Kiss of Noir

by Clara Nipper

  “Whoa, hold up.” I pried Sayan’s pincers off my throbbing ear. “Don’t treat me this way, baby.”

  Sayan stepped back, putting her fists on her ample and outraged hips. “What? I do not believe what I am hearing. Don’t treat you like what, a lazy good-for-nothing, too stupid to know when a disaster is coming, or don’t treat you like the ignint child you are? Which is it? Or both? Oh, Jesus, help me through this. I’ve got my hands full a work and my house full of disrespect.” Sayan entreated the darkening skies. She put a finger in my face, her neck going Cobra on me again. “Nora, I swear, you better do me right today or I’ll put you out. I will! I’ll set all your shit right out in the ’cane and not look back, you hear?”

  I tried to back away but was trapped by the car. “Cleo warned me,” I muttered, wondering how to solve this.

  Sayan heard. “Cleo…Cleo warned you? Warned you about me when I am just doing my level best to get through this in one piece and keep our home safe and our things protected and me and my baby secure and the shop dry and Ellis and Cleo and you alive!” Sayan’s voice cracked. “And all Ellis had worked for.” Sayan took a gasping sob. “And our future—” Sayan collapsed on the ground, crying. I knelt beside her, realizing I shouldn’t have poked a pregnant tigress.

  “Easy, easy, baby, I’m sorry,” I murmured over and over until Sayan leaned on me and cried herself out. The wind blew leaves and trash in torrents over us. I lifted Sayan and we walked into the house with our arms around each other. I was docile and obedient for the rest of the day. And amid all the TVs blaring the dire forecasts, Sayan worked me like a pack mule.

  Late in the afternoon, I was sweating and panting, and stood before the television as the weatherman announced that the hurricane had been downgraded to a tropical storm. Extreme caution was still advised and preparations for flooding and wind damage were still recommended. Evacuation was voluntary.

  Sayan called out from the kitchen where she was preparing supper. “You finished?”

  “I need a break, Sayan,” I said.

  “All right, but no smoking.”

  I trudged into the kitchen ripe with cooking aromas that made me sick with envy to smell. How I would love to have a wife taking care of the vitals: cooking in our kitchen, spoiling, pampering, and petting me. I sat across from Sayan. Me, having nothing to do, drummed my fingers on the table under Sayan’s stern glare. “Where’s Ellis?”

  “Taking care of business, I’m sure.” Sayan looked at the clock. “That should be him now.”

  As if synchronized, Ellis voice called out, “That smells so good. Where’s my baby?” The door closed and Ellis stood in his fedora, big as life, smiling at Sayan, who ran into his arms. He rocked her for a few moments. They murmured to each other. I studied my fingernails.

  When there was no sign of change, I stood up. “Well, I’ll just…”

  Ellis rested his chin on Sayan’s head and grinned at me. “She been slave driving?”

  “No, not too bad.” I wanted to wink at Sayan, but Sayan’s face remained on Ellis’s chest.

  “Well, I’ve got a situation to discuss with you,” Ellis said to me. “Come outside?”

  Sayan jerked away from Ellis. “I know what that means. Trouble. Don’t go hiding your tribulations from your wife, Ellis Abraham Delaney.”

  Ellis kissed Sayan’s forehead and stroked her back. “No such thing, baby. It’s only a small something I want Nora to handle just so she knows how in case she decides to expand our business someday.”

  Sayan pressed her hands against Ellis’s chest to look up and study his face. “And why can’t that happen in here with me?”

  Ellis sighed as if he were drawing on vast supplies of patience for a beloved child. “You know Nora needs to smoke. You probably haven’t let her eat or use the bathroom all day.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Sayan grunted, unsure but deciding to concede. “I expect you both on time at the table for supper.”

  Ellis looked at his watch and nodded. “What are we having?”

  “Your favorite, baby.” Sayan snuggled against him again.

  “Pot roast, mudfish étouffée, and pie!” Ellis licked his lips. “You can do no wrong, Sayan.”

