“Well let’s go have some cake,”
On our way up the stairs, we heard what sounded like the screams of a dying dog.
We got to the living room to find Coco doing her rendition of Gladys Knights “Neither One of Us.” Everyone was looking at each other trying desperately not to laugh.
Coco ended the song with a dog whistle high note, and everybody clapped and laughed hysterically. The next song to play was. “The Cleanup Woman” by Betty Wright.
It had all the ladies grabbing dudes by the hand to dance. I was sipping on some sauce watching the older crowd get down when someone tapped me on the shoulder.
“Hey friendly. You wanna dance with me?”
I turned around to see Dimples standing there wearing a peach-colored summer dress. Her hair was down, and she smelled like spring flowers.
“Sure Sis, let’s dance.”
We jumped on the floor and freaked the latest moves for three songs then went and grabbed a glass of champagne.
“Nice suit! You look good tonight, Moses.” Dimples said.
This moment was the first time she had called me by my name, and for some reason, I didn’t think she knew it. Now she was cocking her neck back like she had trapped me into admitting I didn’t know her name, which I didn’t. I decided to wing it.
“You look good too, Dimples.”
She smiled even though it wasn’t her name. She had never heard it before from me.
“My father use to call me that.” She said like I had pulled out a portrait from the past.
“Well, it fits. You have a beautiful smile.”
We stared at each other until it was socially uncomfortable. Suddenly the lights were turned off, and Dimples slightly jerked toward me like I was going to protect her from the dark.
A barrage of red and white torch candles soon lit up the room. Simone and Stacy were wheeling out the cake. Soon as it was coming out, everyone started clapping. After all the applause stopped, they turned the lights back on, unveiling a cake that would have been big if this were a wedding. The ooh’s and ahh’s were endless. There was a mad dash for paper plates. The cake line was so long that it curved into the next room. I didn’t understand the rush as big as that cake was we could have all had seconds, thirds and fourths.
After the feeding frenzy, everyone followed Slim into the front room to watch him open gifts.
Christmas had undoubtedly come early for Slim; his daughters bought him a mahogany humidor with a picture of the bar engraved on it.
Slim’s wife Sylvia gave him a gold Cartier watch. Big Walt, Black Jack, and Earl Hayes bought him twenty open tickets to fly anywhere in the world.
With all of those big-ticket items, I was beginning to get a little nervous about my gift.
Slim opened a few more gifts, and then he was unwrapping mine. I had grabbed the pictures so quick I wasn’t sure which one I picked.
Slim looked at the picture with his mouth ajar.
It was a picture of Uncle Bird, Slim, Priest and myself at a picnic.
We were just kids, sitting on their shoulders.
“I love it!” Slim exclaimed.
“Is this from you Moses?” he asked.
“It’s from me, Priest and Henry,” I said.
I knew Priest didn’t get anything, but he wished he had at that point.
“Thanks a lot of fellas. This picture brings back a lot of memories.”
After that everyone formed a line and started pinning C-notes on
Slim, so many he began to look like a mummy.
After a few hours, the fast pace of the party was slowing down. A
James Brown selection, “It's a Man’s World” was playing when I got another tap on the shoulder.
“One last dance?”
It was Dimples. I looked at Dimples and smiled, and gently took her by the hand to the dance floor.
“Are you still going to come to the bar?” Dimples asked as we danced.
“I don’t know? I don’t know if I have a reason to, now.”
“I decided to stay there under the new management until I find something else.” Dimples said.
“Well, in that case, I’ll have to make a few visits.”
The song was ending; I heard someone shouting my name from across the room. Both Dimples and I turned to see that it was Slim.
We broke our rhythmic embrace and Dimples gave me a light punch in the stomach.
“You better come to visit.”
“Without a doubt. Dimples.”
We both smiled as we departed.
Walking toward Slim, I could see him standing with the only white dude at the party. They were both holding cigars and drinks, smiling like they were posing for a picture.
