Seventeen
Just as Arnell had suspected, Esther had been faking. The heart specialist gave Esther a thorough exam and deemed her well enough to go home after spending one night in the hospital for observation. He said that she must’ve been overly excited, to which Esther said, “I was a little upset.”
Yeah, right. Arnell watched quietly on the sideline to keep from saying anything to upset Esther further, as well as to allay the stern, disapproving looks James and Tony were both giving her. Neither seemed to realize that Esther was acting, and that was because neither one caught the gloatingly sick smile that crept onto Esther’s lips when only Arnell was looking at her.
You get that one, Mother. Arnell turned her back on Esther as the nurse checked Esther’s vital signs. Two can play this game.
In the hospital emergency room Tony became a player also. He urged James to go on home since he had a breakfast meeting with the City Council. James didn’t balk at that. He said his good nights and out of earshot of Tony asked, “What the hell happened back at the restaurant? What was that crap that Tony said he’d take care of for you?”
“James—”
“And what the hell is this cryptic shit that’s going on between you and your mother?”
Arnell could feel the eyes of onlookers on her. “Would you please lower your voice,” she said.
James’s eyes widened. “Damn it, Arnell, tell me something!”
Oh, she wanted to tell James more than just something. However, the question was, did she want to stand in a busy corridor in Coney Island Hospital, with the ears and eyes of nosy people on her while she laid the ugliness of her life on the table. I don’t think so!
“Well!” James said impatiently.
“I’m not a child, James.”
“Arnell, don’t play with me. I feel like I was a pawn in a game of chess with you and your mother jostling all around me. She was flirting with me while fencing with you. What was that all about?”
“My mother was being her usual, cantankerous old self.”
“No, Arnell, there was something more going on between you two. When your mother got sick, you would not lift a finger to help her. How could you be like that?”
“Oh, I don’t know, James. I guess I’m just too use to my mother’s games,” Arnell said, thinking that it was probably best that she hadn’t had a chance to expose herself to James. He might not believe that Esther had turned her out.
“Arnell, you only have one mother. You should treat her with more respect.”
Arnell could feel her lips tighten. She narrowed her eyes. “I see you’ve really been suckered in.”
“Oh, I see we’re not getting anywhere,” James said. “Forget about your mother. What about this thing with Tony? Are you in some sort of trouble?”
“No.”
“Then what is Tony supposed to take care of for you?”
“What do you want to hear, James, that someone has done me a wrong and that I need Tony to rub that person out? Or that—”
“Damn it, Arnell!” James turned away. He was oblivious to the curious onlookers, but Arnell was not. Nor was she blind to the reproachful look Tony was giving her from the doorway of the room that Esther was in. His frame filled the doorway. Tony was being every bit the doting lover and the hulking bodyguard to Esther.
“James, please, just go on home. I’ll tell you everything, just not tonight and not in this place.”
Arnell walked away from James, leaving him with unanswered questions and a frown on his face. And from the sour look on Tony’s face, he was just as disappointed with her, but Arnell wasn’t about to keep her mouth shut about her life with Esther. She was telling James, no matter how much Esther or Tony made her feel like the bad guy.
The bad guy was Esther and she was wallowing in the attention she was getting from both James and Tony. The very next morning, Monday, James sent Esther an expensive floral arrangement, Tony sent a dozen pink roses, and Arnell sent nothing. Esther was discharged from the hospital before the flowers had a chance to fill her room with their fragrance. Home less than twenty minutes, Esther slipped into her grande dame role, which was one minute after Tony left. Arnell slipped out into the kitchen while Esther was in the bathroom.
Melvina left the pot she had been stirring. “Is Queen Esther goin’ to be okay?”
“She’s fine. When you get a chance, make her a cup of that Red Zinger tea she’s so crazy about.”
“I already got a pot brewin’. You think her will eat somethin’? I made she my nice thick vegetable soup. I throw in some water chestnuts like her like it.”
“It smells good, Melvina, but isn’t it a little warm to be making soup?”
“Soup is good all year round. Queen Esther like soup even in hot weather.”
