Femme Noir

by Clara Nipper

  “Hold it. You live with someone named Joan? And you’re name is Jhoaeneyie?”

  “Yeah, isn’t it ironic?” Jhoaeneyie grinned. Then she baby talked, “My widdle darlin’ wuvs that we have the same name. She is my baby Joanawoan. I wuv it too.”

  I was thunderstruck. I didn’t know whether to slap Jhoaeneyie upside the head or puke on Jhoaeneyie’s shoes. I drained my drink.

  “My tweetie butter britches would jus wuv to meet you—” Jhoaeneyie continued until I grasped her arm.

  “You’ve got to stop that now. ”

  “Oh, Nora, you’ve got to excuse me. I’m just a big spoiled brat. Isn’t that ironic?”

  “Do you mean stupid?”

  Jhoaeneyie blinked at me.

  I rolled my eyes. “I meant to whisper that.”

  Jhoaeneyie narrowed her gaze. “Have you ever been in really good therapy?”

  “Fuck no.”

  “No need for expurlatives. I would like to invite you to sit with me. Put the can opener to your head and really open you up. Would you be willing?”

  “Oh, hell naw. Nigga, please.” I shook with laughter. “Counselor, heal thyself.”

  “I’m a therapist.”

  “That ain’t what I heard, okay?”

  “So I’m pumping gas now, so what? There’s no shame in that.”

  I stiffened my spine righteously. “Ain’t no shame in any job.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about. I keep trying to tell Joan that, but she just keeps yelling at me, ‘You’re Phi Beta Kappa. You’re summa cum laude. You need to do better.’”

  “Joan is your roommate? What the hell does she care about what you do?” I was being deliberately obtuse.

  “Well…she’s…” Jhoaeneyie blushed, swaying from side to side anxiously. “She’s my roommate. ”

  “I’d tell her to go straight to hell and mind her own damn business.”

  “No…you don’t get it…she’s my…” Jhoaeneyie cleared her throat. “You know, roommate. ”

  “What? Roommate. Yeah, she pays half the bills, so what?” I delighted in baiting Jhoaeneyie.

  “Forget it,” Jhoaeneyie snorted. “You know, for a successful lady, you’re not too sharp.” She pointed to my head. “Up here.”

  “I know. That’s what Mensa keeps telling me.”

  “Who? I believe the word is,” Jhoaeneyie lowered her voice, “ menses. ”

  “Oh, right. Thanks.”

  “So did you send anything to the family?” Jhoaeneyie ate pretzels. Lila crooned a slow, sad number. Amber, Darcy, and Ava-Suzanne were talking astrology. Amber kept laughing hysterically and squeezing Ava-Suzanne’s arm.

  “Not yet,” I answered. “I want to go by in person.”

  “We sent a pan of fudge and a six-pack of wine coolers.”

  “Mmm,” I marveled. “That’s real classy.”

  “Yeah, that’s what Joan thought. She’s from New York. She says I really should be from New York because I’m just…you know…too fast for around here.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be telling an antidote and it will just—whoosh! Right over your head.”

  “Oh, the long, boring stories you must have,” I murmured.

  “What’s that?” Jhoaeneyie swayed, then everyone clapped as Lila finished her number.

  “Nothing.”

  “When I took a leave of absence from being a therapist, we talked about moving to New York, we were this close.”

  “Uh-huh.” I was tipsy and relaxed and therefore somewhat blunted and mellow, so standing here shooting shit was just fine. The music pounded me flat and nailed me where I stood. I enjoyed watching Lila and thinking my own dreamy, buzzy thoughts. As such, I was not overly troubled by having fools surround me, nattering like so many pigeons.

  “Yeah, I forget why we didn’t. But I need to get back into doing therapy so we can. My earning potential is so great…it’s a trade-off. I’m either devoted to clients and working one hundred hours a week and making sweet dinero or I’m sitting on my thumbs making squat at Fast Eddy’s. But I get nights and weekends off. It’s real hard, though. God didn’t make me to answer phones, make coffee, and pump gas. In my last job, I had a secretary do all that. She dealt with all those trenial details. She had my car taken care of, hotel reservations, airlines, vacays, appointments, correspondence. She would’ve sent the fudge to Michelle’s family for me and the goddamn phone. Oops, sorry about that expurlative. But I’m just having a period of adjustment, right? I’m just not used to doing those servant-type things, you know what I mean? Joan and I go round and round about it.” Jhoaeneyie stuck her pinkie in her ear and jiggled it.

