's all the noise about?” he asked, buttoning his dress shirt to cover his bare chest underneath it.

“Nothing you'd want to know about,” Melvina jested. “It's just that Chick got her foot stuck in the mud.”

“Oh, good,” Baltimore answered, scratching the top of his head. “I thought maybe one of your customers asked for something kinky, like a full-foot screw.” He didn't see Daisy about to bust a gut holding in her laughter behind him, but he did notice Melvina's face lighting up with surprise. “Well, then, I'll take the cab drivers' and the bellhops' tips now so's I don't have to bother with waking y'all when the sun comes up.” After accepting the money and thanking the girls for their business acumen and efforts, Baltimore made himself a turkey sandwich. When he returned from the kitchen, with the sandwich on a saucer, Chick was the only one stirring downstairs.

“So, it looks like you and me tonight,” she suggested shamefully, after playing impossible to get the night before.

“I'da thought you'd be all spent after taking in three more pricks than the other girls tonight,” Baltimore assumed.

“Nah, I was saving my best for last,” Chick replied seductively, without as much as a hint of shame to speak of. She tossed Baltimore a come-hither stare, and then she playfully pushed him down on the divan.

“As I recollect, you passed on the party in Franchetta's room last night.”

“Well, I don't share their fondness for peanut butter,” Chick informed him, raising her housecoat to straddle him. “Besides, I like to ride alone. That way nobody gets bent out of shape if'n I'm not in the mood to let up off the pedal.” She unzipped his pants and manipulated the situation to suit her. “Oh yeah, that's the way I want to go, Daddy,” she groaned tenderly. “Now, mash on the gas.”

Baltimore continued mashing on the gas until Chick coasted off to sleep on top of him, broken down and bewildered. Henry came in afterwards, angry and out of sorts, as Baltimore eased Chick aside. He laid her down gingerly before pulling up his pants. “What? You want me to wake her and see if she can stand some more attention?”

“Uh-uh, I'll pass,” Henry declined. “I followed behind you once before and made a fool of myself. Chick looks plum tuckered out, anyway, and ain't likely to be able to
stand up
until around noon.”

“Fine by me,” Baltimore said casually. He sunk his teeth into the sandwich he'd made before Chick prolonged the late-night snack. “Where've you been, anyway?”

“Working on a little something I met over at Unca Chunk's when you and Franchetta ditched me,” Henry barked halfheartedly. “We shared on everything, from canned meat to big-chested, brown-eyed triplets, but we need to talk about being stacked up in this house. Let's get to town and find a spot to stretch out.”

Considering Henry's pleas, Baltimore nodded assuredly and tore the sandwich down the middle. He handed his best friend an equal share to devour. “Okay,” he said evenly, “we'll move out in the morning.”

Morning came soon enough. The fellows were both packed up and gone when Franchetta awoke to find Chick in dreamland on the divan, bundled up comfortably beneath the thick, multicolored quilt Baltimore had found in the downstairs storage closet. Stumbling into the kitchen, Franchetta stretched and yawned before discovering a note scribbled on a piece of wax paper.
Faye, me and Henry are going to stay in town for the rest of the wee
k, she read.
Signed, B.
Franchetta stood there, staring at her middle name, written in block lettering. She predicted that Baltimore was up to something he'd be sorry for later and was merely getting at the apologizing part early. Franchetta also suspected that whatever he had on his mind to do wrong, she'd be there to forgive him afterwards. She was convinced he'd do the same for her. He had already proven that too many times before to see it any other way.

After two hours of catching up to bellboys and prostitutes to make the scratch come out right, Henry was tired of watching Baltimore play facilitator for what amounted to fifty dollars worth of compensation to be split between the two of them. “That's enough Baltimo'. Let's knock off and go have something to eat,” Henry suggested, while massaging his empty stomach.

