Baby Brother's Blues (24 page)

42

S
unday was Regina’s favorite day of the week. Blue made breakfast and squeezed fresh juice while she put on a pot of coffee, set the table, and found some music that suited them. Sometimes Blue would sing a little if something caught his ear. Regina would stop where she was and listen. His voice was still amazing even though he never sang professionally anymore. He was still sexy as hell, too, even just making pancakes. Maybe
especially
while making pancakes.

Sometimes they watched
CBS Sunday Morning.
Sometimes they went back to bed and made love. They always read the Sunday papers together. In addition to
The Atlanta Journal/Constitution,
they read
The New York Times, The Atlanta Sentinel,
and
The Washington Post.
Sometimes they would leaf through a paper printed in a language neither one could read or speak. Blue said it helped him remember how big the world was and that how smart you are depends on where you’re standing. He read voraciously and was probably the most knowledgeable person Regina knew when it came to international affairs. Not many people were aware of this because Blue tended to keep his opinions to himself, preferring not to engage in emotionally charged discussions with people not nearly as well informed as he was and usually twice as opinionated.

Blue had never been a big talker. Regina sometimes teased him that he didn’t need to talk as much as other people because he was such an expert mind reader.

“That should make me talk more.” He laughed. “Think of the stories I could tell.”

Regina could remember a time when the possibility that the man she loved had the ability to read her mind would have driven her into a frenzy of trying to think only the purest, most intelligent, admirable, compassionate thoughts possible, knowing her brain was at that very moment alive with fear, guilt, secrets, lies, and fabrications of all kinds. It was exhausting.

But she had no secrets from Blue. Even the idea of secrets was inconceivable. She wanted to get as close to him as she possibly could in every possible way. In order to do that, she had to be as light as a feather
inside.
She had to learn to just let people be, including her husband. Blue was not a work in progress. He was a fully formed human being and so was she. This had been a revelation, removing as it did the need to reform, refocus, nag, cajole, beg, wheedle, and weep. All she tried to do these days was stay in the moment and enjoy the life she was moving through
right now.
The one where she was sitting on the floor in her living room, surrounded by a disheveled pile of newspapers.

Blue was sitting in a big leather chair an arm’s length away in a white sweater that made his skin look like dark chocolate, reading a story in
The New York Times
about the difficulty veterans returning from Iraq and Afghanistan were having trying to adjust to life back in the United States. He was reading the article aloud, his mellifluous voice as neutral as a network newscaster. The reporter chronicled the disastrous reentries of several young soldiers with young children and wives ill equipped to handle the volatile mixture of emotions these men were carrying like a virus. In each case, there was little help available, although the possibility for violence was always present.

He read the last sentence, a wistful quote from a young vet reacting to a friend’s recent suicide by questioning his own desire to live, and looked over at Regina, listening intently and absentmindedly rubbing her belly.

“That’s terrible,” she said. “I can’t believe the army doesn’t routinely have counseling services in place for returning vets.”

“They better do something fast.” Blue folded the paper with a little frown, his eyes cloudy and distant. “It’s already too late for some of these women.”

Regina’s hand now rested gently on her stomach. Blue’s neutral voice had disappeared and his eyes became suddenly dark and cold.

“What do you mean? Too late for which women?”

She slid over closer and rested her hand against his knee. He stroked her hand slowly, lingering over each one of her long, slender fingers. Blue always chose his words carefully and she had learned to be patient. It was always worth the wait.

“You remember that woman they found cut up in her husband’s apartment a couple of weeks ago?”

The extreme violence had been irresistible to the news media, which updated the story around the clock, including widespread speculation that the victim’s missing husband was the killer. Regina remembered photographs of the woman’s children at the funeral, huddling in a weeping little knot around their exhausted grandmother, their mother dead and their father nowhere to be found.

“I remember her.”

“Her husband was in Iraq for a year.”

Something in Blue’s voice made Regina realize that this man, whom the police had been unable to find, had not been able to elude her husband’s all-seeing eyes. A slight chill ran down her spine, but she shrugged it off and reached for
The Sentinel.

“Did you see the piece B.J. did about the new veterans program at the Morehouse Medical School?” Regina asked.

Blue shook his head.

“It’s aimed at easing the transition you’re talking about. The guy in charge said it’s a public-health crisis. Domestic violence, mental illness, post-traumatic stress. He says it’s one big mess.”

“He got that right,” Blue said. “Is this guy a vet?”

