Liar's Game (38 page)

Dana motioned at the wall. “Sounds like they were going at it tonight.”

I nodded. Naiomi never happened. All in my mind.

Somewhere down the line, we ran out of tea and conversation, but not necessarily in that order. Yawns came from both of our faces.

She said, “I’d better get going.”

Dana put her cup in the sink, went to go potty again. The rest of her stuff, she said, she’d pick up when her plans had been solidified. I told her there was no rush. I’d be here.

I walked her downstairs. I stopped at the top of the three steps that led to my U-shaped stucco complex. Listened to the birds chirping in the trees. Hardly a whiff of smog in the air. Very few cars on the road. Two people jogging. One walking a Doberman. We stalled for a moment and watched this side of L.A. come to life.

I wished her well.

She handed me back the engagement ring. It was deep inside her purse. Finger was already empty when she came here. I wasn’t going to ask for it, but if she gave it back, I wasn’t going to be foolish and tell her to keep it. Maybe one day down the road, it’ll fit on another finger.

I said, “Dana?”

“Yeah.”

“The keys.”

She took those off her plastic key ring.

“Make sure you call before you come over.”

She pushed her beautiful lips up into a smile. “I will.”

“And get your stuff in one trip. No need to drag this out.”

“I plan to.”

An awkward pause.

I told her, “Be safe.”

“I will.”

We waved good-bye.

Then she left. I walked away. As if we had never happened.

Hollyweird’s Sunless Strip was crowded, loud, and rude. People hanging out in front of the clubs and bars. Miles of nonstop, impatient traffic zooming down the street. I parked in the paid lot at the Hyatt, across the street from the House of Blues. Me and my road dawg rushed down the steep hill on the back side of the Comedy Emporium. I had on black boots, jeans, fuchsia blouse, short leather jacket. Gerri hadn’t changed from the dark pantsuit she’d worn when she was pushing real estate all day. She’d loosened her coat, put on a colorful, sassy scarf, undone a few buttons on her blouse, gave herself some after-five cleavage.

She checked her watch. “I hear people laughing all the way up here.”

“It’s almost nine. What time you need to be at Blondies?”

“By ten-thirty. We’re ten minutes away, so as long as we’re in the car by ten, we’re cool. Dag, look at the line.”

“All of black L.A. must be out tonight.”

“Look around, look around,” Gerri said with a smile. “There are more black men down here than they have locked up at the county day room.”

An orange-haired, heavyset brother with earrings in his lip and eyebrow was at the glass door. His satin Comedy Emporium jacket rustled when he eased off his black wooden bar stool.

He said, “Seventeen-fifty to get in.”

“I’m Dana Smith. I’m on Claudio Tillman’s list.”

“Got some ID?”

I whipped out my California driver’s license. I wouldn’t need that pretty soon. It would be walking, cabs, and A trains.

He clicked on a pen flashlight, read the license, then handed it back. “Hold up. Let me find the guest list.”

Gerri said, “Hey, Chubby Checker, what’s the point of looking at the license if you don’t have the list?”

The bouncer shot Gerri a look as he waddled away.

I said, “Gerri, you’re on a roll.”

“I watch
Comic View
. Hell, I can be funny from time to time.”

“So can
Comic View
.”

More laughter in the background. The crowd was cracking up.

I asked, “I wonder who’s onstage.”

“Sounds like Emil Johnson.”

I leaned so I could see what the inside of the place looked like, tried to peep past the black walls covered with pictures of every comedian from Buster Keaton to Robin Williams to Stepin Fetchit to Eddie Murphy. Black and white checkerboard floors and glass-topped tables. Typical club decor.

It happened in a flash. A sister in a lime-colored miniskirt passed by on the other side of the velvet rope. Big breasts that reminded me of Tyra Banks in that new Wonder bra by Victoria’s Secret. She was laughing with a crowd of women, having a good time. Hair down her back, almost to her waist. She went by so quick that I didn’t see her face, just her back and those too-big-to-be-real breasts.

I mumbled, “Couldn’t have been.”

Gerri asked, “Who you see?”

“Nobody.”

