Jake motioned at the art. “You benefit from all my enemy has stolen from Africa.”
“Why do you keep talking to me? You are here for Dickie Bird, not me.”
“I’m putting you on the auction block. Evaluating your worthiness.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re the only trophy in the house that can talk.”
“I’m not a trophy.”
“Winning you represents success. Educated or not, intellectual or not, talented or not, you are the ultimate American trophy. Society says you’re worth more than a black man or woman.”
“More bullshit.”
“Each time I meet a woman I like, I try to understand why she is worth her weight in gold.”
“I’m just a girl from Compton who has moved twenty miles away to Pasadena.”
“But in America, are the smartest, better-educated black women worth as much as you?”
“What do you mean?”
“A pretty woman like you was recorded at a hotel. Peephole lawsuit. They awarded her fifty-five million. Black man was killed by a cop in front of his girlfriend and child, killed while complying with the colonialist’s commands, and his family was given only three million. Three million will make you rich for a few years, but fifty-five million makes you wealthy. The white woman was not dead. A white woman being insulted was worth more than a young black man’s life.”
“I’m being attacked based on the color of my skin.”
“Imagine how Michelle Obama has felt for eight years and counting.”
“I happened to be born what they call white. Same as I happened to be born a woman. I have no control over any benefits or detriments that came with my preexisting conditions.”
Jake Ellis chuckled. “See? You do know a few ten-dollar words.”
Head lowered, eyes wild, she frowned at him. “I don’t like people laughing at me.”
“Then laugh with me.”
“Shit ain’t funny. Not a goddamn thing.”
“Now I hear the Compton inside you.”
“Whatever.”
“You seem to have a good soul. But a woman with your preexisting conditions still has the power to point and lie about a black man and have a mob of Garretts come running with a rope. Woman like you told a lie and a city in Oklahoma ended up burned to the ground.”
“You’re a bigot. But you’re not the first bigot I’ve met. Can’t say this conversation is new either. I’ve been tiptoeing around racism all my life. Living in 90220 wasn’t like being in Malibu.”
“Really?”
“Wasn’t easy being white and almost everybody else was black or Mexican.”
“Bet the brown and black OJs were all over you.”
She paused, then surprised me. She chuckled.
“Look at that smile. Don’t lie. I bet you have a few Jungle Fever stories to tell.”
“I was a mud duck to the bone.”
“Body like a black woman and the advantages of being white.”
Mrs. Garrett smiled.
Jake Ellis. The intellectual enforcer with the golden tongue.
Garrett stared, nodded. Quiet. A quiet man was a calculating man.
A quiet man who smiled like a monkey baring its teeth was a dangerous man.
Monkeys smiled that way when they wanted to kill their prey.
A timer went off and everybody jumped.
Jake Ellis said, “The food is done.”
Mrs. Garrett said, “Smells real good. Smells like we’re in a five-star restaurant.”
“Well, pretty woman, I hope you are hungry.”
“I’m starving.”
Mr. Garrett said, “Woman, don’t touch the food. It could be poisoned.”
“Dickie Bird, let’s not be mean.”
Jake Ellis said, “Be ready for the best meal you’ve ever had.”
“You cooked?”
“I went to culinary school in Ghana before I went back for another degree in Nigeria.”
She paused, shocked, surprised. “Oh. Jesus. They have a school in Africa for that?”
Jake Ellis looked confused, then understood the mix-up. “Culinary means cooking.”
“Oh. Oh. I thought it was that other funny word that means . . . Jesus . . . never mind.”
“I have to ask.” Jake Ellis laughed. “Were you thinking of the word cunnilingus?”
“I am so embarrassed.” She laughed, turned red. “I went to junior college one semester. Then I met Dickie Bird, and everything changed. You went to a real university and learned all sorts of things. No wonder you talk that way. You’re the king of big words. You’re smart.”
“People are surprised when a black man is intelligent, shocked when a white man is not.”
Mrs. Garrett smiled like the woman Jake had just kissed outside of TGI Fridays.
CHAPTER 6
THE ENERGY BETWEEN Jake Ellis and Mrs. Garrett had changed. Mr. Garrett growled, frowned at me, saw I was just along for the ride. His wife moved two inches closer to Jake Ellis, continued chatting. I placed a meal in front of everyone, the food hot from the oven and stove.
Mrs. Garrett told Jake Ellis, “Maybe God placed you in my life at this moment.”
“For what purpose did your negligent God send me to be in your presence?”
She shook her head. “Outside of talking about killing everybody because you want to show them that you can be as evil as they can be, you have my mind on the awful prenup.”
“Break it down. Tell me about your prenup.”
Mr. Garrett spoke up. “Don’t. Woman . . . don’t. It’s not their business.”
She stared at her husband. Nostrils flared, she considered, then turned to Jake Ellis.
“If he divorces this woman, I get twenty thousand for each full year of marriage.”
“For each full year?”
“No prorating. I didn’t understand prorating at the time. I never used big words. I mean, pro usually means good, positive things, but in this case pro was like being conned.”
“Just twenty thou a year? That’s below the poverty line.”
