by Mary Monroe
I was wrong.
Despite the howling wind, the loud mufflers on a couple of neighbors’ vehicles, and the noisy electric space heater in the living room, I slept well. I didn’t open my eyes on Monday morning until a few minutes after nine. I drank a cup of instant generic coffee and then I took a shower. Uncle Ed hadn’t come downstairs by ten, so I went up to his room to check on him. He was on the floor in a fetal position. During the night he had either fallen or crawled out of bed. It was over for him. His lifeless eyes were wide open and looked so sad that mine pooled with tears.
Dead people made me nervous. I didn’t like being around them, no matter who they were or how they’d died. Not counting Glinda’s sudden departure, I had never been in a situation like this before, so I didn’t know the calling hierarchy. I honestly didn’t know who to notify first. Uncle Ed had told me the night before where to find his DO NOT RESUSCITATE document so that there would be no attempts to revive him. But he was dead, and if anybody knew death when they saw it, it was me. I sat down on the living-room couch and called the hospice nurse who had been coming to the house since his diagnosis. She immediately took over. “First things first. I’ll round up Dr. Goldstein and we’ll come out and make it official. Then I’ll have a hearse sent out right away,” she told me. That was a big relief, but I still felt uneasy. I needed to talk to somebody, so I dialed the number to the drugstore where Sylvia worked.
One of the other pharmacists answered. He told me Sylvia had not come in yet. That was when I remembered I was in a different time zone. It was two hours earlier in San Jose than it was in Chicago, so it was only a few minutes past eight in California. I called Sylvia at home, and she answered right away.
After our greeting, I told her in a weak tone of voice, “My uncle is gone.”
“What? You just got there!”
“And not a minute too soon. He died before I got up this morning. I’m so glad I got here in time for us to share some of our favorite memories. I’m so thankful for that.”
“That poor thing. I was hoping he’d last a couple of months longer so you’d have more time to spend with him. And I wish you had let me come with you.” Sylvia exhaled loudly. “How long will you be in Chicago?”
“I’m not sure. He’ll be cremated as soon as I can arrange that, and I’ll notify a few folks on a list he gave me just to let them know he’s gone. Most of them are on their last legs themselves. He told me that his last lady friend is in a nursing home and has Alzheimer’s, so she probably doesn’t even remember who she is, let alone Uncle Ed.” Somehow I managed to chuckle. Sylvia didn’t chuckle, so I got serious again. “I want to keep things moving so I won’t have to stay here long. As soon as I can”—I paused and looked at my watch—“I’ll get in touch with the lawyer who did his will. Then I’m going to go through his stuff and decide what goes to Goodwill and what to throw out.”
“I can still take off work and join you if you want me to,” Sylvia offered.
“I don’t want you to do that,” I said quickly.
“Calvin, I miss you, baby. I can’t wait to see you again. I know the last few years have been rough on you. After the holy hell you went through in Afghanistan and Glinda shitting all over you and taking off the way she did, I’m surprised you’re not in the nuthouse. Baby, you are such a good man and you deserve good things. I want to do whatever I can to make you happy.”
“I appreciate hearing that, honey.”
“When you get back to California, let’s pack up and go somewhere for a few days. Since we’re going to Brazil in June, Hawaii would be nice. My time-share in Honolulu is available, so we wouldn’t have to pay for a hotel. And I have so many mileage points on my credit card, we’d only have to pay for one plane ticket.”
I had no idea what I had done to deserve a good woman like Sylvia. It didn’t matter that she was not nearly as gorgeous as Glinda and she didn’t excite me the way Glinda had. Despite all the praise I gave to her in the bedroom, she needed to hone her lovemaking skills, because she was just average. I cared for her, but the affection I felt was more pity than passion.
“That sounds like a great idea, Sylvia. We’ll talk more about that when I get home. Since I had to leave so suddenly, I left a lot of things undone at work and at home, so I’ll be kind of busy for a few days when I get back. But we’ll spend some time together as soon as I’m available again.”
