Pandora's Succession (37 page)

Eddie looked down at Corey, who was still hunched over the counter. “Sure, anything.” He then slapped Corey on the back of the head—jolting him out of his nap.

Corey refused Eddie and Jordyn’s help in walking to the car. He slid into the backseat, while Jordyn sat with Eddie up front. The car backfired once before Eddie drove off. All Eddie could think of was getting a new car.

A half hour later, they were in the Notre-Dame-de-Grace borough and were parked in front of their favorite Jamaican restaurant. It wasn’t anything flashy, just a simple hangout in the basement of an old two-story brick building—with a hair salon and a video rental store upstairs. The car backfired again, just before they all got out.

“When are you going to trash this car?” asked Corey—a lot more sober—as he shut the door.

Eddie shot him a look. “The money you owe me would’ve helped me pay for the repairs. Did you ever think about that?” The nerve of him, telling me to trash my car.

“I told you not to buy any car from that guy. He’s a crook. Besides, you’re better off buying a new one.”

Jordyn was the first to walk down the narrow steps and open the front door, jingling the bell attached to it.

“Guys, keep it down,” she said as she held the door open for them.

“Hold that thought, baby-girl,” said Corey as he rushed past her to the back of the restaurant. Eddie figured all that beer he’d been drinking earlier was finally making its way out.

There wasn’t anyone inside the cramped three-table dining room except for Robert—Flick’s son—who leaned on his elbows by the cash register, flipping through a magazine.

“Junior, is that you?” Flick’s unmistakable Jamaican-accented voice came from the kitchen, just as the sound of sizzling blasted. The smell of exotic spices leaked into the dining area, guaranteeing any visitor’s mouth to water.

Eddie walked up to Robert and bumped fists with him as he looked towards the kitchen. “What’s going on, boss? How you know it’s me?”

“Whenever your car backfires, my clients all run for cover. Can’t you see the place is empty?”

Eddie and the others sat down at a table. He never knew Flick’s real name. It was sad how he served the best Jamaican food in this part of town, yet he couldn’t get many customers. Things went downhill for him when he lost his wife to cancer three years before. The financial strain was catastrophic to the point that he nearly lost his restaurant. Being in this location was all he could afford.

Robert came over and placed some plastic table mats and silver utensils for them. Eddie took off his winter hat and gloves, shoved them into the sleeve of his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair. He sat on one side of the four-person table facing Jordyn, who did the same with her jacket.

“We got jerk chicken and rice tonight,” said Robert.

“I’ll have that with a Sorrel. A large one.” said Eddie.

“Corey and I’ll have the same,” said Jordyn.

Robert left them and Jordyn turned to Eddie. “So what’s going on with you today? You were quiet on the way over.”

Eddie sighed and leaned back in his chair. She always knew when something wasn’t right with him. Such as, the week that led up to the day that he moved out of his parent’s house. They were sitting at this very table. She and Cory were drinking Trinidadian beer while he had an Irish Moss. It was the first time he cried in front of them, being unsure where he was heading in life. His father didn’t support the idea of him wanting to be a novelist. What did his dad know? All he wanted were the same things all West-Indian parents wanted of their children—that they either became teachers, doctors or lawyers. But a novelist? Please.

“Vanessa left me and I got laid off,” said Eddie.

“What? You’re kidding,” said Jordyn. Just then, they heard the toilet flush in the chicken-coop of a bathroom in the back of the restaurant.

Corey—appearing to be much more sober than before—approached their table, hung his jacket on the empty chair beside Jordyn, and sat. He then noticed Eddie’s long face. “What happened?”

Eddie broke the bad news to him. Corey’s torso dipped forward. “Your girl left you and you got laid off? No way.”

Eddie put his elbows on the table and dropped his head into his hands. “I decided to drop by her place this morning before work only to find out that she wanted her apartment key back.”

“Did she at least tell you why?” Jordyn asked.

“She didn’t have to. I knew that she was cheating on me.”

