Disappearing Acts (7 page)

“Come on, baby,” I heard him say. “Give it all to
me.
”

And that’s exactly what I did.

*   *   *

In the morning, a knock at the door woke me up. I was lying in front of the stove; the blankets were over by a stack of boxes. I looked at my watch. It wasn’t even seven o’clock. I got up from the floor, put on a cotton bathrobe, and opened the door without even thinking to ask who it was. Franklin was standing under the arch. I wiped the sleep from my eyes.

“You drink coffee?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, and let him in.

Don’t ask me why I did some stupid shit like that. Ringing that woman’s doorbell at that time of morning. And with a lame-ass line like, “You drink coffee?” I didn’t have nothin’ else to do all day, really. Last night, Vinney rang my buzzer and told me we wouldn’t start the other building for three days. Had to wait for materials. This pissed me off, ’cause I needed the money. I promised Pam I’d bring her a hundred dollars by Friday. Once again I’ma have to look like a chump. I’m sicka this shit. Pam swears the reason I don’t help her with the kids more than I do is ’cause it’s my way of getting back at her. But that’s bullshit. You can’t give what you ain’t got.

This morning I got up around six, did a few sit-ups and push-ups to get my adrenaline going, and walked to the corner coffee shop—like I do every morning—and ordered black coffee. But something told me to order two. I didn’t even know if the woman was up, if she would have a heart attack and shit seeing me, but I decided to take my chances.

When she opened the door, she looked like she’d had a rough night. She was still pretty, though, even with no makeup. Her skin looked like Lipton tea. I saw them thick nipples sticking out through that pink bathrobe, and I felt Tarzan rising.

“Did I wake you up?”

“Of course you did. Is something wrong?”

“Naw. I just figured you probably didn’t get a chance to unpack everything, so I thought I’d be a gentleman and bring you over a hot cup of coffee. Help you get your day started, that’s all.”

“Are you on drugs or something?”

“I don’t do drugs, sweetheart. Outgrew it. Besides, it’s a dead habit. Jack Daniel’s and Heinekens I like. You looking kinda rough this morning—what kind you on?”

“Thanks a lot. I always look gorgeous when I haven’t brushed my teeth or washed my face.”

She turned her back to me. She definitely wasn’t skinny, like most of these women running around here trying to look like fashion models. They really think they look good, but to me they look like they starving. Any man’ll tell you they like a woman with some meat on her bones. Zora slid down the wall to a sitting position. Her robe was above her knees and I saw that she had skinny legs. When she realized I was looking, she squeezed ’em together and pulled the robe down to hide ’em.

“Thank you for the coffee,” she said.

“No sweat.” Damn, in the morning her voice is deeper than mine. I betcha she
can
sing. She ran her fingers through her short hair. Those curls looked like they was hers and not them nasty-ass Jheri-Kurls everybody’s wearing. She took the lid off her coffee. I walked over to sit down next to her, and she didn’t move. A lot of women are scared of me ’cause I’m so big; they don’t think big men know how to be gentle.

“Don’t you have to go to work today?” she asked.

“I’m laid off for a few days. Materials is late.”

“Really?” she said, then took a sip of her coffee. “This stuff is really disgusting. I’ll make a good pot.”

She got up and walked over to the sink. She had to
be about five seven, maybe 140 pounds, and she moved as graceful as the gazelles on “Wild Kingdom.” I wish people could be more like animals. Just trust and follow our instincts without worrying about the consequences. If that was the case, I’d be getting up right now, walking up behind her, and turning her around to look me in the eye, and I would kiss her. But since we ain’t animals, I just asked her, “So how was your first night?” She turned around real fast and gave me this piercing look, like I just asked her for some pussy or something. Then she put all her weight on one of them little bony legs and let out a long sigh. “I’m not trying to be nosy. I was just wondering.”

“Kind of spooky, to tell you the truth. I have to get used to sleeping in a new place.”

“Where’d you sleep?”

“On the floor.”

“Where’s your bed?”

“Over there, those boards against the wall. It’s a platform bed. I threw out the old mattress and am getting a new one in a few days.”

“You gon’ put it together by yourself?”

“Not exactly. A friend is coming over to help me, as soon as the floor is dry. You think it’s dry now?”