  “That’s a shame,” I said, a mild anger sparking and then dying when I looked at Jhoaeneyie double-dipping into her nose with her thumbs.

  Ava-Suzanne, Amber, and Darcy joined us. Amber put her hands on my shoulders from the rear and hopped on my back. I nearly dropped my drink.

  “Piggyback, Daddy!” Amber squeezed me with her legs and bucked. Jhoaeneyie and Darcy laughed; Ava-Suzanne scowled. I tried to pluck Amber off, but she was like a clinging spider. So I shrugged and walked over to Sloane, who was bent over with laughter. A lovely, soft, dark, curvy woman stood next to Sloane, smiling and holding their drinks.

  I swung Amber around to be closest to Sloane and said, “Take this, will you?”

  Sloane wiped her eyes. “Are you finished with it?”

  “I never got started. Just get it off me. ”

  “No, no, no!” Amber tightened her legs around my waist and she curled her arms around my throat.

  “Goddammit, you psycho, you’re choking me!” I cried, my voice strangled. “Sloane, get her before I fall backward and smash her dead,” I added, still unable to breathe well. I was pleased that I never put down my drink.

  “C’mon, little honey, c’mon, whackjob.” Sloane tickled Amber. “Time to get off the ride. It’s someone else’s turn.”

  Amber shrieked and kicked, causing everyone to stare. Even Lila faltered briefly in her song. At last Amber was loose enough that Sloane lifted her from my back and set her on the floor where she crossed her arms and legs and became a poutball.

  I straightened my collar. “Whew, thanks.”

  “You owe me.” Sloane grinned, retrieving her drink from her date and then kissing her date’s neck. Lila finished her song to whistles and cheers.

  “I think I saw the face of Satan.” I crunched ice cubes.

  “You barely escaped the flesh-eating virus, dog.”

  “Nora, my Black Beauty!” Lila called, squinting into the darkness. “Where are you, paramour du jour?”

  I tried to hide in the wallpaper. Some genius with the spotlight guided it over the crowd. Sloane, her arm around the lovely woman, began breaking into incredulous laughter again. “You got the whole town in an uproar, N,” she said between gasps. “I haven’t seen anything like this since Ellen and kd were here.”

  Reese came striding over, an unhappy frown creasing her face. She clamped her hand on my arm and escorted me briskly to the small stage.

  “Thank you, Reese, my darling,” Lila extended her hand and Reese kissed her wrist obediently and disappeared. Then Lila gave the same hand to me to pull me up onstage.

  I shook my head and backed away.

  “Oh, you simply must. I insist,” Lila said, then implored the crowd, “Encourage her.”

  The crowd cheered and jostled me until I reluctantly mounted the steps.

  Darcy, Ava-Suzanne, and Jhoaeneyie were watching. I didn’t care that Amber left with someone else and I didn’t care that Reese was fuming behind an amplifier, but I did care that Jack slipped off his bar stool and wobbly wove his way outside to the deck.

  “At last.” Lila sighed juicily. “My dream come true.”

  “What do you want, Lila?” I felt my scalp prickle. I was veering wildly between being high, mellow, anxious, tired, irritated, relaxed, and aroused.

  “I
just want to introduce you to everyone. Everyone? May I present Nora Delaney? A big-time college basketball coach with the best hands since…Reese Cup, who is someone notable in basketball?”

  “Magic Johnson!” someone called.

  “Thank you,” Lila answered, “Nora D., this is everybody. Everybody who matters, that is.” Lila took her lit cigarette in a holder that Reese crept up and handed her. Lila put a lacquered fingernail in her mouth and said, “Well, almost all are Who’s Who.” The crowd laughed. “The rest, and you know who you are,” Lila pointed vaguely, “can get out of my restaurant and go to hell.” The crowd roared. Lila continued. “I just want all of you to keep a careful eye on my sweet black button.” She winked at me. “Who needs a drink. How is it that she’s on empty here?” Lila squinted into my glass and noted the lime wedge. “Gin and tonic?”

  I nodded.

