Little Girl Lost 6: The Return of Johnnie Wise (6 page)

Hank brought her perch and fries to the booth and set them on the table. “I see how the women are looking at you, Johnnie. Don’t worry about them. They’re the ones with the problem, not you.”

She looked at Hank, forced an uncomfortable smile, and said, “I’m sure I will, Hank. Thanks for bringing it out. Where’s Lucille?”

“Oh, yeah. I knew I was forgetting something. Lucille told me to tell you she was going to talk to Jimmy to make sure he takes care of your car for you. And by the way, she told me what happened in New Orleans, and that you don’t have much money. So, how did things work out with your brother?”

“I didn’t get to speak with him. I talked to my sister-in-law. She told me he took a plane to New Orleans this morning. For all I know he might be there right now.”

“So, do you think he’ll be able to help you out? We’ve got a Western Union right up the street.”

“I don’t think so. My brother and his wife have problems of their own. They’ve got a baby now. His name is Jericho. From what Brenda just told me, they need all the money they can get right now. If he was the champ, I guess I would ask for his help, but he’s just a contender, still trying to get a title shot.”

“I see. So, you’re going to accept Lucille’s offer to work for us then?”

“It depends on what it’s going to cost to pay for my car. East St. Louis is only about five or six more hours away. I’m sure my daddy will take me in.”

“Have you spoken to him?”

“Actually I haven’t. I was going to call him, but you said my food was ready, and I didn’t want it to get cold. My daddy can be long-winded sometimes.”

“I see. Well, if it don’t work out with your father, consider workin’ for us. And if your car cost more to fix than you can afford, we’ll pay for it, and you can pay us back by working here for a week or so. Who knows, you might get to like it and stay right here in Jackson. Good-lookin’ girl like you won’t have no trouble findin’ a man. That’s fo’ sho’.”

Chapter 10

“
Is Florence on her way, Johnnie?”

J
ohnnie picked up the ketchup and squirted some on her fries. Then she sprinkled some salt on them and put one into her mouth. “Mmm,” she heard herself saying. Then, she picked up a piece of fish, broke it in half, and dipped it in the homemade tarter sauce. She opened the hot sauce and put a few drops on the perch to determine which way tasted best. She thought both ways tasted wonderful, but she couldn’t fully enjoy her meal because she kept thinking about what Brenda had insinuated.

I’m not perfect, and I never claimed to be. Brenda’s being ridiculous. I can’t help that I’m beautiful. I didn’t ask for this face. And I certainly didn’t ask for this body. God gave them to me, and He had to know that by making me look like this, every man who saw me was going to want me. I had nothing to do with that. I never asked to be born in this evil, crazy world either. I didn’t ask for a jealous mother who would sell me to some child molester. But somehow all of this is supposed to be my fault. All I did was accept the money Earl gave me. I didn’t ask him for the money. He put it on my pillow. And truth be told, I didn’t spend a dime of it for almost a year, I think.

I didn’t tell Meredith Shamus to offer me all that money. She did that on her own after she had Tony Hatcher follow her husband. If she couldn’t control her husband, that was her problem, not mine. And I also didn’t have anything to do with Napoleon Bentley’s lust. That was on him. I didn’t want to get involved with him until after he blackmailed me that first time. After that, then I wanted to. So, if he didn’t blackmail me, I would have never done it with him.

The one thing I do take full responsibility for is my tryst with Martin Winters. I did lead the man on when I realized he couldn’t take his eyes of my breasts, but I just wanted to learn about the stock market. He didn’t have to act like he didn’t know who I was. He could have told the truth in that courtroom. He didn’t have to lie. He knew I was looking at life if they found me guilty. And what about all the good deeds I’ve done?

I’ve been good most of my life. I didn’t go around wrecking peoples lives. I tried to do right. And I was a good girlfriend to Lucas even though I did a few things behind his back. And he did some things behind mine, but I never stopped loving him. I never stopped being good to him either. Besides all that, I treated people right even though they did me wrong. I had just given Sadie fifty thousand dollars. I sang in the choir for years. I never gave my mother any trouble. I was a very obedient child. I was an above average student, too. That’s gotta count for something! And if I’ve sown good seeds by doing those things, where’s my reward for that? And since I had been a good girl for fifteen years, where’s my reward for all those years? I mean if Brenda’s right, I oughta have fifteen years of good coming my way. Where are they? I’ve only been bad for two years. So we’re talking fifteen years of goodness versus two years of badness. Where’s the reaping for all the good?

She took another sip of her lemonade, and when she set the glass down, her mind was suddenly transported to that Thanksgiving Day when the Beauregard men were killed. Hovering above the room like an angel, she watched it all play out again in slow motion, and she was powerless to stop it, as if the questions she was asking were now being answered. She saw her uncle, Eric Beauregard. He had his hands around her throat, choking her. His eyes were bulging out of his head it seemed as he tightened his powerful grip. As she looked at herself, she could tell that she was at the cutting edge of death. Her eyes had rolled so far up into her head that she could no longer see the pupils.

