South Street (27 page)

She had waited patiently, watching the sun go down, watching the street come to life, watching the traffic smother the pavement. The neon cross above The Word of Life had presided over a doorway that swallowed ticket-bearing throngs. Vanessa knew all about the Love Feasts at The Word of Life—she had attended as a special paid guest of the Reverend Mr. J. Peter Sloan. But now she was interested in another doorway, beside a burned-out store. She had watched as her sister Leslie emerged from it carrying a suitcase and headed for the Elysium. She had watched as Rayburn went in and came out again. Then she had glanced at her watch, bitten her lip, and turned away. Now it was Saturday; the promise had come true. She walked up South Street, passing the open bar doors, and the eager lips of Those Who Knew whispered into the anxious ears of Those Who Wonder that ’Nessa was out again, walking the street. Hands came out of shadows, fingers clutched like spiderwebs, and even after they fell away something clung, something a little stale, a little moldy, something not quite clean. She only bothered to brush away the hands that moved too far or clung too long.

It was shaping up as a slow night for Saturday at Lightnin’ Ed’s. Leo was half hoping for a pleasant surprise to liven the evening, but Vanessa did not fall into that category. Vanessa was trouble as far as Leo was concerned, so when he looked up and saw her bow her head to get through the low door of Lightnin’ Ed’s, he motioned her to a vacant stool and made her a Singapore Sling. “On the house,” he said, setting it in front of her. “It’s been nice seein’ you. Good evenin’.”

“I think I’d rather pay for it,” Vanessa said.

“Suit your own self,” Leo said easily. “Good-bye. Drop in again the next time you get up to this end a the street. But make it a social call. I don’t like it when you’re travelin’ on business.”

“I’m waitin’ for somebody,” Vanessa said.

“He just left,” Leo informed her, “an’ he took his wallet along with him.”

“I see,” Vanessa said. “Since you gave me a drink, Leo, I guess you won’t mind if I drink it.”

“Course not,” Leo said, “but I wouldn’t want to hold you. I know people in your line a work got to keep movin’. I’ll put it in a paper cup an’ you can carry it out.” He reached for the glass.

Vanessa picked it up and raised it to her lips. “Shit, Leo,” she said, “are you really gonna make me go outa here with a paper cup? God, the word’ll get around I’m on ma way to the clinic. That kinda talk is hell on business.”

Leo grinned for an instant, then cut it off. “C’mon, ’Nessa, you know what happens every time I let you work in here….”

Vanessa set the glass down, hard. “I ain’t,” she snapped.

“Ain’t what?”

“Ain’t hustlin’.”

Leo sighed. “Look honey, I wasn’t born yesterday. I know Leroy done give you the air, an’ that means you’re back on the street.”

Vanessa looked at him, smiled, took a sip of her drink. “Leo, sposin’ I was to explain to you exactly why I ain’t hustlin’, will you quit actin’ like a goddamn nanny goat?”

“Honey,” said Leo, “if you can prove to me you ain’t hustlin, I’ll be happy to reserve a stool for you from now until next doomsday. Right next to Betsy.”

“Umph,” said Vanessa. “That’s what I love about you, Leo, you’re a prince among old maids. I ain’t hustlin’ because Leroy pays me not to hustle.”

“Uh huh,” Leo said, “an’ in the off-season he pays you to take care a his baseball cards. You
really
expect me to believe that Leroy pays you not to hustle? Whad I ever do to make you think ma head was stuck on with Scotch tape?”

“Now listen, Leo, you know Leroy. Nothin’ but the best for Leroy. He don’t have no truck with whores. So even if he don’t want me, he don’t want nobody sayin’ Leroy’s ex is out there walkin’ the street. So he pays me.”

“I’ll be damned,” Leo said.

Vanessa grinned. “I get ma stool reserved?”

“That’s the damnedest piece a shit I ever heard,” Leo said. “Leroy
pays
you … I’ll be damned. I swear, I thought I’d heard everything but … why, damn, ’Nessa, have a drink.”

“I got one, Leo,” Vanessa said.

“Oh,” said Leo. “Yeah.” He grinned broadly. “Leroy pays. …” He chuckled.

“Tell me one thing,” Vanessa said.

“Sure,” said Leo.

“’Member when I said I was waitin’ for somebody? Well I am, only he don’t know it. I just heard from this dude that I could find this other dude in here, you know? Well this dude I’m lookin’ for, I don’t know him too good, truth is I ain’t never seen him before, but it ain’t like you’re thinkin’, Leo. Anyway, I ain’t never seen him, so when he comes in you gotta tell me.” She took a gasp of breath.

“An’ you ain’t hustlin’?” Leo demanded.

Vanessa shook her head. “Leroy’d turn purple.”

Leo looked up at the ceiling. “I’m crazy,” he said. “All right, who you lookin’ for?”

“Name’s Brown,” Vanessa said.

“Oh,” Leo said. “Brown.”

