New Orleans

I was dreading it. This is where my last significant relationship had begun and ended. I loved this town, the way it smelled the pulse of the people the gritty underbelly that I loved to scratch. New Orleans should be my name, when I stepped out of the airport with Dylan, Don and James the cities vibration overtook me and I couldn’t help but smile.

Mother Pearl had died yesterday evening with no pomp and circumstance. James father had only found out five days prior that his wife was dying; with no time to adjust he had simply gone into shock. James was petrified of what he would find, I felt at peace.

The next day as we followed the funeral procession on foot I watched James with his family. His sister was holding Dylan in almost a manic way to her chest while her own son walked by her side. James had his arm around her but every once and awhile would wipe the tears from his face.

He was all alone—in the middle of his family he was alone. I gripped Don’s hand harder. Don reacted by kissing my cheek and wrapping his arm around my waist. Eventually I was going to have to come clean with James that I knew his mother was dying before he did. I had hours of tape and notes about his family, things that he probably didn’t know.

I heard the band change from the morose lament that curled up your spine to the jazzy jubilation that accompanies the body to it’s final resting place. This was for Mother Pearl it was no longer about the rest of us. Don unconsciously tapped my waist to the rhythm and I stopped worrying about James, he would find his way.

When we crossed the threshold of the cemetery a familiar face stood at the entrance in a pair of coveralls holding a broom. His eyes lit up but he hesitated to say hello, I disengaged from Don and walked to him and his open arms. My uncle Charlie was a drifter but had settled in New Orleans some years ago and was around when I still lived here. He was 67, and looked better than my father did in his thirties. He had never touched drugs or alcohol but the death of his young wife had made him a bit crazy before I was even born.

Charlie laughed almost too loud holding me closely. It had never failed; we have always found each other like this. One night he picked me up out of the gutter after I passed out, another time I had gone into the library to escape the humidity and found him surrounding by books on bugs and now at the cemetery gates. He was my unlikely companion in the city, while I never felt lonely I always had a certain longing for family that Charlie filled.

Don interrupted by coughing softly.

“Don, this is Uncle Charlie on my fathers side. Charlie this is my Don, my husband.”

I don’t know why it came out like that. ‘Don, my husband” sounded awkward ringing back in my ears.

“Pleasure,” Charlie and dawn shook hand vigorously. Charlie was obviously pleased with the news his smile got even larger.

“You better get in side kid, I will find you when I get out.” He waved us through the cemetery gates. Don and I had to nearly jog to catch up to the procession. I bit my lip to hide my joy but it was obvious to Don who smirked.

I felt as though James was watching me but I refused to look at him, I knew my heart would sink and I didn’t want to let this moment go.

…

I knew I could escape greeting the family at James’ childhood home. Which should have been turned into a bed and breakfast decades ago, the Plantation stunk of old money and misdeeds, it was gorgeous.

Not willing to loose sight of Uncle Charlie I had pleaded with him to come to the house when I realized I could be stuck for hours. He agreed and showed up wearing a suit that was slightly out of style but made him look even more handsome.

I could see him walking down the driveway with flowers and I realized that I hadn’t even told him about Dylan, who was in the clutches of his fathers family still. I sat on the porch swing waiting, escaping. I held an untouched mint julep in my hand that Don had made when he got suckered into playing bartender.

James stepped out of the house but didn’t see me at first. He stared in the distance and lit up a cigarette. When he did see me, he flicked his ash on the pristine white porch and blew smoke out of his nose. The door opened behind him.

“Put that out.” his sister was holding Dylan and was attempting to at last pass him off.

“I will take him.” I stood and hurried toward the nugget who was two seconds away from crying. His lip quivered but when I tucked him into my arm and held me momentarily to my neck he calmed down.

Charlie was mounting the steps and I realized I was going to do some fast talking. He kissed me, James looked at me confused.

“James, this is my Uncle Charlie. Charlie, this is James, the father of my son Dylan.” Wow it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.

Charlie refrained from chuckling, instead he looked at James. “James, I think we should call her Cat, because she always manages to land on our feet.” James smiled slightly and nodded before asking be excused.

I looked at Charlie apologetically, “His mother was the one who died.” Charlie smiled. “I know Sugar, these folks are famous round here.” I rolled my eyes and ushered Charlie to the porch swing.

Kill Me Now

Lunch, Brunch or whatever the fuck you wanted to call it was not going well. If my high-heel could have found a hard surface it would be clicking a rapid beat on the floor. As it was my knee had hit the table twice, startling James’s mother. How do I get myself into these situations? Oh right, I get drunk and have sex with someone that I picked up in bar.

