Little Black Girl Lost (17 page)

S
adie tapped on the back door. She had a tray of fresh beignets. The two women were having coffee and neighborhood gossip every morning since Johnnie moved in. They were quickly becoming the best of friends.

“It's probably Sadie,” Johnnie said when she heard the tapping. She went to the door and moved the curtain a little. “Come on in, Sadie. I want you to meet my man.”

When Lucas heard her acknowledge him as her man, he stopped eating and looked up, blushing and grinning from ear to ear. He stood to his feet and extended his hand.

Sadie sat the tray of beignets on the table. She took his hand, looking him up and down, ignoring the musk of the sweat-stained shirt and the accompanying smell of perfume.

“How old are you, boy?” Sadie asked, sounding like his mother.

“Seventeen,” he said, as proud as could be. “How old are you?”

“He's handsome, but he doesn't have any manners,” Sadie said, looking at Johnnie, who was just as surprised by the question as she was.

Lucas wondered what was going on. Sadie and Johnnie seemed to be on the same wavelength. That much he understood.

Sadie asked, “Didn't your mother ever teach you not to remind a woman of how much older she's gotten since the last time some untrained whipper-snapper like you asked the same question?”

“What's wrong with askin' your age? You asked me how old I was. I only asked you the same.”

“Lucas, is it?” Sadie asked.

He nodded.

Sadie said, “Suffice it to say that women think it's uncouth for a man to ask a woman her age. However, we reserve the right to ask men their age. It's our prerogative.”

“Well, I don't know what prerogative means, but it sounds like women wanna draw a line in the sand and tell men not to cross, then they wanna cross that same line whenever they feel like it.”

Sadie thought about asking Lucas if he knew what suffice and uncouth meant, but instead, she laughed and said, “That's right. Now, let's see what you've learned. How old are you?”

“Seventeen,” he said, then sat down and continued eating.

The two women laughed uproariously.

“Don't take it so hard, Lucas,” Sadie said, still laughing a little. “This is one of the few rights women have.”

“Would you like to join us for breakfast, Sadie?” Johnnie asked.

“Don't mind if I do,” Sadie said, pulling out a chair. “Did y'all see that comedy act across the street last night?”

The telephone rang.

“We sure did.” Johnnie laughed as she walked to the phone. “Hello.”

“Hey, little sister. It's ya big brother, Benny!”

“H
i Benny!” Johnnie said with false excitement.
How did you get this number?
“What state are you in now?”

“I'm here,” Benny said firmly. “How do I get to your place?”

“Huh? My place?”

“Yeah, Mama told me all about you and Earl, the house, and some boy you like—the whole nine. I believe his name is Lucius or something like that.”

“Well, uh, uh, uh,” Johnnie continued stammering, unable to find the words she felt obligated to say. Feeling Sadie's and Lucas' eyes burning a hole in her back, she turned around and saw them staring at her, bewildered by what was happening. “Benny, I've gotta come home anyway. I can show you how to get here.”

“Okay, when you leavin'?”

“About an hour. Is that too long?”

“No, well be waiting,” he said. “Brenda and my first-born son are here.”

“Okay, bye,” Johnnie said quickly and hung up the phone.

“So, your brother Benny is home, huh?” Sadie said. “Isn't he the boxer?”

“A boxer?” Lucas repeated, feeling a little intimidated.

“Yeah, he's a boxer,” Johnnie said mechanically. “Sadie, I don't know what I'm gonna do. My mother told Benny about Earl and the house—everything.”

“Weren't you going to have him stay here anyway?” Sadie asked.

“No. I had decided not to tell him anything. I was gonna talk him into letting me stay here until I graduate, but now I gotta come up with something else.”

“Why don't you just tell him the truth?” Lucas asked. “Maybe he'll kick Earl's ass. That's what he deserves.”

“Lucas, please,” Johnnie said. “You're not helping.”

“I know you don't expect me to help you and Earl stay together, do you?” Lucas asked.

“You're upset right now. Can we talk about this later, baby?”

The telephone rang again. Reluctantly, Johnnie answered it. “Hello,” she said tentatively.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Earl crooned. “I told you I have some news I need to tell you. I'll be by tonight, okay?”

“Earl, that's not such a good idea,” Johnnie said, putting her index finger over her lips.

