Want Some, page 5
“I’d believe anything about that hussy,” an older lady muttered. All you saw of the woman was her swollen neck and thick legs. Her head was slung down in a rinse bowl.
“Serves her right,” Shirley said, scratching her scalp with long nails. Shirley was the cocktail girl at Dee’s Parlor. She was always in everybody’s business. “Didn’t I say she’d get what she deserves?”
“I remember like it was yesterday the night she showed at my place. Her whole face was covered in welts,” Vernita said.
“You inviting trouble having that tramp at yo’ house,” Shirley warned. “I’da got her a map and a bus pass.”
“That was awhile ago. She got her own place now.” Vernita frowned. She wanted to say something back to Shirley, but she was a good paying client. So she held the curling iron a little too close to her neck.
“Watch it!” Shirley snapped as she turned around.
Vernita left Shirley and started working on Flo again.
“Poor thing, you shoulda seen her. All black and blue.” Vernita pulled the comb sadly. Flo’s thick hair lay flat. “Joan must have smacked her ass fifty-two times.” Vernita pulled the comb again but left it too long. It sizzled when it got to Flo’s ends. “Trudy couldn’t even show up to work the next day. Said she got up to go but hid in the yard. Didn’t want everybody to see those large, ugly welts. Gruesome skin oozing with juice.”
“I bet her mama had enough. She had to throw Trudy out. Anybody can see how skanky she is. She’s your friend, Vernita, so you know better than anyone else. Joan probably couldn’t take all her bullshit no more.” Shirley rubbed the red lipstick off her crooked front teeth. The sun showed her pitted complexion.
“Well, I heard Trudy called her mother a bitch. Now see,” Shirley said, “ya’ll know she was wrong.”
The washbowl woman made a loud smacking sound with her tongue. “If my daughter said that she’d be lucky to still be breathing.”
“But ain’t that the pot calling the kettle black,” Shirley told the washbowl woman. “Both of ’em bitches, if you ask me.”
With wet hair leaking over her smock, the older woman said, “I know that’s right.”
“Isn’t Joan still shacking with some poor woman’s husband?” Flo asked.
“Stole him like someone does your clothes off the line.”
“And got the nerve to still put her big foot in church.”
“Um um um,” the older woman said, ending the exchange and laying back down in the bowl.
Vernita pressed the hot comb near Flo’s neck and she flinched.
“That’s no reason to beat her or toss her into the street. Trudy told me she ain’t talked to her mother in months,” Vernita told them. When she brought the hot comb to Flo’s head once again, Flo covered her ear with her hand.
“Some women can’t stand having their men near other women,” Flo said low. She thought about Charles. The hair fumes upset her stomach. She wished Vernita would stop gabbing and finish.
The older woman leaned up from the washbowl again. “That Trudy ain’t got nothing but hot sin in her body.” The woman wore so much mascara on each of her eyes, they looked like they were lined with black flies. “My Waymond don’t want to do nothing no more but creep out at night to that damned hoodlum club to hear that skanky gal sing.”
“It’s the same with my Joe,” another woman sighed. “I caught him drooling at her in the front row one night.”
“Y’all call that singing?” Shirley laughed loudly. Extending her hand, she examined her nails. “I don’t care if she’s Joan’s daughter or not. I bet Joan got tired of Trudy sticking her ass in Hall’s face. Trudy was a threat living inside Joan’s house.”
“Amen,” the older woman said, wiping dead hair from her shoulder.
Suddenly, Trudy’s Aunt Pearl rushed through the door. “Morning, everybody,” Pearl said, glancing around. She was a short, husky woman with brown, flawless skin, with a smile like she just hit the Lotto. She was one of those old-time singers who’d spent time in Detroit. Told you anything you wanted to know about Motown. “Hotown,” she called it. Said everybody in there was fucking. At fifty, she could sing rings around Trudy and the other girls in Dee’s Parlor, and her D-cups looked damn good in sequins. Pearl showed the new girls like Trudy the ropes and made sure they weren’t dealing no dirt. Nosirree, Dee’s Parlor might be sliding a bit, but Pearl made damn sure it wasn’t no brothel. She was a bonafide lady but not too sidity. A saucy woman who had her own stable of men who hung near her dressing room door.