James was occupied with the Nugget who tried to walk this morning—he would bloody be in his right mind to run away from me. James’ momma was a true Southern Belle, while I was just blue collar trash. For some reason I found it difficult not to slip into my accent that I had rid myself of so long ago—but something about the way she said Savannah.

Mother Pearl, as she wanted to be called was dumped into my lap, two days ago I didn’t know she existed. Apparently this woman had no love for Ann Marie and James wanted to make up for his bride to be shortcomings with the mother of his child. She eyed me up and down, when I skipped the second round of mimosas and started knocking Gin Gimlets, I thought I saw her smile.

“Savannah, now where did you say you were from again?” Can I roll my eyes now?

“From Georgia, ma’am.” I did my best not to drawl and I was pulling it off.

“And what did you say your family did.” What a bitch.

“My father was into drinking, so much so that it killed him. My mother, well she is just a fuck-up all around who has a different boyfriend every week and a different excuse for why her life is so bad.”

James nearly pissed his pants—who would have known he was a mommas boy. I was just thankful that he wasn’t her oldest—if James were her oldest that bat would have crucified and James staked through the balls for his indiscretions. He was saved by the fact that his older brothers married proper southern woman and had their families traditionally.

Jesus. It was 12:37 and I was sitting in restaurant over looking the San Francisco Bay, I had choked down Oysters Rockefeller and now was staring down lobster quiche and green salad. The nugget looked at me and laughed—he had been doing that a lot. He found something about me hilarious, he was clapping his hands and throwing his head back against James.

“Mamamama”

I smiled, the little bugger was smart. I couldn’t wait for him to talk—I was lost in the image of Dylan the college student when Mother Pearl interrupted.

“So your husband owns, a bar?” She curled her lip when she said it.

“Yes, it’s called the Pink Pussy and I work there three nights a week as a bartender.”

“Oh, and does that pay well?” I was going to stick it to this elitist Ole Miss bitch.

“It pays quite well Mother Pearl… I was thinking—you have to see my home before you leave.”

She looked frightened and James scolded me. She had found his living accommodations to be less than satisfactory but as marketing VP she calculated that he made more money an d my house would be deplorable.


Across the bay…

I was bringing Mother Pearl a glass of water, the Nugget was down for a nap and I was praying that Don would come home. James made his excuses—which was he had to check on Ann Marie who didn’t know I would be at the brunch. I kicked off my shoes and watched as she marveled and Don’s random collection of valuables. It wasn’t my shit but what the hell did she know.

I frowned at my pantyhose; there was a hole in the toe. Without thinking I tucked my thumbs into the waistband under my dress and pulled them off. Bunching them up I am sure I had a look of utter pleasure on my face when Mother Pearl turned around. She took a step back as if my bare legs were just to much for her. When I realized it wasn’t me, I turned to find Don standing behind me.

I laughed then made my introductions.

“Don, this is Mother Pearl—James’ mother. Mother Pearl this is Don, my husband.”

Don extended his hand. He was actually dressed very nice in slacks with a button down black dress shirt, he had recently ditched the buddy holly glasses and was sporting some fashionable Dior glasses. He still looked like a thug, and the exposed tattoos didn’t help.

Her mouth was still open when the doorbell rang, then the person impatient stuck their key in the door and walked in. James had key, as did Jane. Something told me it wasn’t James. Jane rounded the corner and Mother Pearls hand fluttered to her chest. She had, had enough I should be nice.

“Mother Pearl, you must be tired would like to rest in one of the guest rooms until James returns?”

“Yes” she stammered.

I walked her upstairs to the frilliest bedroom we had, the walls were hand painted Chinoiserie Silk and hold over from the previous owner. I actually kind of dug it and it seemed to put Mother Pearl at ease. She had the bed, a chaise lounge and a bathroom so I figured she should feel safe for awhile.

As I walked downstairs to greet Don properly and find out what the hell Jane wanted I suddenly had a gut feeling that something wasn’t right. I trotted back to the Nuggets room and he was sound asleep and fine. Don and Jane were catching up on the couch. The smiled when they saw me but I turned and ran to Mother Pearl’s room.

She was laying on her side with her shoes off as I rounded the bed her face was grey and her eyes were clenched shut in pain. I said her name, it was barely a whisper but her eyes fluttered open and she reached out to me. I crawled on the bed as I took her in my arms her wig fell away—revealing a head only covered in small wisps of blonde hair.