“You know him, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” said Leo. “Oh yeah, I know him. I know him all right. Brown. He’s that crazy fool was in here last week, an’ I ain’t seen him since, an’ I hope to Jesus I never
do
see him again, because that is one crazy nigger.”

“Betsy said he hung around here.”

“Betsy says lots a things. Betsy files a tax return so the guvment’ll think she’s still trickin’.”

“Great,” said Vanessa. Just then Big Betsy waddled into Lightnin’ Ed’s. She caught sight of Vanessa and tried to put it into reverse, but her momentum carried her six feet inside the bar. “Anybody ever tell you you was a fat-cunted liar?” Vanessa inquired.

“Leo,” said Big Betsy, “ain’t you gonna tell this bitch to watch her mouth?”

“Nope,” Leo said. “An’ don’t worry ’bout gettin’ blood on the floor ’cause Jake’ll be in tonight to clean up.”

Big Betsy turned to Vanessa. “Don’t you talk to me that way. I’m oldern you an’ you oughta treat me with some kinda respect.” Glaring, Big Betsy lowered herself onto a stool.

“I oughta lay a bottle upside your head,” Vanessa told her. “You told me Brown hung out in here an’ now Leo says he ain’t been in but that one time.”

“He’ll be back,” Big Betsy said. “They may go far, but they always come back to their sweet mama.”

“Uh, huh,” said Vanessa. “That, ah, sweet mama, that’d be you?”

“Who else?”

“Jesus,” Vanessa said. “I hope he forgets all about you, ’cause if he don’t he won’t never be back here till they start sendin’ niggers to the moon.”

“Course he’ll be back,” snapped Big Betsy. “He needs somebody like me.” Leo pulled his handkerchief from his hip pocket and held it over his face. Big Betsy looked at him in annoyance. “He does,” she insisted. Sounds halfway between chokes and sobs issued from behind Leo’s handkerchief. “You sick or somethin’, Leo?” Big Betsy demanded.

Leo took the handkerchief away from his face. “No,” he said, wiping his eyes. “I ain’t sick.”

“Well, you sound sick,” Big Betsy informed him acidly, “an’ you looks sick, an’ you must be catchin’, ’cause you’re makin’ me sick.”

“That’s too bad,” Vanessa said. “Brown’s gonna come in here with the hots for Betsy, only she’s gonna have to tell him she’s sick.”

“You’ll see,” vowed Big Betsy. “That Brown, he’s a real man. He knows what he wants. He ain’t out after some little semipro piece, he wants a woman that can understand him, somebody knows their way around.”

“Right,” Vanessa said, “an’ that’s why he wants to get in bed with you.”

Big Betsy regarded her haughtily. “The trouble with you, ’Nessa, is you got a one-rut mind. Me an’ Brown, we ain’t into that stuff. We got us a more mature thing. We talk ’bout life an’ … well, you know, that kinda stuff. Brown, he’s an educated dude, you know. Our thing—”

“Shit,” said Leo, “the dude wasn’t in here but one night.”

Big Betsy shook her head sagely. “Leo, there’s some men you never know, an’ then there’s some you can talk to for three minutes an’ it’s like you knowed ’em all your life.”

“You mean two minutes, don’t you?” Vanessa said.

Leo was staring at Big Betsy. “Oh my God,” he said, an expression of disgust on his face, “now I
am
sick. I useta have me a nice bar. Now I got whores that wants to be preachers an’ preachers that wants to be winos an’ next thing you know Jake’ll be in here tellin’ me he’s decided to take up hustlin’.”

“You got a hard life, Leo,” Vanessa said.

“An’ I ain’t even mentioned the nuts tryin’ to be gangsters an’ the pensioned-off hookers.”

“That’s what you get for openin’ a bar,” Big Betsy told him. “You shoulda stuck to bein’ the Goodyear blimp.”

“Nah,” Leo said, “there was too many ups an’ downs, an’ if you fart once you’d crash.”

“You’re full a hot air anyways,” Big Betsy said.

“An’ you’re full a shit,” Vanessa told her.

“An’ you’re full a nothin’,” said Big Betsy. “You’re just one big hole.”

“If you wasn’t so old an’ fat an’ ugly, you might bother me,” Vanessa said.

“Sure I’m old an’ fat an’ ugly. You can’t do nothin’ about gettin’ old an’ ugly, so you might as well eat. Least I ain’t useless. I talk to folks. I spread joy an’ womanly understandin’.”

“You couldn’t spread a dose a clap,” Vanessa said. “Who told you all that bullshit?”

“Ain’t bullshit,” declared Big Betsy. “It was
him
. That’s what he said. Said I was full a ancient wisdom an’ womanly understandin’. Nicest thing anybody ever said to me.”

“That I can believe,” Leo said. “When’d he say all this, before or after he tried to commit suicide?”

“What?”

“Leroy.”

“Oh,” said Big Betsy. “After.”

