“Oh yeah, right,” Bradford said. He cleared his throat and bent over to tie his shoe.
Jolene’s arms dropped to her side. “Well?” she asked nervously. “Is Barbara still leaving town or what?”
“Yeah, she’s still going.”
“Then what?” Jolene asked anxiously. “Don’t tell me you decided to go with her.”
He stood up and reached for his jacket. “No, no. I’m staying here.”
Jolene sighed with relief, but it was short-lived. Had he changed his mind about spending the time with her? No, that didn’t make sense. He had just told her he loved her, and she had a beautiful new bracelet on her arm to show for it. “Well, are we still going to get away together? I was looking forward to it.”
“So was I, but I can’t. Not this weekend. I thought I told you that I have to stick around here for some business meetings.”
Jolene frowned. “On the weekend?”
“Afraid so. It can’t be helped.”
Dammit. What rotten luck. “Too bad,” she said, struggling to keep her voice calm. “It would have been the first time we could spend more than a couple of hours together.”
“I know, baby. But this came up at the last minute. Anyway, we can still spend some time together Saturday night. We just can’t go out of town. That will have to wait for another weekend.”
“Can we go out for dinner or something? Someplace romantic. We’ve never been anywhere together except to hotels.”
Bradford cleared his throat as he straightened his necktie. “You know I’d love nothing more than to take you out someplace nice for dinner. But we have to be real careful about that, baby, especially around here. Someone who knows Barbara or Patrick could see us.”
Frankly, she wouldn’t give a damn. Being with Bradford was worth the risk. But obviously he was going to need more time to come around. It was a pity, because she was so ready for this, for him. She didn’t want to have to wait much longer. “I thought you said you loved me.”
He stopped straightening his tie. “What?”
“If you really loved me, you wouldn’t be so worried about who might see us.”
“We have other people to think about, Jolene. I don’t want to hurt anybody.”
“You mean, like your wife? I didn’t want to say this, but I have a hard time understanding why you’re still with her.” Jolene was beginning to feel as if she was singing a song on a broken record. She had gone through the same bull with Terrence. “I know you both grew up in the country, but you’ve grown so far beyond that, Bradford. And Barbara is, well, she’s still such a country girl.”
“Barbara’s a good woman,” he said patiently, going back to his necktie. “She’s never done anything to hurt me.”
“Well, neither have I,” Jolene said pointedly. “You need someone more like yourself, and I could help you in your career. My family has a lot of connections. My father is a judge, two of my uncles are lawyers, and—”
“It’s not about that. Barbara doesn’t have those kinds of connections, no. But I can trust her, and I know she’ll never leave me.”
“You mean no matter how many times you cheat on her?” Jolene said sarcastically.
A look of irritation crossed his face. “And I know she’ll never cheat on me, Barbara would never do that to her husband.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He sighed. “Look, I really enjoy our time together, Jolene. I always look forward to it. But let’s face it. We’re too damn much alike. Anything more than this would never work between us.”
“I could change for the right person. Couldn’t you?”
He shook his head in exasperation. “I also have Robin and Rebecca to think of. Leaving their mother would devastate them. You should understand that. You have a daughter.”
He had ignored her question. Instead he was hiding behind his daughters. Excuses, excuses. She was so damn tired of the excuses. With Terrence it was his boys. Now it was Bradford’s girls, even though they were grown women. What about her feelings? If he loved her the way she did him, he would be willing to risk others being hurt to be with her. She was willing to risk that with Patrick and even Juliette. They would all get over it soon enough. But apparently Bradford wasn’t ready to take that step. And it would be suicide to push him.
“I understand about your daughters. I just want us to spend more time together. Is that so wrong?”
He put his hands on her arms. “Not at all,” he said gently. “Come over to the house Saturday evening and stay the night. What will you tell Patrick?”
She shrugged. “I’ll think of something. For a whole night with you, wild dogs wouldn’t be able to keep me away.”
He laughed and hugged her, then checked his watch. “We should get going. I’ve got a big meeting and—”
“I know. I know.” At least she was going to be with him overnight. It looked like she was going to have to settle for that for now.
“Hello, may I speak to Grace Johnson, please?”
“Speaking.”
Candice couldn’t believe her luck. She had finally gotten around to calling Rose DuPree’s son Joseph. A daughter named Thelma answered the phone and said that Joseph had died several months ago, but she suggested that Candice call his sister Grace, who was living in Northwest Washington, D.C. Thelma had said that Grace was in her nineties and her hearing was going bad but otherwise she was in good health.
“My name is Candice Jones. I got your number from Thelma Henry.”
“My niece?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, how is she? I haven’t seen her in a while.”
“I haven’t met her, but I spoke to her on the phone and she sounded fine. Actually, I’m calling because I’m doing some research and—”
“ You’re doing what?”
Candice remembered that Thelma said Grace’s hearing was going bad, and she raised her voice. “I’m doing research on my family, and I’m looking for information about a man named George Blair.”
“Oh? That was my uncle.”