The guy with Slim was Mr. Furtunato, who we called Mr. F. He was in his late forties and stood about six feet tall, tan hair slicked all the way back, and sharply dressed. He had on a two-piece black pinstripe, a black and white tie and a pair of Salvatore Faragomos that I almost bought at Saks.
Mr. F was an insurance lawyer and a longtime business associate of Slims. He was the one who talked me into the private investigating thing, even going as far as putting his money where his mouth was giving me tons of clients for the first year and a half.
I still spoke to him from time to time, and in my eyes, he was one of the good guys.
He spoke with a Cajun accent and had all the cool of an old jazz musician.
When we greeted each other, our handshake turned into an embrace.
“My main man Moses! How have you been a brother? You staying out of trouble?”
“For as long as I can,” I replied with a smile.
“This boy looks sharp. Your private eye must have gone public.”
“I’m just trying to keep up with you.”
“I still got work for you if you need it.”
“That’s music to my ears, but right now my plate is full.”
Mr. beamed with pride, “Well that’s music to mine.”
“So, you cats working on your next million or what?”
They looked at each other and laughed.
“Youngblood, we’re still working on our first,” Slim stated with pride.
I admired these older cats and had often thought that if in the future my life would even slightly resemble theirs; I’d be very lucky.
We toasted the evening, shot the breeze and Sambuca until most of the partygoers were gone.
I saw Priest coming our way looking like he had way too much to drink, but then again who hadn’t.
“Uncle Slim,” Priest said. “I want to apologize for everything. I know sometimes I put my foot in my mouth, but this time I feel like I went knee-deep, and I really couldn’t blame you if you just hauled off and checked my chin.”
Slim was expressionless. Mr. F and I watched for Slim’s response.
Slim drew back like he was about to knock Priest into next week.
Priest stood there with his shoulders back and his chin up, he was ready to accept it; Slim threw a quick right hook-headed for Priest’s jaw. But then re-routed it around his neck, Slim had pulled Priest into a halfhearted headlock, smiling and biting down hard on his toothpick.
“Do you know how much grief you put me through? I hadn’t lost this much sleep since my honeymoon,” Slim said letting Priest out of the headlock.
“I still love you though, Youngblood,” Slim said giving Priest a slight heavy-handed slap on the face. Then they embraced.
“I love you too, Uncle Slim.” Priest said.
Just then, Vegas was walking over holding a bottle of champagne.
“Now that we’re one big happy family, I’d like to propose a toast.”
It was like the one-hundredth toast of the evening, but everyone was way too drunk to decline. Vegas poured all of our glasses full, unbuttoned his suit stroked his tie, cleared his throat and raised his glass.
“Life is a beach, and in the ocean of opportunity, waves of weak hustlers crash upon the shore. Leaving endless clams t
o claim, upon the sands of time, and you can have their money but don’t fuck with mine!”
We all doubled over with laughter slapping hands and backs.
Priest and I said our good-byes to Slim and Sylvia then staggered around trying to find our designated driver Henny.
After a brief search, we found him in the basement shooting dice on the pool table with Fleetwood, Willie Spade, Earl, and Black Jack.
Henny was rolling. As soon as we reached the table, Black Jack screamed, “Little Joe from Kokomo, I’m gonna stay with you on that, young Bird.”
“It’s time to ride, Henny.” Priest said, trying to keep his balance.
Henny turned looking us up and down.
“Y'all drunk as hell! Gimmie a minute, let me make my point real quick, I’m already up four grand.”
“Quit stalling the dice, young Bird,” Earl shouted.
Henny kissed the dice and tossed them. They came up double deuces. He had made his point right back. Everyone except Black Jack was frowning, throwing their money at Henny.
“Damn boy, you roll dice like yo’ Daddy.” Black Jack said smiling.
“Fellas take this’ boy home before I’m broke,” Fleetwood said.
