Down On My Knees (19 page)

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Authors: Victor McGlothin

BOOK: Down On My Knees
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“If that's your best,” she said, chuckling to keep from crying,“I'd hate to see your worst.”
After Grace huffed and puffed hard enough to leave her breathless, Edward flashed a phony smile that barely passed for a real one. “I'm not standing here to deliberate what I've done or haven't done. I've come to realize that I want to be a part of our son's life despite missing a huge part of it.”
“I've got to go, Edward. My son needs me at this very moment, and I'm not in the habit of letting him down, so step aside before we're both very sorry you didn't.”
As Grace pushed past him, he stifled her getaway once again by grabbing her arm. “You telling me that I can't see my son!” Edward hollered, for all to hear. “Have you turned into one of these bitter black women who have no problems cashing the checks but won't let a good man get to know his own child, huh? Is that it?”
Grace felt her knees knocking. Her heart was pounding so hard that she could have sworn she heard it thump inside her chest. Choking back her rage, she took out a tissue and wiped her nose. “Somebody'd better—” was all she'd managedto say before Wallace appeared and wedged himself in the middle of a bad situation about to get a lot worse.
“Grace, let's go,” he ordered, staring down Edward like a guard dog prepared to tear him limb from limb.
“You know you're wrong, Grace!” Edward howled from the doorway after Wallace led her outside. “I thought you were better than this!”
“Just keep moving,” Wallace insisted, when Grace consideredgoing back to what Edward had started. On second thought, she jerked past Wallace's grasp but he blocked her path. “Believe me, whatever you're thinking, you'll regret it in the morning.”
“I can't believe him! I could kill him! He hadn't been around for thirteen years. Thirteen! And now he has the audacityto challenge me about
my
son,” she ranted, stomping angrily on the sidewalk in front of the hotel. “I don't believe this.” Grace looked at Wallace as if he understood her pain. “It's so ridiculous, it's freaking unbelievable.” Out of the blue, Grace ripped off her shoes and started back inside the hotel again. Wallace chased after her, wrangled his arms around her waist and scooped her off the ground. The valet attendants watched as the wild woman kicked and clawed to get free. “You don't get it! Let me go Wallace! Let me go!”
“Grace! Stop it! I don't have to get it. I just have to be here for you. Please calm down,” he pleaded. “Let's get you away from here.” He whistled for the valet. The young man raced over, undecided about what he should do. “Get this lady her keys,” Wallace instructed impatiently then handed him Grace's claim ticket. The attendant winked at Wallace and then bolted in the opposite direction.
Grace turned away from Wallace, folded her arms across her chest, and fought back a river of tears. When the valet returnedto announce that he couldn't find her keys, Grace was livid. “What? Ahhh, that's all I need. These fools have lost my keys, and my child is stranded on the wrong side of town. Hey!” she growled, like someone about to come unglued. “Get the manager over here, now!” she demanded with unbridledanger.
“Yes, ma'am, I'm the manager,” Mitchie answered, appearinggenuinely concerned for her safety, as well as for his. A woman who was kicking, screaming, and smelling of wine would be enough to turn him on if they were alone or at his place, but that wasn't the case. This woman was causing quite a stir, and in public.
“If someone doesn't come up with my keys, I'll have all of you arrested for theft,” Grace threatened. “Believe me, I'm the wrong sistah to mess with!” she screamed.
Mitchie scratched his head, dug into his pocket, and pulled Grace's car keys out like an accomplished magician in grand ta-da fashion. He shook his head, then looked at Wallace for affirmation. “You sure?” he asked apprehensively. Wallace held out his hand and took them from Mitchie before Grace had the chance to. Mitchie stated, “Sorry, ma'am, but you look like you've had too much to drink, and I can't be held responsible for letting you get behind the wheel.”
“It's not up to you,” she barked at the attendant. “Wallace, give me my keys so I can go.”
“Sorry, Grace, but I can't do that. You're not in any shape to drive.”
Grace charged at him, frantically reaching for what rightfullybelonged to her. “Give them to me,” she insisted. “André needs me. He's out on the streets somewhere waiting for me.”
“Mitchie, toss mine to me,” Wallace asserted when he saw his plan couldn't have worked out better. Only now, the crisis was real. Grace did need him, and he was there for her. Wallace held firmly to her waist with one hand as he caught his keys with the other one. “Thanks, Mitch, it'll be okay.”