“Yes, yes. That’s what Thelma said. I’m trying to find out if your uncle and my great-grandfather George were the same man.” Candice also wanted to know a lot more about this family. Were they white or black? But that wasn’t going to be so easy to determine over the phone. Like Thelma, Grace’s voice was clear and proper, and the only accent she could detect was a Southern one.
“Where are you from?” Grace asked.
“I live in Maryland. But my ancestors lived in Virginia and Massachusetts.”
“Mm-hmm. Then do you mind if I ask you something?”
Candice frowned. “No. Not at all.”
“Was your George married to a woman named Marianne?”
Candice was so startled to hear this woman mention her great-grandmother’s name that she nearly dropped the phone. “Yes. Yes, he was,” she said softly.
“Oh my,” Grace said, her voice growing with excitement. “And her daughter Helen was your grandmother?”
Candice jumped up beside her bed. This was too damn much—hearing a stranger mention her ancestors’ names. “How … how did you know about Grandma Helen?”
“Because I knew that Uncle George and his wife had a daughter named Helen, although I never met any of them. My mother exchanged letters with George and used to talk about him all the time. She mentioned him the day she died.”
Candice sat back down. “Really?”
“Oh yes. What else do you want to know, dear?”
“Um, anything you can tell me.”
“Excuse me? Can you speak up?”
Candice knew she wasn’t speaking loud enough for Grace. But she could barely find her voice. “Yes,” she said louder. “Listen, from what Thelma told me, I’m not that far from you. Would it be all right if I came by?”
“Of course, dear. It’s so hard for me to hear on the phone, anyway. Come over, and I’ll tell you everything I know. We always wondered what happened to
that side of the family.”
As she took down the address, Candice wondered exactly what Grace’s last comment meant. There was something about the way she had said “that side of the family.”
Chapter 26
The Lincoln Town Car came to a screeching halt, and Lee felt herself being shoved out violently. She hit the pavement on her hands and knees with a thud, and the car took off.
She jumped up. “Come back here, you punk-ass thief,” she yelled. “I want my damn money. I’ll go get my man on you, and he’ll put his foot up yo’ ass, mothafucka. For real.”
It dawned on her that she was ranting at thin air. She shut up and stomped the pavement. She paced up and down. “Shit. Fucking thieves. Coming up in here with that crap.” She was sick and tired of it. Her gun was right there in her shoulder bag, and she was going to take out the next sucker who did this to her.
She remembered the first time she thought about blowing someone away. She had been fed up with his crap, too.
“If you ever say one fucking word about this to your mama or anybody else, I’ll put a foot up yo’ brother’s black ass till it’s blue. And then I’ll throw all of you niggas out on the street. You, Vernon, your fat-ass mama, all y’all. You got that, bitch?”
Uncle Clive stood above her and slowly zipped up his pants as she lay crumpled in a heap on the bathroom floor, her face buried in her hands. She sniffed.
He kicked her in the gut. “Answer me, bitch, unless you want your baby brother sleeping on the pavement. Do we understand each other?”
Lee nodded.
“Good. And quit that sniffling. I ain’t hurt you. This woulda happened to you sooner or later anyhow. Shit. Damn ugly thing like you ought to be glad somebody would even look at your black ass.”
She never told her mama. She was too scared of what Uncle Clive would do. But she did tell her best friend at school, a boy everybody called Mookie and who was a year older than she. Mookie got mad and threatened to “break that punk’s fucking face.” When she said that would only make Clive mad and then he would come after her, Mookie vowed to “blow his scrawny ass away.” She begged him not to, so he offered to get her a gun to protect herself. Said he could hook her up for twenty bucks. She told him he was crazy. She didn’t know nothing about no guns and didn’t want to.
Then Uncle Clive did it again one Saturday afternoon a week later when Mama was waiting tables and Vernon was back in the bedroom playing with one of his toy action figures. Uncle Clive came home unexpectedly just after she and Vernon had finished lunch and snuck up on her in the kitchen while she washed the dishes. He grabbed her hair extensions and pulled her back into the bathroom, with her fighting him all the way. She couldn’t scream because she didn’t want to scare Vernon, and Uncle Clive knew it.
She vowed never to be at home alone with Uncle Clive again. After school, she would pick up Vernon and hang out with Mookie or her girlfriends until ten or eleven, getting in just before Mama came home around midnight. She made Vernon promise not to tell.
One morning Mookie convinced her not to go to school at all. He hot-wired a car at handover Mall, and they went joyriding until it was time to pick up Vernon at school. Then they went to Roy Rogers for dinner and rode around and smoked joints while Vernon did his homework in the backseat. Mookie dropped them off at the house at about the usual hour.
She did this for several days until Mama came home early one Friday and caught her. Mama was waiting in the living room in her work clothes when Lee walked in the door holding Vernon by the hand. Mama reached out and snatched Vernon away from her.
“Where you been all this time, girl? I been calling all over the place looking for y’all.”
“What you trippin’ for, Ma? I picked Vernon up after I left school just like I always do, and we went out to eat.”
Mama shook a finger in Lee’s face. “Don’t you lie to me. The school called and said you ain’t been there all week.”
Oops. Lee shrugged. “Ain’t no big deal. I was just out rolling with Mookie.”
