Just Wanna Testify
Page 1
ALSO BY PEARL CLEAGE
Fiction
Till You Hear from Me
Seen It All and Done the Rest
Baby Brother’s Blues
Babylon Sisters
Some Things I Never Thought I’d Do
I Wish I Had a Red Dress
What Looks Like Crazy on an Ordinary Day …
Nonfiction
We Speak Your Names: A Celebration
Deals with the Devil and Other Reasons to Riot
Mad at Miles: A Black Woman’s Guide to Truth
Just Wanna Testify is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2011 by Pearl Cleage
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by One World Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
ONE WORLD is a registered trademark and the One World colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
Cleage, Pearl.
Just wanna testify : a novel / Pearl Cleage.
p. cm.
eISBN: 978-0-345-52624-3
1. African American women—Fiction. 2. Atlanta (Ga.)—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3553.L389J87 2011
813′.54—dc22 2010050945
www.oneworldbooks.net
Jacket design: Kristine V. Mills
Jacket photograph: © Masterfile
v3.1
For Zaron, who still makes me wanna testify
And for Bailey, Chloe, Michael, Deignan, and Will, who make me want to live forever
There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.
—THORNTON WILDER, The Bridge of San Luis Rey
I just wanna testify
what your love has done for me.
—PARLIAMENT
Contents
Cover
Other Books by This Author
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter One - Miss Jada Don’t Play That
Chapter Two - Mingling with Humans
Chapter Three - Cutting Edge
Chapter Four - Available Men
Chapter Five - In Search of Models
Chapter Six - One Step Ahead
Chapter Seven - A Fabulous Opportunity
Chapter Eight - Dinner Rush
Chapter Nine - Something Very Strange
Chapter Ten - The Senior Princess
Chapter Eleven - The Surprise Factor
Chapter Twelve - New Orleans Sob Story
Chapter Thirteen - What She Had to Say
Chapter Fourteen - Do-Right Men
Chapter Fifteen - A Personal Matter
Chapter Sixteen - Ordinary Mortals
Chapter Seventeen - Their End of the Deal
Chapter Eighteen - Shootin’ the Breeze
Chapter Nineteen - A Born Buddhist
Chapter Twenty - Random Humans
Chapter Twenty-one - Our Last Hope
Chapter Twenty-two - Sharing Their Sushi
Chapter Twenty-three - Wolf Bane and a Garlic Necklace
Chapter Twenty-four - Stupider and Stupider
Chapter Twenty-five - Speak of the Devil
Chapter Twenty-six - An Escape Clause
Chapter Twenty-seven - A Beating Heart
Chapter Twenty-eight - A Little Bad Judgment
Chapter Twenty-nine - What You Get Used To
Chapter Thirty - By Blood or by Love
Chapter Thirty-one - A Bad Precedent
Chapter Thirty-two - A Good-Man Story
Chapter Thirty-three - Between Humans and Vamps
Chapter Thirty-four - Singing Backup
Chapter Thirty-five - All That Vampire Stuff
Chapter Thirty-six - Two Free People
Chapter Thirty-seven - Just Like a Man
Chapter Thirty-eight - Send Me
Chapter Thirty-nine - The Best Sight Lines
Chapter Forty - First, Last, and Forever
Chapter Forty-one - Good at It
Chapter Forty-two - Old Wives’ Tale
Chapter Forty-three - The Power of Love
Chapter Forty-four - A Sucker Bet
Chapter Forty-five - Just the Possibility
Epilogue - Just Wanna Testify
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Prologue
When Regina Hamilton found out she was pregnant with her second child, she was so happy that she cried. She cried again when she called to tell her Aunt Abbie and one more time that night when she told Blue. By the time they told Sweetie that she was going to be a big sister, Regina’s tears had stopped flowing, but she couldn’t stop smiling. Blue teased her about it, but she could tell he was really happy, too. She accused him of liking her best when she was barefoot and pregnant, and he said he didn’t know about the barefoot part, but loving her when she was carrying their child was about as close to heaven as he could stand to get.
That brought on a brief relapse in the crying department, but it didn’t last. She smiled all the way through her first trimester and now seemed to be sleeping her way through the second. If she didn’t get in an afternoon nap, she couldn’t keep her eyes open after eight o’clock. This put her on the same four-year-old’s sleep schedule as her daughter and also put a serious crimp in her late night love life. Blue just laughed and reminded her that she’d be back on a more adult schedule in another couple of weeks and then they could make up for lost time.
Regina couldn’t wait that long. She arranged a sleepover for Sweetie, turned off the phone, and took a two-hour nap, then made reservations at Landon’s and went out and bought a new dress that complemented her pregnancy curves. Blue’s eyes when he saw her in it let her know that he didn’t want to wait either. They lingered over the meal, enjoying a night out together, but when their server offered dessert, they both declined so quickly, Regina felt herself blush like a teenager.