“That explains it,” Leo said. “Anybody who’s been that close to death is bound to say some pretty weird things.”

“You leave him be,” said Big Betsy. She got up and went down to the far end of the bar. “An’ leave me be. An’ if he comes in, don’t you try to steal him, ’Nessa.”

“My God,” Leo said, “I think she’s jealous.”

“Am not,” snarled Big Betsy.

Vanessa sighed. “Gimme another drink, huh, Leo?”

“Okay,” Leo said. “But I don’t figure he’s gonna show up.”

“I know,” Vanessa said. She looked out the doorway at the darkening street. “I just want to sit someplace. Someplace quiet.” She turned her head to look at him. “That’s all right, ain’t it, Leo? To stay here, I mean?”

Leo set her drink up on the bar. “Sure,” he said. “That’s just fine.”

“Haw, haw, haw,” laughed Big Betsy the whore. Leo watched the TV with calm impassivity, his jaws making circular motions as he devoured his after-dinner snack. Vanessa did not look up from her drink. Big Betsy laughed again.

“Shup,” said Leo, without turning away from the TV. He reached out and grasped a large mug of beer, raised it to his mouth. His lips poked out as if he were getting ready to kiss someone, and he drew off the head in quick, audible slurps.

“Say what?” demanded Big Betsy.

“Said shup,” said Leo. “I wants to listen at ma ball game.”

“That’s all you do all goddamn day is listen at the goddamn TV. It’s goddamn sinful, that’s what it is.”

Leo took a bite of his sandwich.

“Leo, you black bastard, are you listenin’ to me?”

Leo sighed and finished chewing, swallowing slowly and carefully. He paused a moment, nodded to himself, raised the beer, took a pull, lowered the glass, swished the beer around inside his mouth, swallowed, nodded again, looked up at the ceiling, burped, and nodded a third time Finally he turned his head to regard Big Betsy. “If I was to listen to everythin’ you says, I wouldn’t never have time to piss, let alone eat, sleep, shit, or make any money.” He took another bite of sandwich.

Big Betsy’s eyes, nestled deeply inside mascara and wrinkles, smoldered. “Leo,” she said, “sometimes you go too far.”

“Betsy,” said Leo, “you never go quite far enough.” He rose ponderously and went to turn up the volume, then returned to his stool.

Big Betsy opened her mouth, then shut it with a clacking of dentures. She rooted around in her handbag and found a quarter, went over and dropped it into the jukebox. She punched buttons at random, her finger falling savagely. Her jaws were clenched. The strains of “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling,” sung by Perry Como, echoed in Lightnin’ Ed’s, and the walls, used to the Motown sound, shuddered. Big Betsy returned to her stool, a smile of triumph on her face. Leo looked at her mildly, reached up and connected his earplug to the TV. Big Betsy stared at the “flesh-colored” earplug shining in Leo’s dark ear, her face reflecting utter frustration. She got up and walked around to the other ear and began singing along with Perry Como. Leo looked at her, shrugged, rose, and disconnected the earplug. Big Betsy smiled triumphantly until Leo turned the volume of the TV all the way down and returned to his seat. He cheered softly as he munched his sandwich and slurped his beer. Big Betsy stared at the screen. Names, batting averages, counts of balls and strikes were being flashed in white letters. Periodic shots of the scoreboard gave all the information needed. Big Betsy sagged in defeat just as her money ran out and Perry Como escaped from South Street. The only sound was the crunch of Leo’s jaw and his periodic cheers. Big Betsy flounced off to the ladies’ room. Leo grinned and got up to turn up the sound, but before he reached the TV set the door opened. Leo stared. “Jesus! What happened to you?”

Rayburn Wallace stood in the doorway. His clothes, dirty and torn, were soaked with perspiration. Sweat ran down his face and neck, came welling out of his hair like water out of a sponge. His eyes were wild. “She’s gone,” Rayburn said. “I been everywhere, lookin’.”

“Oh,” said Leo. He stepped toward Rayburn, but Rayburn was already in motion, doing a jerky-robot walk toward the nearest bar stool, stopping, when he reached it, with a wobbly jiggle, as if in response to some electrical command delivered through an invisible wire. He dropped onto the stool. His head sank and hung on his neck like a pendulum weight. “What you need,” Leo said, “is a good stiff drink.” Rayburn did not reply, but his head seemed to swing slightly. Leo poured a highball glass half full of gin, and filled a mug with beer. “Here you go.” Rayburn’s right eyelid blinked slowly, showing the eye behind it dim and red, like that of an ill-tempered dragon roused from a deep sleep. Rayburn gazed at Leo for a moment with the single red eye, then reached out and took hold of the gin glass. He stuck out his lips, opened his mouth, and belted the whole thing in one gulp. He slammed the glass back onto the bar, sniffed, looked at Leo with his one eye, sniffed again, then grabbed wildly for the beer and poured it down his throat. He gasped. Leo smiled.