“That's what he thinks, Mitchie!” Grace mocked. “I'm pressing charges on the whole lot of you first thing tomorrowmorning.”
Wallace shook off her idle threats, suggesting to the valet manager that she didn't mean it. “It's cool, man. Trust me, it's cool. I got this.”
After Wallace was forced to throw Grace over his shoulderto transport her to his car, Linda appeared at the stand to retrieve hers. “What happened up here?” she asked, as people gossiped about some drunken woman throwing one whale of a fit.
“Just an ordinary night at the Hotel Grande,” Mitchie answered.“A woman who drank too much about to get cozy with a man who needs to get over his love for horses. Yep, two crazy people falling in love,” he added, scratching his head. “Tickets please!”
Linda sauntered closer to the curb. She watched as Wallacewrestled Grace into his shiny, gold-colored Jaguar. Sheliawandered out with her big spender in tow. “Linda, I heard there was a big commotion out here.”
“Uh-huh, Linda replied plainly.
“They said something about a woman getting ig'nant, pulling off her pumps and everything.”
“Uh-huh, that's the story.”
“Hey, did you ever see Grace after she was all stank-a-dank-dankwith the schoolteacher?”
“Uh-huh,” Linda answered once more. “I saw her getting carried off into the night by a real live caveman. That schoolteacherwasn't taking no for an answer.”
Shelia stared toward the parking lot along with Linda, trying to see what had her friend so starry eyed. “Guess Grace changed her mind, huh?”
“Uh-uh,” Linda corrected her with a warm smile. “Looks like that schoolteacher changed it for her.”
20
Twisted
T
he Jaguar whisked through late-night traffic after Grace told Wallace where to find Skyler's broken-down whoop-die.She sat in the passenger seat, stomping mad with mascarastaining her taut cheeks. Grace stared out of the side window and shook her head.
The entire scene was somethingright out of a movie
, she thought. A very bad movie where the single mother had to deal with her baby-daddy after he hopped on the next plane and ditched her and their son for a promising career, then married the first chick he met as soon as his feet touched down. Grace knew about Edward'sother family. Their mutual friends had kept her in the loop throughout the years until she refused to listen any longer. She'd seen it all before, but this time, it was happeningto her, although she couldn't understand why or how.
“Now that you've given everyone something to talk about, maybe you're through with the likes of Edward Swenson,” Wallace said before pressing his lips tightly to hold in his negative feelings about Grace's ex. She let his words soak in while she gawked at his white dinner jacket, realizing it was like the one Edward wore.
“Don't tell me that you and Edward belong to the same chapter!” she yelled, pulling on her pumps. “Oh no, one messed-up frat rat is enough for me. Let me outta this car.” Grace had gotten herself worked up all over again. “Is that why you took me away from there, to save him from me?”
“Don't be ridiculous, Grace. I was thinking only of you,” Wallace professed honestly. “I wouldn't have minded seeing you get prehistoric on him, but that's beside the point. You may have had good reason, but you lost it, and that was not cool.”
“Like I care what you think is cool! I don't even know why you stuck your nose in my business in the first place. It's not like you have anything to do with me and my lame excusefor a baby-daddy anyway,” she ranted. “Uhhhgh, I hate him!” Grace slammed her foot against the dashboard, stubbingher toe. “Ouch, ouch, ouch!” she wailed. “I think I broke it.”
“Yeah, my glove box is busted thanks to you.”
“What, your glove box? I was talking about my toe, and all you can think about is a piece of plastic?” When Grace looked up at Wallace, after rubbing her right foot, she squinted. He was smiling, actually smiling, while she sat there, utterly pissed. “Did I miss a joke? Huh, Wallace, is this funny to you?”
“Yeah, kinda,” he answered, laughing now. “Yep. It's funny that you'd think I cared more about any part of this car than what you've had to go through tonight. You were so mad when you tore off those high heels and tried to run back inside with them, poised to strike. I couldn't let it go any further than it already had.”
Without warning, a faint semblance of a smile parted Grace's lips. “I guess it must've been a little funny in a twisted animalistic-mother-protecting-her-young sorta way.”
“Yeah, that's ... what I meant,” Wallace mused, laughing harder than before. “You're really something. You know that?”
