Second Sunday (20 page)

Christmas fingered his hat gingerly for a few seconds, then sucked on his side tooth and said, “Frankly, Louise, I wasn’t
aware that I had ex-ten-ded
you
an invitation to anywhere.”

“Oh,” Louise answered, “that’s funny.
Mozelle
told me that you wouldn’t mind if I came along. She thought we would have a nice evening going to the club together. Not
like you and she were going on a date, seeing that she a married woman and all.”

Christmas was furious, and the expression on his face betrayed it. But he reined himself in and said, with the slightest taste
of “nice-nasty” in his voice, “Well, you know Mozelle, Louise. The girl always was too sweet for her own good.”

“Yeah, she is that,” Louise answered, thinking, “Old dog, you won’t be sniffin’ up on nothing tonight.”

Louise and Christmas stood there facing off like boxers in the ring, waiting for the starting bell, until Mozelle walked into
the living room. Car keys dangling from her hand, she asked, “Y’all ready to go?”

Christmas quickly ran his eyes over her, thinking how good she looked in that pink suit. He always knew Mozelle was cute,
but dressed like this she was a fine little handful of woman. Moving quickly to the door, he held it open for her, then made
a point of letting the screen door slam in Louise’s face.

Taking Mozelle by the elbow, Christmas began to lead her to his car, hoping to make Louise feel so uncomfortable that she
would change her mind about coming. But Mozelle pulled away from him gently and said, “I’m driving myself and Louise, Christmas.
We’ll follow you.”

Christmas stopped dead in his tracks and glared at Louise, thinking, “I know you behind all of this.” But Louise didn’t blink
an eye, smirk, or give any other little self-satisfied sign to let him know she had “one up on him.” In that instant, Christmas
realized that this arrangement was Mozelle’s own doing, making him wonder what else Miss Lady had up her sleeve.

“How long you been driving, Mozelle?” he asked her.

“Long enough.”

“Oscar know?”

“What do you think?”

Christmas knew full well that Oscar didn’t have an inkling that his wife could drive. For the first time since he’d arrived
at the house and found out Louise Williams was coming with them, he felt excited. The evening was turning out alright. Mozelle
was looking good and sexy, she was coming to the club at his invitation, and she could drive. He couldn’t even begin, by a
long stretch of the imagination, to think about what Oscar would do when he discovered what was brewing right up under his
nose. But he sure couldn’t wait to get to the Mellow Slick Cougars Club to find out.

Christmas pulled into the homemade gravel parking lot, which used to be a backyard, of the Mellow Slick Cougars Club. The
club was located in a neat two-family flat over on Natural Bridge Avenue, not too far from Kingshighway. Old Daddy, the club’s
founder, lived in the upstairs apartment and used the first floor, along with a finished basement, for the club. There was
nothing special about the building, which was exactly what the members liked about it. The club was exclusive, and they didn’t
want any folks not invited to come dropping in and getting on everybody’s nerves.

Christmas got out to show Mozelle and Louise where to park and told them to wait for him while he parked his own car. But
Louise was so eager to see the club, she walked right on in without him, dragging Mozelle with her. She spotted a table in
a corner and pushed at Mozelle to sit down. Christmas came in looking for the two of them just as the bartender, who was also
the bouncer, started to walk over to their table to ask them if they were with a club member.

After reassuring the bartender, Christmas sighed in exasperation and said, “Why didn’t y’all wait on me like I told you to?
You not even supposed to be up in here, Mozelle. If Oscar Lee finds out I’m the one who brought you here, he gone have a major
fit.”

“But won’t Oscar be here tonight? It’s Friday. Don’t he come up in here most Fridays?” Louise asked, looking almost eager
to see what Oscar would do when he saw Mozelle.

Christmas tried to look uncomfortable, as if he was about to reveal something that he just wished he didn’t have to share.
But he wasn’t doing all that good a job with his acting. Louise caught the little grin on his face as he opened his mouth
to say, “Well, he do. But lately, seems like he been elsewhere some Fridays.”

“And where’s that?” Louise demanded.

Christmas removed his hat, scratched at his head, and said, “Now, y’all know I’m too much a gentleman to go ’round putting
my buddy’s business in the street.”

“Even when the main person you talking to is the buddy’s own wife?” Louise asked, with a frown.