“Poverty line is at twelve thousand dollars. Somewhere around that much. I have relatives so poor that two thousand a month to them would be like winning the California State Lottery.”
“Well, that’s not much better than poverty in California. You know twenty thousand here is like eight thousand in Mississippi or Arkansas. If you divorce, you’ll still need at least a part-time job.”
Mr. Garrett said, “That’s enough, Elaine. Time to shut your trap.”
Jake Ellis said, “Shut the fuck up before I become a nigger and shut you the fuck up.”
Mrs. Garrett shivered and her eyes watered; then she shook her head.
Jake Ellis asked, “Who was your lawyer? He needs his ass slapped until he’s disbarred.”
She sniffled. “Well, the lawyer is a woman.”
“She needs to be slapped twice for not looking out for your best interests.”
She looked at her husband. “I used his lawyer.”
Jake Ellis chuckled. “Using his attorney. That was smart.”
She shot her eyes back to Jake Ellis, nostrils flaring. “I know he railroaded me.”
Mr. Garrett reached for his woman’s hand. “This is done. Don’t upset my wife.”
She snatched her hand away. “My whole life I’ve been getting screwed over.”
Jake Ellis asked, “Why you use his lawyer? That was his army. That was the enemy.”
“She seemed nice. Until the two-faced bitch brought the papers when we were about to get married. I was in my wedding dress, and his lawyer marched in. Everyone was already at the church, and it was almost time for me to walk out, so I felt like I didn’t have much of a choice.”
&n
bsp; “He fucked you over. You’re in your prime. These are your best years.”
“I’m almost thirty-four with no kids. My prime is in my rearview.”
“These are still your baby-making years, if you want a baby.”
“Almost last call.” She sniffled. “So, how much do you think I should get?”
“I’d say he should pay at least a million for each year.”
“That’s a lot.”
“Look at your yard. I bet he pays at least one hundred thousand a year to keep it nice.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re sleeping in his bed and don’t think you should get more than the gardener?”
“He’d never agree to that much. Not for me.”
“I bet that snowflake can afford it. He pulled a fast one.”
Mr. Garrett sat calm, jaw tight, left hand opening and closing.
Mrs. Garrett returned her attention and aggravated body language to Jake Ellis, said, “Well, Dickie Bird said the money part was not important because we’d be together forever.”
“If it wasn’t important, then he should’ve said you could have it all if he ever filed.”
“Well, I didn’t think about that either. There was a lot of fast talk, double-talk, that made no sense, and again, I was in my expensive wedding dress, and people were waiting for me to appear. And the contract had big words, complicated phrases, and I felt stupid trying to stand there in front of people and pretend I understood what it all meant, so I just signed the bullshit.”
“He got you to sign and now you’re trapped because he’s holding all the cards. You know it’s true. I bet you’re scared to say something or do something because you’re afraid you’ll lose this lifestyle. You’re just another piece of furniture. Get old, start to look outdated, next thing you know a Salvation Army truck will pull up and drag you away like you’re a tax write-off.”
Her eyes watered. Her bottom lip quivered. She struggled to keep it together.
Mr. Garrett commanded, “Don’t listen to this troublemaker. He knows nothing about us.”
Mrs. Garrett wiped her eyes, voice shaking. “Why did I have to sign the prenuptial?”
Mr. Garrett cleared his throat. “It was standard. Everyone has one.”
“Did you have to put that in my damn face while I was in my wedding dress?”
“It had slipped my mind, and my attorney brought it to my attention at the wedding.”
“But it couldn’t have slipped your mind for four more hours?”
“I had forgotten. How many times do I have to say that I had forgotten?”
“Really? But you remembered it right before we married? That has haunted me ever since that day. I ain’t said nothing about it, but it haunted me. I felt like a fool standing in front of your attorney, and the bitch had papers for me to sign, and said if I didn’t sign them right then and there, there would be no damn wedding. I was in my wedding dress. I had my makeup on, so I couldn’t even cry. A woman can’t cry after she puts her makeup on. The lawyer wouldn’t let me leave the room. She told me that if I left, the wedding was off, so I had less than a minute to decide. My momma was right there next to me. So were my sisters. I felt like a goddamn fool. We were in church. It happened to me in church. Under God’s eye. I didn’t want to sleep with your lying ass that night, but I had to, because it was my wedding night. That’s why I was crying when I walked down the aisle. God had abandoned me. That’s why it was so hard for me to say my vows. I’d been railroaded in church. I wasn’t crying because I was happy. I lied. It was the saddest day of my life. To make it worse, the sex wasn’t that damn good. I know I was almost a virgin, didn’t have experience, but I know what feels good. First time we had sex, it was horrible.”
“We’re past that.”
“You’re past that, so we’re past it, right? Is that how everything works?”
Garrett told her, “Your life is much better than it was when I met you. You were a waitress at Coco’s in Compton. In Compton. Do you think you would have managed this on your own?”