I started crying and I felt panic build inside of me. “Don” my voice was stuck in my throat I swallowed hard but before I could try again she touched my face.

“It’s OK, I’m fine.” I looked down at her face and indeed the color was returning. I was still holding her and for some reason I couldn’t stop crying.
“What?”

“It’s cancer dear, the pains just getting worse that’s all.” She gently pulled herself out my arms and sat up straightening her suit and retrieving her wig.

“I can barely make it through an hour before my body chews through the pain medication. I guess they will want to put me on a drip soon.”

I took in a ragged breath and stopped my tears.

“I guess we have a lot of work to do then.” I retrieved a digital recorder from the office. Mother Pearl looked at it suspiciously.

“What exactly is it that you are doing, love?”

“Recording my sons history.”

She damn near smiled.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell James.” She coughed and made further adjustments to her wig.

“My family doesn’t know.” She looked remorseful.

“Have it your way.”

“Where were your parents born?” I switched on the recorder, I couldn’t think of anywhere else to start.

प्रेत्तy इन पिंक

When you are a bartender you pray that certain things don’t happen during your shift. Like some drunken asshole deciding to do a striptease on the bar or a girl getting drugged and carried out by a raping sack of shit. The latter happened to me on Thursday.

I am careful with who handles drinks; I watch the crowd and point out losers to the bouncers. The waitresses are not allowed to chat when delivering drinks and when someone sends a drink to girl I walk it over. Somehow, I had missed the signs.

It’s Friday night and the regulars are buzzing. They are pointing fingers at who let the ball drop and every new face that walks in the door is a suspect. Michelle was just a neighborhood girl, she had a neighborhood job and this was her Cheers. Not particularly outgoing she would often leave after a couple of hours or if things got to rowdy.

Last night, she had decided to stay. This morning she woke up in a stranger’s bed, on automatic pilot she dressed called her roommate for help and hunkered in a coffee shop until she came.

The roommate being sensible had called the police despite Michelle’s protests. When I told Drew that I stopped by to see her at the counseling center, he told me that it was probably a bad idea but he was glad that I had.

The police had actually sent someone to the bar to question staff and test the booze that Michelle had been drinking. Giving up two bottles of Crown Royal was no big deal if it caught the bastard, nor was having our office searched.

We weren’t a high-roller hang out but anything is possible. In Vegas, LA, New York and even places in this city. Bartenders were kept on retainer to do the dirty work of rapists. No big deal, a little E to speed up the process, some GHB to make her forget and making that “special drink” taste like there was nothing it in it.

It all made for a handsome under-the-table business. Those men were just as guilty as the cowards who put them up to it and there was a special hell waiting just for them.

I can’t wait for my shift to be over. It’s 8:00PM.

Something told me that the lawyer sitting in front of me wasn’t completely on the up and up, but then again…what lawyer was. He had checked out my tits twice and kept talking to me as if I were a retard. I was wearing my combat clothes, skinny jeans, red platforms and a black in white striped tunic with a wide belt that matched my shoes.

This fucking sucked. A part of me didn’t want to hurt James but the mother part of me knew that Dylan was bonded to…. This morning I had woken up to find Don with the nugget laying on his chest. Dylan was wide awake, looking back at me with those big blue eyes that didn’t have a worry in them. It was almost like he was listening t Don breathe. For a moment I imagined my brain was a camera and I carefully took in the detail and filed it away where it would always be safe, where it would always be mine.

“Do you love your Daddy?” damned if Dylan didn’t smile. The thought of them being separated ripped my heart open and made me pray for my own long life—something that had never occurred to me until now. I guess you could say that until that very moment I had never been afraid to die. Now I was petrified and sitting across from a man who was getting paid 400 dollars an hour to tell me that…would have no legal recourse unless James agreed to it.

Fuck me for doing the right thing. During the taxi ride home I thought of away to approach it. I thought of a way to make James think it was his idea. But then it hit me—I called him and asked him to come over for dinner before I left for the club that night.

To the outsider it probably looked like I was trying to manipulate him, to keep his eyes on my gams so he would loose his focus—but I was just more comfortable if I thought I looked good. I dressed in a black wrap dress that while comfortable hugged my curves and gave me the confidence I needed to ask what I was going to ask.

As I warmed up the corn and mashed potatoes, I thanked God for Safeway. I artfully arranged the pre cooked side dishes and roasted chicken artfully on a large white plate just as James rang the doorbell.