  “You either, baby.” Sayan seemed to melt and I saw, just for a moment, the tender soft side Sayan concealed behind her fireball exterior. Without warning, I got images of Sayan’s lovemaking, hot, intense, and oh, so feminine. I rattled my head, disgusted with my involuntary fantasy. I didn’t desire Sayan at all; Sayan was my sister and I felt about her that way. But I was jealous of Ellis and his cozy home life and beautiful, passionate wife. I needed to go to the Sayan store, I thought, wondering where and when that might be. Or I just needed to get laid.

  “C’mon.” Ellis left his hat on a peg by the door and went to the backyard. I started to follow, fumbling for my tobacco and matches.

  “Be careful out there. Storm is still coming,” Sayan snapped.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I answered, meek with desire for a woman of my own to boss me, worry about me, tend me, and mend me.

  Sayan brushed my shoulder as she passed by, hot pads in hand. “You’re not so bad, are you?” she said to the pot roast as she checked on it.

  Belatedly, I realized Sayan was addressing me and I said, “No, ma’am,” and followed Ellis outside.

  Ellis stood, hands in pockets, his clothes whipping like flags in the wind. Once I was next to him, we both squinted into the gale as we watched trash cans and lawn furniture of Ellis’s wealthy neighbors get tossed.

  “Aren’t you nervous?” I asked, putting a cigarette in my mouth but realizing it would be futile to light up. I desperately pulled air through the cigarette, trying not to swallow too much loose tobacco but getting a faint satisfying taste. Sayan, with her comfortable domesticity and love like a sun, made me go limp with longing and ravenous for cigarettes.

  “Gimme one, will ya?” Ellis asked.

  I glanced back at the house and held my pouch out to Ellis. “Hambone, you don’t smoke.”

  “So don’t worry about it.” Ellis tipped his head at me, his caramel eyes meeting mine. He shook his head and looked off in the distance. “Love lies.”

  I knew instantly what Ellis was telling me. Love lies, the rationalized justifiable fabrications told to women to protect them from harm and hurt. I had never been much of a liar myself because I had too many women to keep track of to risk complications of that magnitude. But I knew many who did lie out of love and I understood it. I held my cigarette pinched between forefinger and thumb. “What fibs you been telling, Ham?”

  A patio umbrella sailed through the air, the weather a counterpoint to our quiet, intimate conversation.

  Ellis sighed, twiddling the unlit cigarette in his fingers. “To Sayan back there. It is trouble, and lots of it. Mrs. Clyde.”

  I felt my armpits go hot and my spine cold. “What’s the story?”

  “She’s crazy, and I don’t mean in a cute wacky sense. I mean dangerous. Loco.”

  I wondered if all this was about our night at the graveyard. I had brought my doggish disgusting habits into Ellis’s clean, organized life and as thanks, brought strife and difficulty onto the man who loved, sheltered, fed, and employed me. My toes curled and I shut my eyes against the wind. What had Julia told him? How would I repair this? How could I possibly apologize enough? My cheeks grew warm with shame as I imagined Ellis trying to protect me against the disappointed look in Sayan’s clear, shining eyes. “Look, Ellis.”

  “Turns out the bitch has been taking me for years.”

  I opened my eyes. I felt a drop of rain on my skull. “What?”

  “I just can’t tell Sayan all this because she told me not to do business with that raggedy heifer. But everything has been cool all the years I’ve known her, I thought. And now I’ll look a fool if I tell her. I can’t do that, can I?” Ellis spread his hands, asking for my approval.

  “No, no, of course not. What’s all this about?”

 
; Ellis took a deep breath. I could sense his embarrassment to confess even to me.

  “Listen, Ellis, don’t worry about talking to me. You saw what a damn fool thing I did to fuck up my life and land me here with you.”

  “Yeah, but that’s different. That was vigilante justice. And it was cool. You’re infamous for that now. You got the glory with it. And I like having you here. Feels nice. Right somehow.” Ellis pinched his nose and cleared his throat. “All I got was cheated by a skeeze white thief.”

  “But look at everything else you have that I don’t,” I said. I gestured to the upscale neighborhood and the charming home behind us, my cold cigarette like an accusing pointer. “And Sayan,” I choked out. “And your baby. And Cleo.” I stopped before I said too much. I sucked on my unlit cigarette and gathered myself. “So fuck your pride, man. Anybody would take all you got for that easy price.”