“That’s fine. If there’s anything I can do to help you get back on track as soon as possible, just let me know.”
“I’ll do that.” I hung up and remained on the couch staring at the telephone in my hand for a few seconds.
Yes, I would get back on track as soon as possible. Just to make sure things were still going in my favor, I decided to give Lola a call. I wanted to hear her voice. Since I didn’t know when the nurse and the doctor were going to arrive, I wanted to keep myself busy so I wouldn’t have to think about being alone in a house with a dead man’s body. I guess you could say that death brought out the beast in me, because I was ready for some hands-on action again. Even though the clock was ticking for Lola, another woman was going to die first.
Chapter 21
Lola
EVERY NIGHT BEFORE I WENT TO BED I SET MY ALARM CLOCK, BUT I usually woke up before it went off. For me, sleep was more of an escape than a necessity. I had not had a full night’s uninterrupted sleep since my mother’s funeral.
I tried not to think about her lifeless body in her yellow dress as she lay on display in the front of the church, but it was hard not to. Especially since a woman at the funeral told me that it looked like me lying in that casket. Unfortunately, it was true. I had thought that too before she told me.
A few years after Mama’s passing, during one of my frequent visits to Joan’s house, she snapped a picture of me stretched out on her bed. When she showed the picture to me, I almost fainted. Lying on that bed in a yellow blouse with my eyes closed, I looked like a dead girl. That was the day I stopped wearing anything yellow. Every wall in Bertha’s house was a dreary shade of yellow. I couldn’t do anything about that. But I avoided looking at them as much as I could.
Tuesday morning I woke up at five forty a.m. I turned off my alarm so it wouldn’t go off at six. I remained in bed, lying on my side until I got tired of looking at the yellow wall across from me. I could hear voices downstairs, but I couldn’t make out what was being said. I got up and padded across the floor to put my ear against the door. I heard something that disturbed me almost as much as the gruesome walls: Marshall’s voice.
“Mama, I’m forty-four years old. You need to stop telling me how to spend my money!” he complained in a loud, gruff voice.
“Son, if you can’t manage your money and need to keep taking mine, I have a right to tell you how to spend your money,” Bertha shot back, sounding unusually firm. Most of the time she was very docile when she dealt with Libby and Marshall.
I glanced at the clock on my nightstand again. I had to take a shower and get dressed, but I decided to skip breakfast. I didn’t want to start off my day sitting at the table across from Marshall. I planned to grab a croissant and some coffee from the Starbucks along the route I walked to work.
I started praying that Marshall would be gone by the time I got downstairs. Well, half an hour later when I had no choice but to get moving, I dragged my feet down the hall toward the stairs. He was standing at the bottom of the landing, as if he’d been waiting for me.
“Hey there, Lola! Good morning to you!” he yelled out the side of his mouth as soon as his eyes met mine. Even with a smile on his pudgy face, he was still unattractive.
“Good morning to you, too, Marshall.” I forced myself to smile. I moved down the steps so slowly, you would have thought I had one leg. By the time I stopped in front of him, both of my legs felt as if they were about to buckle.
“Girl, I thought you’d never get your butt out of that bed and come down here.” He blinked and smiled some more, revealing large, cigarette
-stained teeth and thick, chapped lips. “Can you do me a big favor?”
“It depends on what it is,” I said, my voice cracking and my stomach churning.
“I know it’s out of your way, but can you give me a ride back to my place on your way to work?” Cornrows on a cool, young hip-hopping dude were okay. On an obese, middle-aged oaf like Marshall, they looked downright ridiculous. And his looked like they hadn’t been groomed in weeks.
“Where’s your car?” I asked. I didn’t like to stand too close to Marshall. His presence irritated the hell out of me. And not only that, he almost always had a musty body odor.
“It’s parked outside with a dead battery,” he complained. “I called Triple A, but they won’t get here for an hour and I need to get home. I’m starting my new job today at that construction site on Filbert Avenue, and I can’t be late. And you know how suspicious June gets when I don’t get back home when I’m supposed to.”