Another bouncer, about double the girth of the first, stretching his black satin Comedy Emporium jacket to the limit, came to the door.

He was the bearer of bad news. My name wasn’t on the list.

“Can you get Claudio Tillman for me? He’s the promoter.”

“Nope.”

“Can you page him?”

“Nope.”

“What can I do?”

“Your problem.”

Gerri interjected, “This is his girlfriend.”

He chuckled. “His problem.”

I ran my tongue over my teeth and sang, “Okay.”

Gerri said, “Minimum-wage-working idiots can be so rude.”

He huffed, “You ought to know, Weaverella.”

Gerri retorted, “This is my hair, Pork Chop. Guess you ain’t heard of fat-free food, have you, Chunky But Funky?”

I politely asked, “May I see your list?”

He handed me the list. The name I didn’t want to see ever again was at the top, scribbled in Claudio’s block-style handwriting.

Gerri said, “What’s up with the
Silence of the Lambs
face?”

“Nothing,” I said. I cursed as I opened my purse and grabbed my wallet.

I handed the bouncer two twenties. He didn’t take them.

He said, “Miss Thang, this is how you do it. You and your hair-club-for-women-looking friend need to jiggle those booties around the corner to the ticket booth right inside the front door, buy the tickets, then come back and get in line again.”

I snapped, “What? We’ve got to get in line again?”

“Now step to the side so other people can get in.”

I shuffled through the crowd with Gerri in tow.

Gerri said, “You’re gonna buy the tickets?”

I lowered my eyes to the ground, headed for the asphalt hill that led to parking, but slowed down as I experienced a déjà vu: Claudio’s body lying on top of mine, pleading for my affections, pang in his eyes as he apologized.

I broadcasted, “He ain’t shit.”

“Who you telling? His fat, arrogant ass needs to ask Richard Simmons to give him a ride to a Jenny Craig meeting.”

“I’m not talking about the brother at the door.”

“Dana, slow down before I break a heel.”

I sneered. Heard the nonstop laughter behind my back. L.A. was laughing at me. Silly fool. I stormed back toward the club.

Gerri shouted, “Now where you going?”

I asked, “Your gun in your purse?”

“In my car.”

“We should go get it.”

“You think the jokes are going to be that bad?”

“Nothing’s gonna be funny tonight.”

 

Thirty-five dollars later, Gerri followed me around the perimeter of the club, through the chortles and shadows, until we came to a table of four brothers and two women sitting in the heart of the VIP section. Enough drinks and entrées for King Arthur, all of his knights, and their fair maidens.

A dark-skinned, broad-shouldered brother made a nervous motion for Claudio to look my way. I expected Claudio to look guiltier than Ted Kaczynski.

Claudio smiled and said, “Surprised to see you.”

“Why is that?”

“You jetted on a brother in the middle of the night.”

I reiterated what he already knew. “I didn’t have clothes with me, had to work the next morning, told you that.”

“Why didn’t you call?”

“I left messages at your hotel.”

“A day later. I rode you in the limousine, treated you better than you’ve ever been treated, wined you, poured my heart out to you, offered to let you stay with me in Harlem, offered you the best, then poof, didn’t hear from you after you ran out on me. Paged you eight or nine times.”

“My pager was off.”

“Why was it off ?”

I ran my hand over my hair. “Look, fine. You said your friend wanted to meet Gerri.”

“Yeah, Raymond wanted to meet her. He’s from Long Beach.”

His friend waved at Gerri. My road dawg didn’t respond.

I put my hand on the back of a chair, said, “Nobody’s sitting here, so I guess it’s okay for me and Gerri to sit behind the velvet rope with you, right?”

“Hold on, wait.” Claudio’s butt rose slowly from his seat. “What’s up, Dee Dee?”

“What happened to your putting my name on the guest list?”

“Looks like you made it inside okay.”

“I had to pay thirty-five dollars. Can you get my chips back?”

“Let me check in a minute. Go grab yourself a table up front.”

“This chair is unoccupied, and you want me to go somewhere else?”

“Dee Dee . . .” Claudio’s eyes searched the room for a second, then focused on me again. “Let’s step to the hallway and talk.”