She snapped, “I’m thirty-four goddamn years old and I don’t have not one goddamn baby. You know what the age thirty-five is? When a woman is getting too old to have a baby. At my last appointment, my doctor told me I needed to consider freezing my eggs. That made me cry. Even if I have a baby now, I’ll be old and the kid will be young. I’m technically . . . literally . . . some word . . . old enough to be a grandmother. I didn’t want to be an old woman with a newborn baby. You’ve had me here, in this mansion, a castle built to have a big family, and . . . and . . . and . . .”
“Freeze your damn eggs. Don’t make it an issue. We can always hire a surrogate.”
“I don’t need no stranger having my baby for me. That’s ludicrous. If she carries the baby, then it’s her fucking baby, not mine. I want my own goddamn baby—labor, stretch marks, and all.”
Mr. Garrett slapped his hands down on the table with enough force to make the food dance. She recoiled. I jumped too, was about to jump up and throw a few blows. Garrett huffed and puffed. Jake Ellis was amused. So was I, at Jake Ellis’s skills. He was a master instigator. He could make your left hand get into a death match with your right hand just to entertain himself.
Jake Ellis pressed on. “How much does he give you? C’mon. It’s just us talking.”
Her voice trembled. “He gives me almost two thousand dollars allowance a month.”
“About five hundred a week. Month with five Fridays, you’re getting shortchanged by five hundred bucks. Twenty-four thousand a year. Gives you as much as you’ll get in a prenup.”
She sniffled. “And I have to buy toilet paper and whatever with my damn money.”
Jake Ellis chuckled. “So, you’re using your money to buy tissue so he can clean his ass.”
She looked down, anger rising. “Wish you had been there on my wedding day.”
“His lawyer gave you an ultimatum, and that ultimatum was on his behalf.”
“Bitch walked in and bam. Papers thrown in my face like she was making it rain at a strip club. Ten damn pages of shit in legal talk, with big words and double-talk, bam, in my face.”
“Right before you married. But you know that was on his behalf. An attorney ain’t just going to show up at a wedding and find you at the last moment, not without his direction.”
“On the day that was supposed to be the most special day in my life. I was livid.”
“How did that make you feel as a human being?”
“No one has ever asked me that. About anything.”
“I’m asking. Men like Garrett dehumanize every nonwhite man and every woman. I care.”
“Everybody who said I was ugly and dumb and I’d never amount to anything was there. People who thought I’d never marry were there. I didn’t want to be embarrassed.”
“But you were humiliated.”
She glowered at her husband. He had no empathy for her plight. It was business. She stabbed her fork into her salmon, stabbed it like she imagined she was stabbing her husband.
He said, “Don’t eat that food.”
She said, “I hope it is poisoned. I hope to God it’s marinated in garlic and cyanide.”
“Don’t eat it.”
She took an angry bite; then her eyes lit up.
She inhaled; then her eyelids fluttered as she exhaled, “Ahhhhhhhhhh.”
Mr. Garrett jumped up. “You piece of shit. You poisoned my wife.”
She died a thousand times, each time a little death.
CHAPTER 7
MRS. GARRETT CLOSED her eyes. “Oooh. My. Gawd. Help me, Jesus. Help me, Jesus.”
She stomped her feet three times, like she was summoning the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Then she opened her eyes. Mr. Garrett touched her, but she moved his hand away.
She licked her lip
s, took another big bite. “This salmon is orgasmic. This is really good.”
I sat back down. Mentally I had floated in and out of their conversation, but my mind was here now, no longer on Margaux and Jimi Lee, my angst no longer on Rachel Redman.
Mr. Garrett’s lips turned down. He was disappointed we hadn’t killed his wife.
The Bostonian from Princeton said, “So the food is not poisoned?”
Starvin’ like Marvin, I took a bite of my salmon, then took another, and another.
His wife said, “If you don’t eat your piece of salmon, Dickie Bird, I sure will. It’s delish.”
Then Jake Ellis took a small bite of his, washed it down with sparkling water.
I ate. Jake Ellis ate. Mrs. Garrett ate the fastest.
Garrett scowled. Lips moving, no words leaving his aggravated face.
His wife had another religious moment. “Dickie Bird, it’s so good. It’s better than sex.”
Jake Ellis said, “That depends on who you’re having sex with.”
Mrs. Garrett laughed, her breasts bouncing, as happy as they’d ever been.
Jake Ellis laughed along with her. “See, PYT, you do know how to smile.”
Mrs. Garrett took another fast bite. “My salmon never comes out this good.”
“Not everybody’s good with seasoning. This is what I call my magically moist salmon.”
Like a record on repeat, Mr. Garrett barked, “Stop talking to her.”
Jake Ellis stood up, picked up the magically moist salmon on his plate, and slapped the Boston gangster with Princeton credentials across the face. Jake Ellis did African finger snaps, went and got another piece of salmon, then sat back down, put a napkin across his lap, picked up his knife and fork, cut a small piece of fish, then eased it into his mouth. The wife stared at her husband, salmon slithering across his face. She slapped her leg and laughed at her husband.
“Dickie Bird, you look so silly. Like a cartoon. You look real stupid right now. You look the way I felt when your bitch of an attorney came in and, bam, hit me with that prenuptial agreement.”
Jake Ellis complimented Mrs. Garrett. “This is a real nice spread you have here.”
Bad Men and Wicked Women Page 6