“Daddy, daddy!” the little girl screamed.
During the struggle Karl looked over his shoulder to shout, “Run Sugar Doll, run!” The two men began beating and kicking Karl right then and there. Sugar Doll ran to the bedroom and hid in the closet sobbing. The sounds of struggling filled the closet in a loud echo of screams and muted kicking. The little girl put her hands to her ears to hide from the sound of impending death. Finally it stopped.
The two men were whispering, “She’s just a little kid man, she don’t know us, let’s go!” She heard the men just outside the door. The door knob turned slowly and then she heard them stepping away. “Kids can be dangerous.” said a low, deep voice.
“C’mon man, she can’t be no more than 4 or 5; my baby sister can’t remember nothing you tell her. Let’s go man, Karl got what he deserved but the girl is innocent.”
“Yeah, all right man. I don’t want killing a baby girl on my conscience.” The door slammed. After several moments Sugar Doll crawled into the room to find her father’s bloodied figure lying on the white carpet. She embraced him with her little arms, then as though she were the parent and he was the child. The door opened again and as Sugar Doll looked up in fear her mother let out a scream.
Marsalas attended Karl Bouvier’s funeral. He provided limousines for the family. Mona knew that her husband had had shady dealings but the turnout alone made her realize that her husband was in quite deeper than even she had imagined. She stood at the gravesite amazed that so many whites would pay their last respects to skinny Karl. Old men passed the gravesite and in shaking her hand deposited hundreds of dollars there. Little Sugar Doll had her little black purse full of twenty-dollar bills. One would think that this was a wedding and not a funeral. Mona knew that Karl had been up to something when he’d purchased their home in New Orleans’ East almost five years ago but he didn’t talk and she hadn’t bothered to ask. She knew that he ran around with sluts and tramps but he didn’t know that she had her own secret lover and that secret had kept her in the marriage.
Marsala’s crew thought that Karl had died for saving his life. He had lost and Marsalas had won. Tony stood next to Marsalas. His rich dark hair contrasted with his flashing blue eyes. He was not handsome, he was beautiful. He could not keep his eyes off of Mona. Her caramel colored skin drove him wild. He was the only one who seemed to be happy that Karl was dead. He could now have her whenever he wanted. When he couldn’t he would get angry and no woman wanted Tony to get angry.
Mona looked over the gravesite. She instinctively took her daughter’s hand. She could feel the heat pulsing through her veins as she felt Tony’s gaze on her.
“You could wait until after the funeral to show your lust!” Karl’s mother snapped at her. Mona dropped her gaze. She hadn’t realized that she was looking at Tony. The heat rose in her cheeks. She could still feel him looking at her, caressing her from a distance.
“The kid should go to her grandmother’s or one of your cousins in the country.” Tony argued for the hundredth time.
“No, she’s fine just where she is, I’ve got her in a nice Catholic school and I like to know what she is doing.” Mona replied bored with the conversation.
“Baby, do you think that the way we carry on is good for her Catholic morals?” Tony grabbed her by the neck and ground into her suggestively.
“No, you are right about that, but I don’t want to lose my baby. I’ve already lost her father.” Mona pouted.
“Lost her father? What are you talking about? You were doing me when he was alive. You didn’t care for him. If it weren’t for that bar I gave to you, you would have nothing!” Tony’s yelled.
“Tony, calm down. I just mean that she needs me now. She was very close to her father and seeing him die like that really affected her.” Mona reasoned.
“You know what? That kid has got to go! I’m running things now, keeping you out of the hole. Do you think that Marsalas would let a colored woman run such a successful bar if I weren’t involved with it?”
“Tony, don’t you threaten me. You sure took over quickly. I’m wondering what you had to do with Karl’s murder. I’m wondering if things didn’t just work out for you just fine!” Mona realized her mistake as soon as she had made it. Tony slapped her hard across the face. He pushed her down and continued slapping her.