Annoyed by what he had just heard and seen, Lucas curled his lips and sucked his teeth. Sadie watched him stare at Johnnie with increasing anger, and knew it was time for her to make a quick exit. Otherwise, she might have to witness the same sort of shouting match they had all watched the previous night at the Edwards' house.

“What do you mean it's not a good idea, Johnnie? I told you I have something very important to tell you. Why can't I come by tonight?”

“Apparently you haven't heard, but my mother was murdered.”

“Murdered? Why didn't you tell me this last night?”

“I would have but you had to go, remember?” Johnnie asked, watching Lucas simmer as he listened to her conversation.

“All the more reason to get together. You need to be with someone. You shouldn't be alone at a time like this.”

“I'm not alone,” Johnnie said unintentionally, closing her eyes immediately after she spoke the words. “Sadie's here and my brother's in town. He just called.”

“Who is Sadie?”

“You know, the lady next door that waved at us that day before you had to leave town. How was Chicago?”

“That's what I wanted to talk to you about,” Earl said, lowering his voice as if someone was coming.

“You wanted to talk to me about Chicago? Why? What happened?”

Lucas was fuming. It looked as if smoke was about to come out of his ears. Sadie picked up her plate of food and mouthed, “I'll catch up with you later,” then she tiptoed out of the kitchen and quietly closed the door.

“Any chance you'd be able to meet me tonight at the Savoy?” Earl asked.

“I can try. What time?”

“About nine-thirty.”

“No promises.”

“Okay,” he said and hung up.

Johnnie waited for a second click, but didn't hear one. Slowly, she hung up the phone.

“L
ucas, I know you're mad, but please don't be,” Johnnie said, leaning against the counter, watching for any reaction that would tell her where they stood and what approach to take next.

Lucas sat quietly, thinking about the situation he was in. He loved her—that much he knew. He also knew he couldn't put up with her and Earl's relationship.

Johnnie could see the resignation in his eyes. She could tell he wanted out, but he was reluctant to say the words.

“Johnnie, I can't deal with this,” Lucas said in a voice saturated with remorse. “After the funeral, we gon' part company.”

“Don't leave me, Lucas,” Johnnie said desperately.

“I have to. I can't take this.”

When Johnnie burst into tears and covered her face with her hands, Lucas felt like someone had ripped his heart out. He wanted to be hard and walk out, but love made him go to her and put his arms around her. He kissed her forehead.

“Its gon' be all right,” he said softly.

“Lucas, I don't know what I'd do without you. Please don't leave me.”

“What self-respectin' man would put up with this?”

“One that loved a woman with everything within him,” Johnnie said, crying into his sweat-stained shirt. “One that loved a woman enough to sacrifice his pride. A real man, Lucas. I thought you were a real man, my real man. I love you, Lucas. Do you love me?”

“Yes,” he said, looking into her brown eyes, seeing the sincere love in them.

Johnnie immediately turned to the one thing she was good at; the one thing that men always wanted from her; the one aspect of her life that gave her power over men—sex. “I want you inside me,” Johnnie said.

“Right now?” he asked, surprised that she wanted to do it suddenly. He knew what she was doing, but he wasn't about to turn down great sex just because he was upset with her.

“Yes,” she panted.

Johnnie felt his hard penis pressing against her when she kissed him. Unzipping his pants, she reached inside and massaged him through his underwear. Lucas quickly unbuttoned her blouse, unsnapped her bra and took her nipple into his mouth. The warm sensation caused her to moan. Johnnie, who was still leaning against the counter, relaxed her neck and let her head fall backward until it rested against a cabinet door.

Lucas continued sucking and nibbling on her sensitive, erect nipples. His hand found its way up her dress and into her panties. He heard an erotic sigh escaped her open mouth. While his finger massaged her, he grabbed the back of her head and kissed her, pressing hard with both lips.

“You wanna go upstairs?” he asked.

“No, let's go into the living room.”

Lucas practically dragged Johnnie into the living room, consumed by an unbridled fire that needed to be extinguished immediately. He quickly kicked off his pants and finished removing his underwear, which was almost off. He climbed over her, positioning his long, thick, throbbing rod to enter the inferno that could only be doused with orgasmic release. Finding the entrance, he began the long slide upward until she had all of him.

Lucas pulled out of her and whispered, “Turn around.”

“What?” Johnnie asked, looking into his face.

“Turn around; I want to go in backward.”