Blue took her arm gently and guided her across the parking lot, which was rapidly filling up with cars of hungry people. The chef at Landon’s knew his way around the kitchen and the place had a growing number of enthusiastic regulars.
“You could have had dessert if you wanted it,” Regina said as Blue backed the big black Lincoln out carefully and turned the car onto Cascade Road. “I had a nap this afternoon. I’m good until midnight!”
That made him laugh and she did, too. In front of them, the moon rose, glowing at the end of the street like a giant yellow ball.
“My God,” Regina said. “It looks close enough to touch.”
“My mother used to call that a Cascade Moon.”
“I’ve been here six years and I’ve never seen a moon like that.”
“It’s rare,” Blue said. “Something to do with the rotation of the earth.”
“Doesn’t everything have to do with the rotation of the earth?”
“Exactly.”
It looked like a movie moon. She half expected E.T. and that little kid on the bicycle to come pedaling across her view. Regina couldn’t take her eyes off it.
“Is it good luck?”
He shrugged. “I don’t remember her saying anything about it being lucky. Mostly it was supposed to be a time when spirits walk.”
“What kind of spirits?”
“Only the restless ones,” he said, reaching over to squeeze her knee lightly, but keeping his eyes on the road.
“Don’t laugh,” she said, covering his hand with he
r own so he would leave it where it was. “I was over at the Growers Association today and ShaRhonda and Lu were talking about vampires. Do they count?”
The Growers Association was the organization behind West End’s impressive network of one hundred community gardens. Their headquarters was the nerve center of the neighborhood and Regina stopped by daily to catch up on the news.
Blue raised his eyebrows. “Vampires in West End?”
“No, but just about everywhere else, to hear them tell it. Lu was teasing ShaRhonda about having a crush on some movie vampire guy who can’t have sex with his girlfriend because he might lose control and start sucking her blood.”
Blue shook his head slowly. “Now, that is a brother with a serious problem.”
“I can’t imagine why they would think that was sexy.”
“Probably because they’ve never had sex.”
“Good sex anyway,” Regina said.
“Bad sex doesn’t count,” Blue said, his smile half hidden in his mustache.
She smiled back. “You got that right.”
As Cascade Road turned into Abernathy Boulevard, West End’s main business artery, late shoppers could be seen hurrying home with whatever couldn’t wait until tomorrow, as students strolled back to their dorms clutching take-out cups of cappuccino from the West End News. Nobody seemed to be paying much attention to the moon, which was still glowing like a lighthouse as they turned down Peeples Street and pulled up in front of their house. The huge magnolia that dominated their front yard looked ghostly against the night sky.
“I would hate that,” Regina said, leaning her head against his shoulder as they started up the front walk, arm in arm.
“Hate what, baby?”
“Vampires in West End.”
Blue laughed softly and opened the big front door. “That will never happen.”
“How can you be so sure?” she said, stepping out of her heels.
“Because these vampires know I don’t play that stuff.”
“Good,” she said, nuzzling his neck, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a great big yawn.
“You still good till midnight?”
“Absolutely!” she said, heading upstairs. “Don’t keep me waiting!”
The water felt good against her skin as she took a quick shower, while Blue closed up the house for the night. Slipping under the sheets wearing nothing but her favorite perfume, she wondered what it would feel like to be in love with Blue and not be able to make love to him. She doubted that she could do it, no matter what the risks might be.
She shivered a little at the cool cotton sheets against her skin. Good thing I don’t believe in vampires. She yawned sleepily and closed her eyes, listening for Blue’s footsteps in the hallway, never knowing that by the time he slid in beside her, she was already snoring softly, one arm laid protectively across the gentle swell of her belly, smiling and dreaming.…
Chapter One
Miss Jada Don’t Play That
Friday
At last! Serena thought, taking one last look in the mirror. They have recognized how good I am at what I do!
She was known for her patience, her ability to wait her turn, but the last thing she needed was one more boring modeling assignment. Finally, they had handed her something she could really sink her teeth into. It was about time. Six feet tall before stepping into her five-inch, stiletto-heel boots and startlingly slender, Serena had a strange, otherworldly beauty that she enhanced by pulling her long, dark hair away from her face, emphasizing her high, sharp cheekbones, her almond-shaped eyes, and the bright red slash of her mouth, always painted crimson.
Modeling had been a perfect cover for her and the others, who looked enough like Serena to be her sisters. They had been given unlimited access to any men they fancied, which was great, but lately they had become so well known that it was hard to move around without drawing a crowd of pain-in-the-ass innocent bystanders, which was never a good thing. She had been assured that once they successfully completed their Atlanta assignment, the modeling cover would be honorably retired from service.
Serena was glad to hear it and she had every intention of successfully completing her mission. There was no room for distractions. When her superiors told her that she was going to Atlanta for a few weeks, they repeated the usual warnings about all things male, but there was no need to worry. Serena had waited too long for an assignment like this. Romance was the last thing on her agenda.
