Читать книгу Cruisin On Desperation - Pat G'Orge-Walker - Страница 12

The feminine blight on Pelzer’s otherwise stellar reputation lived about ten miles from Needy. She occupied a bright red, single-family house with its black shades perpetually drawn tight. From a distance it appeared haunted, sitting in the middle of a wide patch of tall brownish grass, with a small rock garden of Devil Snuff shrubbery as the only outside decoration. Neighbors often avoided the home by walking across the wide street void of traffic lights but busy with traffic. They’d rather risk being run over than walk in front of the feared residence.

Ima Hellraiser lived inside the house that sported the décor of a dungeon. No one visited unless they were coming for the torture.

Behind her back Christians and atheists alike, particularly those who could barely stand her, called her a reprobate witch. To her face, they called her Ima.

Inside her bedroom, which was decorated and patterned after old Hollywood horror flicks, Ima could barely contain her excitement after the phone call from Needy. So, with more force than she’d meant to use, she’d tossed her cordless telephone onto her round bed, barely missing her pet cat, Evilene.

Contrary to what most people thought because of her surroundings, Evilene was a cat with a smidgen of feline sense, but not much direction. When Ima found her, as a kitten, scrambling through the garbage in the back yard, she was the color of midnight black. Now Evilene at the age of two was almost completely gray. Ima had scared the black right off the cat.

Instinctively, Evilene squealed loudly, just as the large pillow Ima playfully threw sailed by close enough to part the fur on her back. She jumped off the bed, snatching her remaining lives, and fled.

The call from Needy came just in time. Ima had barely been out of her latest stint in the local jail a good two hours, and was bored by the time she’d driven out of the precinct’s parking lot.

Ima stood about five-foot-six in her stocking feet. Her flawless mocha-colored complexion accented curves that were so perfect and lethal they were secretly registered with the Pelzer, South Carolina police department. Most of her registration information was written in the little black books of Pelzer’s bravest in Pig Latin.

Despite her obvious beauty, Ima had severe issues with self-esteem. She’d been a child with a body that blossomed early and belied her age. She’d never known her father and with no qualified man to guide her, she learned by trial and error, on her own.

There was no rest from the sexual harassment. During school hours she used her limited wit to withstand the constant advances from her male teachers and even a principal. There was no rest at home, either. Ima had fought off every sexual advance from her mother’s live-in boyfriends, who plied her mother with alcohol to disguise their deeds. Not even in church was there safety. Ima stopped going to Sunday school and Youth Meetings because she was betrayed by those supposed men of God, who orated piously from the pulpits.

By the time she was in her late teens, Ima both hated and loved men, but she never trusted them. When she fully discovered what they really wanted from her, despite her need for their full love and affection, she was on the defense, repaying them with treachery and false promises of her own. Ima purposed that never in her life would she give a man the chance to hurt her first.

Standing in front of a long mirror she carefully scanned the outfit she held in her hand. This purple two-piece Donna Karan with the plunging neck and back should do the trick, Ima thought.

She grinned at the flimsy purple outfit consisting of a top so tiny that it could barely cover the N in “nipple.” The skirt was form-fitting and was so short that it only came to her mid-thigh. If she dropped anything she’d have to depend on the kindness of others to pick it up, or risk landing in jail for indecent exposure.

Ima spent a lot of time locked up because people weren’t always kind and that’s the way she loved to dress.

After taking Needy’s call and listening to the singles group’s dilemma, it didn’t take but a second for Ima to decide that she’d take the job dismantling Lyon Lipps. She loved being able to take a credit card for payment. It made getting undercover jobs using her unique “revenge” skills a lot easier than she’d imagined. Ima could make Steadman forget about Oprah. It also increased her frequent jail time points. However, at the rate she was racking up the jail mileage, she hoped a long stretch in the penitentiary wasn’t in her future. Her nasty mouth and spiteful attitude had long ago voided her “stay out of jail” card with the local police department. Until recently, just flaunting her sexuality was enough to keep her out of a line-up.

Ima hurried with the finishing touches to her man-killer look. She sprayed some cologne called “Pain” around her neck and shoulders and inside her belly button.

Evilene’s short memory had caused her to creep back into the bedroom and jump onto the bed. Unfortunately, she was in the line of fire again, and Ima accidentally—or purposely—doused her, too.

Of course Evilene didn’t like it and sprinted from the bed again, this time tearing the bedspread in the process. It was the fourth time the cat had torn a bedspread.

If Ima saw it, she didn’t show it.