“Hurry up, Vernita! I need me a touch-up. My stuff ain’t layin’ right no more.” Pearl tossed a stuffed 99-cent-store bag on the floor. She stuck one hand in her purse and started rummaging inside. It was a great big black bag filled to the brim with Lord knows what. Her arm fumbled around until she found what she wanted. She popped a large gumball inside her jaw.
“Well, I think it’s that dirty ol’ man of hers,” Vernita said. “She told me how Hall was nothing but hands. Trying to reach for her braids or the hem of her skirt. My uncle eyed me sideways like that from day one. Watching me, pretending to read.”
“Fill me in. Who y’all talking about?” Pearl loved good gossip as much as the next. Her eyes flickered around the packed room.
“Now, Miss Pearl, you know I mean no disrespect. But Trudy and her mama, they both the same,” Shirley said. “Snatch yo’ man if you ain’t got him chained.”
Pearl looked around the room, realizing she’d walked into a storm. She eyed Shirley like she wanted to stab her right there. Trudy’s mother, Joan, was her sister.
“The apple don’t fall far from the tree,” Shirley sneered, ripping a hangnail off with her teeth. There was nothing she liked better than stirring the pot. She showed plenty of chipped tooth when she grinned.
“Tree, my black ass. Look, y’all don’t know squat. That child’s hurt. Any fool could see that.” Pearl shifted farther up in her seat.
“Poor thing’s been living hand-to-mouth ever since Lil Steve started this mess,” Vernita said.
“Hand-to-mouth, my foot. That heifer dresses better than me,” Shirley said. “And what do you mean ‘child’? The girl’s twenty now. Lil Steve didn’t do nothing but document the shit. That video proves what kind of woman she is.”
“I saw her wearing a gold Chanel suit with these ice-pick-high sandals.”
“I saw that suit too. That shit wasn’t cheap. I know she’s not shopping at Ross.”
“Must be selling her stuff on the side,” someone said.
No one knew Trudy got her clothing from stealing.
Pearl shot the woman a cold eye. “She ain’t selling squat.”
“Maybe she’s giving it away,” someone else laughed.
Shirley loved the way the conversation was going. She thought it was time to toss in a lie. “I’ve seen her outside of Dee’s with a lot of different guys sitting in dark cars for hours.”
Everyone in the room started talking at once.
“See?”
“What’d I tell you?”
“Girl, you were right!”
“Anybody seen the video?”
“Uh-uh.”
“Not me.”
“I heard Joan found the nude tape wedged inside Mr. Hall’s Bible.”
“Ol’ nasty freak.”
“Pork chop–eating prick.”
“Joan should’ve put a spoon to his ass,” Vernita added.
Pearl stared out the window a real long time. She wished Trudy could come stay with her but Pearl lived in an apartment house for seniors and they had strict rules on who could come in. “All I know is the menfolk have been bothering Trudy bad.”
“Drooling like she’s something warm from the oven,” Vernita added. “That video did her in. That’s all I hear people talking about now, and Lord knows working for Tony don’t help.”
Flo was trying to sort some things in her mind. “Exactly how long has Trudy been working at Dee’s now?” Charles had been there at least three times that week.
“Girl, where you been?” Vernita asked. “Trudy’s been working there for months.”
“I helped her get started,” Pearl said. “She needed the money.”
“And y’all should see how she’s singing up in there.” Shirley glanced quickly at Pearl. “You know I ain’t lying.” Shirley stood up and started dancing real raunchy, sashaying and grinding her hips. “Got all them men in there looking at her sideways. Pearl, I know you seen her. She got all them men sprung.”
Pearl shot her a look, and Shirley smiled and sat down.
“And look at you,” Pearl said to Shirley. “Jeans all bunched at the crotch, looking like kitty in the meat box watching that tight fabric fight.”
Vernita laid the comb down and let it heat back up. She didn’t like them talking about Trudy and tried to change the subject. “That fight’s coming up. Anybody taking bets?”
“Bets. Ain’t that about a bitch. Black folks sho’ know how to waste some good money,” Pearl said. “Gamblin’ is just throwin’ it away.”
“Gone and speak the truth.” The older woman liked this subject. “Buying quick picks and playing the Daily Three every day instead of letting it build up at the bank.”