“Can’t you call your wife and tell her your battery died so she can come pick you up? I don’t have much gas, and my signal lights went out yesterday,” I said. “And anyway, I walk to work every day.”
I didn’t hate Marshall. Like with Libby, I pitied him so I felt sorry for him too. However, he still annoyed the hell out of me. If he suddenly fell into a bottomless pit and never returned, I wouldn’t miss him. I’d experienced several unpleasant moments with him when I was a child. Back then, I had thought of him as a borderline boogeyman. He’d even exposed himself to me and Joan one Halloween night when we’d knocked on Bertha’s door for some tricks or treats. I shuddered when I thought of what he might have done to me with his shriveled-up dick back then if he’d had the chance. After all the years that Marshall had been in my life, I had never been alone with him. I didn’t want that to change today. I was so looking forward to being with sexy, handsome Calvin, I got lightheaded and hot between my thighs just thinking about it. I didn’t even want to be in the same car with Marshall, because I was afraid the experience would interrupt my euphoria.
“Okay. Then just give me your key and I’ll drive myself,” he countered.
“I don’t know, Marshall. . . .”
“What’s the problem? If you don’t drive that jalopy to work, it’ll just sit in the driveway! I didn’t know you were this stingy!”
“That’s not the reason. See, my insurance—”
Marshall quickly cut me off before I could finish my sentence. He turned on me like a pit bull. “Girl, don’t trip! I ain’t going to wreck that piece of shit you drive! I’ll just be driving a couple of miles, not to Mexico,” he roared, with spit squirting out both sides of his mouth.
Bertha suddenly shuffled into the living room. She stopped and stood between Marshall and me with her hands on her hips.
“Son, I’ll give you the money to take a cab,” she said with a heavy sigh. She looked as frustrated as I felt.
“Thank you, Mama. I can always count on you.” Marshall smirked with his beady black eyes glaring at me. “Lola, I’ll remember this when you need a favor from me.”
I’d known Marshall since I was in elementary school and I had never asked him for a favor.
“Bertha, you don’t have to waste money on a cab,” I said calmly. I strutted across the floor and retrieved my car key off the magazine stand by the door, where I usually left it. When I handed it to Marshall, he snatched it so fast, he almost took my hand off with it. But at least he thanked me.
He gave Bertha a long, hard hug and a peck on her forehead. He shot me a smug look before he skittered out the door like a clumsy squirrel.
“That was real nice of you, Lola,” Bertha told me, rubbing my arm. “I wish I had five more children like you.”
I loved receiving compliments, even from Bertha. I felt better by the time I left to go to work, but not just because of what Bertha had said. It was because of Calvin, and what I hoped to do when I got my hands on him. . . .
Chapter 22
Lola
WHEN I WAS AT WORK, I KEPT MY CELL PHONE IN THE POCKET OF the new maroon-colored smocks that employees of Cottright’s had to wear while on the job. Around two-thirty p.m., when my phone vibrated, I was busy waiting on a fussy female customer. She was a regular who always found something to complain about when she came to the store, so I knew I couldn’t check to see who was calling.
“I seen some hella big flies buzzing around the produce,” the customer informed me with a smirk.
“Thank you, Mrs. Cunningham. I’ll make sure it’s taken care of,” I replied, struggling to keep the fake smile on my face.
“And there’s a great big puddle of water on the floor in front of the meat counter,” she added.
“Thank you again, ma’am. I’ll make sure it gets taken care of too.” I breathed a sigh of relief when Mrs. Cunningham snatched her change out of my hand before I could even count it and pranced toward the exit. There were two more customers behind her. They all had dozens of items in their shopping carts and impatient looks on their faces, so I knew it would be a while before I could check to see who had called me.
Half an hour later, when I took my afternoon break, I rushed to the employee restroom and took out my phone. I was stunned to see Calvin Ramsey’s name and cell phone number on the caller ID. He had called twice! His first call had come in before I’d left the house. My heart was beating like a drum when I punched in his number. I was glad he answered right away.