“Don’t you ever say that to me. Don’t you ever say anything about your beloved husband again. Everything I’ve done has been for you and you’d better remember that. Who do you think the police would believe, me or a bar running whore?” He pushed a struggling Mona down unto the bed and kissed her on the mouth. She bit him but he laughed and pushed himself on her, keeping her in a chokehold while he forced himself on her. She found herself aroused and responded to his willful thrusting. Soon they were both in ecstasy as Mona opened up to her lover turned murderer. She loved him and Sugar Doll would have to go.
“I’m worried about the crowds.” Marsalas complained to Tony.
“What’s better than hiding in plain sight?” The bar is pulling the kind of money that would provide a perfect cover from the cops.” Tony smiled.
“Yeah, but what about the FBI?” Marsalas asked.
“The operation is too small for their interest.” Tony shrugged as he drank down his scotch.
“What about Mona?” Marsalas asked.
“She doesn’t know anything. I keep her in the dark about things. She’s just happy that I let her run the place.” Tony smiled.
“Never think that a woman is stupid.” Marsalas advised.
“I make sure that I take care of the books myself. I have it under lock and key.” Tony assured him.
“Keep it that way.” Marsalas still looked skeptical. He walked to the door. Tony followed him relieved that he’d dropped the matter.
Big Ma stood on the top step as the huge white Cadillac pulled into the yard. A fresh summer rain had just started following days of stifling heat. Big Ma looked on with dismay as her oldest child got of the passenger side of the car dressed in a bright gold dress and heels. She opened the backdoor and pulled a crying Sugar Doll out of the backseat.
“Mama, I want to stay with you. Don’t leave me Momma, I’ll be good.” Mona grabbed the seven year old and pulled her alongside her as she approached the white house with green piping. “Tony get her suitcase.” Tony got out of the car dressed in a suit. He went to the trunk to get the case. Mona approached the house. “Hey Momma! How you doing?”
“C’mon here honey. Come by grandma. I’ve got some nice home cooked food for you and a pie in the oven.” Big Ma said to Sugar Doll, avoiding Mona. The little girl clung on to her mother. “I want to stay with you!” Mona pushed her away, “Go on now, go with Big Ma, she’ll take good care of you.” Big Ma took Sugar Doll’s hand. C’mon baby, now you don’t remember me, but I remember you and you’ll be good company for me. Now come on inside with Mom. Sugar Doll looked into the plump kindly face, which stared down at her and saw the pity in them and the tears in her eyes. She released her mother and went with the older woman. “Go on inside and look at the room I’ve fixed up for you. I’ll be there in a minute.”
A little pudgy boy stood across the ditch. “Who is that Big Ma?” He shouted.
“That’s your cousin, Sugar Doll. Come over here and get her suitcase from this white man and bring it inside. Go and introduce yourself Bertrand. I just baked a nice pie for ya’ll.” Big Ma turned back to Mona.
Bertrand passed the glamorous woman staring, “Are you a movie star?” Mona smiled at him, but Big Ma answered him, “No son, this is your cousin Mona, my oldest daughter, now go on and get that case real quick or I’ll change my mind about giving you a piece of that pie.” Bertrand was a rotund boy but he moved quickly after that. He walked by carrying the case in front of him easily.
Big Ma eyed him until he went inside. “Well Mona, you sure beat all. You’re throwing away your little girl like she was a puppy to give away. And for what? This white man here? He
don’t care nothing about you and you too stupid to know it. What’s those marks around your neck?”
Mona covered her neck with her collar. “Now Momma, we talked before I came here and you said that it was okay. If you’ve changed your mind I can take her back.”
“The hell you will take that child back, look at you dressed like a whore with your white man. See I never disowned none of my own children and I am not going to start today but I pray for your very soul Mona. If your father was alive he’d shoot you dead rather than see you living like this.”
“Mrs. Jones please know that I am taking very good care of your daughter.” Tony smiled smoothly.
“Oh really? So much good care that she have to abandon her own child? Probably yours too from the looks of her. Mark my words you reap what you sow boy. White or not you will burn in a living hell.” Big Ma turned toward the house angrily.
“Well Momma, I’ll just have to burn in hell because I’m going back to New Orleans and I don’t know when I’ll be coming back.” Mona turned on her heel and was forced to jump a puddle of water.
