Just Wanna Testify

by Pearl Cleage

  She liked that picture. Aretha had taken it only a few weeks after Abbie realized she was falling in love with Peachy. The idea that he liked it so much that he stood before it, feeling such longing that his suffering was visible to the naked eye, filled her with deep pleasure. Louie was right. There was enough time tomorrow to figure out the Mayflowers. She hadn’t seen Peachy in almost two weeks and she missed him like crazy.

  Tonight, she thought, smiling back at her own image, all you need is love. And maybe a nice cold chicken sandwich.

  Chapter Nine

  Something Very Strange

  It had been a very busy day. Since he first arrived at eight o’clock and found Serena Mayflower waiting in his office to the last phone call from his friend Noel in Trinidad that had just ended a few minutes before seven, Blue Hamilton had been wearing with equal aplomb the many hats required of him in the course of an average twenty-four-hour day.

  Blue had made his artistic reputation as a singer, but he had made his fortune in real estate. Although he was known for his extensive commercial and residential properties throughout West End, Blue’s holdings went far beyond the boundaries of the small southwest Atlanta community where he had chosen to live and work. Recent developments in world markets had tripled the value of his partnership with a Trinidadian songwriter turned oilman who had a line to Venezuelan president Hugo Chávez. Blue’s friend also held the distinction of having penned more number one hits than anyone else in the history of Carnival, including the collaboration that rocked the island several years earlier when Blue came briefly out of retirement to lend his unique vocals to the project and render the song an instant classic.

  Noel was begging Blue to come back and do it one more time, but so far there were no real plans to make it happen. Blue and Regina had spent almost a year in Trinidad when Sweetie was just learning to walk. Going back was a dream they often whispered about, lying in each other’s arms, remembering how sweet it had been to make love listening to the sound of the ocean outside their window.

  “Soon come,” Blue always said, in the island patois that meant twenty minutes or twenty years, depending on whom you asked. “Soon come.”

  He couldn’t deny that there had been something very appealing about stepping back from all of his West End responsibilities. His financial holdings were easily managed electronically, with minimal face-to-face contact required, but his actual presence in and around this neighborhood was an absolute necessity. Blue’s ability to hold things together was based in part on his well-known willingness to do whatever needed to be done to maintain the overall peace, but it was also the result of his undeniable personal charisma. As a singer, the power of that charisma had made grown women weak in the knees. In his current role, it sometimes did the same to grown men.

  Blue had thought once that the neighborhoods that bordered West End on every side would be transformed by their proximity to the twenty or so square blocks where he was in charge. He had hoped, and he had worked and he had waited, but not only had there been no positive change, many of the neighborhoods were actually getting worse. Unemployment was rampant. Drug addiction was epidemic. And maybe most surprising to Blue was that the election of a young black president who wanted to change the world and needed all the help he could get seemed to make little lasting impact among the young brown men he saw every day who wore their pants below their butts and had no larger vision than controlling the sale of crack cocaine in a half-block radius. It also made no difference at all to the young brown women whose children’s lives were already set in motion before their first birthdays to repeat every negative pattern. After years of sustained effort, Blue was beginning to suspect that there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about any of it beyond this tiny community where he had drawn a line that didn’t move.

  Through the smoked glass, Blue saw Henry coming down the hall. He stopped and spoke a few words to Jake and then tapped on Blue’s door twice like he did every night at precisely seven fifteen.

  “Come ahead,” Blue said.

  Henry stepped into the room, graceful for a man his size, and closed the door behind him.

  The two men sat together for a few minutes every evening to review the events of the day and get ready for the next one. To describe Henry as Blue’s right-hand man was to not recognize the multifaceted nature of his role. Each man trusted the other with his life, and constant, truthful communication was a necessity.

  Blue nodded slightly. “Want a drink?”

  “Absolutely,” Henry said.

  Neither man loosened a tie or removed a jacket.

  “Why don’t you do the honors?”

  Henry poured them each a generous splash of cognac and carefully replaced the cork. He walked back to his seat and handed Blue a snifter before taking his usual seat across from Blue.

  “Anything happening I need to know about?” Blue said.

  “Everything is everything,” Henry said, sounding like an old-school jazz musician. “I took care of that thing we talked about this afternoon and the team we sent over to Morehouse said they’re done for the day. Five of the models went back to their hotel and the one who was here earlier went over to Brandi’s with Aretha Hargrove. They’re having drinks right now. Your wife picked up your daughter and Joyce Ann Hargrove and took them both to your house.”

  “Any problems over there today?”

  Henry shook his head. “None at all. Was there anything specific you were expecting?”

  “No,” Blue said, wondering when was the right time to warn your closest associates that there were vampires in their midst. “But we never want to be careless.”

  Henry took a swallow of his drink and set it down slowly on the table in front of him. “I’m not exactly sure how I should say this.”

  Blue looked at Henry, his eyes giving off no light and his expression neutral.

  “Just say it,” Blue said. “What’s on your mind?”

  “That woman who came by this morning?”

  “Ms. Mayflower?”