“You found another man’s underwear in her laundry basket, didn’t you,” said Corey.

“No, there was a used condom in her bedroom. I saw the wrapper next to it—and it wasn’t a brand I normally use.”

Jordyn fell back in her chair with her hand covering her mouth. “Whoa, wait a minute. You go to her place, she tells you it’s over. And you do what, search her place?”

“In a way, yeah.”

“How’d you know that she was cheating on you? I mean, before you found the condom.” Corey asked.

“Last week I came by and saw a juice glass on one of the night tables in her bedroom.”

Corey shrugged his shoulders. “So?”

“It was on the table that I normally sleep next to. Not the one she usually leaves her drinks on.”

“Damn, you’re good,” said Corey.

“So did you bring it up this evening?” asked Jordyn.

“Of course I did. She told me that I was paranoid. So I barged past her, walked into her room, emptied the trash on the floor, and sure enough, found the condom wrapped in a bunch of tissue paper along with the condom wrapper.”

“What did she say then?” asked Corey.

“Not much. So I threw her key on the floor and left. I guess I ain’t good enough for her. I’m just some wannabe writer that works in a bookstore and can’t even get a book deal or sell my last ebook online. Nothing was ever good enough for her.”

“Oh, I almost forgot,” said Corey as he reached into his coat pocket and handed Eddie two envelopes. They were opened. “These came for you today.”

“You opened my mail?”

“One’s from an agency. The other’s from a publisher.”

“Thanks. Maybe you can tell me what they said.”

“Oh you’ll want to throw them out. They didn’t like what you sent them.” All Eddie got in the last two months from agents and publishers that he had queried were rejection letters and emails. He tossed the envelopes back at Corey. Those were the last two I queried. Now what? I guess I can turn it into an ebook and then sell it online.

Jordyn got up, walked around to Eddie and hugged him, pecking him on his forehead. “I’m sorry about what happened. You didn’t deserve that.” Corey came over and did the same, mocking Jordyn. Eddie shoved him away before Corey had a chance to fake-kiss him on the forehead. He wouldn’t cry this time. Not over Vanessa, not over the rejection letters. Just be strong. That’s all he could tell himself.

Just then, Jordyn looked up at the television that sat on a shelf on the wall. She turned to Robert. “Can you turn up the TV?” When Eddie looked up, the volume was being raised. He assumed Robert must have used the remote control from where he stood. It was entertainment news and they were talking about some pop singer he didn’t care for.

“THE SINGER JUST SIGNED A TWENTY MILLION DOLLAR BOOK DEAL IN WHICH SHE WILL TELL ALL. FROM THE SEX TAPE SCANDAL, TO HER NEW YEARS EVE PARTY BAR FIGHT, TO GETTING BACK IN THE MUSIC STUDIO...”

What the fuck? Eddie turned to Robert, “Man, turn that off. I’m tired of hearing such nonsense.”

“Damn! Twenty million!” echoed Corey.

Eddie shot Corey a glance. “Go ahead, rub it in. Never mind that she can’t sing, and sells millions of albums. All because of what? Because she behaves like some high-priced-ho? Now she’s got the book deal and I don’t. Give me a break.”

Robert brought over their meals and set them down before them.

Eddie dove into his food when Corey said to him, “You know? Maybe that’s what you need to do.”

Eddie swallowed and looked up at him. “Need to do what?”

“Maybe you need to do what the stars do in order to get book deals or sell more books—do something scandalous.”

Eddie chuckled. “Boy, you crazy.”

Corey shook his head. “No, I’m serious. How often does a celebrity put out a book that doesn’t make it to the bestseller’s list?”

Eddie thought about the question before he answered. “Hardly. Now what does that have to do with me?”

“You’ve written a book. No one knows who you are. That’s why publishers don’t want you.”

“Maybe it’s because my stories aren’t any good. Maybe I should try to figure out what I’m doing wrong or just write another book.”