That Arnell did know about her mother. “She’ll eat. Believe me, I don’t think she’s sick enough to forego your soup, Melvina. Look, I have to run. When you take her the soup, tell her that I had to leave.”
Melvina went back to stirring her pot of soup. “There’s plenty soup here for you, too, Arnell. Why you not stay and eat withcha mother?”
“Because I just don’t have the stomach for it.”
“Do not disrespect your mother, Arnell. Queen Esther a good woman. She done more for me than my own family done did. If it not for Queen Esther, I never woulda got my son in this country. No tellin’ what become of he in Jamaica. He could be dead. And . . .”
“I’m glad—”
“. . . look at all the girls she help. You lucky child to have such a good mother, Arnell.”
“Melvina, it’s nice that you feel that my mother has done a world of good for you, but I doubt seriously that pimping young girls is a great help to them. Now, until you’ve walked in my shoes, you cannot tell me a thing about my mother. What’s gone on between my mother and I, I alone can attest to and it isn’t pretty. So, if you don’t mind, please, don’t ever try to sell me on my mother or chide me for disrespecting her. I know my mother better than anyone on earth.”
“I know she better than you think.” Melvina began to ladle out steaming vegetable soup into a bowl.
Arnell couldn’t care less that Melvina might be upset with her—that was her problem. She wasn’t telling Melvina that she couldn’t appreciate what Esther had done for her, that was between them. Esther was paying Melvina well not just for her cooking talents, but for her silence—Esther demanded that no one speak outside of the mansion about what went on inside. Melvina proved that she was loyal to a fault, not to mention that she spied for Esther and told her everything that went on when she wasn’t around. Melvina acted as if Esther was her savior, especially when Esther gave her the apartment over the garage to live in and paid to have Melvina’s only son, Hubert, brought over from Jamaica. Esther even vouched for him on his visa and got Tony to give him a job, which really cemented Melvina’s devotion to Esther.
“What if Queen Esther ask me where you go?”
“She won’t.”
“What if she get sick again?”
Arnell stopped at the back door. “Call Tony.”
Trena burst into the kitchen. “Melvina, I’m starving! Whatever you’re cookin’, I want some. It smells awesome.”
“Get yaself a bowl, girl,” Melvina said. “I glad somebody want to eat my food.”
Arnell ignored Melvina’s remark as she watched Trena take a bowl off the counter. She had never seen Trena before and was struck by how young she looked. Arnell moved away from the door.
“Mmm.” Trena inhaled the aroma of the vegetable soup Melvina was ladling into her bowl. “You got some meat to eat with this vegetable, right?”
“Sure do,” Melvina said, removing foil from atop a pan of short ribs of beef drowning in their own oily juices. “These melt in ya mouth, girl.”
“Mmm,” Trena said again. “I could eat all of them.”
“Excuse me,” Arnell said, feeling like she had been ignored. Melvina and Trena both looked at her
. “Who are you?”
“’Scuse me,” Trena said snidely. “I don’t know you.”
“Trena,” Melvina said, “this is Arnell, Queen Esther’s daughter.”
“Oh.” Trena hurriedly set her bowl on the table. “I thought you—”
“Trena,” Arnell said, “how old are you?”
“I’m old enough. That’s all anybody gots to know.”
“Not really.” Arnell approached the table. “Trena, if you’re younger than eighteen, you cannot be living or working in this house. So, how old are you?”
“I look young, but I am eighteen. Queen Esther don’t have no problem with me looking young, she already said I can live here.”
“Do you know what goes on here?”
“Yeah, and?” Trena asked with attitude.
Arnell critically scrutinized Trena. Trena had the tight boyish figure of a girl who had yet to lose her virginity—her breasts were small, her hips were slim, the only roundness evident were her cheeks. After Arnell started having sex when she was sixteen, Esther had pointed out how her breasts had filled out, how her hips had gotten rounder, how her face had taken on the look of a woman and not a baby-faced little girl. Esther had to see that Trena was old if she was sixteen. If what went on in the mansion was ever exposed, they would all go to jail, but if it was learned that Esther was pimping out a sixteen-year-old, Esther would have hell to pay.