Grace sighed, still feeling around for broken bones. “Humph, I don't know what happened. I had it all together once, I really did. Nothing bothered me,” she said, for the sake of sharing how things used to be. “I didn't let anything get under my skin. I had it all together, then, poof, the hinges came off.”
“Good,” was Wallace's sole response.
“Good? What's so good about it?”
“It's good that you realize your perfect world isn't so perfect.”
Grace adjusted herself in the leather seat before questioninghis statement. “Is that supposed to be some Shakespeareanphilosophizing, or are you playing Dr. Phil now?”
“Neither,” he answered, again with a one-word reply.
“Then how do you feel justified sitting there all smug, psychoanalyzing my life and telling me what you think is good about it?”
Wallace exited the interstate near the downtown area. Prostitutes patrolled the boulevard, while degenerates went up and down the block to pick over forbidden fruit. “I'm not saying that I have all the answers, but I know when God is trying to tell me something. Maybe it's your turn to listen.”
“So, now you're preaching to me? You just don't stop,” Grace ranted. “I-I listen to God plenty, and we get along just fine. I know Jesus. Talking to me like I don't know Jesus. You've got some nerve.”
Wallace smiled because Grace was still fuming, and he enjoyed seeing her raw, uninhibited emotions run amuck. He circled the block until he spotted an abandoned car with the hood up. “That might be it up there,” he said, pointing up the road.
Grace leaned forward to get a better look at the idle car. “Yeah, that's Skyler's jalopy, but I don't see the boys.” She took out her cell phone and called home, but no one answered.“I pray that nothing happened to them. This is not a good place to hitchhike, and I told that boy not to accept any rides from strangers.” As she punched in another phone number, she glared at Wallace. “I'll get back to you in a minute. Don't think I'm letting you off the hook.” Wallace heard her as he continuously scouted their immediate surroundingsfor signs of foul play and carjackers. “Miss Pearl, this is Grace. Have you seen the boys since they left for the basketball game?” she asked frantically. “Oh, that's great. Are they okay? Who? Yes, ma'am. I'll be right there. Thanks. Bye.” She placed the phone back in her purse and cast a narrow-eyedstare at Wallace. “Since you know so much about everything, tell me, why are you driving an expensive car, single, and probably living with yo' mama?”
“Ooh, that's cold,” Wallace chuckled. “Shrewd.”
“Well? I may not have it all figured out either, but what about your situation? How can a teacher afford such a nice car, and why did you get involved in the fight between me and Edward back at the hotel? Up at the corner, take a left,” she added as an afterthought.
“Not that it's any of your business, and I'm not one to put mine on a hotel sidewalk, but I'll tell you anyway. I have a side hustle, from teaching. I got involved tonight because I've had my share of bad run-ins with Edward too. I'm interestedin you, and because coming to your rescue was the right thing to do.” Wallace pulled into the parking lot of an open-all-night McDonald's. He looked over at Grace to note her reaction, but she wouldn't return his gaze.
He rescued me, how chivalrous
, she thought.
I've never been rescued before. Hmmm ... now what?
“Why are we here?” Grace asked, as if the lights had just come on.
Wallace stroked his chin while looking her over. “It wouldn't be such a good idea to let André see you like that.”
Grace flipped down the sun visor, then opened the flap over the small vanity mirror. She wanted to scream when she saw a pair of raccoon eyes staring back at her. “Ehhhh. You mean I've been looking like this the whole time?”
“Yep, I'm afraid so.”
“Shoot, looks like I needed more than rescuing. A washclothand a makeover would do for starters,” Grace complained.
“Uh-huh, that's why we're here,” Wallace answered knowingly.
Grace shot another stinging glare at him for being a know-it-all. “Okay, I'll give you this one, but don't think this means anything. I'll be right back.”
“And I'll be right here.” Wallace fought back a chuckle begging to get out as Grace contemplated making another smart remark to even the score. “Is there something you wanted to say to me?” he baited her.
“You're not what I expected,” she mumbled, as if it pained her greatly to admit she was thankful for all of his generosity.
As Wallace watched Grace sashay into the fast-food restaurant, he felt as if he could read her mind. “You're welcome,” he said quietly. “You're welcome.”
The second Grace entered the restroom she recoiled at the sight of a woman dressed in a tight, short Lycra dress with a leopard print washing herself in the sink. Grace turned to leave, but the woman stopped her. “Uh-uh, you ain't got to go. I'm almost done,” she offered kindly. “At least it's still early. They got a lot of soap tonight.”