“Okay. That wraps up last night's dealing, anyhow,” Baltimore replied, sitting next to Henry in the back of yet another cab. “Do I have to guess where it is you wanna have something to eat?”

Henry leaned back against the vinyl seat cushion and smiled. “I have heard of this one place where they serves a mean plate of chicken and grits.”

“Well, then, we'd better get over there before Hattie gets off work.” Baltimore snickered lightly. “‘Sides, I always did like grits.” Henry glanced at him from the corner of his eye, wondering who he was trying to fool, knowing full well Baltimore couldn't stand the sight of grits.

Movement inside the diner was sluggish at best, probably because the time of day landed somewhere between breakfast and lunch. The idea of brunch hadn't caught on so well with Negros, so the waitresses sat around clowning about the men in their lives and those they wanted out of them. “Nah, don't put the suitcases down at the door,” Baltimore told Henry as he lowered his cheap travel bag to the floor. “I aim to keep my hands on what's mine.” Too bad he didn't hold the same opinion for what belonged to other men.

“Ahhh, there he is!” shouted Hattie, with her hands outstretched, pretending that Henry was too much to touch. “You said you was coming by last night, but you lied. I had put Mama to sleep by nine. The chillums was down and out soon after that.”

“Hattie, now don't be that way,” Henry pleaded. “I was busy working 'til late. Don't you know if there was any way for me to get loose, I would have?” When she began to wobble her round head from side to side, like she was mulling over his blatant lie, Henry grinned big and wide. “Yeahhh, that's it. Ain't nobody for me but you. Go on back there, and get some fresh coffee for me and my friend.”

“Okay, lover man,” she sang, before fixing her eyes on Baltimore, as if he'd just appeared out of thin air. “Oh, uh-huh, I remember. You's Ham 'n Eggs from the other day,” added Hattie. “Macy say she remember you from last night, though.” As soon as she sauntered off to the back of the restaurant, Henry moved his luggage aside with his hard-soled shoe in order to lean in closer to Baltimore.

“I thought you were with Frannie 'n 'em last night,” Henry commented, marveling at how proficiently Baltimore seemed to be getting around. “I caught the last act with you and Chick, but when did you have time to work Macy in?”

“I didn't. Macy was having some trouble with the man who took her to Club De Ville,” Baltimore answered. “He was more than likely her husband, seeing as how they was out in the open scrapping and such.”

“They were fighting at the club?”

“He was doing a large part of the arguing,” Baltimore recounted, “snatching on her at the table. If I had the chance, I'd show her something different altogether.”

Squinting down the long aisle with square tables on either side, Henry smiled to himself. “What if, just sayin' what if, she was to show up this morning? What would you say to her?”

“Don't matter. Macy was out later than me, so there ain't no way she found her way in here this early,” answered Baltimore, unaware that Macy had been at work for hours and was actually heading his way. “But if she had,” he continued, “I'd have to make it known that I planned on making her life a little better after awhile, if she'll let me.” Baltimore didn't mind playing this what-if game Henry initiated, because it did give him a chance to talk about Macy as if she could become more than a conquest, if she decided to give in. Baltimore couldn't understand why a man who couldn't provide love and affection didn't up and leave the woman alone, instead of making the situation worse by getting violent.

“Oh, I see. You'd take Macy in your arms and then do what wit' her?” Henry prodded while Macy filled a sugar bowl behind Baltimore, at the next table.

“One thing, if I wasn't still bushed from satisfying two women last night, I'd look to giving Macy a run for her money,” Baltimore boasted unwittingly. Henry tried to wave him off after hearing the discussion headed in the wrong direction. “Man, what's gotten into you?” Baltimore whooped suspiciously. When Henry placed his head in his hands, Baltimore had a good idea what was askew. “Macy's standing right behind?” Henry nodded assuredly that she was. “And, she just heard me bragging 'bout laying down with more than a fair share of hens?” Again, Henry nodded, glancing up at Macy, who had her hands balled against her hips.