by Diane Munier
That was the idea. It had been brewing in him, all night in fact. He didn’t want her to go to work. She didn’t need to work now. She had him—her personal workhorse. He wanted her to be able to be home. Why should they both have to lift that barge and tote that bale? She could be home…do what she wanted, what she loved…for them. They’d just gotten married, for God’s sake. She made her forty bucks, he’d pay her twice that to just stay home so he could go up under her skirt and take them to Mars wherever, whatever, whenever.
Wasn’t that the good stuff? He had no idea how to have a normal life, but she did, and this was it. So she could work on that, get it set up—tan by the pool, and he’d keep it going with what they needed, whatever she said. So he told her some of this; he got back on his knees, him feeling as shiny as she looked about now. “C’mon,” he said. “You took the big chance on me; you said yes. Now let it roll. Trust me.”
He couldn’t believe he’d asked that—for trust. He had to believe it was already there in buckets, because that’s what being married was…right?
“Oh Jules, it’s too much,” she whispered.
Too much? He said that. “Too much?”
“I have to think. I’ve…the way I am, Jules…I told you I’d stand by, right? While you figured it out? Well…me being an operator…it’s steady money.”
He was still on his knees, his hands on her hips, looking up at her. “I got money, Isbe. I’ll get more. With you behind me? What else could I ask for? I’m a hard worker, baby. And for you? Sky’s the limit, for you.”
One hand was on his cheek, the other playing with the hair that was long enough to hang on his forehead. “Jules,” she whispered. Then she swallowed, and he heard it, saw it, and the tears welling up.
“What can I do?” he said.
“I’m…I have been taking care of myself for so long…you know? Me and Mom…then myself.”
“I know, baby. I know it.” He pulled her closer, tightened his arms. “But you got me now. What’d you think?”
She had her arms around his neck. No hesitation now; she bent and kissed him with a little whimper and so much feeling behind it. After a few seconds, she put her forehead on his. “Jules,” she was crying.
“It’s all right,” he said soft. “It’s all right. It’s a happy day.”
She pulled back after a few seconds, sniffling. “I don’t know how…to let this…being a wife…I don’t know how.”
“It’s okay,” he said, getting back on his feet and rubbing her back.
Then he wiped her nose with the hem of her skirt, and she didn’t correct him for it. “Jules, I can’t quit right off.”
“What?”
“I can’t. I have to give my notice. I might need the reference, you know? Someday? Never say never.”
“Baby…you won’t need anything from Illinois Bell ever again but a damn phone; don’t you know that?”
That moog crook she got in the dad crap shoot. He never took care of her, dangling her over the cliff.
Jules needed her to know, just fill it in for him, give him some direction, and he’d do it, see. All of his strength…hers.
“I…I think I’m not used to…it might take me a while…to…be a good wife,” she said, hiccupping at the end.
“You think so?” Jules said, laughing.
“It’s just…I need to know, Jules, really know I can just let go of something that…it’s like my main security, Jules. I need to know…that…you’ve got a job.” She hiccupped again, and he thought that was the cutest thing, but what she was saying was not so cute.
He was shaking his head. She didn’t trust him at all.
“I know you’re…thinking I don’t know how great you are…and Jules…I know. Believe me, there’s no one like you. You’re talented and strong, and you’ll get going again in no time. But…my job would take the pressure off of you for a while…you’d have time to find your spot again.”
“I got money, Isbe. I can take care of us right now.”
She laughed. “Jules…I’ve seen the bag. And you’ve been spending it on me. I know you’ve got money. But that doesn’t mean it won’t run out. See…Clark was a gambler. He gambled…all the time. So sometimes he had money…and we had money…and then he’d lose it all, and we would end up with less each time. He’d come home and give us some money, and he’d take it back and be gone in the morning. I guess…big lumps of money…well, it feels like gambling, Jules. I appreciate it; don’t get me wrong. But slow and steady wins the race. I always loved that story, “The Tortoise and the Hare.” I love that one, Jules, and I’m definitely the tortoise.”