Christmas cut his eyes at her. He never could
stand
that Louise Williams. She was bossy and thought she had rights women weren’t supposed to have. She had messed up everything
tonight, butting in on his date with Mozelle. He had wanted Oscar to see Mozelle, knowing he would act a complete fool over
her coming to the club without his permission. And when Mozelle got all distraught, Christmas was going to be right at her
side, ready to give her all the comfort she needed, throughout the night.

Rather than answer Louise, Christmas got up to tip the bartender, who was also the DJ, five dollars to play his favorite getting-next-to-a-woman
song. As soon as the first notes of Jerry Butler’s velvety voice came on, Christmas took Mozelle’s hand and pulled her up
for a dance. She looked back at Louise as if to say, “Now what do I do?” But all Louise did was wave her hand, indicating
that a dance wouldn’t hurt nobody.

Mozelle followed Christmas reluctantly, wondering, as she walked to the tiny dance floor, how long it took the men who’d laid
the flooring to get the linoleum tiles in that perfect order of red, black, and gold squares. Everything in the club was red,
black, and gold—even the napkins, paper plates, and stirrers for the drinks. She doubted that the members were so meticulous
about order and color in their own homes. She’d have even bet some money that most of them acted like Oscar at home and didn’t
do a doggone thing.

As soon as they got onto the dance floor, Christmas pulled Mozelle close to him and started trying to do the slow drag dance,
moving his hips up against her and rubbing his palms across the middle of her back. Mozelle stepped back, looking at him as
if he was crazy, and said, “If you don’t start dancing right, I’m sitting down.”

Christmas wanted to get mad at her for breaking up his smooth moves, but he had waited so long to hold Mozelle Thomas that
he wasn’t going to allow a little setback to stop him. Besides, it was nearly time for the real show to begin—when Oscar walked
in and saw his wife in another man’s arms.

Finally the record ended, but not soon enough for Mozelle, who had been scanning the room anxiously to see if Oscar arrived.
But he hadn’t and she felt a stab of pain in her heart, thinking about where he was, who he was with, and what he was doing.
Maybe coming to the club hadn’t been a good idea. Maybe the truth was more than she could bear.

Christmas didn’t notice Mozelle’s sadness as he walked her back to their table. He was looking around to see if the club’s
lone waitress, Warlene, was on duty tonight. He didn’t know who hired that girl, who had to be the surliest waitress in North
St. Louis, with her high-yellow, dark-blue-eyed, and wavy-red-haired self. He would never forget the time she got mad at one
of the members she dated for a while and as revenge refused to bring the rest of them so much as a chip of ice, because, as
she said, “Y’all old Negroes workin’ what’s left of my last nerve. And I don’t
feel
like gettin’ none of y’all a doggone thang.”

But Warlene could do no wrong in the eyes of the club’s president, Old Daddy, who told all of them to leave her alone. And
now that Oscar was hot and heavy with Warlene’s best friend, Queenie Tyler, he, too, had become her defender.

Christmas waved at Warlene to come over and take their drink orders. Rolling her eyes, she moved as slowly as possible in
their direction, stopping to talk to some folks along the way. Then, just as she finally reached their table, Oscar and Queenie
Tyler walked in. Tossing her order pad and pencil down in front of Christmas, she ran over to talk to Queenie.

Christmas would have been furious if Warlene had run over to anyone except Oscar and Queenie. But this was the moment he had
been waiting for all evening. He sneaked a glance over at Mozelle to gauge her reaction, but he couldn’t see her face—she
had moved her chair into the shadows so that Oscar wouldn’t spot her right away.

Queenie shocked Mozelle right down to her bones. She was a full-figured woman, and looked like she was close to four inches
taller than Oscar. And the way she was dressed? Throughout her entire marriage, Oscar had told Mozelle that the clothes she
liked to wear were unfit for a decent woman. And if he truly believed that, then what Queenie was wearing should have been
an abomination in the sight of God. Mozelle could see straight through Queenie’s tight, turquoise fishnet dress to her matching
flimsy slip, and right on down to her turquoise bra and bikini panties.

Mozelle leaned over and said to Louise, “What in the world would make a woman want to come out in public dressed like that?”

