West End Girls (13 page)

Unique had tried all night to talk to Marquis, but he wasn't having it. Not after she'd finally gotten a hold of Curtis and did nothing but beg him to come over. She felt stupid after he refused. As she sat at the table contemplating her life, her dreams, and the untouched birthday cake from Wednesday night, she dug in her bag for Derrick's card.

Just then the doorbell rang, and was followed by knocking. It resembled the cops' approach. Unique wasn't anticipating their visit, so it startled her. Had Marquis gone out and she hadn't noticed or heard him?

She raced through the living room to answer the door and saw that Marquis was on the sofa, deep into a video game. “Who is it?” she barked at him.

Marquis shrugged, continuing with the simulated car chase.

“Open the door!”

Unique pulled the door open when she heard Tanqueray's voice and more banging. “Girl, where you been?”

“What happened to the house? Where is Sinc—?”

“She's here. Where have you been?”

“You,
bioootch
!” Sinclair growled, suddenly appearing from the bedroom. She pulled the large gown that she slept in up on her narrow shoulders and slid the falling wide sleeves up to her elbows.

Unique couldn't tell if Sinclair was excited to see Tanqueray, or angry.

“This is all your fault!” Sinclair rushed through the living room, picking up the first thing within reach on her way, a nearly empty can of blackberry soda that Marquis had used to float his ice cream, and threw it at Tanqueray.

Tanqueray managed to block it, but burgundy droplets from the can stained all over her beautiful, semen-smelling designer gown. Tanqueray's lip's tightened and twisted, and she shook her arms, as if drenched with the liquid.

Cammie and Gina, who had both come from the room, covered their mouths and ducked their heads, amused by the sight.

“Sinclair!” Unique screamed.

Tanqueray wiped her dry face with the back of her hands.

“Tanqueray, it's just drops. Let me get a paper towel.”

“Do you know how much this dress cost? I'm gonna beat your ass!” Tanqueray, murder in her eyes, threw the shoes down on the floor and went after Sinclair.

The commotion caught Marquis' attention. “Ooooh!” he yelped, ducking his lunging aunt, not losing a beat on his game.

Sinclair clearly knew what was coming next but didn't stand there to wait for it. She broke running, screaming loudly as she tore through the small apartment, with a heated Tanqueray on her tail. Both girls jumped over children, furniture, and video games, screaming and cussing at each other as they ran around and around the living room, one in pursuit, the other in retreat.

“I'm gonna kill you!” Tanqueray barely missed Sinclair and hit the quickly locking door of Unique's bedroom instead, behind which Sinclair slid.

Marquis looked up from his game as if nothing had gone on over and around him. “Why you barefoot, Aunt Tang?”

“Don't you worry about it! I don't need my shoes to beat her head.” Tanqueray kicked the door, cracking the old wood.

Unique yelled at the top of her lungs, “I know you didn't just break my door! Y'all can't come up in here fighting and shit! I live quiet!”

Tanqueray laughed at Unique's comment. And Unique could hear Sinclair laughing now too. They were all together again, for better or worse. Right now, Unique wasn't sure whether it was the former or the latter.

“So what happened to the checks?” Unique asked, playing mediator after Sinclair came from the room, and they had promised not to fight anymore.

“I told you, there wasn't any checks,” Tanqueray insisted. “The letter came last month that said the checks weren't gonna come anymore. Debonair needed to recert, and obviously he didn't,” she answered animatedly.

“You're lying. I didn't see any letters from the county.”

“Look, you lil' heiffa, there wasn't any checks. I wasn't about to go down to that welfare office and humiliate myself for no few measly dollars.”

“Then who was paying for things?” Unique asked. “Debs been gone a long time.”

“He gave her money,” Sinclair growled. “He told me he did. She fucked it off.”

“You don't know shit. Deb didn't give me shit, with his punk ass. He didn't leave me nothing but debt. I had to come up with the rent and bills and all that myself.”

“Where you get money?” Unique asked, cautiously. She knew Omar wasn't no good. There was no way that pimp would just hand money over to her to take care of her family. And if she was holding out on him, he was gonna be coming after her soon.

“I've been hustling Omar's ass,” Tanqueray answered, “stealing his shit to pay yo' shit. Which is why I'm not there now.”

Great! More trouble!
Unique thought to herself. Everybody wanted something. Gold Mouth wanted money, and now a pimp would be showing up demanding even more money.

“And about that . . . tell me something,” Sinclair began. “Tell me why you running around in a party dress in the West End without your shoes on!” Sinclair burst into laughter.