What the—she was speaking in fables now? “I guess that makes me Bugs Bunny?” His pants were still balled on the floor with his shirt. He scooped up the shirt and rooted through the pockets for his cigarettes.
“Don’t be mad. I’m telling you how I feel; that’s all.”
“I ain’t mad,” he said around his cigarette, as he struck a match and lit the thing. “I just ain’t your father; that’s all, and it makes me…” This anger had hit, a big wave of it. “I ain’t nothin’ like him, and you sayin’ dat…” He took another drag.
She was on him then, patting him all over. “Jules, no—you aren’t him; you know I don’t mean it like that. I just…let me put in my notice is all. Just in case.”
He took another drag and nodded, not trusting what he’d say now.
She kissed his cheek, and he wanted it, wanted more, but God forbid he’d mess her up again with Ma B. waiting.
She went to the mirror to smooth herself over. “Now I don’t want to go. Not if you’re mad.” She faced him, such a beauty. Such a frustrating beauty.
He left the smoke in his mouth and got his pants on. He went to his bag for an undershirt and moved the smoke from mouth to hand to mouth and got his shirt on. She had picked up her purse and was checking through it, nervous now, snapping it closed and looking at him. “I’ll do it, Jules, hand in my notice. I promise.”
“Do what you want,” he said. Then he took another drag and let it out big. The anger was leaving. “I mean it. You do what you want.”
She put the purse under her arm and got closer to him. “Let me tell you something, Jules...doing what I want is what got me in the car with you that first night. And everything since, right up to our marriage, was me doing what I want. So stop thinking whatever is putting that frown on your face. I want you. That’s all. You think I have a love for being an operator, you’re wrong. You think I want to leave you right now for my job, you’re wrong. You think I’m not so full of love for you right now, so full of love it’s taking all I can do to go to work…all I can do…wrong again. You think I doubt you? I don’t doubt you, Jules. I…I…” Here came the tears again. She was going over the edge.
He grabbed her and pulled her close, walking them to the dresser so he could put the smoke down. Then he held her in earnest. “Calm down,” he whispered. “I got it. I know.” He stood there, arms around her, rocking her a little. Luckiest man. Luckiest chimpanzee who’d ever lived. Just a lucky Bugs Bunny mick.
They made it to the weekend, finally. Saturday morning they had the house to themselves, and Jules had to admit, he was getting real used to this. They were alone, not counting the girls on the other side of the wall. Couldn’t tell him their style wasn’t cramped now that he’d moved in.
Before their wedding, Audie was used to the run of Francis’s place, and Baboon had spent plenty of time here sneaking around with Dorie while Jules had been upstairs sneaking around with Isbe. Now that they were married—nearly a week—they weren’t sneaking anymore.
So those two twosomes from next door were hard-put to get some privacy. Francis had to put on the Saint Francis bit for the little flower Dorie, pretending she wasn’t giving it up to Gorilla and didn’t know Little Bird was giving it up to Baboon, and Dorie had to pretend she wasn’t giving it up to Baboon and didn’t know Francis was giving it up to Gorilla. He guessed they thought
one another were having a pajama party in Hot Springs, staying up late to paint one another’s toenails. What an exhausting caper it was.
Jules was glad for their misery. They didn’t have the guts to get married, let them suffer. As for him, he was having the time of his life even if he was looking over his shoulder for Clark.
All week long, Jules had hung around the house while Isbe was at work, the Ford parked out front like a challenge, a “come and get me.” Jules had been in the trees looking for some new sign that his no-good father-in-law had been spying, but here’s how it probably went: That moog had a neighbor doing his dirty work. Isbe probably didn’t make a move her old man didn’t know about.
So he hung around every day, for a couple of hours, waiting to see if old Clark would show. He never did.