  Reese scurried up with a cold, dripping glass and handed it to me and took my empty. “So, everyone,” Lila shouted, “please welcome our stranger and see that she comes to no harm. Make sure she feels good. But not too good, you don’t want to incur the wrath of Lila.”

  The crowd laughed and clapped.

  “You may go.” Lila brushed me off the stage. I stumbled down the steps and, without looking left or right, headed for the door to the deck.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Outside, the clean roasting air made me need a cigarette. I spotted Jack alone at a table, looking at the burning sky, white and sizzling with evening’s approach.

  “Hey, stranger, mind if I join you?” I sat next to him and deftly extracted a cigarette from his pack. “There’s a church on every corner in this town, what’s up with that?” I said after a long silence.

  Jack turned to look at me, his eyes red not just from booze. “Did you love her?” he asked plaintively. I nodded. “Me too,” Jack said. “Goddamn her.”

  “So, why aren’t you at your family thing?”

  “Cause they don’t like me and they make me want to vomit. Do you miss her?”

  I shook my head. Jack nodded.

  “Me neither. Not yet.”

  “What was her story?” I inhaled and stared straight ahead. I would give Jack space from my gaze, as well as protect my face from anything severe he might reveal. I felt stronger staring ahead.

  “You don’t know any of it?” Jack asked.

  “No. She told me she was from Madison.”

  Jack laughed.

  “And that she was a student. She stole from me,” I admitted in a rush. It was an inexpressible relief to air my pain with someone else who knew Michelle. Before now, I had just been angry. But with Jack, I could be hurt.

  “She get much?” Jack asked.

  “Maybe more than I knew.”

  Jack grunted. “I think someone in the family murdered her. Or had her murdered.”

  “In the family?” I was astonished. This peerless wealthy white pillar?

  “Yeah, and lemme tell you why. Michelle had the goods on a scandal that would ruin the incumbent McKerr’s re-election gub…gov…gubernat’rill hopes forever. She was disowned when she came out. Cut off without a penny. She used her considerable charm and wile to dig up this secret and she disowned them right back. I say ‘them’ because my branch of the family is sort of the underachieving black sheep.” Jack sipped one of the two shots he had in front of him. I ground out my butt and bummed another.

  “She disowned them?”

  “Yeah, she discovered this disgusting skeleton in the closet and it enraged her so much that she was convinced her family and families like it and corporations are what is wrong with the world and she wanted revenge.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You ever notice her petty theft?”

  “Theft? No.” I felt more and more foolish. Where had I been for three years? Right where Michelle had wanted me, concentrating on my career.

  “Did things just show up at the house, or would she lavish you in gifts?”

  “Yes, now that I think about it.”

  “And she always had an explanation, right? Even though she had no money, she had more stuff than anybody, right?”

  “Yes, yes, you’re right,” I said with dawning comprehension.

  “Well, she told me once, stealing from big companies and cheating corporations was like radical revenge on her family and its sins.”

  “And what about stealing from those people she loved?”

  “Well, she was an asshole and a compulsive liar…just ’cause we loved her and she’s dead doesn’t take that away.” Jack held his head and seemed to be sobering.

  “So why would one of the McKerrs kill her?”

  “Because she was trying to blackmail them with this secret. And Nelson Philip McKerr wants this governor’s race sewn up. A few years in the mansion and on to the White House. He can do it, too. He’s a conservative and handsome and charming and slimy. And a liar, just like Michelle. So I have no doubts at all. They had motivation and opportunity.”

  “Do you know the secret?”

  “Yeah, she told me. But number one, they don’t know she told me, and number two, I’m completely bought off and an utterly spineless weenie.”

  “So this is the sort of thing that if you tell me, you might really have to kill me.”

  Jack laughed and laughed. “Yep. That’s exactly it. Do you wanna know?”

  “Do you want to tell?”

  “I wanna tell if you wanna know.”

  “I wanna know if you wanna tell.”

  “Knowing a secret is a terrible, terrible, terrible,” Jack seemed sloppy for just a second, “terrible burden.”

  “I’m strong, I can take it.”

  “Okay.” Jack downed one shot. I sipped my gin and tonic, Max momentarily on the back burner. “Well, you know her family is in oil, right?”

  I nodded. “Now I do.”

  “Big oil. Really big oil. You know at the beginning of the twentieth century that Tulsa was the oil capital of the world, don’t you?”