“I haven’t lost this much money since my third divorce,” Sighed Earl Hayes.
“Extra money makes mo’ money, Young Bird. Don’t spend it all in one place.” Willie Spade said, completing the chorus of sore losers.
“Well fellas,” Henny said, brasher than Cassius Clay. “It’s been a pleasure; I hope I’ve left you all with enough money to get home, if not I’m sure my Uncle Slim will let you crib here for the night.”
Everyone but Black Jack looked annoyed at Henny’s celebration. We all said our goodbyes and headed to the car. It was almost five o’clock in the morning.
Henny managed to drive me to the crib. I barely climbed up the stairs and opened the door when I saw Melody sleeping like a baby. I don’t know if it was the alcohol or the fact that she was silent, but I started to think it wasn’t all that bad having her around.
August 18, 1996
The sound of Lauryn Hill crooning rattled me out of my sleep. I felt like my head had been run over by a tractor. I cleared my fuzzy vision to see Melody dancing in the middle of the room.
My stomach was still full of alcohol, and my head was vibrating to the bass-line and exploding off every snare. I slowly got up from the bed and lurched over to the stereo like Frankenstein’s monster to turn it off. Melody quickly turned around like I had shut off her oxygen supply.
“Hey!” Melody yelled. “I was listening to that Moses!”
I tried to summon the strength for verbal combat but couldn’t. I even decided to look in her direction, but I couldn’t lift my eyes without feeling the pain of a migraine.
“Moses you are inconsiderate, all you had to do is wait for the song to go off or at least let me turn it down!”
I tried to block out her voice, but even the sight of her was like sunlight to a vampire.
I raced to the bathroom as if I was Dr. Jeckell turning to Hyde and ransacked the medicine cabinet, searching for aspirin or Alka Seltzer or any cure for my hangover.
I couldn’t find anything. I looked in the mirror and almost scared myself. I still had on the suit from last night, my eyes were dark and sagging, my lips were chapped, and my breath smelled like sewage. I looked like a zombie or some evil voodoo priest. And I felt ten times worse.
Melody walked in behind me. “That must have been some party, Lil’ brother, cause’ you look like shit. You don’t need to be hanging with those hard-drinking old dudes. You’ll find yourself in a twelve step program.”
I came real close to putting Melody in a chokehold. Instead, I coaxed her into going to the store to bring me back a remedy. She came back with three grocery bags filled with ingredients for several homemade concoctions.
Melody looked like an evil scientist whipping up her witchcraft medication that ranged from tomato juice with hot sauce to honey lemon tea with red peppers.
I began to feel like she was trying to poison me. I made it halfway to recovery with a turkey sandwich and Alka-Seltzer, and then the phone rang. Of course being aware of my condition, I naturally thought Melody would pick it up, but it rang about four times.
“Moses, get the phone it might be William, if it’s him tell 'em, I’m not here, and you haven’t seen me,” Melody said handing me the phone.
“Hello.”
“Hello Moses, this is William. I’m sorry to wake you. Is Melody there?
I held the phone out for Melody. She was shaking her head no like
I was attacking her with an ax.
“No, William she is not here, and I haven’t seen her.”
Melody seemed satisfied. When I hung up the phone, she gave me a big hug. It made me comfortable enough to have her finish her Florence Nightingale routine and fix me another sandwich. I finally took off my suit and laid down lifeless on the bed trying to unscramble my brain and listening to Melody on the phone complaining to her girlfriends.
I had devoured so much firewater that I had lost a whole day. As I laid there in a semi-coma, I swore to myself that I’d never drink again. Then I thought at least not tomorrow.
August 19, 1996
I woke up to freshly brewed coffee, chirping birds, and smiling sunshine. I was well rested and felt fantastic; I went to the kitchen to see that Melody had left breakfast and a note letting me know that she had gone to work. It was around eleven o’clock in the morning. I casually ate glancing through the sports page thinking of today’s agenda when an alarm went off went out in my head. The balloon ride with Angel!