“The director? I don’t know.” Her eyes scanned the article that ran alongside a photograph of a terrified-looking woman with an equally frightened-looking child in her arms, standing beside the man of the house, a huge Marine with a bodybuilder’s physique and a recurring nightmare during which he beat his wife severely without ever waking up. “Does it matter?”

“Hard to relate to vets if you’ve never been to war.”

Regina’s eye found what she was looking for. “He was in the Gulf War. He didn’t get any counseling when he got out either. That’s why he started the program.”

She handed Blue the paper. “It sounds like a good idea. Maybe you could help them.”

He leaned back in the chair and smiled at her, his eyes clear again like a summer sky after the rain. “Help them?”

“Well, they’re trying to raise money,” she said. “And you agree it’s a real problem. You’ve seen it yourself, right?”

“I have indeed.”

“Well, this would be a way to address the problem without…” She felt herself beginning to flounder. “Without having to… do anything
directly.
”

“Not many things more direct than money.”

“I just thought maybe… I mean, I know you can’t stop doing what you do, but maybe you could step back just a little… from the day-to-day stuff… you know.” She was in too deep to stop, but she hated herself for bringing it all up again. She took a deep breath and tried to take the edge off her voice. “Maybe try some other approaches.”

He slid from the chair to the floor beside her and put his arm around Regina’s shoulders. She turned to face him and he leaned over and kissed her, his lips warm against her own.

“Are you still trying to make an honest man out of me?” he said as she moved into the circle of his arms and cuddled against his chest. He kissed the top of her head.

“You’re the most honest man I know.”

“Then what’s the problem?” He raised her palm to his lips, his mustache a soft tickle.

“No problem.” She sighed. “I think I might volunteer for that program over at Morehouse.”

“That’s good,” he said, kissing her fingertips. “You’re not starting today, are you?”

She laughed and slipped her other hand under his sweater. His skin was as warm as his mouth. “No, baby. Not today.”

43

M
onday was always slow at Montre’s. By late afternoon, Brandi had been at work almost two hours and had made exactly three dollars in tips. She was as bored as the two guys at the bar who were nursing their lukewarm beers. All the weekend money had been spent and payday was still four days away. Brandi slithered around the pole without enthusiasm. Those guys didn’t deserve a full show, she thought. They weren’t going to tip anyway.

General had said he was coming by later, but that usually meant after midnight. That way if he wanted her to leave with him, she could get off a little early without hearing a lot of grumbling from Johnny. Not that Johnny ever said anything to General. His place was over the West End boundary, true enough, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be on the wrong side of Blue Hamilton. These days, if the big man wanted her for a private dance at his place, Brandi kicked back something to the other girls who’d have to cover for her on the pole and
kept steppin’.

To Brandi, General was the best thing that had happened to her in ages. He liked pretty straightforward sex and he was in great shape, so she didn’t have to do all the work. She hated rolling around with the fat guys, or even the ones who weren’t fat, just
soft.
They wanted those gymnastics they saw in the porno movies, where a woman could take on two guys at the same time while standing on one foot and giving a third man a blow job. General wasn’t looking for all that. He liked to get in the bed, turn out the lights, and take his time. That was fine with Brandi. The bed was always the easiest place to drive a man crazy and she was trying to do just that so General wouldn’t forget his promise to take her to Vegas. She couldn’t get away from Montre’s fast enough, and with him as her sponsor, there was no telling what might open up.

She looked around the almost empty room and sighed. It was time for her to try to get some lap dances, but the two sad-eyed men at the bar were busy staring into their half-empty beer bottles. She knew approaching them would be a waste of time, so she decided to do one more set and, if nobody came in, take a break.
Ain’t no point in killin’ myself up here,
she thought.
I ain’t gonna be here that much longer no way.

The sound system was blasting Lil’ John and the East Side Boys just like it did when the place was full and something in the music made Brandi decide to really dance. The fact that Montre’s patrons didn’t know how to appreciate
real class
didn’t mean she had to stoop to their level. She hooked her arm around the pole and shook her breasts like she was trying to wake them up.
I’m gonna do this one for me,
she thought.
I’m gonna do this one like I’m already in Vegas!

Closing her eyes, she began to move to the music. Her sudden energy hit the guys at the bar like a splash of cold water and they looked at each other and then back toward the small stage. Brandi was twisting herself around the pole in a series of positions that amazed and excited them. They clutched their beer, hoping she wouldn’t stop. Johnny, behind the bar, grinned at their reaction and, in a sudden burst of uncharacteristic generosity, handed them each another cold beer, on the house.