Not certain what to do, Grace leaned up against the door and tried to concentrate on something other than the streetwalkerwashing herself in the hand basin. Unexpectedly, Grace realized that her recent experience didn't come close to rivaling the prostitute's daily existence. In the morning, Grace's world would be a much better place. She knew the reverse wasn't the same for her new acquaintance.
Once the basin was tidied up and all hers, Grace thanked the woman and handed her all of the cash she had, sixty-five dollars. “This isn't much but I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate your kindness,” Grace told her.
“Ain't this somethin',” the working girl responded, holdingthe folded bills up for inspection. “I saw you sitting out in that Jag, honey, but I can't take this.”
“No, it's all right. Really,” Grace insisted.
“You ain't got to tell me twice. Business must be real good in the hood, but if 'n that trick beat on you, you deserve to keep every penny.” She'd assumed the worst because Grace had been crying.
“No, I just had a very bad evening.” Grace didn't have the heart to explain things to the woman whose woes ran much deeper than hers. “Take care of yourself out there,” Grace said as her company tucked the money inside her bra for safekeeping.
“You too, honey. Don't let 'em get the best of you.”
After Grace made up her face as best she could, she settledback into the car with Wallace. Her countenance was noticeably different. She smiled as the streetwalker waved good-bye to her from the curb. “Okay, let's go,” Grace said softly.
“What was all that about?” Wallace questioned.
“Girl talk. You wouldn't understand.” She nestled against the seat with a new lease on life and a definite respect for women having to do what they saw fit to survive. It felt good helping out a fellow female, even if the money ended up in her pimp's pocket. As far as Grace was concerned, at least it allowed the woman to take a pass on a few tricks if she wanted to and cool her heels in the meantime.
“Wow, talk about impressive.” Wallace was surprised when Grace pointed out the cutest little house on the block as the one Skyler lived in with his grandmother.
Grace admired the new paint job, done in white, with neatly trimmed green accessories, resurfaced roof, iron fence, and rosebushes to set it off. “Yeah, I like it too,” she agreed. “But we have to get our story straight, because André is going to be full of questions when he sees me with you.”
“Right, right.” Wallace gave Grace a brief once-over and then submitted his suggestions. “First thing, lose the panty hose.”
Initially, she refused. “Excuse you. You would enjoy the show, but I'm not taking off my panty hose in this car with you sitting two feet away. Uh-uh. Not gonna do it.”
“I'm just saying, André could get the wrong idea. The hose are torn. You're rolling up with me. He sees something that isn't there. I'd hate for him to lose respect for you over nothing.”
“I see what you mean,” Grace acquiesced begrudgingly. “Turn your head,” she demanded. “I don't want
you
to go getting the wrong idea either.” Wallace did as he was told, althoughhe did sneak a peek when she slid her dress up in order to wiggle the hose past her hips. Grace caught him looking but kept it to herself. She would have had more of a problem if he hadn't copped a freebie. He was a man, after all. “Okay, now I'm ready.”
“Not quite. Touch up your lipstick so it doesn't look like I've stolen a few kisses on the way over,” Wallace suggested. Grace popped the vanity mirror again and nodded. That wasn't a bad idea.
“That oughta do it. Now, what's our story?”
“Don't ask me, I draw the line at lying to children,” Wallacejoked.
“Thanks for nothing. That's just like a man to clam up when the going gets rough,” she hissed harmlessly. “I got it. I'll simply tell him that I couldn't get to my car when he called. If he doesn't buy it, I'll tell him shut up, sit down, and be still. That's worked fine up 'til now.”
Grace stepped out, adjusting her dress and imagining the look on her son's face when he got a load of Wallace sitting in the driveway. That's when she hoped to avoid being forced to lie to children herself. Both antsy and tired, Grace tapped lightly at the brand new screen door.
André gushed with glee as he opened up. “Ma, me and Sky,” he began to tell her until she corrected him. “Uh, Sky and I were waiting on you, but this fly Benz rolled up, and guess who was in it? Allen Foray! He said he saw us sitting in his guest seats and wondered where you were. You said not to accept rides from strangers, and everybody knows Allen, so we got him to bring us here. Please don't be mad, Ma, you said you wouldn't be mad.” André gasped for air after his long dissertation and waited for Grace's approval.

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