When I opened the door all of my rehearsal went out of the door. He was clean shaven and wearing a button down shirt with jeans. When he crossed the threshold before I could say come in I instinctively took a step back.

“Please.”

It was too late he cupped his hand behind my neck and met lips which were clamped shut. He tried, he nuzzled, probed and left me with a sick feeling that I predicted would take days to shake.

“Savannah, I?”

“You’re bored.” I held up my hand and nudged him away, trying to keep things light.

“Dinners ready, and I have to get to work so come on.” I walked away from him leaving him wondering about what I said. I hoped he didn’t’ think I was playing hard to get.

When he sat down across from me at the table and poked out the chicken I took a deep swig of the Guwurz that I set out for dinner. Sonnofabitch

“I want you to promise me that you will never keep Dylan away from Don.”

James didn’t look up from his food. He poked at it some more.

“I didn’t cook it.”

He smiled and took a large scoop of the potatoes. “Thank God.”

“I’m serious James.”

“You wouldn’t let me.” He ate some of the corn but continued to avoid the chicken.

“I mean if I’m not here.” I looked at my own food and suddenly found it revolting.

James swallowed hard, “are you taking off.”

I smiled at him, he thought I was running again.

“No, I mean if I am dead James.”

The fucker nearly had tears in eyes when he looked at me, I took another sip of my wine and stood up pacing.

“Are you fucking dying?” He pushed his food away.

I stopped mid gulp and laughed.

“No, I am not dying…”

James was bright red, I couldn’t tell what was going on his head.

“What are you getting at then?”

“I mean,” I paused to finish off my glass.

“I mean that if I die, that you will share custody with my husband.”

James shrugged.

“Fuck, OK. I mean I thought you had cancer or some shit.”

He started in on his food and I started shaking.

“You promise on your sons life and happiness?”

“I promise” he had a mouth full of chicken and roll.

“You scared the shit out of me Savannah.” He washed it down with his own wine.

I walked into the kitchen and doubled over with relief. My body shook as if something couldn’t’ escape it. When I finally started to cry it was silent, and painful.

When I finally put myself back together, James had finished his dinner and was waiting to take me to the pink Pussy.

Of all the Gin joints...

With my luck, I should have known that James would have heard about the police paying a visit to the house. He was in was in my face and Don was no where to be found.
“What the fuck happened?”
“Where was Dylan?”
It was like machine gun fire in my ears. I answered his questions as quickly as possible, bristling with indignation that I would ever put our son in harms way, knowing I had done exactly that but letting Dotty into my home.
“I am taking him tonight.” James was so close I felt a light spray on my nose.
“It isn’t your night until tomorrow, but you are welcome to spend time with your son.” I remained calm, reminding myself to breath in and out.
“I can take him anytime I please, he is my child.” His words bit into my nerves, I felt my face grow warm as my body readied for a fight.
“He is your child.” I said it with as much understanding as I could muster. James turned away from me rubbing his forehead.
“Did he hurt you?” It was such a soft whisper that I thought I was hearing things and didn’t answer. Instead I studied the carpeting.
“Savannah, did he hurt you?” I looked up at James who was looking at me with my sons eyes.
“No, I’m fine.” James stepped toward me and started rubbing my arms. I had disarmed him but not raising my voice but I didn’t want his tenderness.
“I don’t know what I would have done with out you.” I looked at the floor again as he pulled me into an embrace, kissing my temple. Not good, I pulled away with the excuse that I had to pack some baby junk for the nugget.

I decided to visit Jane; she had been in a funk lately. Pricilla was miserable and making her feel every minute of it. I still hadn’t found out who the sperm donor was but I knew that they hadn’t gone used modern techniques. I had a suspicion that a gay man was involved—which would make Priscilla the obvious choice to get preggers since she was practically a man herself.
When I arrived at my old digs I didn’t bother to knock, I just made sure I called out before I saw something I didn’t want to see. It didn’t always work, I found Jane sitting on the couch clutching a pillow. Her eyes were swollen and she was either ready to have a downpour or had just finished one.
I sat down next to her and put my arm around her.
“Jesus.” I looked at the TV. “What are you watching?”
She looked at me incredulously, “It’s Casablanca.”
“Oh, I have heard of that one.” I succeeded in making Jane laugh, she put her head on my shoulder and continued to watch the film.
Something had been weighing on me since James had proffered his affection earlier. I realized that Don had no legal rights to Dylan, even though he loved him and cared for him as a father. Shit