“Please. Do you think that blonde bimbo got a book deal because of her writing skills? She can’t even sing and she’s got record deals. Lately, her record sales hit a slump. Next thing you know, she films herself being humped several times and leaks it to the internet. Now, everyone’s talking about her again, and the scandal’s helped to boost her album sales. It ain’t got nothing to do with talent. ‘Cause we all know that she ain’t got none.”

“Corey’s got a point there,” Jordyn said as she ate her salad. She put down the fork and looked at Eddie. “Remember a while back when New York State Governor Eliot Spitzer got caught with a call girl? Guess what happened to the call girl?”

“What?”

“After the scandal broke, the call girl got a job as a sex advice columnist for a major newspaper, I can’t remember which one. Oh yeah, it’s also boosted her singing career. Maybe if you did something scandalous, you’d be able to sell yourself to agents and publishers a lot easier.”

“What, you mean like getting naked on film?” Eddie chuckled as he shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you two. You expect me to film my black ass and broadcast it all over the internet. Besides, millions of people are already doing that.”

“Ah,” Jordyn pointed a finger upwards. “But what if you did it with a celebrity, or an important public figure? Think. What if you were caught with someone who stood to lose everything?”

“I hear you. But it’s those people who’ll bask in the limelight. No one cares who they got nasty with. I’d only be helping them get book deals,” said Eddie.

“That’s why it’s important for you to build a back story. Imagine if everyone knew about your problems. Such as, your girlfriend cheated on you, your parents don’t even support you, and you got laid off. No offence, but you’re also driving a piece of crap with four tires and a steering wheel. True?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, in a way.”

“There you go,” said Corey. “Enough people will feel sorry for you, and the media’s going to feed on that.”

Eddie finished off his meal, leaned back to stretch and yawn, covering his mouth.

Corey pushed his half-empty plate to the side.

Jordyn glanced down at it and pointed her finger towards his plate. “Are you done with that?”

Corey looked at her and without a word, slid the plate over to her.

Eddie’s eyes widened. Damn, she’s had quite an appetite lately.

“So what do you think?” asked Jordyn.

Eddie shrugged his shoulders. “About what?”

Corey sighed. “Come on, bro. We’re trying to help you. Don’t you want to be better known as an author?”

“Not that way I ain’t. Besides, how would I ever get close to a celebrity? I don’t know any, and neither do you.”

“Actually,” said Jordyn as she wolfed down some of the jerk chicken and wiped her mouth with the napkin. “I never said this to anyone, but I’m a femdom.”

“You’re a what?” Eddie cried out.

Corey and Jordyn hushed him. “Keep your voice down.”

Eddie glanced over his shoulder at Robert, who momentarily looked up from the magazine he read, obviously due to Eddie’s outburst. Eddie looked back at Jordyn while he lowered his head closer to the table. “You’re a dominatrix? Like one of those freaky girls that dress up in vinyl and lash people with whips?”

“Yes. And don’t you dare tell anyone.”

“Why the hell would you do something like that?” He then looked at Corey. “Did you know about this?”

Corey shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah.”

“And you’re cool with the fact that your woman sleeps around with Lord knows who?”

“Whoa, just a minute,” Jordyn pointed her finger at him. “I’m not a prostitute, so let’s get that straight. I entertain my clients by humiliating them. There’s no sex involved.”

“‘Cause that’s my territory,” said Corey patting his chest.

“I didn’t know you were so freaky,” said Eddie.

Jordyn leaned closer to him. “It’s just work. Do you think I want to serve drinks for the rest of my life to a bunch of lowlifes who have nothing better to do than get drunk and stare at my ass all the time? No. I want to own my own coffee shop someday. The banks are giving me a hard time loaning me the cash, so I have no choice.”

Her words hit him like stones the way she spat them out, jolting him to the back of his chair.

“Anyhow,” she said, a bit calmer. “Getting back to what I was saying before. I would do my thing once a week. Some of my male friends are doing the same thing too. You’d be amazed at some of the clients we’ve had.”