“Didn’t I tell you I didn’t want you hanging around that trash? He looks like a fool, with that stupid black stocking cap on his head all the time and his pants hanging down to his knees. And where did he get a car? He ain’t but sixteen.”
Lee folded her arms defiantly. “It belongs to his daddy.”
Mama narrowed her eyes. “Girl, you better not be lying to me. I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately—cutting school and staying out half the night. And your grades bad enough to make me want to cry.”
Lee scoffed.
“Well, I’ll tell you one thing, Miss Smarty-Pants. This better not happen again. If the school ever calls me or I find out you not coming home after school, girl, you gonna be real sorry. And I’m gonna call here and check on you every day.”
Lee’s arms dropped. She clenched her fists. “But I don’t like it here. I—”
“Shut up. Did I ask what you liked? You come straight home from school and do your homework.”
“But Mama, you don’t—”
“I said shut up. I’m your mama. You do what I say.”
Lee folded her arms.
That night, while Uncle Clive showered and Mama lounged on the couch watching TV, Lee tiptoed into the bedroom and found Clive’s wallet sitting on a table. It was thick with bills, probably drug money, and she didn’t think he would miss one twenty. The following Monday, she took Mookie up on his offer to get her a gun.
She would come home from school every day just as her mama wanted, then go straight to the drawer holding her two prize possessions—the photo of her daddy and the revolver. She would sit at the kitchen table, hide the gun behind one of her textbooks and dare Uncle Clive to come home and mess with her.
Lee looked down at her knees. They were scraped and bleeding from the fall onto the pavement. She damn sure couldn’t turn any more tricks all bloody like this. She had to go to her place and get cleaned up. Tony was going to be mad at her if he found out, but what else could she do?
It was a one-room affair that she shared with two other girls who worked for Tony. There was a sink in one corner and a much used bed in another. In the middle of the room stood a wobbly table and two chairs. She had stacked some cardboard boxes on one wall to keep her things in. They shared a shower and toilet down the hall with four other apartment units.
She removed her fake fur jacket and washed and dried the cuts on her knees. Then she picked up a brush lying on the edge of the sink and raised it to her head to spruce up her hair extensions. But she saw her reflection in the mirror, and her arm dropped to her side. The way she had aged over the past several months wasn’t funny. She was sixteen now but looked closer to thirty.
Shit. How had this happened? The last time she could remember being happy was more than a year ago, before they moved in with Uncle Clive. Now she was a damn whore living in a fucking hole in the wall that was even worse than Uncle Clive’s place.
This was all Mama’s fault. Mama was smart about a lot of things, but she was dumb as a dog about dudes. Lee threw her brush at the boxes stacked against a wall. She kicked one, then another. They fell and her clothes spilled out—skimpy tops and booty shorts—stuff she wouldn’t have dared wear before. It was disgusting, all of it.
She stomped over the clothes and kicked them until she came across the snapshot of her daddy and mama. She stopped and stooped down to pick it up, then stared into her daddy’s smiling face, probably for the thousandth time. She turned it over, hoping to find some new clue about him, but the only thing it said was “Smokey, Silver Lake, Maryland.”
At night, whenever she had trouble sleeping, she would think about her daddy smiling in the photo. She wanted to find him so bad. But she had no idea where this Silver Lake was, and even if she could find it her daddy might not be living there anymore. Or he might not want to see her.
She set the photo down and put her jacket back on.
Chapter 27
Patrick st
rode through the door of Pearl’s salon on Friday at exactly one-thirty. He unbuttoned his all-weather coat and stood off to the side with his hands in the pockets of his slacks, and Pearl smiled. He looked odd in a room full of women getting their hair done. Cute, but odd.
She was rinsing the conditioner out of a client’s hair and nodded toward him to let him know she’d seen him. She put a plastic cap over the woman’s head and sat her under a dryer. Then she removed her salon smock and grabbed her black leather jacket off the rack and slipped into it, all the while giving instructions to her assistant on how to finish up. She told the receptionist she would be back in about an hour, and they stepped outside into one of the Washington, D.C., metro area’s mild winter afternoons. Patrick pointed at his car and walked ahead to open the passenger-side door for her.
“It’s a nice day, and the restaurant is only about four blocks from here,” Pearl said. “Are you up for a short walk?” She could use the exercise, she thought. She had dropped eight pounds since starting her diet and was real proud of herself.
“Sounds good to me,” he said. “I love to walk.”
“It must be nearly sixty degrees out here,” she said as she unbuttoned her jacket.
He removed his coat and flung it across his shoulder. “I’m not complaining. I’m more than ready for summer. It’s my favorite time of year.”
“Mine too,” she said.
“I started to get into a little golf last summer. It will be good to get back out there again to practice my swing.” He made a little motion with his arms. “Do you play?”
She shook her head. “I always wanted to learn but I never have the time. First it was my son eating up all my time, now it’s the salon. I’m lucky if I can get a garden going in the summer.”
She wondered what he thought of big women like herself. Some men liked them. Others wouldn’t touch them. Not that she should even care what he thought. This was a business lunch, and he was a married man. She was having to remind herself of that a lot more than she should.
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