I told him, “I saw her.”

“Please. Can we step out in the hall and talk?”

“Talk right here.”

Women of at least five nationalities lowered their watered-down drinks, put the laughter aside, and surveyed my scene with eyes of experience.

Gerri touched my arm. “Go into the hall and talk to him.”

He headed toward the crowded hallway, and I followed him. A couple of sisters had stopped right behind him, ears wide open. Our body language let everybody know that there was a rumble in the jungle.

Claudio had the nerve to say, “Don’t get loud on me out here.”

“What about wanting me to come back to Harlem?”

“I did want you to come back.”

“What do you mean, ‘did’?”

He went off on me. “Don’t come up in here tripping. When shit was low for me, you left me in New York, didn’t even say good-bye. Then you got my hopes up, had me packing to come out here, and you changed your number on me as soon as you met that nig. Did all I could to find you. I came out here, stayed this long just to be with you. The nig showed up at my hotel, waiting for you in the parking lot, and what did you do? I begged you to stay, and you ran to him like what I offered you didn’t mean shit. You’re engaged, living with a nig, getting with me. Then as soon as you bust a nut, you’re running back home to him the same night.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’ve spent a lot of money on you. Dinner. Flowers. Limo. We made love. Don’t trip on me. Fair exchange is no robbery.”

“Fair exchange? Are you calling me a—”

“Tell me this: who did you call when you thought I was ’sleep?”

“What do you mean?”

He stressed, “When you were in my room, after we had made love, when you thought I was ’sleep, who did you sneak and call from my phone?”

I tilted my head sideways and looked at him like he was crazy.

He went on, “Cut the bull. You said that you called your homegirl.”

“I said I was checking my messages.”

“Dee Dee, I ain’t stupid. When you snuck out, I called down to the front desk and got the number. I called it up.”

I sucked my jaw deep into my mouth, chewed my own flesh.

He rubbed his neck. “I’m the fool who saved your life. You were right. Maybe I should’ve let you fall. I’m the man who was there for you when your momma died. Hell, I helped you pick out the coffin.”

“Leave Momma out of this.”

“All I did for you. If I wasn’t blowing up, you wouldn’t be up in here now.”

“Is that what you think?”

“That’s what I know. Your actions’re speaking loud.”

“What about that girl? I see she’s here.”

“That chickenhead? I was gonna curb her ass, get my life right with you. Tia ain’t nothing, you know that. Ain’t never been nothing to me.”

“So, you were gonna drop her for me?”

“This ain’t about that chickenhead. Don’t change the subject on me.” He had the nerve to look pissed off. “What was I saying? Oh, yeah. That dude you engaged to answered the phone. The nig you live with. Vince, right?”

I ran my tongue over my teeth, my head barely moving up and down.

He got a little loud. “How’s that supposed to make me see you? Plus you had your damn engagement ring on the whole damn time. You think that didn’t hurt my feelings? Don’t come up in here tripping at my show.” Claudio stopped rubbing the bridge of his nose. “This is my gig. Could’ve been yours too. Don’t trip. I got your pager number.”

“You brushing me off ?”

His words were firm, very final. “I’m working.”

“So, that’s how it is?”

“That’s how it is.”

My teeth clenched.

These words came from behind him: “So, I’m a
chickenhead
?”

It was Tia, the flight attendant with breasts the size of Mount Rushmore. She was with one of her girlfriends. They had been standing behind him the whole time, listening to all he said. Her mouth had been wide open. Sister was good, more patient that I would’ve been. Not a word had to come from my mouth. He had told it all.

My eyes moved up and down her frame, from the light brown hair flowing down her back to her tight lime miniskirt and beige blouse. Tia’s eyes focused with recognition, flickers of the past.

Tia sighed. “This makes sense.”

And just like that, her eyes watered. Her lip trembled.

Claudio walked away. I was right behind him, my hand down inside my purse.

Tia was right behind me, calling Claudio’s name over and over, each time a few more tears weighing her voice down. So, we ended up at the VIP section. Drama, tension, evil eyes all over the place.