“Calvin, I’ve been so busy, I couldn’t call you back until now,” I began. “How is everything?”
“Well, my uncle passed sometime before I got up yesterday morning. Other than that, everything is fine.” He sounded so sad.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I told him in the saddest tone of voice I could offer. “I hope he didn’t suffer much.”
“He had already done most of his suffering before I got back here. But he was in good spirits for a man in his situation. We laughed and joked and even had a few beers.”
“At least he won’t ever have to suffer again. I’m glad to hear that he handled things in such a dignified manner.”
“He was a very dignified man, and I will miss him dearly. Look, uh, I still have some things to attend to here, so I’m not sure when I’ll be returning to California. I just wanted to check in with you. I didn’t want you to think I’d forgotten about you. . . .”
Hearing those words made me want to dance a jig. Instead of behaving like a giddy schoolgirl, I managed to restrain myself. I swallowed hard and said in a very reserved tone of voice, “I’m glad to hear that.”
I didn’t care what Joan said. Now I was almost convinced that Calvin wanted more from me than a quick romp in a hotel bed. But did he? Of all the club members who had contacted me so far, he was the only one who had not asked to set up a sexual encounter! If it was because he wanted more than that from me, it was a good thing. If it was because he was only mildly interested in me, it was a bad thing. My last thought was depressing, so I immediately put it out of my mind.
But since Calvin wasn’t having sex with me, was he having sex with other club members? Common sense told me he was not just sitting around twiddling his thumbs and masturbating when there were so many other women in the club practically screaming for sex. Only people who were very sexually active joined sex clubs. He must have read my mind.
“Lola, you are a beautiful woman and you have an amazing body. I think it’s time for us to get real close, if you know what I mean.”
I gulped so hard, my throat hurt. “It’s about time,” I wanted to yell. Instead I said as gently as I could, “I do know what you mean. Um, when do you want to get together? And where?”
“I’ll call you a day or two before I leave Chicago. We can discuss that then. I’ve been thinking about you a lot, and I am anxious to be with you. I’m sorry our schedules haven’t allowed us to take our relationship to the next level before now. But that’s water under the bridge. My schedule is a lot more flexible now.”
“Mine is to
o,” I said quickly.
“In the meantime, I hope you will keep yourself, uh, busy until we can get together. I’m sure you’re still a very popular club member, right?”
“Uh-huh,” I muttered. “I get a lot of attention.” Before I could continue, somebody started banging on the restroom door, so I flushed the toilet. “Calvin, I hate to cut this call short, but things are real hectic around here. We have a lot of things on sale today, so we’re very busy. And you know how crazy some folks can get in a grocery store when there’s a sale going on. Last month two ladies punched each other out over the last ham we had on sale that day.” I didn’t laugh, but I was glad that Calvin did.
“I understand, Lola. I’m glad we were able to chat this long. I’ll let you get back to work.”
When I got home that evening, I was surprised and pleased to see that Marshall had returned my car. When I found out he had filled up my gas tank, fixed my signal lights, and washed and polished my beloved Jetta, it made me want to do more to try to have a decent relationship with him. Then I’d only have to deal with Libby’s bad attitude. His unexpected and kind gesture, and the fact that I had spoken to Calvin, put me in an even better mood.
After dinner, I went to my room and plopped down onto my bed. I spent a long time trying to imagine what it was going to be like to finally make love with Calvin.
A lot of questions were floating around in my head. There was one that I tried not to think about, but I couldn’t help myself: What if he’s a lousy lover? A month before I joined Discreet Encounters, I had a disastrous encounter with a man I’d met in a nightclub. He had been such a lousy lover, I ended the relationship. If Calvin is a flop in bed, will I want to see him again? I asked myself.
I did know that if my upcoming rendezvous with him turned out to be a disappointment, I still had a lot of prospects to fall back on.
Chapter 23
Joan
THERE WAS NOTHING I ENJOYED MORE THAN VISITING MY ROWDY, fun-loving family. For one thing, the house I had grown up in was full of life. No matter the time, day or night, somebody had something going on.