A friend? Why didn’t she just come on out and say her man? Women. Why be so sneaky about shit. I got up to go check the floor. It was dry, all right. “It still ain’t dry yet, and if you don’t wanna mess it up, I’d give it one more day.” When I start lying like this, it means my ass is in trouble. I shoulda went home then, but I couldn’t.

“Another whole day?”

“Well, tell your man to come on over anyway.”

She looked at me kinda weird. “I told you, he’s a friend.”

Yeah, right, and I’m running for President. Women don’t have men for friends. I don’t know why I felt
relieved, though. She didn’t sound like she was lying, and why would she have to lie to me? I swear to God, here I go again. I’m contradicting myself like a motherfucker. I ain’t got no business being here, none whatso-fuckin’-ever. But I still couldn’t leave. My primal instincts always get the best of me. I watch too many damn nature shows is what it is. “What’s in all these boxes? Where’s your stereo? I know you got a stereo, being a singer and everything.”

“Mostly books. I do have a stereo, but Eli’s hooking that up too.”

“He must be a good friend.”

“He is.”

“Look, I don’t mean to get all in your business, but I’m not doing nothin’ today, and I wouldn’t mind helping you. You got bookshelves, I see.”

“I need toggle bolts for ’em. Thanks for the offer, but I told you, Eli’ll do it for
free.
”

“Did I mention anything about money?”

“You’re the one who said you didn’t work for free.”

“Yeah, and if your memory serves you correctly, I also said that sometimes I believe in charity.”

“You’re getting a little carried away with it, wouldn’t you say?”

“Maybe. Look, you got any tools—a drill, a screwdriver, hammer—anything like that?”

“No.”

“I shoulda guessed.”

“Are you always this persistent?” she asked.

I just looked at her and smiled. Was I being persistent? The truth of the matter was, this wasn’t even my style. Women usually come to me. But there was something kind of mysterious about this one. Ain’t nothin’ like a little mystery to arouse my curiosity. I wanted to know where she came from. What was she doing in Brooklyn? Did she or didn’t she have a man? And if she did, where the fuck was he? Why didn’t
he
help her? Naw, she didn’t have no man, or she
wouldn’ta spent the first night in here by herself. But why should I care? All I wanted to know was if she could really sing, or was this just a front. Some of ’em’ll tell you anything to impress you. But Zora didn’t sound like she was concerned one way or another about what I thought. I liked that shit. And she’s the first woman I met in a long time that ain’t leaning on nobody. I liked her for that alone. We
could
just turn out to be friends—if I can keep my perspective. But like I said, women don’t know how to be your friend. They either wanna be your woman or they don’t want to be nothin’. I’m just glad I ain’t in the market.

She handed me another cup of coffee, in some fancy ceramic-type cup. I could tell she had good taste from all the shit I carried up here. She actually got real artwork, not those tacky, outdated posters most of the women I’ve known had on their walls—if they had anything. And she was right—this coffee was good.

“Look, I’ve got to get ready for work,” she said.

“What kinda work? I thought you said you was a singer.”

“I do sing. I just don’t make my living at it yet. I teach music at J.H.S. 189.”

“You mean to tell me you
teach
junior high school?”

“I do, and I also need to take a shower. So thank you very much for the coffee and offering to help, but would you mind leaving now? Please?”

“I’m not finished with my coffee yet.” I wanted to mess with her, see if she really wanted me to stay. She probably did. Why would she let me in this time of morning if she didn’t wanna see me? I was just testing her, and so far she was passing with flying colors. She looked like she was trying to look pissed off, which was cute. She probably just embarrassed ’cause she ain’t all made up and shit. And I’m glad. “What time you get home?”

“Why?”

“I told you, all I wanna do is help you get some of these boxes outta here so you can at least move around, sit on that pretty couch.”

She rolled her eyes at me, but then they softened. “I’m lying,” she said.

“Finally, a woman who admits it!”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing. What was you about to say?”

“I
do
teach, but not summer school.”

“Look, I don’t mean to come across like I’m macho or something. All I’m trying to do is be a nice guy. Don’t women like you know how to accept help from a man?”

She looked at me all weird again. “What do you mean, ‘women like me’?”