Besides that, Audie was watching for Cabhan to show at Mel’s. So far that mick crook was still “in New York.” First day back, Jules rode over there with Audie, and Potato One came after them with a bat cause Gorilla had clocked him and cleaned out his wallet before they all went to Hot Springs. But the two of them had charged Potato, dodging that bat but not completely, and slapped him around, and it was all love now, revival meeting every time they went. Potato just shouted that Cabhan wasn’t around, and they should “fook off,” and they’d hoot and laugh and make threats to pass along to Cabhan. They wanted their money.
Next night there were more of them sitting or standing out front of Mel’s, a whole potato patch. The monkeys were in full force with Bobby along. Even Orangutan. They had gone by the station to check that old Seth was walking the straight and narrow. So, this particular Thursday night, it was the monkey cage on wheels. They got a little liquored up, then they bought potatoes and Jerry drove, and the three of them lobbed potatoes at those moogs sitting out front.
It was great, those fat bums scrambling.
Thing was, you went up against these older guys, they’d take a certain amount—liked to see the sass, the chip on the shoulder—but you went too far, they’d bite. Now Audie would have to give that dough back. Potato’s dough, but he’d use the debt he owed Potato to make his point to Uncle Cabhan.
But these older guys, they’d bite hard to teach you a lesson—yeah, sometimes they’d bite so hard they’d kill you. Whoops. And except for Audie, tied to Cabhan in a particular way, they were garbage on the street.
But Jules hadn’t been around it other than yanking Potato’s chain. He needed work. He was looking over the neighborhoods, checking out space for a shop maybe.
So the week went. Isbe finished work…they were having the time of their lives.
On Monday, Jules took Isbe back to Ma Bell, albeit reluctantly, but this was the last week, and he went home to cut the grass one last time cause fall weather was coming and it wasn’t growing so quick now. He had just pulled the machine out of the shed when he heard a car pull up out front. He walked around the side of the house to better see the street, and what do you know—Uncle Cabhan was getting out of the backseat, that moog Potato holding his door, and another vegetable was getting out of the driver’s side. It was another Buick, black and shiny.
If Satan himself got out of that Buick, he wouldn’t be more surprised than he was now. Uncle Cabhan at Isbe’s house? He didn’t like this a bit.
Chapter 40
Jules had pushed the mower as he’d walked to where Cabhan waited on the sidewalk in front of Isbe’s house. He’d really not been aware he’d cut a swath.
“Let me have a go,” Cabhan said, tossing his smoke and approaching Jules to take over. Jules was slow to step back and allow this moog to, what—cut Isbe’s grass?
Cabhan took hold of the mower and pushed it along the sidewalk. He cut the whole front slice of Isbe’s yard, then positioned the mower to cut the next row, and he pushed it toward where Jules and his thugs waited, grass flying with a pleasant whirr from the oiled blades Jules had just sharpened.
“That’s amazing,” Cabhan said, stopping to hand off the machine to Potato. “Keep going, you barrel-bellied mick.”
Potato didn’t look happy, but he took over and waddled after the mower while he cut another row. Jules hated this, but he kept quiet.
Cabhan was looking at the sticky grass on his wingtips and the cuffs of his suit pants. He shook one leg, then the other. He was laughing when he looked at Jules. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I could ask the same.”
“You first,” Cabhan said, folding his arms.
Seeing Jules was slow to reply, Cabhan asked, “You related to Clark?”
“No. Why?” Jules folded his arms too, his eyes going from Potato’s fat ass as he pushed the mower, a sweat stain building along the spine of his shirt, to Cabhan’s other thug, William, who found Potato’s act pretty funny.
Cabhan unfolded his arms and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a thick fold of paper. “I’ve acquired this property,” he said, emphasis on “acquired.”
Jules’s hand moved back toward the house. “This property?”
Like him, Cabhan didn’t appear to like answering the obvious. Jules reached for the documents, but Cabhan was already tucking them back into his pocket. Jules fought the urge to grab those papers and punch Cabhan.
“I’m more than a little surprised to see you here. Word is there are some beautiful women living in this house. Now, why do I have to see your ugly mug the minute I get here?”
“How’d you come by it?” Jules said, pushing aside the thought of how incensed Isbe would be to know this turn of events. He had a couple of ideas on how this moog got his hands on things.