Unique could tell that Sinclair believed what Tanqueray had told her. It seemed that the war was over, allowing them to move on to more important things.

“I wasn't running around. I had gone by to see you”—Suddenly Tanqueray's face twisted in disturbance. Her eyes widened in shock, she looked at Unique. “What the hell happened to the house?” she asked, her voice high-pitched.

“It got blown up by some guy with a mouth full of gold,” Sinclair said. “He threw a grenade. Oh my God! It was so scary, Tang. It was like we were in Europe or some shit like that. He just like threw it like,
Blam
! Talking about, give me my money and all that.” Sinclair put on an ugly face, trying to imitate Gold Mouth.

“Mouth full of gold? Don't know nobody around here wear fronts like that, 'cept—Lawd, please tell me Deb wasn't messing with that maniac!”

“Who?”

“I don't even want to say.” Tanqueray stood.

Unique felt nervous. Tanqueray looked truly upset at who Gold Mouth might be. “Well, can we talk to him,” Unique asked. “Reason?”

“You can't talk to that fool. He's crazy. And you said he had a grenade? Oh my God!” Tanqueray sighed, rubbing her head. “We just need to get the money. It's just that simple.”

Unique then noticed a light bruise on Tanqueray's forehead, and how messed up she looked. Where had she been? What on earth had happened to her? Had Omar beaten her up? Raped her? She smelled of sex too.

“Did he say how much?” Tanqueray asked Sinclair.

“No,” Sinclair answered, her tone quivering a bit as well.

“Then we need to go down to that jail and ask Deb. What a fool he is, getting involved with that guy. I tol' him.” Tanqueray smacked her lips.

“You wanna clean up?” Unique asked.

Tanqueray then looked around and then down at herself, suddenly realizing how dirty she was or how she might have smelled. “Yeah, I'ma need to clean up some, and grab some shut-eye before I go to see Deb tomorrow . . . because we can't wait on this.”

Tanqueray was sounding less than feminine now, all her girlie looks gone now. She looked almost like a soldier standing there in a raggedy designer gown. Yeah, it was raggedy, as far as Unique was concerned.

“Tanqueray, where have you really been?” Unique asked, again taking a cautious tone. “I've been calling you for days. Where is Omar?”

Tanqueray shifted her weight from one leg to the other and folded her arms tight. She'd been fighting memories for a minute, and now Unique was forcing her to think about her situation.

“Me and Omar are going through a rough patch. Like I said, he figured out I was taking money from him and—”

“Rough. Looks like he drug you through the mud.” Unique touched Sinclair's hand to silence her. Tanqueray smacked her lips and walked away from the table. “Give me something to change into, Nique. I'ma take a shower and go to bed. Got things to do tomorrow.”

Sinclair whispered, “Better give her some panties you don't need no more.”

Sinclair didn't sleep well at all after thinking about what Tanqueray had implied last night. She was torn between thinking Tanqueray was lying and just being dramatic, or telling the truth about them being in danger. Sleeping on the floor yet another night was the pits too, so all in all, it was a crappy night. She hadn't even dreamed about Finest the way she had planned to do.

She couldn't wait to move back into Mama's house. How much could it cost? Maybe she could just get some friends to rebuild it. She'd seen church people throw up a church in a weekend. Why not? Something good had to happen.

Lying on the floor for a few extra minutes, listening to all the breathing coming from the bed, Sinclair was amazed that all those bodies could be comfortable in one bed.
Hey, those are her babies, so they all must be comfortable up under her that way
, Sinclair thought.
I'm not thinking of having me no children, fo' sho
.
If I woke up pregnant tomorrow . . .
Sinclair's thoughts stopped there.

Being a virgin and pregnant within the same thought just didn't warrant her brainpower. Gathering the large robe around her, she got to her feet and shuffled out of the room into the living room. Tanqueray was already up and in the bathroom. She'd had the girl's room, with only Cammie as a companion.
How did she rate?

Sinclair knocked on the bathroom door. “Tang, I gotta get in there. I gotta go to work.”

The door opened, and Tanqueray looked beyond worn-out.

“Work? Where you working?”

“Me and Malcolm work together for—”

“Oh, like a little summer job. Well, you gonna have to wrap your mind around something bigger than that.”

Already Tanqueray was getting bossy.

Tanqueray turned back to the mirror, dotting Unique's foundation on the dark spot that looked like a bruise on her forehead, but the color didn't match. The darker-colored foundation stood off in bright contrast to her cinnamon complexion.