“Tell your friends what kinds of girls we got in here,” he said, enjoying the shock on their faces.

Their unexpected good fortune, plus the shaking, shimmying vision of feminine pulchritude
dancing her ass off
only a few feet away, took them by surprise. They thanked Johnny, assured him they would tell everybody they knew, and moved to a table down front, determined to make the most of whatever other good fortune came their way. Brandi ignored them. In her mind, she was dancing at the Paris Casino. So focused was she that she didn’t even notice the new guy at the bar ordering a rum and Coke.

He noticed her, though. Baby Brother had spent the weekend trying unsuccessfully to get laid. Since his drunken scene at her front door, Zora was no longer a possibility. He woke up Sunday with a hangover and a hard-on and walked over to Montre’s only to find out that they were closed for a private party. Over the bouncer’s head, he could see a fine woman with a tiny little waist and a beautiful behind doing things with a strip pole he’d seen only in X-rated movies. Something in the way she was moving produced an instant erection and he tried to draw out the conversation as long as he could, but the bouncer slammed the door in his face.

That night, all he dreamed about was that stripper, twisting herself around that silver pole. He’d spent the morning making deliveries and wondering if she’d be working there tonight, too. Since he hadn’t had to pay for any drinks on Saturday night, he had a couple of dollars left to play with. Even if all he got was a lap dance from a woman that fine, he thought, he’d be a happy man.

It took his eyes a few minutes to adjust to the dim light in Montre’s, but he spotted her instantly. She was working that pole again, to the amazement of two guys down front, but otherwise he had her all to himself. He took a table near the stage, but as far away from the dynamic duo as possible. He didn’t want her to think he was with them. They looked even broker than he was.

On the stage, Brandi was winding up with her trademark upside-down
rump-shaker
finale. In her mind, she was already breathing desert air and learning to play blackjack. When she slid to her feet and looked around, a new guy she hadn’t seen come in held up a five-dollar bill and smiled. She smiled back and headed over to him. Keisha, late for her shift again, passed her with a wink.

“Make that money, girl!”

Brandi did not consider five bucks cause for celebration and she was tired of Keisha always showing up late. “Get a damn watch, bitch,” she snapped, brushing past the woman.

Baby Brother watched Brandi head his way. She wasn’t as fine as Zora, but she was fine enough.

“Hey, baby,” she said, plucking the money from his fingers. “You want me to dance for you?”

“Oh yeah,” he said, sliding down in the chair and opening his legs a little wider. Touching the dancers was not allowed, but if a girl knew what she was doing, you didn’t have to touch her to get off. Brandi was a pro. She danced so close to him he could feel the heat coming off her body and smell the sweat running down between her breasts. From the way she was moving, he thought she might be getting turned on as much as he was. He hoped she was. He had ten dollars left. Maybe that would be enough for a little something extra.

The song ended and Brandi unstraddled his leg and smiled at him like she’d just had the best time of her life. He had no way of knowing her Vegas fantasy was still in full effect. She was pretending he was Busy Boy Baker and he’d come to the Paris and asked for her exclusively.

“How about another one, baby?” she cooed. “I can make it special.”

“How special?”

She slid back into his lap and bounced up and down slowly. “How much you got, baby?”

This was the moment of truth. She hoped he had some money. He was young and kind of cute. Looked like he might have a few bucks on him. At least he was clean. So many of these guys smelled like sweat and urine. He smelled like soap.

“I got ten dollars,” Baby Brother said, still smiling, trying to make it sound like a hundred.

Ten dollars.
That pretty much blew Brandi’s Busy Boy fantasy. He probably didn’t carry anything smaller than a fifty.
Who was she kidding?
This was a long way from Vegas, but she was still at work and ten bucks was still ten bucks.

She sighed. “Let me see it.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his last ten-dollar bill. She took it without looking and smiled at him again.

“Thank you, baby. I’m gonna give you something really special.”

Brandi closed her eyes and tried to conjure up her fantasy again. She turned around in his lap so Johnny couldn’t see her initiating contact and put Baby Brother’s hands on her breasts while she rocked and rolled her hips against him. On the stage, Keisha was just going through the motions, but Brandi was pulling out all the stops. She rocked her behind just like she did onstage, and when Baby Brother groaned, she pretended it was Busy Boy she was driving crazy.