“Bank! Hell, I don’t even have an account,” Shirley said proudly. “They’ll never get their hands on my money.”
“What money?” Pearl asked dryly. “You’re always borrowing from me.”
“I deposit mine each week. I don’t play with mine, honey, and I got something if someone wants to act funny.” The old woman patted what looked like a gun in her purse, then she smugly sat back in her chair.
Pearl stared at Shirley. “Some’ll walk over a dollar to pick up a dime.”
Vernita saw a customer coming. She went to the window to wave, but the woman raced into the shop down the street.
“And some rob you before you ever see ’em coming,” Vernita said flatly.
Pearl let the gumball roll against her tongue. “And leave you to bleed in the street.”
“That’s what Trudy did me,” Shirley snapped back fast. “That bitch stole the best man I ever had.” The nail file she held gritted across her rough tips.
“Your man? You wouldn’t know a man if his teeth bit your rump. Only man I seen you with left you sitting at the curb with a window cracked down, breathing on the glass like a dumb smashed-faced dog.” Pearl grabbed a bra strap and hiked up both breasts. “If you gonna tell it, then get the shit right!”
“Trudy’s just getting what she finally deserves,” Shirley said.
“Nobody deserves the hand she got dealt.” Pearl’s eyes got as tight as two steak knives.
“Lil Steve started this mess,” Pearl told the room again.
“Choosing the wrong man can lead you astray,” the older woman said.
“Well, all I know is”—Vernita finished Flo’s hair and spun her toward the giant mirror on the wall—“Trudy’s a hundred percent Scorpio. Homegirl don’t play. It might be today, it might be next week. You fuck her over, she don’t forget. One day she’ll pay yo’ ass back.”
Flo didn’t say she was a Scorpio too. She didn’t know Trudy well, but Flo did know one thing. Men beamed whenever Trudy’s young frame came around. She had caught Charles eyeing her at the gas station one night. Trudy looked like the kind of woman who could have any man she wanted. At thirty-four, Flo had been around the block a few times. She watched young women like Trudy out the side of her eye.
Shirley popped her gum and grinned at the room. “Well, I’m sorry. But I don’t feel sorry for that girl. Trudy’s gonna get it one day, wanna bet?” Shirley pointed the nail file tip at the door. “Game recognizes game. She ain’t fooling me. I work with her. I’ve been watching her lately. I got a good feeling she’s got something cooking up her sleeve, and believe me, it ain’t on the same side as right.”
“You ain’t been on the right side in years.” Pearl gave her a harsh, deadly stare.
“Hey, Flo,” Vernita yelled, quickly changing the subject. “You still breastfeeding that fine younger man?”
Flo’s eyes darted around the shop. She hated discussing age. But she gave a fake laugh and began fanning her face. “That man is making me crazy.”
“Don’t downplay it, Miss Flo, you know Charles is fine.” Vernita was glad Flo had her a nice younger man. “He’s quarterback wide and got a flat six-pack stomach.”
“And gives skull like a pro, once I showed his ass how.” Flo whispered that last part. She didn’t want that on blast.
Vernita smiled, letting her hand rub across her round head. She was a very light-skinned woman with razor-short hair. Her green eyes gleamed in the sun. “I know exactly what you mean,” Vernita whispered back.
“Hold up!” Pearl said, happy to finally change the subject. She scooted all the way up in her chair. Vernita had half of Pearl’s hair perfectly curled on one side, and the other was sticking straight out. At fifty, she easily looked ten years younger and her body was as strong as a vault. “Y’all can keep them chicks; give me a rooster. Give me an older skilled man working over my back and, Lord, girl, I turn right into butter.” Pearl practically rolled from the beauty shop chair. “Somebody better come mop me up.”
Flo faintly smiled and fanned herself in her seat.
“Miss Pearl, you ol’ hussy,” Shirley said, smiling.
“Ain’t no freak like an ol’ freak,” Vernita said, approving. She liked Miss Pearl. She always spoke frank. Real women like her were rare.
“If a man goes down south, pleases my Mississippi, I’d pop his big gun for free.” Pearl smacked her own thigh.
Shirley and Flo laughed; even the washbowl woman chuckled.