Evilene’s back hunched with fear. Understanding and forgiveness were not a part of Ima’s persona. Evilene’s bright green eyes turned red as she went, just that quick, from having nine lives to having five.

Ima applied several layers of shea butter lotion to her body, on top of the cologne, and then slid into the purple outfit. She chose a dirty-blond colored, short and sassy wig to complement her mission.

Short and sassy was perfect for getting down and nasty, she thought as she surveyed her body from all angles.

Pleased with her first line of combat wear she then went into the bathroom. Ima carefully put on a pair of lavender-tinged contact lenses, which gave her a more exotic look and took the edge off her otherwise hypnotizing hazel eyes.

While Ima lay the finishing touches to her makeup she went over the plan in her mind. Needy was very specific in the outcome she wanted. According to Needy, the women wanted the victim, Lyon Lipps, to lose not only his mind and finances, if he had any, but to lose every shred of dignity.

The ladies wanted his “Y” chromosome whittled down to a “V.” With that last thought in mind, Ima grabbed a small pair of scissors from her vanity drawer and secreted them in a hidden lining inside her purse.

A lady always needs a little extra protection.

Ima went towards her living room still checking out her every angle in the mirrors that lined the walls of the hallway. “Perfect,” she purred.

A few moments later and Ima was in full combat mode. She turned on her radio just in time to hear the late Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On.” She gyrated and strutted around the room as though Marvin was right there with her.

Marvin was better off wherever he was.

When the song ended, Ima checked her watch and at the same time, the doorbell rang. She tiptoed over to the window and peeped outside at her porch. As brave as she liked to think she was, she unconsciously released an audible sigh when she saw that it wasn’t the police again, or an irate wife or girlfriend with a weapon.

Ima opened her door grinning like she didn’t have a care in the world.

“Needy and my new friend, Birdie. You ladies come on in.”

Both Needy and Birdie looked at Ima Hellraiser in awe. Birdie loved and admired the outfit. Needy gawked because Ima suddenly acted, now that there was a white woman in the room, like she’d had some type of polished upbringing. Needy then remembered that Ima was getting paid and she was probably just being nice because of that.

Needy was right. If the credit card had been denied Ima would’ve ripped those women asunder—and then asunder again. Whatever was left she’d have torn apart.

“It’s sort of hot in here.” Needy said as she noticed the fire in the fireplace. It was hot enough to melt the wax that was holding the last bit of her weave in place.

“No it’s not.” Ima quipped, “You must be flashing. You did just have a birthday and I bet that you got menopause as a gift and nothing else.” Ima started laughing at her joke.

Two minutes haven’t passed since we entered this she-demon’s lair and already she’s started with the insults, Needy thought as she struggled not to take the fireplace’s poker and beat Ima with it.

Birdie didn’t want their plans to go awry and when she saw the look on Needy’s face her mind raced to find a way to cool things down, but she was too late.

“I guess you’re probably used to living in an Easy Bake oven,” Needy shot back as she struggled to decide which she wanted more—Ima poked with a poker or Lyon Lipps destroyed.

Needy shot another nasty look at Ima and Ima did the same in return. Then both women came together and gave each an air-kiss on each cheek, followed by a hug.

“Girl, you are so crazy,” Ima said, with a false lilt in her voice.

“You’re a nut case, too,” Needy shot back, honestly. “And you ain’t ever gonna change until you die.” Needy stopped and gave a conspiring smile before adding, “And we know evil don’t die.”

“You know it!” Ima exclaimed. “I’m so glad to hear from you.”

“Birdie, just in case you standing over there wondering what is going on, don’t panic. This is how we do it. Ain’t that right, Ima?” She didn’t want to take a chance on Ima being too honest, which was a rarity, so she quickly added, “And, when she said that she was glad to hear from us, that only meant that your credit card payment went through.”

“Break it down for that white girl, Needy.” Ima laughed so hard one of her contacts threatened to fall out. She stopped only long enough to grab a tissue and extend a well-manicured hand to Birdie. “Don’t take offense. I’ve known Needy for years and we just tolerate each other.”

“She’s right,” Needy remarked. “Ima Hellraiser takes a lot of prayer and toleration, but like air, she’s necessary for our mission.” Needy let out a spiteful laugh equal to the one from Ima as she walked over to Birdie and whispered, “Just follow my lead. We can always try and kill that heifer later.”

The thought of possibly killing Ima Hellraiser—someone she’d just met and already didn’t like—calmed Birdie as she went over and extended her hand to her. “I take no offense,” Birdie said. “Can we get down to business now?”