“My mother must not have gotten a good look at you, Trena. I think I had better have a few words with her.”
“What Trena say is true, Arnell,” Melvina defended. “Queen Esther say Trena could have Kitt’s room. She been here since Saturday night.”
“Two days too long,” Arnell concluded. “Melvina, this child is not eighteen. If—”
“Arnell, Queen Esther say it be all right.”
Fear gripped Trena. Was Arnell going to get her thrown out? “I am eighteen! Queen Esther said I could stay here. You can’t make her put me out, I ain’t done nothin’ to you or nobody.” Trena was near tears. “I live here now! I’m stayin’!”
Arnell could hear the desperation in Trena’s voice and see the anxiousness in her eyes. “You know something, Trena? This is none of my business. You wanna live here? Fine. Live here. Have a ball. I’m out of here.”
“Arnell,” Esther stepped into the kitchen, “I was hoping you were still here. I need to talk to you.”
Arnell pointed at Trena. “Mother, you know this is wrong.”
“What’s the problem, Arnell? The girl says she’s eighteen. I—”
“And you believe that? You know what? I really can’t do this anymore. I won’t stay around to witness this little girl’s degradation, I’ve already witnessed my own.” Arnell yanked open the door. “By the way,” she said, suddenly remembering that Tony said he would take care of Woodruff Parker for raping her, “tell Tony to forget about my little problem from last week. I’ll live with it.”
“But, Arnell, if you were . . . you know . . . hurt, then we—”
“Do you ever listen to me, Mother? I said, tell Tony to leave it alone.” Arnell stormed out.
“Arnell!” Esther rushed to the back door. “Arnell!”
Arnell never turned back. She got in her car and sped away.
“What’s her problem?” Trena asked no one in particular. “Sister got issues.”
Esther gave Trena a searing look that stilled her tongue. “If you want to stay in my home, I suggest you not say a damn thing against or about my daughter.”
Trena glanced at Melvina, but Melvina was busy cutting on a piece of short rib.
“Do you understand me?” Esther asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” Trena said just above a whisper. She didn’t dare move as Queen Esther left the kitchen. Trena’s own mother had given her all kinds of evil, threatening looks and had beaten her, yet she had stood defiant against her; but the look that Queen Esther gave her scared her and weakened her knees.
“Sit, child.” Melvina set a plate with short ribs on the table next to the bowl of soup Trena had forgotten about.
“I ain’t hungry no more.”
Eighteen
Trena was awake. She just hadn’t opened her eyes. The bed wouldn’t let her. From the first night, six days ago, when she lay on the red satin sheets in the firm but lusciously soft king-size bed, it had embraced her in its cushiony cocoon of comfort and lulled her into a deep sleep like a newborn baby. If she didn’t have to, she wouldn’t get up at all. Yesterday she had slept well past ten o’clock, and then she had taken a long, relaxing candlelit bubble bath scented with the sweetest smelling rose crystals she had ever smelled—which she had never smelled before. It was the label that told her the crystals were rose scented. By the time she left her room it was one in the afternoon, and that was only because she was hungry.
Trena liked Melvina and Queen Esther, too, when Arnell wasn’t around. Thank goodness Arnell hadn’t been around. Arnell’s nastiness reminded Trena of Cheryl and she didn’t need Cheryl’s twin on her back in Queen Esther’s house. For a hot minute, Trena had been scared when Queen Esther gave her that look, but they were cool now. They talked about a lot of things. They talked about sex and about what a man wanted. None of that was new to Trena, but what was, was the many ways a woman could satisfy a man. The things Queen Esther showed her—how to give a man a good massage, how to wash a man down when he’s in the tub, how to tongue a man’s body, and how to tongue his penis and his balls—was unbelievable. She had never done any of that stuff with Omar or anyone and now Queen Esther saying that she could have a man up in her room to try those things on, was just too cool. Man, her mother would have a stroke—big time. Never in a million years would she let her do anything like that. But Queen Esther said, whatever Trena did up in her room with a man was her business but that she had to always act like a lady. No sweat. Trena could handle that because she was a lady and not a kid. It was only Arnell that thought she was sixteen. No one else bothered Trena about how young she looked. Jeanette gave her some makeup and in her room, she experimented with different looks. Nope. She didn’t look sixteen anymore. She was a grown-up with her own room in a fabulous mansion.