She watched as Ethel took the gun out of her favorite son’s hand after he had blown his brains out. Then, slowly, methodically, she put the gun to the back of Eric’s head and blew his blood and brains all over her. Eric released his death grip and fell to the floor. She watched herself gasping for air, heaving heavily, desperate to get some air in her lungs. While she was sucking in as much oxygen as she could get, she saw Ethel, who was only three or four feet away, point the same gun in her face. Ethel’s face was covered with wicked determination. The scowl she wore looked so intense and so malevolent that it was as if she had been possessed by a demon before pulling the trigger.

The bullet came out so slowly that she could see it moving through the air. She watched the Johnnie in the room close her eyes, accepting her death as if it was rushing up to her for an autograph. The bullet continued moving in slow motion moving toward her forehead, but just before it entered her head, it disappeared. A half a second later, the bullet reappeared behind her head and entered the wall. She watched the Johnnie in the room open her eyes, turn around, and look at the hole in the wall. That’s when she realized that she had reaped for the good years. The next vision transported her to her home in Ashland Estates just a few hours ago when she was holding the only page of the Bible that didn’t burn in the fire. It read: I will never leave you nor forsake you.

The problem is you need a new radiator and four new tires. He says the tires are bald. Jimmy thinks those are the original tires. Are they?”

Johnnie shook her head and hunched her shoulders. “They probably are.”

“Well, he’s got four tires, but he doesn’t have a radiator. It’s going to take at least three weeks to get one shipped here from Michigan. He said it may take as long as four or five weeks.”

“So, I’m stuck here?”

“For a little while. But if staying here bothers you that much, I’ll buy you a bus ticket to East St. Louis. And then when the car’s ready, you can come back and get it. It’s up to you.”

“Let me call my father. Maybe he can come and get me. I hate to put you out like this, Lucille.”

“I told you it wouldn’t be a problem. You can work here if you like.”

“But I would need a place to stay, which is going to cost money. Plus, I need clothes, underwear, and other personal things, if you know what I mean.”

Johnnie smiled. “Yeah, Lucille. Sister Flo could be here any day now. Is there a store near here where I can pick up the things a woman needs to feel fresh?”

“Finish your food, call your father, and then come into the kitchen. I think I have something to tide you over until we can go shopping, okay?”

“Thanks, Lucille.”

Chapter 11

“
Don’t be late.”

L
ooks like I’ll be staying in Jackson for a few weeks,” Johnnie said after entering the kitchen where Hank and Lucille were a half hour later.

“Your father couldn’t help you out either, huh?” Hank said.

“Either I wrote down the wrong number or his phone is disconnected,” Johnnie said. She exhaled hard and continued, “When do you want me to start, and how much is the pay?”

“You can start tomorrow morning,” Lucille said enthusiastically. “And the pay is something we can discuss on the way to Woolworth’s. We gotta take you shoppin’ to get you all the things a woman needs. Can you handle it while we’re gone, Hank?”

“When are you leaving? After the noon rush, right?” Hank said.

Lucille frowned and exhaled hard. “You can’t handle it by yourself?”

“No. I’m not takin’ that many orders, cook the food, and serve the people. I do the cookin’. You take the orders, and you serve. That’s our arrangement.”

“Well, couldn’t you do it all just this one time, Hank? Please.”

“No. I’m not gon’ be runnin’ ‘round this restaurant like a chicken with its head cut off while y’all havin’ a good ol’ time shoppin’ at Woolies. You ain’t foolin’ me. You just wanna take advantage of the January sale, is all.”

“If you’re not back here by five sharp, I’m lockin’ the doors and puttin’ up the closed sign. Whatever shoppin’ y’all need to do, don’t have to get done in one day. She just needs a few things. She can get the rest later.”

“Okay, Hank,” Johnnie said. “In the meantime, I need a place to stay. Is there a hotel here where coloreds can stay?”

“Come on,” Lucille said. “I’ll take you over to the Clementine. It’s only about a mile or so from here. Maybe two.”

“Johnnie,” Hank said. “The Clementine is on Wilshire. That’s only six blocks up Blakeslee Street. Turn left on Wilshire and go another half a mile or so and you can’t miss it. But you might wanna go on over to Woolworth’s first. It’s right around the corner from the Esso fillin’ station where your car is. That way you don’t have to do so much walkin’ in them heels.”

“Why can’t I at least take her to the Clementine and get her checked in and then over to Woolies? It’ll only take a few minutes, no more than a half an hour. I’ll be right back. I promise.”