  “Sho ’nuff, huh?” Ellis grinned.

  “Tell me, man,” I said. “And let’s go where I can light this goddamned thing.”

  “We’ll go to the other shop. Let me tell Sayan.”

  “Don’t want Cleo to know either?”

  Ellis raised his chin, defiant. “No, I do not. That okay with you?”

  I held up my hands, cigarette dangling from my lips.

  I didn’t know how Ellis convinced Sayan that it would be all right for us to leave in this weather and this close to suppertime. Love lies getting bigger, I surmised. He had grabbed his hat too.

  In the tony shop, we sat in the dim light in luxurious chairs, all quiet around us. I was amazed by the contrast between Ellis’s two shops. The pawn where Cleo and I worked was a chaotic rat hole compared to this. Ellis’s regular pawn did all it could to speak poor. Concrete floor, rattly, battered filing cabinets, a touchy, temperamental cash register, scuffed cigar boxes of paper, squeaky ceiling fans, homemade cinder block shelves, and a hand-painted sign. I settled into my overstuffed wingback chair. This is more like it, I thought.

  Ellis had deadbolted the door behind us and had only turned on one beautiful, fragile lamp that cast a warm yet eerie glow in the rich silence while the wind howled outside.

  I had the feeling that we were hiding from a hunter. The door to this place was nondescript and all customers were viewed by camera and then buzzed in if they had an appointment. Outside, the door was solid metal with a plain brown façade. Next to the door was a brass plate with a buzzer. That was it. No identification or windows or awnings or signs.

  Inside, the walls were striped gold damask; the thick carpet was black wool, and heavy gold velvet draperies covered the back wall and the entrance to Ellis’s office. There was no direct lighting except at the antique table where Ellis examined proffered items with a brilliant halogen lamp, several magnifiers, a loupe, and several other tools. On a side table was a small bar with crystal decanters of whiskey, brandy, gin, and vodka. There was a tray of lovely glasses that were so clean they seemed to sing. Also on the table, there was a humidor, matches, ashtrays, and a cutter. Everything was immaculate.

  Ellis poured each of us a glass of brandy and offered me a cigar, which I took and watched Ellis clip the end and puff on a match until the room was fragrant with tobacco smoke.

  “Don’t inhale, T-Bone, you’ll get sick. Can you do it?”

  “What’s the point?”

  “The point is, you’ll feel like a fat, white CEO banker man.”

  I smelled my cigar with a smile. Ellis instructed me how to clip and light it. As I applied the wooden match to the plump cigar end, my smoker’s instincts took over and I sucked deep and began coughing immediately.

  “Now, Nora, what did I tell you?” Ellis chided as spit flew from my mouth and my eyes rolled. Gasping, I took a large swallow of brandy and my coughing spasm continued as the alcohol burned all the way in. I crouched on the floor on all fours, my cough like a feral yelp. Ellis, cigar perched between his teeth, laughed and slapped his thighs. He tossed me his handkerchief. I returned to my chair, knees wobbling, hands shaking, wiping my mouth and eyes. I was not at all amused. I plugged the cigar in my mouth and pulled gently, letting the ripe smoke nestle on my tongue and curl out between my lips. I took a cautious sip of brandy and fixed Ellis with a stern eye.

  “What did you want to tell me, cuz?”

  Ellis swirled his brandy, staring into its topaz depths. “I’ve lost a lot of money with that cross-eyed bitch. A lot.”

  “How much?”

  Out of discreet pawning habits, Ellis wrote the number on a slip of paper. I looked at it and smacked my head.

  “Do you realize how many zeroes are here?”

  “Just one.” Ellis pointed to his chest. “Me.”

  “Ellis, how did this happen?”

  The wind screamed and yowled around the building. It sounded like rain was driven to ground at all angles like bullets.

  “She was one of my first big clients, Nora. She’s honky trash all the way. Been ridden hard and put away wet, but she used her skank toot-toot to snare some dumbass rich bastard who smothered her in furs and choked her with jewels and kept her in the life that royalty is so accustomed. I guess his gamble paid off because she cleans up nice and took on that role of bored, spoiled rich wife. She started all that useless shit that important people do: interior decorating, party planning, charity work with the movers and the shakers of New Orleans, you name it.” Ellis took a breath.

