Soulful Strut (6 page)

“Jayson Odum came in to buy thirty-second
commercial spots for his auto repair shops. Heard about your show
and signed up. Told you we would do great things.” Chaz slapped
Jayson on the back as he beamed at him.

“Nice to see you again, Monette.
Congratulations on your new show.” Jayson’s full mouth curved up
like a chocolate treat

Monette tried not to stare. After a moment
she realized he’d reached out his hand. When she took it, his firm
grip made Monette feel anchored and safe. She’d never had that
feeling from a man before. When Nikki cleared her throat, Monette
blinked back from fantasyland.

“Thanks. Hope I live up to all the hype,”
Monette quipped.

“You kidding? Your book is climbing the
charts. Already made the extended USA Today Bestseller list .With
the right topics and our publicity Hot Topic will be a hit.” Chaz
was about to go on when his secretary showed up again. “Be right
back.”

“You’re a busy guy, Chaz. And I have to leave
anyway. Thanks for giving me first crack at a hot time slot for my
commercials.” Jayson shook hands with Chaz.

“No problem. Your big brother and me go way
back. Tell him I said hello.” Chaz was already hurrying off as he
waved good-bye to them. “Monette, Monday morning is going to be all
about you.”

“See you then.” Monette grinned. "Whew, that
guy is a whirlwind in a suit.”

“That’s our Chaz. Takes good care of us, too.
I better move out of here. I’m the emcee for a lunchtime mall event
See you later, Monette. Bye, Mr. Odum.” Nikki grabbed a
denim-and-leather purse from a file cabinet.

“Bye, Nikki. Will I see you Monday?” Monette
asked.

“Sure. I get here around eight usually, but
I’ll come early and give you a quick run-through.” Nikki winked at
Monette, then Jayson.

“Bye, Nikki. And call me Jayson. That way I
won’t feel so old,” Jayson replied with a grin.

“Please. You are not old.” Nikki smiled back
at him as she scurried out “I have time to catch another cup of
coffee and a Krispy Kreme cinnamon swirl if I get moving.”

Monette realized they were alone and suddenly
felt self-conscious. Jayson seemed relaxed as he put a hand in one
pocket “Everybody stays on the move around here,” Monette said.

“Exciting place. This is going to be your
office?” Jayson glanced around the room.

“Looks like. If you turn in a circle you will
have taken the grand tour,” she joked.

“Nice. I especially like this view.” Jayson
went over to the window.

She followed him and looked out at the
parking lot. Across the street was a busy convenience store. A tall
clown danced on the sidewalk, waving at traffic and wearing a sign
that said no joke, best hot dogs to go in town. Monette burst out
laughing.

“Now I know I’m in the big time. I’ve got a
desk and a phone I share with only one other person. Plus I get
free entertainment,” she said.

“Hey, it’s better than my office view. All I
can see through the burglar bars is a vacant lot the owner never
mows,” Jayson joked.

‘Tell you what, I’ll loan you my clown,”
Monette tossed back.

“You’re too kind, but I’ll pass.” Jayson
raised an eyebrow when the clown did a series of hip-hop moves as
he blew his big clown horn. They both burst out laughing at his
performance.

Monette liked the sound of his deep voice,
the way his laughter rumbled up from his broad chest. She realized
they were standing close together at the window. When she glanced
up at him, a subtle spicy scent enticed her. They stepped away from
each other at the same time. When he glanced away, Monette felt a
hot spike of irritation. Mr. Nice Guy didn’t want to catch her
prison cooties, she guessed. Who needed him anyway?

“Gotta go. Bye.” Monette gave him a stiff
smile and turned to leave.

“Sure. Didn’t mean to hold you up. Good luck
with the show.” Jayson followed her out into the hallway.

“Jayson, one last question on the way you
want your commercial to be produced,” a woman dressed in a dark
green business pantsuit called to him.

“Sure, Darlene.” Jayson glanced at Monette
again. “Take care.”

“Same to you.”