It wasn’t that Serena didn’t believe in love. She just hadn’t been raised to seek it, need it, or trust it. The stories that the women in her family passed along from one generation to the next all warned of the destructive power of making bad choices in matters of the heart. They stressed the dangers of opening her door, or her legs, to a man to whom their ideas of love and honor were no more than musings in a foreign-sounding tongue.
That’s what she’d been taught by those much wiser than she was. And who was she to question them? It was that wisdom that had helped their little group survive when so many others like them had disappeared. Besides, she was not a politician or a philosopher or a social scientist. She was simply an agent with a nonnegotiable contract to enforce that had been willingly and freely signed by all parties, including those young fools from Morehouse who had been living like kings all over Atlanta for the last four years. Now it was time for them to hold up their end of the bargain. They had been instructed to show up on campus this morning to finalize the details of their agreement. She and her team would be there, shooting an Essence magazine cover spread, but that’s exactly what it was: a cover. Their real assignment had nothing to do with fashion and everything to do with survival.
Serena wondered if the boys would try to weasel out of it. She assumed that they would, but that was neither here nor there. They would be no match for the team she was bringing with her. Scylla was the best possible second-in-command and had trained the girls relentlessly until Serena was confident they could perform efficiently no matter what challenges they might have to face. One way or another, the five guys whose names were on her list had a trip to a very private island in their future.
Showtime, Serena thought, giving her hair one more pat and opening the door to the living room of the suite at the Four Seasons hotel that she would be sharing with Scylla for the next seven days. Already dressed head to toe in black, as was Serena, Scylla was standing in the center of the room, staring a the giant flat-screen TV.
“Time to go?” Scylla said, without taking her eyes off the screen where a dancing couple was swooping and gliding around the floor, baring their blindingly white teeth at each other and faking as much sexual energy as they could, under the circumstances.
“We’ve got a few minutes,” Serena said, glancing at her watch and heading for the small wet bar in the corner where there were several bottles of Bloody Mary mix and a fifth of Absolut. “I’m going to drop you off and then stop by and pay my respects to Blue Hamilton. Have you had your cocktail?”
It was a rhetorical question, so she didn’t wait for an answer, as she reached for two glasses and dropped in ice cubes from the polished silver bucket nearby. She opened the vodka and poured a splash in each glass. She was sick of tomato juice, but the vodka made it a little more tolerable. Her hands moved quickly and efficiently, as if she could perform these bartending chores in her sleep.
On the screen, an embarrassed actor, way past his sexual prime, was trying to catch his breath after executing a laughable attempt at a mambo.
“What are you watching?”
“Dancing with the Stars.”
“At seven thirty in the morning?”
Scylla waggled the remote in Serena’s direction. “On demand,” she said. “In case you missed it.”
Serena stirred their drinks delicately with a plastic swizzle stick, carried both glasses across the room, and set one down in front of Scylla, who took a small sip.
“We should be on there,” Scylla said, nodding at the screen.
“Don’t knock it. Maybe they would let us all compete together. Sort of in a group.”
“No, probably not. Just you.”
“You think they’d let me pick my own partner?”
“I don’t see how they could stop you.” Serena sat down and crossed her long legs and took a swallow of her drink. “Who did you have in mind? Brad Pitt?”
“Yeah, right,” Scylla said sarcastically. “Like Angelina is going to let his pussy-whipped ass come out and dance with us.”
“She gave us an island instead of her man,” Serena said, as a liquid shrug rippled her slender shoulders like a breeze. “What are you gonna do?”
“How about Will Smith?” Scylla said, but Serena just raised an eyebrow.
“You know Miss Jada don’t play that.”
Scylla turned toward Serena with an expression that was almost hopeful. “She’s not with us, is she?”
Serena shook her head and took another swallow of her Bloody Mary. “No way. What made you think that?”
“Well, you know she’s got that punk band, Wicked Wisdom. Black leather. Scientology.”
“She’s not a Scientologist.”
“Too bad,” Scylla said, shaking her head a little. “That would make it easier to ask her if we can use her husband to jump-start things.”
“It’s the Mormons who are into polygamy.”
“I know, but the Scientologists have that frozen sperm thing, right? What we’re asking isn’t any weirder than that.”
Serena looked at her friend. “This feels so familiar, doesn’t it? Like old times?”
“Don’t get sentimental on me,” Scylla said, reaching over to pat Serena’s hand briskly like a mother telling a toddler to buck up on the first day of nursery school. “We’ve got a job to do, remember?”
Serena saw no reason to respond to that. She was in charge of this mission. Forgetting about the job was not an option. They watched a not very interesting quickstep from a lackluster couple who seemed tired of the show and of each other.
“Do you think it’s our fault?” Scylla said, taking another swallow of her drink. “About the men.”