  I remembered that night at the graveyard. No matter how much Ellis thought he knew, he didn’t know the half of it.

  “But old habits die hard for a greedy bitch like that. So, she started stepping out. But she had to be careful ’cause her husband kept her on a short leash and he expected a lot. She could live like a queen, but she had a strict schedule and absolutely not a penny for herself. Everything was in his name and anything she needed or wanted, he had to approve and she charged on his accounts. So she was going crazy in this plush prison, so she started fucking all the male servants. Young, old, black, white, no matter.”

  “How you know all this?” I asked, only slightly annoyed that Julia wasn’t a lily-white virgin until our night together.

  “Well, since I’ve been wised up, I’ve been nosing around. Help talks. It’s not hard to find. She’s a kept whore, so her nasty doings are really of no consequence to anyone but herself and her husband, who knows a lot more than he lets on. So people give up info and it’s easily researched.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” I puffed my cigar and tasted my brandy. Mighty fine once I got the hang of it.

  “So her husband changed all the service people to female,” Ellis said.

  I looked up.

  “That worked for a while. But then more trouble started. With the women, there were broken hearts and lots of hostility. The house was in a constant uproar over this lousy piece.” Ellis shook his head.

  “Then what?”

  “He got rid of the women, hired new men, but made them sign a celibacy clause to work for him.” Ellis laughed. “Ain’t that some shit? White folks.”

  I snorted. “Why didn’t he just dump Julia and start over?”

  “Good question, T. What I found out is that the silly jackass loves her. Is mad for her sweet stuff. I don’t get it. You know what I’m saying?”

  I pursed my lips, reflecting on that poon. I had had better. I had missed out on better.

  “It’s all mixed up. She was a hard-luck case, she sexed him up, he gets addicted to her but wants to save her from herself, they marry and he controls everything about her and she has several secret lives she must keep confidential to keep this gourmet meal ticket.”

  “You mean there’s a point where he’d give her up?” I asked.

  Ellis nodded. “He’s a vain, touchy rich man and he likes his pride. Julia has done well by him so far with her volunteering and community service and being the adoring wife at all events, but I have it on good authority that one breath of actual scandal would bring down this house of cards and she would be on the street tu
rning tricks for grits.”

  “But if he’s so touchy, what about her sexcapades?” I was certain that was the only time in my life I would use that word.

  “No, I’m talking real scandal like public shame from the news and exclusion from society and embarrassment from his peers. The fact that he has a wild nympho wife whose legs he struggles to close just adds to his machismo. I think he likes the gossip.” Ellis shrugged, turning his finger around and around at his temple. “Sleeping with the mechanic and the butler ain’t the same as fucking his golf buddies, you get me?”

  “So where do you come in?”

  Ellis sighed. He relit his cigar. His phone rang. His face got soft as he answered the call and convinced Sayan to hold supper. He hung up and finished his brandy, pouring another for himself and freshening mine. “When I started my pawn, I knew I could make a good living. And that was fine. But I saw a rich market go begging just because there was no resource with the capital and with the confidentiality. So that’s where you came in the second time.” Ellis smiled at me and I returned it warmly. “To stake me for this place. So I had the experience, the funds, and now I needed the business. Julia was referred to me by Payne Phillips. You know her?”

  Not breathing, I nodded.

  “Turns out, when Julia can’t get enough freak, she’s a voracious gambler. Her husband puts the cuffs on her in one way and she busts out in another. She has a curfew all the time and a guardian most of the time. But she slips out and loses at the tables as often as she can.”

  I steepled my fingers. “Uh-huh…and?”

  “Well, she and Payne go way back even though Julia’s a lot older. Payne’s from the hood and had done a few transactions with me, a drum set, a toolbox of Craftsman, shit like that, so I trusted her referral and I thought this was my big chance. So I laid down the deal for this nouveau riche bitch and she bit hard. She has a lot of important Jewelry with a capital J. You ever hear of the Claren-Stein rubies?”

  “No.”

  “Well, they’re magnificent. She’s got them mounted in a ring and matching earrings. Ever hear of the Turkish Fires?”