“One day you’ll be sorry and you’ll need this girl. I pray to God that she can forgive you.” Big Ma went into her cool house to sit down. She was so angry that her blood pressure had gone up and she needed to sit. “That girl, that girl.” She cried to herself.
Tony and Mona drove off onto the gravel highway and headed back to the city.
Chapter Three
“Sugar Doll, now I know that your momma had you in them Catholic schools up in the city but down here we Baptist.” Sugar Doll liked the warm Baptist church they attended better than the stuffy and formal Catholic Church.
“Big Ma when the choir rises to sing I feel so good.” Church was a celebration. Living with Big Ma was a comforting thing for the lost child nicknamed Sugar Doll. She grew up on fried chicken and Jesus. She took Sugar Doll out of her Catholic girl clothes and put her into long skirts and head coverings for the Baptist church. Sugar Doll surprised everyone when she joined the choir and sang in a powerful, soulful voice. Sugar Doll was a frail girl with long brown ponytails but her voice had the depth of a thirty year old woman.
“Sugar Doll, you’ve got to always use that voice for Jesus. The Lord gave you that talent and he can take it away. Don’t you get no ideas about singing in those sinful bands like on Soul Train.” Big Ma told Sugar Doll one day after church. “Aw Big Ma, I’m not ever going to get on Soul Train anyway. I’m only seven now anyway.”
“You ain’t fooling me, Michael Jackson’s about the same age as you and look at him out there twirling around and singing like a man. Mark my words if that boy don’t have problems when he grows up.” Big Ma went to the refrigerator and took out a bag of coffee. She kept it in the refrigerator to keep it fresh.
“Now I’m going to make us some chicory coffee and some short bread and we gonna talk about that choir trip ya’ll going on next week. I wasn’t tough enough on your momma. I thought she was too young to hear about men and things like that. Lord have mercy! The book of Proverbs states it plain, ‘As the twig is bent, the tree is inclined.’ You gonna be different Sugar Doll. You gonna hear the word of the Lord and you are going to be in the church and maybe one day marry yourself a nice man.”
Sunday morning’s service was jam packed. The reverend gave a talk about vocations. He was so loud that it was difficult to nod off but after two hours Sugar Doll was sleepy. As they were walking home the familiar church van pulled alongside them.
“We are forming up a children’s choir and we wondered if you would like to try out?” The pastor said through the window his lovely suit crisp with starch. Sugar Doll looked at Big Ma who wore a blank expression.
“Well, I love to sing Pastor but I do it mostly to myself.”
“Bertrand says that you really can sing. I’d like to see that. He’s got a good ear. There’s a competition coming up in the fall and we’d like to have our kids ready by then. Ya’ll think about it.” The Pastor drove off. Sugar Doll braced herself for the lecture about the evils of men and their low down ways, which always ended with, “Look at your mama.”
“Big Ma, I know everything, I’ll be good and I’ll go back to the hotel with Sister Rhea when we are done. Going to Atlanta will be fun. Thank you so much for paying my way.” Sugar Doll hoped that her statement would take the edge off of the upcoming lecture.
“Well that’s funny you said that.” Big Ma’s eyes sparkled. “I didn’t pay your way.” Big Ma opened the coffee bag and poured the grinds in the top of the old silver coffee pot. She carefully poured the water over the grinds and put the pot on the stove. She didn’t like those new fangled drip coffee pots so she kept her old pot immaculate. She then got out the old heavy frying pan and added flour with water and butter. She smoothed it out like a pancake. As one side began to burn slightly she flipped it over. Sugar Doll didn’t interrupt the process because she knew that talking was over until Big Ma brought the finished product to the table. She went to the refrigerator to get out a stick of butter.
“Did my momma pay my way?” Sugar Doll asked hopefully.
“No child, your momma don’t believe in anything to do with the Lord. The Women’s Missionary of Mount Zion Baptist church took up a collection for you. They said that the choir ain’t nothing without you in it. Ain’t that nice? I been a member for over twenty years and don’t that sit me proud? Don’t it sit me proud?”