“Oh yeah, baby,” she said, feeling his excitement and her own. As long as she kept her eyes closed, this
was
Busy Boy.

Baby Brother groaned again, realizing he was about to climax right there sitting at that little scuffed-up table in this hellhole of a strip joint.

“Come on, baby.” She urged him on, moving faster and faster. “You know you want to.”

No longer caring about the rules, he held on for dear life until Brandi arched her back, threw back her head, and did something that felt so good to him that he did come.
They both did.
Baby Brother groaned once more and it was over.

Brandi couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a real sexual response to a paying customer. She opened her eyes and stood up. That’s when she saw General watching her from the dark end of the bar. Something about the way he was staring made her nervous, although there was no reason for it. She was at work. If a guy paid five dollars, he got a lap dance. If he paid ten, he got a little extra.

“Come back and see me,” she said, moving toward General without a backward glance, leaving Baby Brother plucking at his sticky clothes and trying to think of something to say.

A couple of more guys had come in and Keisha was giving one of them a lap dance that didn’t seem to be doing much for him or her. Johnny was talking on the phone and General was sipping his scotch.

“Hey, baby,” she said. “What you doin’ in here so early? Want me to dance for you?”

“You going to give me the same dance you just gave that yellow nigga?”

Brandi froze. The harshness of his tone surprised her. “What you mean, baby? You know I’m at work.”

“That didn’t look like work to me.”

How General recognized a real orgasm from the fakes she usually served up in his bed, she didn’t know, but she just played it off. “That’s because I’m good.”

He jerked his big head in Baby Brother’s direction. “How long you been knowin’ this guy?”

“I don’t know him,” she said, getting more annoyed by the minute. “He’s a nigga with fifteen bucks to buy my time. This is my job, remember?”

General knew that as well as she did, but he was getting tired of seeing this young fool everywhere he went. He hadn’t been in West End for more than two weeks and he had already overstayed his welcome. “Well, maybe you need to find another one.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He put down his drink. “It means I don’t want you doing any more lap dances. You stick to the stage from now on.”

“You got no claim on me,” she said. He was acting like a jealous husband, and if she’d wanted one of those, she’d have gotten married. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I please, and anytime you don’t like it,
you can kiss my black ass.
”

She turned away to illustrate her point and there it was. Juanita’s birthmark right there at the small of Brandi’s back.
What was wrong with him tonight anyway?
It wasn’t her fault she was doing this for a living and it wasn’t his job to make her feel bad about it. His job was to give her a better option.

He reached out and grabbed her arm before she walked away, but she shook him off like a bad kid defying the principal.

“Get off me!”

The few other patrons were all down by the stage waving money at Keisha. Only Johnny at the bar was watching General and his star dancer out of the corner of his eye. He hoped Brandi’s smart mouth didn’t write any checks that beautiful ass couldn’t cash.

“I’m sorry,” General said, dropping his hand. He had to admire her spirit. She wasn’t scared of him even though she probably should have been.

She rubbed her arm, pouting now. “You should be sorry. I ain’t doin’ nothin’ but workin’ and here you come, actin’ all crazy.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“What you think?”

“I think we both need a vacation.”

Her eyes searched his face for a clue as to what he was talking about. “What you mean?”

“I mean I made some calls and put some things in place.”

“What kind of things?” She was smiling again, hopeful.

General smiled back at her. “The things a brother needs to show a lady Las Vegas for the first time.”

“When?”
She was barely able to contain her excitement.

“Two weeks from today.”

“You not just sayin’ it ’cause I got mad before, are you?”

“No.”

He wanted her to turn around again so he could see the mark on her back, but she squealed and threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the mouth right there in the middle of Montre’s. At the end of the bar, Johnny let the no-contact rule slide, relieved at a happy ending.

“Oh, baby, I can’t wait! You too good to me, you know that?”

He smiled and finished his drink in one long gulp. She didn’t move away from him, just stood there smiling like all was forgiven.

“Am I gonna see you later?”

“How about now?” he said, suddenly not wanting to wait for her. Suddenly wanting to hold her body close. Wanting to sex away the image of her bouncing Juanita’s mark around in that young
nigga’s
lap.

“Now?” She glanced at Johnny, who was back on the phone.

“Right now.”

Brandi grinned. Obviously, Johnny was not a problem. General had it covered, and as long as she was his woman, she had it like that, too.

“Let me get my coat,” she said. “I’ll meet you out back.”

By the time she came outside, General was sitting in the car with the motor running and Baby Brother was gone.