I got dressed, ran down the stairs to the sidewalk and remembered that my van parked outside of Priest’s crib. I flagged down a cab to go pick it up. On the way there I prayed that it wasn’t stolen or stripped. When I got there, I was happy to see the van parked, still intact. I saw Henny on the steps smoking a blunt.
“What’s up, Mo?” Henny shouted. “What’s going on, Hen?” I responded.
I didn’t have time to talk to him, but he was coming my way, so I wasn’t going to blow him off. I’d make it brief.
“Your boy was earlin’ like the exorcist yesterday. He recalled all that food from the party.” Henny said with delight.
“Oh yeah, where’s he now?”
“Upstairs knocked out; you should fall through after you take care your business.”
“It’s on,” I said getting in the van.
By the time I got to the gym, it was one o’clock I would usually be done with my work out a half an hour ago. I didn’t even get dressed. I walked room to room and didn’t see Angel anywhere. I did notice Marcus flirting with another client. I almost asked him if he had seen her but found it better to keep him in the dark. I walked into the coffee shop and saw her car parked. She was sipping on a cup of café mocha. She was sitting at the same table that we frequented.
I walked toward her slowly, expecting a barrage of where-have- you-been, but was taken off guard by a welcoming smile.
“Moses, I’m so glad you made it. I thought you might’ve been in some trouble.”
“Oh no Angel, I’m sorry I’m late, forgive me?”
“Aw, don’t be silly Moses. What’s important is that you’re here and we don’t have to cancel. Did you want to get a coffee first?
“Yes,” I said getting up to get another caffeine fix. On the way to the counter, I marveled at Angel’s attitude. Mr. Wilkes was missing out on a gem of a lady.
After we shot the breeze and finished our drinks, Angel grinned and announced like she was the mistress of ceremony.
“Are you ready to fly?”
Her childlike excitement was highly contagious.
“Let’s go, Angel. Let’s fly.” I said.
“Well take my car,” Angel said, reaching into her purse pulling out a pair of sunglasses.
We jumped in her ride. As she started up the car, the stereo blasted the sounds of
Erykah Badu, lending her falsetto to an up-tempo track.
The car's interior smelled like peaches and cream. Angel had a superhero grip on the steering wheel. When we got to a stretch of empty highway, she said, “Watch this.”
She floored on the gas and in a matter of seconds we were going a buck twenty-five. We got to a hilly part of the highway, and my stomach dropped to my ankles. She slowed as we pulled off an exit ramp. She was grinning with excitement. Our chests were noticeably moving up and down from shortness of breath. We stared at each other with shared experience. All I could think is let’s do it again.
When we arrived at the place in a rural part of town, a short Italian guy with a thick mustache and black curly hair greeted us.
“Welcome, welcome. You’re my darling must be Angel. All you’re missing are the wings.”
Angel smiled.
“My name is Francesco, and your name is sir,” He paused.
“Moses, nice to meet you,” I said.
“The pleasure is all mine. What a beautiful couple you two make.”
I was about to correct him when Angel looked at me and shrugged her shoulders at his comment.
“You couldn’t have picked a more wonderful day for a balloon ride. Just follow me.”
We followed Francesco to the back part of a farmhouse where we saw two rainbows colored hot air balloons.
“I can’t wait to do this. I’m so glad you came with me, Moses.”
There was that smile again, hypnotizing my judgment.
“I will be right back,” Francesco said, heading toward the house.
“Are you excited Moses?”
“Most definitely.” I was more nervous than excited; I was a city boy. If I was going to be in something flying, I wanted to have a jet engine, an in-flight movie and a pilot with a captain’s cap and suit instead of the blue jeans and T-shirt Francesco was wearing.
About five minutes passed when Francesco came out holding a
picnic basket.
“Are you ready to go?” Francesco said.
Moses Scriptures Page 11