Kiss of Noir (27 page)

“Who gave this to you?”

“Uncle Drew,” they sang in unison.

“Thank you.” I drank.

The girls stayed, twisting and shuffling.

“You’re not getting a smoke or a drink,” I told them gruffly.

“We know, dummy.” The little girls giggled. “You want us to do anything else? For money?” They all grinned.

I laughed. “Well now.” I dug in my pocket for a twenty-dollar bill. “Here. For this, why don’t you fetch me things all day, whenever I ask?”

They gasped, their eyes big and round. “Yes, ma’am,” they chorused.

“First order, don’t call me ma’am.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they answered.

“Hey,” I said, sitting on the ground. I gestured with my cigarette. “Whose are you? Are you quads?”

The girls looked at each other. “Huh?”

“Who’s your mommy? What are your names?”

Pink dress stepped forward with the confidence that comes from familiarity. She had done this many times for parents, teachers, and strangers on the street. “I’m Quanice Charmaine, that’s Syncee, that’s Lynetta and Coco Tasonda. Syncee is my sister and our mom is Tanitta. Lynetta and Tasonda are sisters and their mom is Ajaunia.”

“Are you all twins?”

“No, I’m ten months older than Syncee. Netta and Coco are twins.”

“Well, thank you, Quanice.”

Syncee, in the blue dress, held out her hand.

I laughed, shaking my head. “I already gave you money and you don’t get paid just for answering questions. Now why don’t you all go see if there’s something to eat?”

“What do you want?” Coco in the green dress asked.

“Whatever’s ready.”

Three of the girls began to walk away but yellow dress Netta stayed and asked, “Are you Uncle Ellis’s sister?”

“No, cousin. I’m Cousin Nora.”

The three waited on Netta, whose eyes widened, and upon hearing my name, she screamed and ran, inducing panic and screaming in the others. Shrieking, they fled like a herd of startled gazelles. There was nothing like a little-girl screech to penetrate the very center of the brain.

I drank half of my gin and tonic, trying to cool my echoing head. As I rolled another cigarette, I noticed more black eyes watching me through the lilac branches.

“Come on outta there, fellas,” I called, knowing that news of my presence had spread to the boys.

Instead, with a great rustling and clattering, the eyes disappeared. I heard a lot of fierce talking that passed for boys whispering.

“You ask her.”

“No, you do it. I can’t.”

“Let’s run.”

“No, let’s squirt her!”

“I’m a tell it you be in trouble.”

I crept up to the lilacs and yelled, “Boo!”

The boys that didn’t leap into the air yelling almost fainted. I retreated, chuckling around my cigarette. The boys scampered away. I took another large swallow of the gin and tonic. “Most excellent,” I said, hearing tiny girls giggling.

Quanice bought me a plate. “This is all I could get.” There was a spoonful of sweet potatoes and one hot crumbly biscuit.

“Thanks. You’re not scared of me?”

Quanice threw out her chest and locked her knees. “I ain’t scared of nothing.”

“Good.” I nodded, closing my eyes in bliss as I bit the biscuit. “Stay that way.”

Quanice left and Tasonda brought me a plate. “This is all I could get,” she said. On her dish was a small, but still sizzling piece of ham.

“Thank you, darlin’.” I smiled.

Tasonda curtsied. “That was funny what you did to those boys,” she said and walked away.

Syncee approached with a tiny tablespoon of macaroni and cheese. “Here.” I set it next to the others, chewing happily.

“Aren’t you going to say thank you?” Syncee asked.

“Thank you,” I replied.

“It is impolite to talk with your mouth full,” she said and left.

I was eating bits of everything when Netta crept up, holding two fried chicken legs.

“Are both of those for me?” I asked.

Netta shook her head, her eyes large and black and silky.

“Do you want to sit down?”

Again, Netta shook her head, munching on one of the drumsticks.

“Well, what do you want?”

Netta flung the remaining chicken leg into the dirt at my feet and ran away. I picked it up, brushed it off, and bit it with relish. As I looked at my food collection, I realized they were all children’s portions. The food had been doled out small because the kitchen ladies thought the food was for the daughters.