“You mean you want me to sit on you?”

“Yeah, let's try that.”

Obediently, she stood up, turned around, and eased down gingerly. The penetration felt even deeper and it hurt. She tried to take the pain for his sake, but she felt like he was going to blast through her uterus.

“Lucas, I can't take it like this. We gotta stop.”

“Okay,” he said. “How about if we stand and do it like this? It might be easier.”

“Okay,” she said, standing up again. “Now how do you want me?”

“On your knees.”

“On my knees?”

Believing it would please him, she did as he asked.

He entered her like that. “It don't hurt, do it?” Lucas asked.

“No, but hurry up. I gotta pick up my brother and sister-in-law.”

As he moved in and out of her, Johnnie wondered where he learned this position and if there would be more positions like this in the future. Soon, she felt herself on the verge of an orgasm again.

J
ohnnie dropped Lucas off at Napoleon's Bayou, a supper club in the French Quarter, where jazz and blues groups played nightly. He didn't tell Johnnie that Napoleon, who had mob connections in Chicago, ran the local policy racket and had asked him to become a runner. As far as Lucas was concerned, he had to do something to get her away from Earl. Since money was what it was going to take, Lucas was determined to do whatever he could to make as much as he could, as quickly as he could.

Napoleon Bentley was a third-generation Spaniard whose familial roots traced back to a noble family from Madrid. He loved jazz and the blues and got along with Negroes so well that he was dubbed the blackest white man that ever lived in New Orleans. He also had a penchant for Negro women, but nobody minded since he treated colored folk so well. Devilishly handsome and wealthy, Negro women found him extremely attractive. He was six-three, well built, with a granite chin and a reputation with women that rivaled Don Juan. To look at him, one would never suspect that he'd killed over a dozen men for reasons ranging from petty theft to contract hits for the syndicate. Still there was a ruthlessness about him that gave him an aura of power

Napoleon spotted Lucas the moment he entered the scantly lit supper club and signaled him to come over to the bar. He smelled Lucas' stench of sweat covered by perfume, but ignored it. Napoleon asked Lucas to be a numbers runner when he was a freshman, but even then, he looked like a man. At that time, judging by his football player physique, Napoleon thought he was at least twenty-four, and was stunned when the youngster told him he was just a fourteen-year-old high school freshman. In Lucas, Napoleon saw an opportunity to train a leg breaker who could collect debts, and eventually, an apprentice to perhaps run operations while he visited Chicago and Harlem.

“Lucas, my man, did you get any of those football scholarships you were looking for?”

“No. Not even from Grambling,” he said, sounding frustrated.

“What's wrong? You seem agitated about something.”

“I'm having trouble with my girl, Mr. Bentley.”

“Woman trouble. Yeah, I know what you mean. You can't live with them and you can't live without them. What's the problem?”

“Money, Mr. Bentley. I don't have any. I need a job. Do you still have the numbers running job?”

“Yeah, I got it, Lucas,” Napoleon said, putting his arm around him. “But from now on, I want you to call me Napoleon.”

Just then, Sheriff Tate walked into the Bayou and signaled Napoleon to come over to where he was standing.

Napoleon turned Lucas toward the mirror so that he could see himself. “Look, for the last time, at poverty,” Napoleon said. “Come . . . let me show you the secret to success in any endeavor.”

They walked over to Sheriff Tate. Napoleon pulled a yellow envelope from his breast pocket and handed it to the sheriff. Tate took the envelope and opened it. He pulled out the money and Lucas' eyes lit up.

Lucas had never seen that much money at one time. The envelope contained one hundred dollars; chicken feed to Napoleon, but a fortune to Lucas, enough to take to Johnnie so she wouldn't have to stay with Earl, he thought.

“What are you doing here, Matthews?” Tate asked gruffly.

“He works here now, Tate,” Napoleon said. “I've got big plans for him. In a few months, you'll be getting your payoffs from him.”

“Fine. I don't care who pays me, as long as I get paid. You understand me, boy?”

“Sheriff Tate, his name is Lucas Matthews, and I would consider it a personal favor if you called him by his name. Do you understand?”

“You just make sure he delivers on time,” Tate said then turned to Lucas. “And don't even try to cheat me.”

“He won't. Will you, Lucas?”

“No, Mr. Bentley.”

“Napoleon, Lucas, Napoleon.”