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Authors: Pearl Cleage

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BOOK: Just Wanna Testify
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Henry was seated at a small table near the door, greeting regulars and making sure things were running smoothly. One Saturday a month, Blue made himself available to anybody in the neighborhood who needed his attention. It didn’t matter if the problem was
a dog running around without a leash, or a serious zoning issue that required a call to the right person at city hall, Blue heard every complaint with equal concern and considered every request with equal seriousness.

No appointment was necessary on those Saturdays and the only other person in the room during the exchange was Henry, who never jotted anything down but made sure all of Blue’s promises were kept in a fair and timely fashion. In the beginning, there were a lot more requests for protection, but as the neighborhood had become more peaceful, those had pretty much disappeared. People in West End didn’t often need to be protected from one another; and when they did, everybody knew whom to call.

In the back room, Blue had just gotten off the phone with Peachy, calling from Tybee.

“We’ll leave right after lunch,” Peachy said, describing their travel plans. “That will give me a chance to help Louie get set up for tonight and Sunday brunch tomorrow. We’ll come on by when we get in.”

Peachy and Blue had toured together for so many years, they could communicate in a language of the road, where too much detail could be fatal. They were masters of the coded question. “Anything I need to know right now?”

And the equally coded answer. “It’s all good,” Peachy said. “Louie had the whole recipe.”

“Good,” Blue said. “See you tonight.”

He had hoped Louie would have some information about these Mayflowers and clearly he did. Not a moment too soon, Blue thought. Regina and Aretha were going to be out with them again all day shooting, and even though he had sent security to their location, there were still some big holes in their story that would be cause for concern until he plugged them.

Henry tapped lightly on the frosted glass, cracked the door open, and stuck his head inside.

“You about ready for another sit-down?”

Blue nodded. “Who’ve you got out there?”

“There are some guys from Morehouse who would like a word with you,” Henry said.

“Students?”

“Graduating seniors.”

“They looking for a job?”

Henry shook his head. “Said it was a personal matter.”

“I guess nobody told them everything around here is a personal matter.” Blue smiled. “How many of them are there?”

“Five.” He slid a piece of paper across the table to Blue. “I told them to write down their names and where they’re from.”

Blue picked up the paper. Each one had written his own name with the same blue pen: Stan Hodges from Trenton, majoring in chemistry; Jerome Smith from Atlanta, a prelaw major; Jackson Stevens from Detroit, majoring in business; Lance Johnson III from Milwaukee, also a prelaw major; and Hayward Jones, a political science major from New Orleans.

“Shall I bring them on back?”

“Sure.” Blue folded the paper and put it in his pocket. “Let’s see what the next generation’s talking about this morning.”

Chapter Sixteen
Ordinary Mortals

Aretha was setting up an interesting shot in a history professor’s book-crammed office in a big old four-story building with high ceilings, creaky wooden hallways, and one small elevator that squeaked alarmingly above the second floor. Tucked away on a quiet corner of the Morehouse campus, they had somehow eluded the crowds they had generated the day before, and things were going smoothly with a minimum of disruptions.

Once she had set up her lights and positioned the five models in the small space, there was hardly room for Aretha to move around and get the shots she wanted. Regina and Serena didn’t even try to squeeze in. An empty classroom across the wide hallway was as close as they could get, which was fine. They were still in the process of evaluating each other, and some time alone was just what they had both wanted.

Serena was busy confirming their deal in principle so contracts
could be sent down this afternoon. That was all fine, but Regina still wanted to know why this woman who was so good with details had not mentioned meeting her husband the day before. Of course, she wasn’t going to ask her directly. That would come across as suspicious and insecure and she refused to claim either of those emotions. She was hoping for conscious and curious. Conscious of the omission of information. Curious about why.

They settled their business with a promise to exchange the necessary signed documents on Monday and then there was silence. Through the open door of the classroom where they were camping out, they could hear Aretha across the hall, murmuring instructions, offering encouragement and affirmation.

“Good, good … keep that. Do more with that. Yes, yes … Use that hand more. Good …”

“Sounds like phone sex, doesn’t it?” Serena said, tucking her BlackBerry into her giant shoulder bag.

“I guess it does at that.”

Serena walked over to the big window and looked out at a green expanse of a quadrangle in the middle of the small, beautifully landscaped campus. There was a touch football game in progress, although the players probably should have been in class. Two smiling girls were watching and applauding frequently, so the game was far from over.

“Aretha told me about the big benefit coming up on Saturday,” Serena said, introducing a more neutral topic. “She said it’s a very big deal around here.”

“We do it every year to raise money for one cause or another,” Regina said. “My husband and Peachy Nolan started doing it almost twenty years ago. Things were really different around here then. It was like the Wild, Wild West. Once they got it cleaned up, they started raising money to make sure it stayed that way.”

“That’s admirable.” Serena folded her long, lean frame sideways into one of the student desks. “But to tell you the truth, it’s still a little too close to the frontier for my taste.”

Her comment made Regina feel defensive, but she tried to keep her tone even. “What do you mean?”

Serena rippled her shoulders. “I mean, it’s just a matter of time. If your husband hadn’t been prepared to take charge, this neighborhood would be just like all the others.”