  “Yes, Ms. Mayflower. I was just wondering if you noticed anything strange about her.”

  “Other than the fact that she’s probably the tallest, thinnest woman either one of us has ever seen?” Blue smiled, waiting for the next question.

  “You got that right,” Henry said, and Blue could see him relax a little. “But that’s not what I meant entirely.”

  Blue knew that it was time to tell Henry. Past time. How could he expect the man to protect him if he didn’t even know what the danger was?

  “I know what you mean,” Blue said. “There is something very strange about Serena Mayflower and I want your solemn vow that when I tell you what it is, that information will not leave this room.”

  Henry leaned forward and clasped his big hands on the table. They looked even bigger against the starched white cloth. “Mr. Hamilton, you have my word.”

  “Good. And do me a favor?”

  “Yes?”

  “Call me Blue.”

  Chapter Ten

  The Senior Princess

  Regina didn’t know who was more excited. Aretha making her way down I-20 to share the good news or the two little girls upstairs, wriggling into their princess outfits for a trip to the mall for ice cream. It was probably a tie, although she doubted that Aretha could compete when it came to high-pitched squealing. The truth was Regina was excited, too. The rest of the first day’s shoot had gone so well, it was almost as if the morning face-off between Scylla and Aretha had never happened.

  After the models had lunch, or whatever they did in place of eating, they reported back to Aretha with a new set of outfits—again having no resemblance to the wardrobe of any college professor who had ever earned a living on planet Earth—and a willingness to pose all over the campus without complaint. Everywhere they went, they attracted adoring groups of students who always got in the shoot if they were invited, but otherwise hung back at a respectful distance, content to say they had been in the presence of
a phenomenon without actually having to engage with it.

  The ease of interaction between Aretha and the models allowed Serena and Regina to stand off to one side and informally discuss the details of the portfolio assignment throughout the afternoon. By the end of the day, Regina had received an offer larger than Aretha could ever have imagined, a promise of complete creative control, and an assistant.

  Serena had emphasized again and again that they never presented themselves in a traditional style. Their portfolios were always art projects as well as marketing tools.

  “It’s her vision we want,” Serena said. “First and foremost, she’s an artist.”

  And after this assignment, a very well-paid artist, Regina thought, stacking the last of the dishes in the sink and going to the foot of the stairs to check on the princesses.

  “Anybody need any help up there?”

  Her daughter popped out of her bedroom door and into the hallway. At four years old, Sweetie had her mother’s bright smile and her father’s amazing blue eyes. She was wearing a frilly, pink princess dress and a golden crown balanced delicately on top of her head right between her old-school Afro puffs.

  “We’re coming, Mommy,” she said. “We have to find one to fit Joyce Ann.”

  At six, Joyce Ann had already outgrown most of these pastel confections and passed them on to Sweetie, but Regina had said they could dress up for a trip to the Baskin-Robbins if they ate all their vegetables at dinner, so they were happy to improvise.

  “Try the white one with the wings,” Regina said, forgetting which character the outfit represented. “I think it’s a little longer than the others.”

  “Okay, Mommy,” Sweetie said, and disappeared into what Regina knew was a cloud of scratchy net and pseudo-satin costumes flung everywhere in an effort to find one that did justice to Joyce Ann’s rank as the senior princess.

  There was no reason to rush them. Aretha was on her way, but she was coming from midtown, so it would be another fifteen minutes before she’d burst in with the details of her dinner with Serena. She was too excited to talk and drive, so Regina had no choice but to wait for some specifics. When Serena first extended the dinner invitation, Aretha had declined since it was already after five o’clock and she was just packing up the truck. She had to pick up her daughter by six. But Regina jumped in without hesitation, offering to pick up Joyce Ann and take her home with Sweetie, where Aretha could pick her up later.

  Serena had said time was of the essence, and as far as Regina was concerned, all that remained before they could seal the deal and sign on that very lucrative dotted line was to see if Aretha and Serena could work together—as members of the same creative team. Aretha was a lone wolf and Serena was an alpha bitch if she had ever seen one, Regina thought, smiling at the canine images that popped into her mind. If those two could figure out a way to work together, she had no doubt the pictures would be amazing. If they couldn’t, there was no need to belabor the process. They could finish up this shoot for Essence and call it a day, but Aretha hadn’t sounded like a woman about to call anything a day. She sounded like a woman who had just glimpsed a whole new set of possibilities.

  Regina glanced at her watch. It was almost eight and she knew Blue would be home any minute. She headed for the front door to turn on the porch light just in time to see the big black Lincoln pull up to the curb in front of their house. Upstairs, she could hear the princesses gathering their scepters and amping up the squeal factor.

  “Daddy’s home!”

  Chapter Eleven

  The Surprise Factor

  Regina opened the door and Blue saw, framed in the light, his daughter and Joyce Ann in full princess regalia—one pink, one white with wings—waving like mad. Just behind them, his wife was wearing her best “Welcome home, baby” smile. It was one of his favorite moments of the day, but tonight he felt the smallest twinge of guilt.