And her room? It was the bomb. It was big and it was sort of pretty in an old-fashioned kind of way. For sure, the pink, green, and white flowery wallpaper that covered the wall behind the bed and wrapped around on both its sides definitely would not have been Trena’s choice, but when she awakened the first morning, surrounded by full-blooming flowers, it sort of grew on her. She found it rather cool.
What Trena liked most about her room—it didn’t feel like a bedroom. It felt like a living room. There was a sofa and a coffee table, a thirty-two-inch television, and an entertainment center. It was bad! There were plenty of CDs. Just that there was not one CD she could stomach. They were all old people’s music—violins and piano and stuff. She couldn’t get with that, but she wasn’t about to sweat it. The music was a little thing, besides, there was a radio. The room was the big thing and overall this room was far better than the one she had at home. Not to mention that if she didn’t feel like lying in the bed or sitting on the sofa, she could lie on the ultra thick burgundy carpet that her feet sank in. This room was slammin’! And best of all, Queen Esther said it was her room—just take good care of it. That was never going to be a problem, because Trena wanted to stay there forever. If she ever saw her mother and Cheryl again, it would be too soon.
Admittedly, the first morning Trena did feel a little conflicted. On one hand she felt a tiny bit homesick. On the other, she was still so mad at her mother and Cheryl that she could spit fire. She would never forgive her mother for beating up on her and for always taking Cheryl’s side. She wasn’t about to ever forgive either one of them for throwing out her clothes. Alyson said that her mother was crying a lot. Trena didn’t believe that. Her mother didn’t act like she was going to miss her when she was threatening to put her away. Alyson had also said that Cheryl, talking all tight-assed, had
called her house every day demanding that she tell her where she was. Alyson was her girl. She still hadn’t given her up and never would.
The police had her down as a runaway and her mother had taken time off from work to try to find her, but Trena wasn’t tripping. Her mother would never find her in Ditmas Park. Brooklyn was a big, wide, spread-out borough and although Bushwick wasn’t all that far away, Ditmas Park was like another world. It was an upper-class, mixed-race neighborhood on the far side of Prospect Park. It wasn’t a neighborhood that anyone she knew would just happen to walk through, and it was definitely the last place her mother would think to look for her. They may as well get use to it, she was gone for good.
Arching her back, Trena spread her arms wide, and opening her mouth just as wide, she yawned, stretching out her slumbering body, waking it. Her eyes popped open. She had to get up. Jeanette was taking her shopping. The clothes she had taken from home, Queen Esther said weren’t sophisticated enough.
“You’re a very pretty girl,” Queen Esther said. “You should dress like a pretty girl, and not like a hip-hop waif.”
At first Trena wasn’t about to hear anything about the way she dressed; she had heard enough from her mother, but then Queen Esther had said Jeanette could take her shopping. Now, that, Trena could get with. Jeanette was hot. Last night Jeanette had on a purple leather bustier, and a short black leather skin-tight skirt. Even the ankle-high leather boots were kicking. Hot! Now, if Jeanette was going to buy clothes like that for her, then Trena was game. She was liking Queen Esther more and more. Queen Esther was cool for an old lady. In fact, she even dressed kind of cool—for an old lady. Thursday night, Queen Esther had on a straight, knee-length, red matte jersey skirt with a scoop-neck, fitted, red sleeveless sweater. Queen Esther was wearing that outfit. She must have been a “babe” when she was young, because she wasn’t bad-looking now—for an old lady. She was even wearing her hair short as a minute and blond as a Barbie. Yeah, Queen Esther was cool, and actually, the old lady was a real diva to call herself Queen Esther. But that was her b . . . i . . . z. No one had a problem with Latifah calling herself Queen, either.
The Honey Well Page 12