Some Things I Never Thought I'd Do

by Pearl Cleage

  But I guess it's only fitting, I thought, heading home with my cappuccino to go and the Sunday New York Times tucked under my arm. Who other than a king would have the temerity to challenge an emperor?

  30

  IDIDN'T BOTHER TRYING TO GET to Beth's Mondaymorning meeting on time. There was no need. The players at this kind of session never change. There's always a contingent of hacks for hire who go with the prevailing wind, offering their expertise to the highest bidder. There are always the bright-eyed professional women in those red power suits with American-flag pins that have replaced the gold-toned American eagles they favored under Hillary Clinton's reign. And, of course, there will be the young would-be movers and shakers in designer suits and IBM top-salesman smiles, hoping for a place in the inner circle based primarily on style, charm, and the vague promise of corporate contributions if cards are played correctly.

  I had been in these meetings with Son many times. People whose job it is to notice such things had long been aware of Beth's political potential, but Son always cut them off at the pass. Beth was about as well suited to the down and dirty of Georgia state politics as I was, and Son knew it. But Son was gone now, and Beth was making decisions on her own.

  By the time I pulled in behind all those sleek new BMWs and Cadillacs and even a Lexus or two, coffee had been served and those assembled were busily kissing Beth's ass.

  “You have no idea what a groundswell of support there is out there,” said one alarmingly slender woman in her forties, whose variation on the red power suit was a burgundy version, and whose lapel boasted an AIDS awareness ribbon cast in gold and decorated with rubies. “We were frankly overwhelmed when we floated your name at the coalition and the response was so completely positive. No one had a negative word to say.”

  Jade scribbled in her ever-present notebook and tilted it for my information: “She's from the Coalition of Conscious Women Voters.” I nodded my appreciation. Unasked, by me anyway, she was providing a simultaneous translation and a list of speakers as the hyper-cheery group took turns giving Beth reasons to think she could win the governor's race. There were representatives from what politicians like to call “a broad coalition” of groups. In addition to the Conscious woman, there were two state senators, a minister from one of those mega churches with ten thousand tithing members, a councilwoman from Albany, a banker from Macon, and assorted pseudo activists whose party affiliations change like the weather but who are always accorded a spot at these meetings because of the unseen hordes of “community people” whose interests they claim to represent.

  I recognized a few Atlanta businessmen who had never been big Son Shine supporters before, and a county commissioner whose one and only claim to fame was that he was black and Republican in a state where the GOP has, until very recently, been referred to derisively as “the party of Lincoln.” There were even two young white women who, like Jade, seemed to be staffers, not full participants. I wondered which of the black people present had achieved this peculiar new status symbol: a white woman with a notebook to keep track of who had been promised what in exchange for what else.

  “I know it seems a little early to jump out there,” one of the smoothies in a thousand-dollar suit was saying to Beth with a dazzling display of perfect teeth, “but the fact is, we'll be playing catch-up even if we start today. We have to hit the ground running if we're going to mount a credible campaign.”

  “'Credible'?” Beth said, raising her eyebrows. “If I thought ‘credible’ was the best we could do, I'd thank you for your time and send you on your way.”

  She smiled when she said it, but her tone conveyed exactly who had the power in the room and who did not. As if anybody needed reminding. She was, as usual, seated with her back to the portrait ofher and Son in a big wingback chair that had probably spent its last life in somebody's throne room. Beth's tone froze the smoothie in midbeg, and he smiled his apology for a poor choice of words.

  “I'm certainly in no position to pressure you, Ms. Davis. None of us is.” He spread his arms to include his fellow supplicants, who nodded their agreement. We're not worthy! “It's just that the possibility of having you on the Republican ticket is such an exciting one that it's hard to wait.”

  Republican ticket? Beth was going to run as a Republican? In a state where those guys are on the wrong side of everything she stands for, or used to, how could she consider such a thing? Was the GOP the sponsor she had been talking about? Oh, hell no!

  There was a murmuring and a nodding of heads. Beth smiled indulgently and put down her cup. Those assembled leaned forward in unison as if someone had cued them so as not to miss a word.

  “I am humbled by your visit here today,” she said. “Some of you have driven several hours to get here, and even those who came from across town had to brave the rush-hour traffic, so that was no picnic either.”

  They laughed softly, grateful for the acknowledgment of their efforts.

  “Your enthusiasm for the possibility of my entering the political arena is highly contagious, and I don't mind confessing that I'm tempted to give you my response right now.”

  They actually held their collective breath, but there was no way she was going to let them off that easy. Their desire to hit the ground running would in no way impact her own impeccable sense of timing. Beth could not be rushed by anyone.

  “But how could I make such an important decision without taking the time to deliberate? To consider what I can bring to this race and to this state at this critical juncture in our history. How could I possibly justify your faith in me if I act on impulse rather than intuition, intention, and intellect? And, yes, I say ‘intuition’ right up front because my woman's intuition will continue to be something I will call on during this process just like I always have.”

  They murmured their approval, the women a little louder than the men.