“Independent, that’s
all
I meant—I swear it.”

Then she started smiling—shocked the shit outta me and damn, what a sexy smile. “I’ve got a lot of running around to do in Manhattan, but I’ll be home by six.”

“I’ll be here.”

“So now that that’s settled, would you mind leaving? I really do need to take a shower.”

I laughed. “Would you be needing somebody to wash your back for you?” She rolled those pretty brown eyes at me, but I was convinced that if I hadda walked in that bathroom behind her, she wouldn’ta made me leave. And if we was both tigers, we wouldn’t be playing this stupid-ass game. “Look, I didn’t mean to say that. Thanks for the coffee. You have a nice day, and I’ll see you later.”

*   *   *

The fuckin’ day dragged. I spent two hours at the gym—worked out, played some handball, steamed, took a nap—and came home and tried to do some woodworking. I looked at a tree stump I had dragged in here a few weeks ago, that I had planned on making a table out of. I had already scraped the bark off, it
was good and dry, and I musta sat there for twenty minutes, just staring at the texture. How smooth it was—the same way her skin looked. I couldn’t concentrate on no damn wood. She was working her way inside my mind and pressing down. Franklin, you getting it bad all over again, man. Doing the same shit you always do. Smell pussy and gotta go after it. But this feel like I’m smelling somethin’ more than just pussy. There’s somethin’ wholesome about this woman, something right about her, and that’s what scares me. This is exactly how I always end up on the damn railroad tracks. All stretched out and ready to get run over. But not this time. Besides, this woman been to college, and she probably think I ain’t even in her league. And on top of everything, Zora—whatever her last name is—ain’t nowhere in my constitutional plans. Period. And she live too damn close to even think I can just wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am her. So fuck her. Let Eli—or whatever his name is—help her get settled, since he’s such a damn good friend.

I went downstairs to break up the monotony, get some fresh air. Lucky was sitting on the stoop, looking pitiful.

“What’s up, dude?” I asked, but I already knew.

“That fucking Lady Libra—the whore—came in fourth in the fifth.”

“How much?”

“I don’t even wanna talk about it, man,” he said, throwing his palm toward the ground. It ain’t nothin’ I can say to Lucky after he done lost some money. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t stealing from those old folks at that nursing home. I can count the days he wins. I didn’t wanna watch him feel sorry for hisself, so I went back upstairs and popped open a beer. It
was
nice and cool in here. Last winter when I was working on this office building, they was getting rid of all these old air conditioners, so I brought two of
’em home. The other one is still sitting in the back of my closet. Everybody I knew cried broke when I tried to sell it.

I turned on my box, stepped out of these sweaty clothes, and dropped ’em in the middle of the floor. I grabbed my
Daily News
, pulled the box around the corner, out into the hallway, and took it in the bathroom. The dude I share it with—this motherfucker—like to hang his drawers and shit on a clothesline he put up. I keep taking it down. He used to use up all my damn toilet paper and soap and keep his false teeth in a glass overnight. I cussed the motherfucker out I don’t know how many times, but since he cripple and everything, I won’t hit him. Now I keep all my stuff in my room. This is the kinda shit you gotta put up with when you live in a rooming house.

Damn, sweat was dripping from underneath my arms. I took a whiff. I wasn’t exactly smelling like roses. I forgot to put on deodorant at the gym, so I threw my newspaper on the floor, got in the shower, and lathered everywhere with Lifebuoy. Today I was gon’ be one clean man. I heard static on the box, so I stepped out the tub to put it on the right station. One day my ass is gon’ get electrocuted. Dr. Ruth came on. I like to listen to her show sometimes, but the last thing I needed to hear about right now was how to go about making love. I already know how to satisfy a woman, so I switched to WBLS and turned up the volume. They was playing a cut from Ashford & Simpson’s new
Street Opera
album—“Working Man.” It’s a baad side. They write music that’s for real, and Valerie don’t look bad either.

I finished, rinsed off good, wrapped the towel around my waist, picked up my box and paper, then walked back to my room. I fell across the bed, wet, ’cause this is how I like to dry off. I switched on the TV and turned the radio down. That’s when I noticed
my fingernails was still caked with dirt, so I reached over to the dresser and got my file. What time is it? The clock said one. Damn.