“Fair and square,” Cabhan said, readjusting his feet to a wider stance.
Fair and square? “Nah, nah. How much is dat?” Jules said. He kept telling himself to calm down, to pay attention.
“How much is what?” Cabhan was unwrapping a stick of gum and folding it into his mouth.
He wouldn’t bring Isbe into it. He wouldn’t put her up as owner. The old man held it; he’d always known that. And now that bastard had given it up. Yeah, Jules was kicked in the ass, and that’s exactly what the old man wanted.
“How much do you want for it?” he said.
Cabhan was laughing now, big hands. “I haven’t even seen it yet.”
“How much to take it off your hands?” This swindler owed him money. Now he had the house? Jules was breathing shallow and slow, willing himself to stay clear.
“Whoa, boy. What’s your tie here?”
“I live here.”
“You live here?” He looked to William, big grin: “I thought you were the lawn boy.”
Jules stayed fixed on the answer to his question.
“You gonna buy it? You’re scrapping in back-alley fights, and you got this kind of dough?” He turned to his crony. “William, where do you think a lad like this would get his hands on the dough it would take to buy this house?”
That dim light’s face split into a grin.
Cabhan went on, “You wouldn’t be running your own game, would you? See, I got a question mark on you. And who says I want to sell this place? Man don’t want to sell, he generally quotes a number out of the park.”
“You don’t need it. It’s too far away from the action downtown.”
“Who the hell are you to tell me what I need? It’s good property. Filled with tenants. Glad to know these women are friendly.”
“How much you let it go for? Give me a number.” Jules held on to himself. He hated repeating, but now, he repeated.
“You live here—better ask me inside, don’t you think?” Cabhan said. “After all…I own the place.”
“It’s occupied,” Jules said, not moving, the sun going behind the clouds and a delivery truck passing the house while its driver ground through the gears.
“Right now? Those girls are home? My understanding, they’re at work. But it’s my lucky day if I can get a look.” Cabhan said this to William, rubbing his hands together.
What Jules
couldn’t handle was Clark’s willingness to ruin Isbe to get at him. That’s what this was. No way he’d stand by and let him tear Isbe apart.
“C’mon,” Cabhan said, his hand on Jules’s shoulder. “You want to get the fook out of my way?”
“What’s going on?” Gorilla stood on Francis’s stoop in all his shirtless glory, her doorway gaping behind him. “I hope you brought our money,” he said.
Jules had no idea Audie was here. The Buick wasn’t…or didn’t appear to be. Here he’d been ready to cut the grass, and this moog was in the house probably lazing on his ass asleep and Jules none the wiser. Couldn’t say he wasn’t happy to see him, though.
“Whoa-ho!” Cabhan called out. “Family reunion! These must be some fine little pieces to bring you two this far out to the suburbs.”
“What in hell gives?” Audie said to Cabhan.
“I’m the new landlord,” Cabhan said.
Audie’s zipper and belt were undone. He slowly did up his pants and came down the two steps. Cabhan was clearly interested in the specimen that was his nephew, and so would be a few of the neighbors. You didn’t just see half-naked Gorilla out of the corner of your eye.
“Damn, boy, what they feed you in that army?” Cabhan joked.
Audie, never one to shy away from a compliment, wasn’t showing his good nature now.
“You boys working for Clark?” Cabhan said, a little less friendly.
“Doing what?” Audie said. “Only time I met Clark was when he arrested me at the fight. Carted me off before you paid me my money.”
“You took out my window with your potato-throwing shit and caused trouble at Mel’s. I don’t need that kind of attention. I say we’re even, and I’ll give you a pass this one time. You come around making trouble again, I won’t be so friendly.” Cabhan readjusted his collar. “Now show me my house.”
“Wait a minute,” Audie said, making the mistake of moving a hand toward his uncle. William was there soon enough, and Audie put his hand down. Potato left off pushing the mower. “You owed each of us a winner’s purse. That’s twelve thousand.”