  “And right now my woman's intuition is telling me it's time for us all to get back to work, but I promise you this: You'll have your answer in the next two weeks.”

  More murmuring and nodding, then the mega minister smiled unctuously and spoke for the group. “Sister Davis, you have been more than gracious with your time. If you will keep us in your thoughts, we will keep you in our prayers.”

  “Amen,” said the county commissioner.

  Beth stood up as they began gathering their things, shaking hands, offering her cheek for a fast, impersonal kiss, and promising them her decision soon, very soon. As she made her way to the door and stood there for her farewells, Jade stood discreetly beside her, scribbling notes and reminders so that each thank-you was specific, each pledge of support was recorded, and no promise could be forgotten in the swirl of the days ahead.

  I've been that person. The invisible staffer, making sure no detail is overlooked. Public life, elected or otherwise, is built on the details. Jade was smart, focused, and committed. Watching her, she reminded me so much of me, I almost felt protective. Almost.

  When Beth closed the big front door behind the last of her visitors, she was smiling like the cat who swallowed the canary. “I think that went well, don't you?”

  “Very well,” Jade said, and they both looked at me.

  “Since when are you a Republican?” I said, cutting to the chase. “You hate everything these guys stand for, remember?”

  “I never said I was a Republican.” Beth's tone was conciliatory, but underneath there was ice. That tone used to intimidate me. Now all it did was fully activate my instinct for self-preservation.

  “Don't play that game with me,” I said. “Are you?”

  “I'm just keeping my options open. You might be smart to do the same.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Beth turned to her assistant, still hovering nearby. “I'll talk with Gina alone for a few minutes. I'll call you if I need anything.”

  “Of course,” Jade said, heading downstairs without a backward glance.

  Had Beth talked to me in those same curt command
s? She probably had, at least toward the end of our association. That's when I noticed it, anyway. In the beginning, I was just happy she spoke to me at all. Shero worship is a powerful thing, and I was fully in its grip during the first five years. Looking at Beth now, it's hard to remember those days, until she smiles, like she's smiling now. That's when it all comes flooding back, and I have to remember to keep my wits about me.

  “I know this is a lot to absorb,” Beth said gently, unconsciously echoing Blue's words, “and I know on the surface it might seem that there are a few contradictions in what I'm doing.”

  “A few?”

  She sighed like she was trying not to get annoyed. “Listen to me, Gina. These are perilous times. White folks got more on their minds these days than some raggedy black women in Georgia dragging their kids around asking for a handout.”

  I was shocked to hear her categorize her work and her followers that way. “Is that how they look to you?”

  “That's how we look to them, and that's what important. The days of guilt money are gone, and they are not coming back.”

  “So where does that leave us? Blood money or bust?”

  Her smile only managed to curl the edges of her lips before becoming a sneer. “Always so quick to judge, aren't you?”

  This was getting us no place fast. “Listen, Beth, we don't have to do this at all.”

  “Yes, we do. Let's put everything on the table, shall we? I'm getting ready to take things to the next level, and I want you to be a part of it. You're the best, and I want nothing less.”

  I looked at her. “No, thanks.”

  “Hear me out before you say no so fast.”

  “Go on.”

  Beth's voice was urgent. She wanted to convince me, and she was prepared to work hard to do it. “Yes, they're Republicans, okay? But does that mean we can't do business with them? Does that mean we can't make the best deal for the women I represent?”

  “You mean those raggedy black women asking for a handout?”

  Her eyes hardened. “Yes, those same raggedy women who are inspired by my message because it's a message of hope. It's a message of self-determination steeped in sacrifice—”

  “You don't have to convince me. I wrote that speech, remember?” I said, cutting her off.

  “It was one ofyour best,” she said. “And it's still true.”

  “So how can you sell them out to people who you know spend inordinate amounts of time trying to blame them for everything from higher taxes to moral decay?”

  “I haven't sold anybody out to anything,” she snapped. “No decisions have been made yet.”

  “Still trying to get the best deal?”

  “Isn't that what politics is all about?”

  “I thought politics was supposed to be the art of the possible.”

  Beth sighed deeply and sat back in her chair. The exchange had escalated into unpleasantness faster than either one of us had anticipated. This was as good a time as any to change the subject. I reached into my purse and withdrew the snapshot of Son and the mystery woman.

  “Shall we agree to disagree for a moment? I've got something I need to show you.”

  “All right,” Beth said, looking relieved. She had achieved her goal. All cards were on the table. She could try to lean on me later, but right now she needed to see what I had in my hand. “What is it?”

  “I found this with Son's things.” I handed her the photograph and waited.

  She turned it over to see if there was a name on the back. Of course there wasn't. “Who is she?”

  “I thought you might be able to tell me,” I said. “Do you know her?”

  Beth shook her head. “Not this one.”

  “This one what?”

  She looked at me, and there was pain in her face. “I told you we've gotten some anonymous calls. Some blackmail attempts. Women claiming Son had promised them this or that. Con artists looking for some money in exchange for not telling lies on my son when he's not around to defend himself.” She shook her head as if to banish unpleasant memories. “None ofthem hold water. Once we put somebody on it, the stories always evaporate.”