Even though she knew it was true, Regina resented Serena saying it so calmly. “Is that why you dropped in to see him yesterday?”

Serena didn’t flinch. “Aretha suggested it. Did she tell you?”

“No,” Regina said, hoping she didn’t sound like a paranoid, overly possessive wife. “
He
did.”

“I see.” Serena stretched out her legs in the aisle and crossed them neatly at the ankles. The soles of her black Christian Louboutin pumps were a smooth bright red, as if they had never touched the ground.

“Your husband is a very charismatic man,” she said calmly. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen eyes like that. Do they run in his family?”

There was no hint of discomfort for not mentioning the visit.

“Our daughter has them.”

“How wonderful,” Serena said. “Those are genes anyone would be proud to pass on.”

Regina didn’t know what to say to that and before she had time to figure it out, the door opened across the hall and the models strode into the room like they had just been released into the wild.

“I’m starving,” said the one whose name was either Sara or Susan, reaching her long arms above her head. Her well-manicured, red-tipped nails brushed the ceiling lightly.

“How can we get something brought in to eat, besides soul food, fake Jamaican jerk, or bad Chinese?” Regina still couldn’t tell them all apart, but she thought this was Sasha.

“Are you done?” Serena said, rising from the chair in one long slither and moving past Regina as if she wasn’t even there.

“She said we’ve got an hour for lunch and an hour to change,” said the one Regina thought was named Savannah. “So are they going to feed us, or what?”

“The caterer has everything set up for you in the downstairs lobby at the chapel,” Regina jumped in. “And the limo is outside to take you across campus.”

That seemed to appease them. Even though the walk across the campus was only a couple of hundred yards, she had seen yesterday how difficult it was to get them to walk anywhere in a timely fashion, so for today, Regina had asked Blue if he could give them a driver, just to get them around once they arrived at Morehouse. He had responded with a huge stretch limo that more than accommodated their needs, their legs, and their egos.

“What caterer?” Sheila asked, still sounding suspicious.

“The one I called yesterday,” Regina said, as Scylla hovered around them like a mother hen shooing her brood of excitable chicks. “The one who has spent all morning fixing exactly what you like the way you like it.”

Sasha tossed her strangely coifed head (they had repeated yesterday’s mussed-birdcage style) and rolled her green-lidded eyes. “Well, don’t say it like that. It’s not like we’ve been complaining.”

At that, Scylla rolled her eyes, too, and let out a strange little hissing noise that didn’t sound like anything Regina had heard since she had gone hiking in New Mexico and gotten too close to a big black snake on the trail.

“Scylla!” Serena said sharply, and the sound stopped immediately. “Why don’t you get everybody settled in for lunch and I’ll be over in a minute to look at the clothes for this afternoon.”

“They’re hideous,” Savannah sniffed. “We’re going to look like a bunch of potbellied pigs.”

“Then you can eat all the sushi you want at lunch and not have to worry about it,” Serena said, as Scylla shooed them out the door.

Regina watched from where she was, still fascinated with their strangeness, but suddenly wary of it, too. What was that sound Scylla had made? She didn’t even part her lips, so it was more like a vibration in her chest. Regina wondered if she had ever done it around Aretha.

The models headed down the wide stairway, talking among themselves about whatever they talked about when they were not in the company of ordinary mortals.

When Aretha stepped out into the hallway, Serena fluttered a graceful greeting. “So, how’s it going in there?”

“Good,” Aretha said, sounding distracted. “They need to be ready again at two.”

Serena nodded. “Fine. Should I bring the new contract so we can—”

“I can’t talk about that right now,” Aretha cut her off quickly, looking at Regina. “Can I see you for just a second?”

“Sure,” Regina said, turning to Serena, wondering why Aretha’s voice sounded so tense all of a sudden. “We’ll talk this afternoon.”

“No problem,” Serena said, following the others down the stairs. “The sooner the better.”

Regina followed Aretha back into the professor’s office where they had been shooting and tossed her purse on the desk.

“What’s happening?”

Aretha didn’t say a word. She closed the door quietly, turned back to Regina, and burst into tears.

Chapter Seventeen
Their End of the Deal

The five young men filed into Blue’s office in the same order they had signed the name sheet. Henry came in behind them and closed the door. There were five chairs in front of the table where Blue was sitting, but since no one had indicated that they should take a seat, they remained standing, waiting for instructions.

“Good morning,” Blue said pleasantly, standing up and extending his hand. “I’m Blue Hamilton.”

“Good morning, Mr. Hamilton,” they stumbled over one another to return his greeting. “Good morning.”

“Tell me your names,” he said, shaking each hand in turn, gauging, as men always do, the strength of the man from the strength of the handshake.

Soft
, he thought.
The work they’ve chosen doesn’t require them to use their hands
.

“Sit down, gentlemen,” he said, returning to his seat. They sank
gratefully into their chairs and he could see how nervous they were. And how young.

He turned to Jerome Smith, sitting on the far right. “You’re from Atlanta, Mr. Smith?”

“Yes, sir.” Jerome nodded, grateful to be asked a question with an easy answer.

“You from around here?”

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