Monette kept walking. She mentally swept away
her initial impression of him. Jayson thought he was too good for
her. No problem. Besides, she had enough on her plate. What she
really needed to do was avoid men like they were bad news. Most of
them were worse than bad news, they were major natural disasters.
With one last wave to the receptionist on her way out, Monette went
outside into the sunshine. A block away she arrived at the bus
stop. She sat down on the stone bench and read a section of
newspaper someone had left behind. A light gray Dodge Ram pickup
truck pulled up at the stop sign. When the window slid down,
Monette prepared to put some guy in check. She was in no mood to
deal with some wannabe Casanova. Wearing a pair of sunglasses,
Jayson waved to her.

“My Convention Street shop is only a few
minutes from New Beginnings. I’d be happy to drop you off,” Jayson
said.

“No, thanks. My ride is here.” Monette
pointed to an approaching bus two blocks away. It belched black
smoke as it rolled along.

Jayson glanced into his rearview mirror, then
nodded with a smile. “Okay. See you later.”

“Yeah, right,” Monette muttered as she gave
him a chilly smile and waved good-bye.

Monette was not interested in Mr. Nice Guy,
superfine or not. Candi was right about one thing—he wasn’t her
type. Jayson probably wanted a taste of bad girl on the sly. But
maybe she was being too cynical. She thought of that cute lopsided
smile and those dark, captivating eyes.

The spring breeze seemed to blow the scent of
his cologne back to her. Before she could drift into a romantic
fantasy, the smell of exhaust fumes from the lumbering bus brought
Monette back to reality.

Chapter 3

Two days later Monette sat in the backyard of
the halfway house. The women had a more relaxed schedule on
Saturdays. Half of them were gone on family visits. A few would be
entertaining company later in the afternoon. Monette tried not to
think about her lack of visitors or phone calls from family. She
had the local community college catalog open on the round patio
table. A huge umbrella with green and white stripes shaded her from
the bright, late-spring sunshine. Still, Monette wore her
sunglasses. Tyeisha and Candi perched on a square picnic table with
their legs hanging down like two little girls, except for the
cigarettes they puffed on. Monette had made them sit downwind from
her. Tyeisha ground out her cigarette after a few minutes and
joined Monette.

“Whatcha gonna study?” Tyeisha squinted at
the pages.

“Not sure. Since I have to write another
book, maybe some English classes.” Monette turned the pages.

“You gotta write another book? Man, I don’t
know how you came up with all them words for the first one. But
two? I couldn’t do it” Tyeisha shook her head. “School ain’t never
been my thing anyway.”

Monette looked up from the catalog. “You like
to write. School is nothing but reading and writing with a few
numbers thrown in. You could do it”

“Nah, I don’t like some teacher standing over
me. Never did. Besides, I don’t write anything longer than a poem,
a short essay or maybe a short story. A book is way too long.”
Tyeisha frowned at the thought of such effort.

“You take it one page at a time. Write down
what you know and what you feel. As for school, college is
different. You choose the subjects and set your own schedule.”
Monette could have preached the value of an education, but she was
sure Tyeisha had heard it before. She went back to looking over the
course offerings for the short summer session. “But it’s up to
you.”

“Won’t cost me nothin’ to look at what they
offer, huh?” Tyeisha’s eyes blinked in concentration as though even
that step was a weighty decision.

Monette suppressed a smile at the thought
that Tyeisha was now considering more education. Tyeisha reminded
Monette of herself and many of the women she’d met in prison. Their
self-esteem was so fragile.

“You can see this when I’m through,” Monette
said in a casual tone.

“Yeah, sure.” Tyeisha craned her neck and
read across Monette’s shoulder.

The screen door slammed and Monette looked
up. Yarva and Lenore came down the back steps. Yarva wore
sunglasses, and a cigarette hung from her mouth. She exuded a lot
of street attitude as she approached.

“So she’s a college girl, too. My, my.” Yarva
strolled by Monette. She sat with Tyeisha and Candi at the picnic
table.

“Monette got too much brains to do what
everybody else does,” Candi replied.

Yarva sat on the end of the table. “Guess we
can’t all have it so sweet.”

Monette exhaled. She might as well deal with
Yarva again. She turned in her chair and looked at her. “You could
go to school, too.”

“Yeah, right. Spend time around a lot of
uppity folks lookin’ down their noses at me. I’m keepin’ it real.”
Yarva looked at Tyeisha as though her words were meant for her
alone.