I finished everything, stacking the plates and draining my drink, wishing for seconds, thirds, a toothpick, a tit, and a nap.

I closed my eyes, drowsily considered getting up, then rejected the idea. I just loved listening and smelling. There were the lilacs and magnolias scenting the air like candy, the smoke of the grill smelling musky dry and masculine, the clean, fresh scent of newly mown grass, and the sounds. Sounds of men boasting and insulting, children laughing as they played, and occasionally, the rap of a woman’s reprimand ringing out. I could only enjoy this from a distance. If I entered the scene, I would change it. I drew immense comfort from it remaining the same and me, an aloof observer in the distance.

“What in the world are you doing hiding out here like a bum with my good dishes?” Sayan cried. “Get up this instant!” She tugged on my arm. “And you’ve been having my nieces run your errands? Oh, I could whip your hide.”

“Let me alone. I like it out here,” I said, irritated and cranky at Sayan’s everlasting meddling.

“When and if you ever leave my house is the only time I’ll let you alone. Come outta there and join the party.”

Glowering, I stood.

“Quit your pouting and pick up my wedding china.” Sayan rubbed her own back. I did as I was told. Sayan took my arm, leaning on me for support, and led me around to the back deck. “I’ll bring you a plate of something myself,” she murmured sweetly. She pointed to a large comfy deck chaise. “Look. Saved the best chair for you.” I sat, handing the dishes to Sayan. With her free hand, Sayan reached into a bin and plopped a straw hat on my bald skull. “That’s to protect your silly old head.” She kissed my cheek and went inside.

I was glad for the hat because my cheeks burned with embarrassment. Sayan just undid me. Her fire, her ice, her unexpected kindness kept me off balance.

Ellis, wielding tongs, winked at me. Drew pulled up a chair next to me. “That Sayan is something, ain’t she?” He grinned, taking out his knitting.

“She sure is and don’t you forget it,” Sayan said as she presented me with a plate piled with steaming food. “Are you not supervising any more?”

Drew shook his head. “I’ve done what I could. Let those amateurs ruin everything.”

Sayan laughed. They watched the men crowd around the grill, poking, prodding, suggesting, and shouting. “Men, meat, and fire,” she mused, shaking her head as she returned to the kitchen.

The rest of the day, I lay low, comfortable in my chair, coaxed only once to play a game of croquet at which I beat everyone soundly to their good-natured boos. I retreated, smiling, to my chair and enjoyed treats the nieces eagerly brought, their attitudes having changed, I guessed, for the dual reason of seeing Sayan kiss my cheek and not wanting to be asked for their money back. A little boy barely out of diapers sat on my lap for a while, sucking his thumb and going to sleep. His mother, Wynetta, eventually lifted him off me and my lap was then cold from his missing warmth.

Sometimes Sayan passed and rested, leaning her hip against my shoulder for a moment.

The food lived up to my dreams: exquisite juicy barbeque patiently created by Tanitta’s husband to the tips and jeers of the other men, rich creamy macaroni and cheese, sunny potato salad, spicy greens, melt-in-your-mouth biscuits, jalapeno skillet cornbread, hopping john, seared ham steaks, curls of fried bologna, dirty rice, cheese grits, sweet potato pie, peach cobbler, apple pie, decadent chocolate cake, and coconut cream pie.

I stuffed myself and indulged in the only remedy for a full belly: a luscious nap.

Drew settled in beside me. “In Haiti we say, now we turn our bellies to the sun. True, no?”

I closed my eyes, and lulled by the sounds of happy family, I relaxed and slept peacefully for the first time since Cleo died.

I woke to Netta jerking my sleeve. “Uncle says wake up. Time to play.”

I stretched, rubbed my eyes, and yawned, facing a semicircle of men, watching me. Ellis held the basketball.

The sun was setting in lurid orange.

“Better wipe off that drool,” Drew told me.

I grinned, bumping fists with him and rising slowly.

I was tired and the game was fierce. I had forgotten how good street players were, and I was pleased. I set Ellis up for several shots, all but two of which he missed. But he made such a fuss over those two, no one forgot them.