  I nodded even though I had not known that.

  “Tulsa was famous for its rich economy. There was actually a reverse Grapes of Wrath thing happening. People from everywhere flocked to Tulsa to cash in. It flourished and grew nonstop until the eighties, when the bottom dropped out of oil. But by then, fortunes were already made. And oil doesn’t stay down for long. Look at the prices now, for God’s sake.” Jack seemed to be growing more sober and alert and eloquent with every sentence.

  “Mmm-hmm,” I said, wondering how in the hell this tied to Michelle.

  “When you have enormous wealth, any town is small, New York, Los Angeles even, but especially Tulsa, where there are primarily two very big oil families and two giant oil concerns. The McKerrs and the Wilsons.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard of them,” I said, remembering their ubiquitous logos and wondering at the secret power that was held here in this tiny town’s heart.

  “Well, our great-great-grandpas or some such ancient history came here to Tulsey Town, as it was then known by the Native Americans before statehood, and our kin started to build their fortunes wildcatting.”

  “Wildcatting? What’s that?”

  “Oil prospecting. One who stakes money on very high-risk and probably unsound ventures. The odds are bad, but when they pay off…well, look around.”

  “Oh. Go on.”

  “Well, everybody got pretty rich even by today’s standards and the ones who emerged as chief competitors were the McKerrs and the Wilsons. The Wilsons had the most, and that just galled old Great-great—or just Great?—Grandpappy McKerr. He was rumored to be a hateful, hard, mean son of a bitch. I’m being almost criminal by simplifying this much, but this is about all I know. Anyway, years pass, oil profits grow, the Wilsons are winning in the oil fortune acquisition and by now, it’s about 1905. Naturally, the two families both have a black staff to help around the estates and the Wilsons have a little scandal of their own. Seems years ago, old man Wilson had had a black s
on by their maid. Now you know and I know that that stuff went on all the time and we can be grown up about it. But back then, it was humiliating and shameful, heaven knows why. This son, God help me, was black as night. Not a drop of white in him, it looked like. But I’ve seen photos. He was Wilson’s boy all right. Not the color, but the features and bone structure. It’s like you took a transparency photo of the old man and laid it on this boy’s face. And the old man was crazy for that boy. Old Man Wilson defied all convention and just doted on his son to the point of making people sick. Apparently, he was infamous for saying things like, ‘Love is love and blood is blood.’ Anyway, they kept him and raised the boy as a gentleman’s butler, which was pretty much as high as they thought he could go.” Jack took a breath. I wiped sweat from my face, on the edge of my seat, not knowing how much to believe. He continued. “So because this boy couldn’t inherit and the odds were against him having an education or a career, his daddy signed over the rights to one of his own best oil fields in Glenpool and gave it to this boy, who was by now a man.”

  “Are you sure this is the secret?” I asked, feeling tired.

  “Patience, woman.” Jack sipped his second shot. I crunched ice and smoked. Jack was getting low on cigarettes. “So this grown son now had total ownership of part of the richest oil wells in the world. He left his daddy’s house. This was about 1910 or so, and he moved to the Greenwood district. The intersection at Greenwood and Archer was known as Deep Greenwood or Little Africa.” Jack laughed, his voice harsh and dry. “It has been called the Black Wall Street, but really, it was the Black Main Street. It had everything, all kinds of shops and shit . The son, now financially set, bought a home there, married, started having children, opened his own business, I forget what it was, and just lived his life. He was a rich man, settled and happy. He was well on his way to becoming deacon of his church and maybe his own elected official position someday. The McKerrs watched this drama with vengeful glee. They kept track of the son and his family and waited. By now, it was May of 1921. The Wilsons were way ahead. We McKerrs were floundering. Bad investments, embezzlement, gambling, and inattention to business were bleeding our once powerful, albeit new dynasty dry. Old Man McKerr felt we needed just one push, just one leg up to restore us to previous recent glory. He sank millions into drilling that came up dry. He was desperate. A fanatic maybe. His family never saw him. He went to Texas looking for the next huge well. His plan was to cash in just one more time and then he would make the money inaccessible to the bad elements and wastrels in his family.” Jack smiled sourly. “Everyone would live very well, but the principal would stay with the company and the McKerr legend would be set. The name would be mighty forever.”