“And I’d freak his ass in fifty-two ways if he knew what to do when he got there,” Vernita said, snapping her fingers, waving her arm in one large arc.
“But y’all better use a jimmy. Mama don’t play,” Pearl said, wiping the front of her smock. “I’m done with them urine cups and trips to the clinic. Y’all keep that stuff if you want.”
Flo dabbed the warm sweat welling out from her temples. She picked up a magazine and threw it back down. She did not want to talk about sex.
“Y’all laughing now but wait ’till you got a screaming brat on your back. Tell me about what feels good then!” Pearl looked at Shirley in the beauty shop mirror.
Shirley had five babies from four different guys. She sure wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer.
“Tell him, ‘no glove, no love.’ Have that jimmy hat ready. Cuz I done known plenty of men in my life, but I don’t know any women—once a man gets it—had any luck getting him to take it back out,” she said, laughing.
“Amen,” the older woman echoed.
Suddenly, the room got front church pew quiet. Flo nudged Vernita real quick in the arm as Joan strolled in the shop door.
There was only one woman who could turn a loud, rowdy shop into a Catholic church service. That was Trudy’s holier-than-thou mother, Joan.
Joan was the kind of woman who rarely smiled. When she did, it was with a half-curled-up lip that quivered like she couldn’t quite hold it. She never laughed big or showed any teeth. And if she did it was only at someone else’s expense. She was younger than Pearl but her face was more lined. She was the kind of light-skinned woman who felt better than most women. She spoke low, carefully enunciating each word, and walked stiff like a pool stick ran straight up the back of her dress. Although she wore a red wig, she came for the same press and curl, for the same tidy bun she’d been wearing over twenty-two years.
Flo watched Joan pick a nonexistent piece of lint from her over-starched collar. At five-seven and in heels, she easily towered over them. Acting all high and mighty with her light eyes and pasty loose skin. Joan was always talking about the good hair and keen features that ran in her family, like anybody gave a hot damn. Shoot, her hair couldn’t be that good, Flo thought to herself, if she was getting it done like everyone else.
“Hello, everyone. Hi, Pearl,” she coolly said. Joan took a napkin from her purse and wiped the chair before sitting down. Carefully applying some lotion to her manicured hands, she said, “Vernita, I need a full set today.”
Vernita left Pearl’s head to hand Joan a magazine. She got the foot pan, rinsed it in hot soapy water and plugged it in next to Joan’s legs.
“That bitch makes me sick,” Vernita whispered to Flo.
Flo ducked her head in a magazine and sat quietly.
“Joan ain’t nothing but a white-looking snob,” Shirley whispered to Flo so Pearl couldn’t hear. “Whole damn family ain’t nothing but crooks. Everybody knows she stole Mr. Hall from his sick wife’s back door. And he charges too damn much at his store.”
“You know,” Vernita whispered back, bending down, “the real reason she threw Trudy out was because she was jealous. Didn’t want no daughter looking better than her.” Vernita dropped her comb and let that sink in.
Everybody in the neighborhood talked about Trudy and Joan. Joan did this or Trudy did that. The fine clothes Trudy wore, the Mercedes Joan drove. And even though the Benz was old and smashed on one side and their house was down the street from the rowdy Dee’s Parlor, it still was the best-looking one on the block.
Joan was holding a video case in her hand. “Look at this!” Joan waved the tape all around. “Can you believe they’re still selling this crap out on the street? My God, could my life get worse?”
They all stood around Joan’s thin, narrow hips.
“Is that the video?”
“How’d you get a copy?”
“She ruined my life,” Joan told anyone who’d listen.
“Oh, I don’t think . . .” Pearl tried to stifle her sister. Joan could be so damn dramatic.
Everyone gathered tightly around the TV to see. They’d all heard about Trudy’s nude movie but none of them had seen it up close.
“Girl, don’t show them that!” Pearl tried to turn the set off.
“Pearl, I’m talking. Please don’t interrupt. Mama taught you better than that.” Joan pushed the tape inside the VCR. “Now, I’m not some dumb turnip dropped from the truck. There is absolutely no way to make a picture this close, a video this clear, without you having to know. Look at it! Sitting right there in the air. All that black nakedness hanging for the whole world to see.”