‘They might not even let me in that school.
Don’t they ask you about having been in prison on those college
applications?” Tyeisha bit her bottom lip like a kid worried about
the principal.

“Yes, but schools want to help people make a
new start in life.” Monette gave Tyeisha a crooked smile of
encouragement. “If they let me take courses, they’ll let anybody
in.”

“Hell, since you put it like that, I might
even crack a book. Got to get my high school certificate first,
though.” Candi let out a gruff laugh as she climbed down off the
table. She walked over to stand behind Monette and look over her
shoulder.

Lenore had been watering a small plot of
flowers along the wooden fence. She put down the garden hose and
crossed the grass. “Maybe I could take some business classes. You
know, for when I start my own beauty shop.”

“Good idea. Most small-business people need
to learn bookkeeping and stuff like that. Baton Rouge Community
College has a little something for everybody.” Monette pushed the
catalog away from her so they all could see it better.

Yarva puffed in silence for a long while as
the other women gathered at the patio table, chattering away. She
finally crushed the smoldering butt in the large metal ashtray on
the picnic table. “Y’all just lettin’ her put a lot of crap in your
heads.”

“Don’t hate, appreciate,” Candi retorted
without looking at her.

“Okay. Let me ask a few questions. How you
gonna pay for school? They ain’t lettin’ you in free I don’t care
how tenderhearted they are.” Yarva wore a look of satisfaction when
the women stopped talking.

“There are grants and student loans,” Monette
replied. She recognized the bitter expression Yarva wore. She’d met
a lot of people like her over the years. More than a few had
succeeded in convincing Monette her dreams were silly. Her mother
and older sisters had been the first.

“They’re gonna give that money to sweet
little innocent kids outta high school who don’t have arrest
records. Dope-usin’ ex-cons are at the bottom of the list, ladies.”
Yarva’s husky laugh dripped scorn.

“Yeah, they ask about convictions on those
applications, too.” Tyeisha slumped back in her chair.

“That’s what I’m sayin’ Yarva pressed on now
that she had their attention. “ ’Scuse me, Monette. You got money
comin’ in from a big-time book deal. People beatin’ on the door to
pay you speaking fees. Not us.”

Lenore pushed a thick section of her black
hair behind one ear. “I probably won’t get the money to start a
business anyway.”

“Banks don’t just beg people to come in so
they can give out loans either,” Yarva said.

‘There are plenty of options. There are even
foundations that encourage women who have had troubles like us to
apply,” Monette said with fervor. Yarva’s bad vibe had killed the
air of optimism that had barely taken root “At least I’m making
some money at the discount store,” Tyeisha said. She jammed her
hands in the pockets of the denim coveralls she wore and headed for
the house. Lenore followed her without looking back.

Candi watched them leave before she turned to
Yarva. “You had to do that, huh?”

“What?” Yarva went back to the picnic table
and sat down again. She lit up her third cigarette.

“You know what? Damn. I thought you had more
goin’ on with you.” Candi waved a hand at her.

Yarva scowled at her. “All I did was tell the
truth. No use lettin’ ’em make plans based on stuff they can’t do.
You said the same thing a while back when all this came up in one
of our group sessions. Sherrial was talkin’ the same pie-in-the-sky
nonsense.”

“Maybe I did. Sometimes group counseling
turns into a pity party. Sherrial is just trying to help.” Candi
looked at Yarva. “You might consider saying something positive once
in a while.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Yarva tilted her head back
and exhaled a stream of blue cigarette smoke.

One of the other residents came to the back
door. “Hey, Monette. Telephone.”

Monette gathered up her catalog, notebook and
planner. “Okay, Denise.”

“She’s carryin’ around more stuff than Donald
Trump,” Yarva said, then let out a snort of derision.

“I have a few things going on. Anything else
you want to say?” Monette faced her with a hand on one hip.

“Sorry, Ms. Victor. I didn’t mean to mess
with the star of the women’s prison system,” Yarva said.

Denise twisted her mouth and frowned with
impatience. She opened the door wider. “Look, I’m missing my
favorite soap. You want me to tell ’em you gonna call ’em
back?”

“I’m coming.” Monette glanced at Yarva one
last time before she turned away. She heard Candi’s angry voice as
she climbed the stairs.