“Really?” She asked both excited and proud of herself. Everybody knew that the “mission ladies” never spent any money on anyone but themselves. Their true mission seemed to be to get out of their houses and away from their husbands. Many of them would pray openly during services that their husbands would die and just leave them the insurance money. Most of the men were abusive or drunkards. There were about seven sad faced men who made up the deacon board who prayed continuously for the redemption of their brethren. Miss Rhea had experienced a “miracle” when her husband Albert suddenly stopped drinking and joined the church. Years later he was diagnosed with cirrhosis of the liver.
“Really!” Big Ma stated proudly. “You is got talent girl, but you must use it for the Lord to be truly blessed.” Now eat your food.”
“Big Ma!” came a youthful bellow from the yard. “Big Ma!” Bertrand let out a hardy yell from the railroad tracks. Big Ma got up and went to the screen door. “What you want boy, hollering like somebody doing you something!”
“Can me and Kevin come in for some chicory coffee?”
“C’mon then. What you waiting for and why you way afar off asking?” Big Ma giggled to herself. “Kevin scared to ask, but he hungry too.”
“Well, c’mon, I ain’t got much but some shortbread but that will be good enough for ya’ll.” Kevin came sprinting from behind a rosebush. They both ran toward the house.
“It sho smell good in here Big Ma!” said Bertrand as he bellied up to the table. Kevin shyly stood by the door. Big Ma’s usual swagger disappeared. Her voice became soft and almost inaudible.
“Kevin, you come sit at the table too son. There’s plenty of food and if you really good I may fry you up a piece of fried chicken too.” Kevin moved to the table with his head bowed.
“You better c’mon boy, I’ll eat everything from you if you don’t hurry up.” Bertrand said gleefully.
“Now that is some kind of truth” smiled Big Ma.
Kevin’s mother was what the church ladies called a “bar room woman”. She sold her body for little more than a drink and was always cussing him out in front of everyone. His father had left when he was a baby. He was painfully thin and just as painfully shy. No one wanted to take him in as they didn’t want to suffer his mother Ida’s wrath. She didn’t care for the boy at all but she expected him to be home when she got there to wash her feet or to clean up after her. Big Ma was the only woman she seemed afraid of and so every now and then Kevin would shyly show up until Big Ma started looking for him. She would get Bertrand to go and get him. The boys becam
e friends. Bertrand was always so loud and friendly and big. They made a perfect team. Big Ma often called them “Laurel and Hardy”.
“I thank you Miss Evangline,” Kevin said to Big Ma. He said that he didn’t feel comfortable calling her Big Ma so he called her what the older men in the neighborhood did.
“You is welcome here anytime boy. Don’t you let that rosebush scratch you trying to hide. As skinny as you are I seen you.” Big Ma smiled. She got up from the table and went into the room. We all knew what that meant, we were about to receive a bible reading.
“Lord Have Mercy, why do we have to hear the bible when we is just trying to eat?” Bertrand asked miserably.
“Hush up boy; I like it when she reads to us.” Kevin said defensively. “Then you gonna be a preacher. I’m gonna be a piano player in the French Quarter.” Bertrand said proudly.
“You can barely play now Bertrand so stop your bragging, that’s a sin and I know it.” Sugar Doll said.
“Aw shucks girl, I’m only a kid but I can play now, wait till I turn twelve.”
“Michael Jackson could play all kinds of instruments and he was only 8. How do you explain that?” Sugar Doll teased.
“He’s got a whole year over me and he’s all rich and stuff with his dumb cartoon. My afro is bigger than his.”
“Is not.” Sugar Doll laughed.
“Is too.” Bertrand said seriously patting his afro in a circular fashion. “All the girls want some of this big loving.” Bertrand giggled.
“You mean fat loving”. Kevin joined in the play. Big Ma returned holding her white leather bound bible with a picture of a blond Jesus on the front with the most beautiful blue eyes Sugar Doll ever did see.
“Ya’ll look like talking about loving as young as ya’ll are. The only love that is real is Jesus’ love. The bible says, “Blessed are the children, come unto me”, so ya’ll are children and I’m here representing Jesus. So ya’ll listen to the truth and the truth will set you free.” Bertrand put his face in his hands shaking his head back and forth. Kevin sat up straight and Sugar Doll just listened. She knew that they were going to have “church” and there was no escaping.
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