The dark came fast. The only sounds were panting and grunting. Shirts were shed. The ball flashed through the air, through the basket, from man to man, round and round. Pass, dribble, jump. Someone sprained his ankle. Another got an elbow in the eyes. Another hit the pavement bloody. All kept playing hard. After putting away the food, wives came to watch. Sleepy children sank to the grass, nodding. A couple of older boys, yearning to join the game, mimicked the moves on the lawn. Fireflies swooped and soared.

I sank a beauty, staggered back, and said, “Time. I need a smoke.” They all groaned.

Sayan stepped up, looking at her watch. “Time is right. Time for y’all to clear out and go on home. The kids are asleep and we are bone weary. Y’all can have a rematch next month. C’mon now.”

Ajuania’s husband, holding the ball, muttered, “Lucky break,” because Ellis’s team was ahead. Ellis heard, charged him, and slapped the ball out of his hands, sinking a three-point shot, catching everyone off guard.

There were shouts and protests and the game was back on. Sayan sent me in to break it up.

“Hey!” I ordered in the voice used for recalcitrant, arrogant freshmen. “Knock it off!” I grabbed the ball. “Or I’ll make you do laps.” I threw the ball and effortlessly swooshed through the net. “Showers!” I barked, catching the ball and smiling at Sayan, whose mouth hung open.

Like obedient pups, the men trotted to their families and the long good-byes began. Ellis was strutting around saying, “I kicked your black ass!” until Sayan pinched his ear and sent him to help load cars.

Sayan’s parents approached me. They were imperial. Her father was distinguished with a short, white afro and a matching beard and mustache, the ends of which he waxed into large curls. He was tall and slim with warm intelligent eyes and graceful hands. Her mother wore a towering, intricate headdress, voluminous vivid skirts, and bracelets similar to the one my grandmother gave me. Sayan’s mother had cherrywood skin, high cheekbones, and a voluptuous, powerful body. Both of them could still a child or win a war with a look.

Sayan’s mother grasped my hand. “I am so glad to have met you. Sayan has shared so many sweet stories with us.”

Her father nodded. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to spend more time with you.” His eyes swept the families busy leaving. “Such a joyful day. I understand you’re moving here, so I’ll count on seeing you often. Good-bye.”

“Good-bye, sir. Good-bye, ma’am,” I said, dazed. The royal couple strolled to their vehicle, holding each other close. “Oh, Sayan, dear,” I called, annoyed.

“Later, Nora,” Sayan replied, smiling as she helped herd children. Drew stayed in the house, washing dishes.

I stood in the driveway, just now noticing the crickets and the frogs calling and calling, filling the night air with song. Sayan returned to the house.

Ubiqua, who I finally placed as the militant dyke at the gay bar, emerged and headed for Ellis. She was holding hands with a stunned-looking man she’d brought and had been showing off all day. I had tried to speak with Ubiqua, but she had deftly avoided me, continually putting food, duties, or people between us.

“You are gonna be a great daddy,” Ubiqua said to Ellis, who grinned and kicked the ground. “Children have to have a strong daddy. Or else they turn out bad.” She cut her eyes to me. I was listening and rolling a cigarette.

“I’ve never known girls to turn out right unless they have a good father,” Ubiqua said.

“My baby’s a boy,” Ellis said.

“This one, maybe, but surely, you’ll allow a girl or two, right?” Ubiqua punched Ellis lightly. The man at her side was fascinated with my cigarette ritual.

“Sure, sure.” Ellis was restless.

“Just look at my family,” Ubiqua said. “Seven strong girls and not a freak among them.”

I narrowed my eyes and lit my cigarette with a wooden match. “Now just a minute. I seem to remember—”

Ubiqua grabbed her man’s hand and kissed it. “Not one freak,” she repeated, interrupting me. “I’ll see you in church.” She and her date left.

“Whatever, Beek, whatever, baby,” Ellis muttered, rolling his eyes. Ubiqua and her man were the last to leave, the car’s tail lights disappearing in the distance and emphasizing the sudden silence. The yard was so empty.