  Blue wasn’t accustomed to hiding things from Regina, but now he had told two people about the vamps, and she was still standing in the doorway, smiling and waving, completely oblivious. He had to tell her, no matter what her reaction might be. He owed her that much. Henry had taken it really well, Blue thought. He seemed surprised—who wouldn’t be?—but he didn’t freak out. He had listened to what Blue had to say, taken a big swallow of his cognac, and asked for instructions.

  “For right now, all we want to do is keep an eye on them,” Blue had told him. “When we have more information, we’ll know whether or not we need to make a move.”

  “I’ll be ready,” Henry had said quietly. “You just say the word.”

  Blue had wished he could just say the word, but that would mean he had decided on a course of action, an appropriate response, and the truth was, he hadn’t. Not yet. That was no excuse, of course. He hadn’t promised Regina infallibility. He had promised her the truth. Withholding it, for whatever laudable reason, was just another form of lying, and he knew it.

  The princesses were already hopping up and down as Blue headed up the walk to greet them.

  “Daddy, we’re going for ice cream! Can you come, too?”

  “I don’t think so, darlin’,” Blue said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “How you doin’, Miss Joyce Ann?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, taking the hand Sweetie wasn’t already clutching. “I don’t have the right shoes because I didn’t know we were going to dress up, but you can hardly tell, can you?”

  “Never noticed it at all,” Blue said, leaning forward to accept Regina’s kiss. She hugged him briefly around the neck and he grinned, prevented by the princesses hanging at the end of each arm from hugging her back.

  “Where’s your princess dress?”

  “They didn’t have one to fit me!” she said, laughing.

  He raised his eyebrows, his eyes glowing softly in the hall light. “Well, we’ll have to work on that.”

  “Work on what, Daddy?”

  Sweetie was skipping along happily by her father’s side and he was reaching to close the door and answer the question when Joyce Ann dropped his hand. “There’s my mom!”

  The happy announcement brought both princesses back outside to repeat their welcome wave for Aretha’s arrival.

  “Mommy!” Joyce Ann called, wanting to share the good news first. “We’re going to get ice cream! Can you come with us?”

  Aretha practically skipped up the front steps. “Not only will I come, it will be my treat!”

  The girls released Blue’s hands without a backward glance and danced around Aretha, their new best friend. Blue laughed, immediately reaching out a free hand to encircle Regina’s waist and pull her close as they all headed back inside. “I guess that shows me who my real friends are!”

  “Don’t worry,” Aretha said, twirling the princesses effortlessly around as she spoke. “With all the money Regina and I are going to be making, we’ll buy you some new friends.”

  Joyce Ann frowned. “You can’t buy people, Mommy!” she said, sounding concerned.

  Aretha laughed. “Oh, no, baby! Of course you can’t!” And she leaned down to pat her daughter’s cheek. “Mommy was just acting silly.”

  “Can we go now?” Sweetie said, gazing up at Aretha with a look of such hopeful anticipation that Regina laughed.

  “We’re going, Sweetie,” she said. “You two go upstairs first and get your sweaters and put on some socks. It’s a little cool out there.”

  The two walked upstairs slowly, holding their dresses out before them carefully to avoid catching a toe in the fragile, flame-retardant fabric and ripping the skirt off at the waistband. After such a disaster, the skirt would never hang right again, no matter how many attempts were made to repair it. This was a tragedy with which both princesses were familiar and they were not eager to relive it any time soon.

  “Look at them.” Aretha shook her head. “We might as well bind their feet!”

  “But not tonight,” Regina said quickly. “At least not until you tell me how it went with Serena.�
��

  Blue felt a little shiver of discomfort. He wished these vamps would hurry up and finish with their Atlanta business and get out of town. They made him feel uneasy and he didn’t like it one bit.

  Aretha grinned. “You are a genius. It’s definitely a go!”

  Now it was Regina’s turn to let out a high-pitched squeal. “You’re sure?”

  “I’m positive! I have officially sold my soul to the devil!”

  Then they both started hugging each other and jumping around in the middle of the front hallway like two maniacs. Blue waited for them to remember that because of Regina’s prohibition on unsolicited mind reading, he had no idea what exactly they were celebrating.

  “She said you two can work out the final agreement over the weekend, we’ll finish the shoot on Monday, and start storyboarding the new piece on Monday.”

  Regina raised her eyebrows. “Storyboarding?”

  “I told her I wanted to think of it like a film,” Aretha said, turning to Blue excitedly. Her long silver earrings were bobbing around like they were excited, too. “I’m going to storyboard the whole thing before we shoot a single scene. I don’t want any repetition of that craziness outside the chapel this morning.”

  “Sounds great,” Blue said, wondering what craziness, “but I’d probably enjoy it a whole lot more if I knew what we were celebrating.”

  “Oh, Lord,” Regina said, laughing apologetically. “I didn’t even have a chance to tell you the good news.”

  “Drumroll, please!” Aretha said.

  “Our favorite photographer …”

  “Yours truly …”

  “Has just received a huge new assignment and an obscenely large commission to create a brand-new portfolio for the hottest group of models in the world today.”