Louise shook her head and asked, “What in the world would make a man want to come out in public with a woman dressed like
that? Girl, she show do look like one of those women who don’t wash they behinds good.”

Mozelle shook her head in disgust and said, “I was just thinking, Louise, that she making that dress look right funky. Remember
what our mamas used to tell us about how some menfolk like to sniff all up on a funky-looking woman, and why?”

Louise laughed. “Honey, don’t say another word,” she said. It was rumored that such a woman was totally uninhibited in bed
with a man, especially if the man belonged to somebody else. She had once overheard her grandmother whisper that one “funky-tail”
woman in her town had worked a man over so good that his toes curled up so tight he couldn’t get his shoes back on.

“Well,” Mozelle said wryly, “look like what our mamas said was true. Don’t it?”

Louise said, “Umm-hmm. ’Cause she look like if Oscar sniff too hard, the stuff will clear out his sinuses.”

“And,” Mozelle added with a touch of sadness in her voice, “I bet he walking ’round thinking he getting the ride of a lifetime.”

As soon as Oscar and Queenie got settled near the bar, Christmas left Mozelle and Louise and headed over to their table. Louise
figured that he wanted to feel Oscar out, so he could find the best way to let him know Mozelle was at the club. But she was
not about to let Christmas get the upper hand in this mess. She whispered to Mozelle, “Get up and go over there and let Oscar
know you here.”

“He gone be mad. What do you think he’ll do?”

“See, that’s your problem—always worried about what Oscar’ll think and what Oscar’ll do. How can he say anything, standing
over there all hugged up with that floppy-tailed woman? You get over there before Christmas make his move, and then dare Oscar
to say anything to you. It’s long past the time, Mozelle, for you to get Oscar Lee straightened out.”

Mozelle got up slowly and walked over to her husband and his girlfriend’s table. She didn’t have the faintest idea what to
say. On the one hand, looking at those two together was excruciatingly painful. On the other hand, Mozelle felt bold and excited,
knowing that the next few minutes were going to change her life.

Queenie’s eyes got big when she saw Mozelle Thomas bearing down on their table. Queenie had only seen Mozelle once, and from
a distance. And never in a thousand years would she have expected to see such a proper and ladylike woman as Mozelle Thomas
at the Mellow Slick Cougars Club. She looked down at her dress, mentally comparing it to the quality of Mozelle’s beautiful
suit.

Oscar was just registering Queenie’s shock when he felt a tap on his shoulder. As he turned to look into the face of his wife,
his heart started pounding like a jackhammer, and he almost hollered out loud. Grabbing his chest, he tried to steady his
heart’s erratic beat by panting out a few shallow breaths.

Once he could breathe again, he ran his tongue across his dentures, glad that he had added a little cement glue to his adhesive.
Oscar needed to get his dentures readjusted because they had started slipping around. Without that extra glue, he knew, the
shock of seeing Mozelle would have knocked his teeth right out of his mouth.

Regaining his composure, he angrily demanded, “What do you think you’re doing here, Mozelle?”

“I was about to ask you the very same thing, Oscar,” Mozelle replied, surprised at how calm her voice came out.

Oscar puffed up and shot her one of his fierce, chastising looks. But instead of lowering her eyes and fidgeting with an apology,
Mozelle stood there motionless, just staring him in the eye.

“Who brought you here?” he asked.

“Why you want to know?” she replied.

“What did you say to me, woman?”

“I said, why do you want to know? You ain’t never home because you so busy laying up with this trashy woman. So why you want
to know, Oscar Lee Thomas?”

Queenie jumped up, towering over Mozelle, and then snapped her head around at Oscar. “I
know
you ain’t about to stand here and let this little siddity-tailed woman talk to
me
like that, Oscar Thomas,” she hissed.

Oscar opened his mouth to speak, but Mozelle put her hands on her hips and got right up in Queenie’s face. “I know you not
calling me out of my name,” she declared, “standing there looking like some old reject from the Ike and Tina Turner Revue
Band. I wasn’t talking to you, so just shut your mouth and keep your young self out of grown folks’ business.”

Queenie raised her hand, open-palmed, to slap Mozelle, but Christmas, who had stepped back from the line of fire, grabbed
it. “Now, darling,” he said, “ain’t no need in you getting all huffed up with Mozelle here. Oscar Lee is her husband.”