Sinclair had never really noticed how much darker Unique was than Tanqueray. She knew she had a different father, for sure. With her light skin and green eyes, that was more than obvious, but now Sinclair suddenly noticed the differences between Unique and Tanqueray too.
But they are only nine months apart. Surely, they have the same father, right?

“It's a real job.” Sinclair moved into the bathroom to take a pee. She didn't care that Tanqueray was in there, but it would have been nicer if she would get out.

“Yeah, well, I don't call collecting soda cans a job. But let me let you get ready for
werrrrrrk
.”

Tanqueray applied another coat of Unique's lip gloss. She'd combed her hair in a cute style, since all her hairpieces were still at Omar's, apparently, and the one she had was all jacked up. She'd taken it out, and it was now in the trash receptacle.

Tall and thin, with little bitty titties that men seemed to like a lot, biggo lips, and thick hair, Tanqueray looked good, but Sinclair wasn't going to tell her that.

Speaking of Omar, Sinclair didn't believe for one minute they were having a rough patch. It was obvious Omar had kicked Ms. Tanqueray to the curb. If it was even remotely true that he'd been giving her money to pay for the upkeep of the house, then he'd gotten tired of it. And if she had stolen it, like she said, he would've beaten her up worse than that knot on her head for sure. Something bigger than that had gone on. Sinclair was sure of it. But, no matter, Tanqueray was here now and could help with the more important things, like Mama's house. Oh, and this Gold Mouth situation.

Interestingly enough however, Tanqueray did seem to be getting ready to go somewhere. Maybe she really was going to see Deb today.

“Where you going?” Sinclair asked.

“I'm going to get my shit.”

“Excuse me?” Sinclair washed her hands and picked up her toothbrush.

“You heard me. I'm going to Omar's to get my stuff. It's worth a lot of money, and it's all mine.”

“So that's why you were running around in the dark, showing up over here all high and shit. You looked horrible last night—like a hooker.”

“Thanks for that compliment, lovey.” Tanqueray rolled her eyes. “But, no, and it's none of your business where I've been or what I've been doing, none of your business at all. But since curiosity got cho cat, I'm on my way to get my shit from Omar's right now. We've broken up, and just as in any relationship, I have a right to what's mines. You wanna come with me?”

“Why you want me to come?” Sinclair's tone gave away her suspicion that Tanqueray might be in some real trouble. She spat out the toothpaste, rinsed her mouth, and took a comb through her thick, bushy hair.

Tanqueray showing up last night in that dirty dress, looking all “tore back,” might have just been the tip of the iceberg, Sinclair reasoned now. Tanqueray lived real close to the wild side of life anyway, and as much as she'd like to call it sophistication, Sinclair knew there was nothing sophisticated about living off some pimp who fed you fancy clothes and pretty pills so that you could indulge him in his freaky fantasies.

When Tanqueray and Omar first got together a few months back, she had overheard Tanqueray's conversation with her best friend Kashawna over the phone. She was talking loud, pacing around the house with her cell phone on her ear. He sounded crazy, from what she overheard. And now she was trying to go over there and confront him, take a chance on him going off over some clothes.

“I want to get my shoes and clothes. I left a bunch of expensive shit over there, and I want it. You got BART money?”

“Yeah, I got BART money.”

“Then let's go. I'll pay you back once we get my stuff.”

“I have to go to work.”

“Tell Malcolm you and him can play later. I have real stuff to do.”

“I don't work for Malcolm.” Sinclair realized that Tanqueray had never seen her with Finest, so there was no way for her to know he was her boss and, hopefully soon, her boyfriend. “Besides, I thought you were going to see Deb?”

“I can't go out there right now. I don't need to talk about what we owe. I need to get paid. Come on with me,” Tanqueray said, changing her tone from aggressive to beseeching.

Sinclair looked her over, squeezed into Unique's too-small clothing. Unique's stuff was too big for her, but too small for Tanqueray.
So, yeah, she could use her clothes.
Sinclair wasn't looking forward to seeing Tanqueray dressed this way every day. She was used to seeing her fly, smelling good, and looking pretty. If nothing else, Tanqueray was a pretty girl.

Sinclair wasn't jealous of Tanqueray by any means. In fact, she admired her, in a way. She admired her confidence, even though she seemed kinda meek right now.

“You scared?”

“Hell nah.”

Tanqueray squinted her eye, like she usually did when lying through her teeth. Her ordinary lies, she normally hid well, but the big ones came through loud and clear. Right now, she was lying. She was scared. Sinclair could see it. There was no way she was going to let her sister do this alone. What if Omar jumped bad with her?

“Okay, I'll go with you.”