  “Have there been any other pictures?”

  “No.”

  Something in her voice made me know she was lying. “Well, so far this is the only one I've come across. I'll keep you posted.”

  She was still looking at the picture intently. “How could he be so foolish? Photographs always come back to haunt you. The last thing I need at this point is another stripper claiming to have been my son's lover.”

  “Who said she was a stripper?”

  She looked up from the picture then, suddenly wary. “You did.”

  “No, I didn't.”

  Did she know the woman? I could see her casting around for a lie to cover her slip of the tongue.

  “I probably just assumed that's what she was because that's what the others were,” she said, thinking fast.

  “Right,” I said, getting ready to go. There was no reason to press her. It was none of my business. She was paying me to screen for scandal. I was just doing my job. “I've got a meeting over at Morehouse. Is there anything else we need to discuss?”

  “I don't think so.” She stood up with me and tucked the photograph into the pocket of her tunic. “I'll give this to my investigator and let him handle it.”

  “Fine. If I come across any others, I'll pass them on.”

  “I know you will,” she said at the door. “And Gina?”

  “Yes?”

  “Let's just try to keep our options open as far as the politics go, okay?”

  I wanted to say that my options, open or otherwise, did not include helping her mess over a righteous black politician like Precious Hargrove, but I didn't. The weasel was expecting another payment at just about the time Beth had promised an answer to her new admirers. If part of my job was to let her think I could be convinced to help her if her answer to them was yes, I would just have to string her along until my contract was over and I was a debt-free woman again.

  It seemed a small price to pay, so I just smiled. “Fair enough.”

  She rewarded me with a big Beth smile and an air kiss in the general vicinity of my right cheek.

  “Does that mean I still have time to talk you out of it?” I asked as I stepped outside into the warm spring day.

  She laughed. “It means you still have time to try!”

  31

  BLUE HADN'T BEEN AROUND SINCE Saturday night, but a few hours ago, I felt his presence so strongly, I opened my door and listened carefully to see if I could hear him across the hall. Silence. His car wasn't out front, either, but I felt him headed this way as surely as ifwe had made a midafternoon appointment. Maybe it's a kind of telepathy because ofthe past-lives thing. Who knows?

  I tried to go back to work on a draft of Beth's speech. I wasn't ready to admit that she was going to run for office yet, so I was still writing it as if she wasn't. I've written lots of speeches for Beth, and I know the cadences of her voice so well it didn't take me any time to fall back into those rhythms again. But once I had felt Blue headed this way, I couldn't surrender to Beth's voice again, and there's no point in trying to write her speech in my voice, so I decided to knock off for the day, take a shower, and treat myself to dinner.

  I had just stepped into a pair of black pants and pulled on my favorite black sweater when I heard a knock on the door. His timing couldn't have been better. A neighborly invitation to join me for dinner would be totally appropriate. Even emperors in exile have to eat.

  When I opened the door, he apologized immediately. “I'm sorry for disturbing you. Is this a bad time?”

  “Not at all,” I said. “Come on in.”

  He was wearing, as usual, a dark suit and a lightweight black overcoat. I tried to imagine him in more casual clothes, but I really couldn't. Maybe it was an imperial holdover. In this life, he couldn't wear velvet robes and carry a scepter, but a beautiful suit and a cashmere coat were not out
of the question.

  “Thank you,” he said, following me inside. “How have you been?”

  “Fine, thanks. You?” Where he had been was none of my business, but his overall well-being was perfectly polite conversation.

  “Fine,” he said. “Except I received a report about the disturbance at the newsstand and I understand you were there at the time.”

  “It wasn't much,” I said. “A lot of bluster. When your man stepped in, the guy ran out and drove off.”

  Blue nodded. “Good. I'm sorry it happened, and especially sorry that it happened in my place.”

  “That guy's bad news,” I said. “Aretha and I saw him up at Lu's school the other day.”

  “She told me. He's operating in a gray area there because he's picking up his niece, but this has nothing to do with that.”

  “He said you had crossed Stewart and somebody named King James didn't appreciate it.”

  Blue looked at me. “I had to talk to some of his people this weekend. They tried to push their way into Mattie Jenkins's house. She slammed the door, but they tore the screen and scared her.”

  I remembered Miss Mattie's righteous indignation at the meeting. “Is she okay?”

  He nodded. “She's fine, but King James's boys crossed the line.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Remember when I told you I always give a man the benefit of the doubt and let him know when his behavior is unacceptable?”

  “And you're only required to do it once?”

  He was pleased that I'd remembered. He didn't have to worry about that. I remembered every word.

  “This was my second meeting with those young fools.”

  It dawned on me that this hadn't been a meeting where discussion was on the agenda. That was why DooDoo had been so angry. I felt myself shiver. If he hadn't gone to talk to them, what had he gone to do?

  “Oh,” I said. “Did you—?” How do you ask somebody if they've killed anybody since the last time you saw them?