Suddenly Ima didn’t quite like the new complacent attitudes of the visitors. Normally, she’d have had them shaking in their boots within five minutes. However, they were paying for her services, not her approval or friendship, so down to business they would get.

“Here’s the way I see it,” Ima said. “We all need to take a vacation.”

“A vacation? You’re gonna get this man with a vacation?” Birdie asked.

Needy was beginning to think Ima had finally lost her mind, but she’d known the woman long enough to hear her out. If Ima did things the traditional way she wouldn’t be so much in demand. “Let her speak,” Needy told Birdie. “After all, she ain’t normal.”

Again, Ima knew that Needy had slid in a nasty comment but it was okay. She’d make Needy pay later. With Birdie standing in her living room, Ima just knew she’d hit the motherlode. The hurt, anguished and embarrassed look on Birdie’s face told Ima all she needed to know.

Ima was about to get paid.

It took the three women about two hours to come to an agreement about the disposal of Lyon Lipps’ mental, financial and, possibly, physical being. All during that time Needy and Birdie had moved from room to room, opening windows trying to catch a breeze before Ima immediately closed the windows behind them. It was disturbing to both Birdie and Needy that while they sat drenched in their clothes, Ima kept saying that she was chilly and the cat kept cowering over in a corner like it knew something dreadful was about to happen.

“So then, it’s agreed that we will take a vacation?” Ima asked with authority. She knew the answer but asked the question anyway.

“It makes sense once you lay it out. That Lyon Lipps certainly won’t turn down a vacation—especially a free one,” Needy added. The paper she’d grabbed to fan herself with was ripped to shreds from her frantic use and little bits of paper were shooting around the table. In fact, there was so much shredded paper flying around the three women sat there looking like they were trapped inside a snow globe turned upside down.

“Let me get this straight,” Birdie finally said. “Lyon Lipps has made a fool of Cill’s sister, Jessie, Petunia, and me, but I’m the one who has to pay for your services and for this vacation?”

As Birdie spoke, she realized that she also suspected that somehow, Lyon Lipps had done something to Mother Blister, but she couldn’t prove it. All she had to go by was the extra-disturbed look on Mother Blister’s face earlier and perhaps that’s why she didn’t throw her name onto the victim list. “I just don’t see why we can’t split the expenses.”

Birdie looked around at Ima and Needy. They had blank looks on their faces like she’d asked them their true ages. She finally said aloud what she’d started to suspect. “Am I being asked to pay this entire bill because I’m the only white woman in the group and y’all think I can afford it?”

It was out in the open now.

“I thought you knew that,” Needy answered.

“Of course we’d ask you to pay for it.” Ima added, “It’s all part of the Reparations Act.”

“Huh?” Birdie said in amazement. “What Reparations Act? What does it have to do with me?”

By the time Needy and Ima finished with their customized version of slavery and its awful consequences as it pertained to them, personally, Birdie had thrown in a set of Louis Vutton luggage for the three of them. She also spent the next ten minutes apologizing for the horrific acts of her ancestors. Birdie was so caught up in her supposed guilt that she’d forgotten that her grandparents hadn’t arrived in America from Europe until 1908.

Birdie’s relief at absolving her guilt took her into generosity overdrive. She promised to take Ima and Needy shopping for new outfits at the Cost A Plenty boutique. When she finally slowed down enough to take a deep breath, she realized that she really didn’t mind that perhaps her new best home girls were taking advantage.

“We accept your apology and the gifts of luggage as well as the new clothes,” Ima said, sheepishly, after determining that Birdie wasn’t much of a fighter. She was about to choke from trying to keep her laughter from escaping.

Needy wanted to feel guilty about taking advantage of Birdie, but she couldn’t. Seeing someone else become the butt of a joke was a welcome relief. Hearing Ima apologize almost sent her over the edge. She slapped one hand over her mouth to stifle the losing battle with her laughter and pushed a pile of papers towards Birdie. “Take another look at these brochures. Just pick one and we’ll take it from there.”

“You pick one. After all, since I’m paying for all this it’s the least you can do.”

Needy’s eyes locked with Birdie’s. Now is not the time for her to grow some courage. Birdie wouldn’t look away. Reasonable doubt tugged at Needy, but she decided to ignore it.

Ima’s sense of drama ignited. If she read the two women’s body language correctly, and she was sure she did, there was a seed of confrontation germinating. Evil gardener that she was, she’d water it later with a few well-placed lies.

Needy carefully scanned each brochure, finally settling on the one with the most colorful cover. As she slammed the brochure down in the center of the table, diabolical smiles spread across Ima and Birdie’s faces.

“Oh yeah, this is gonna be wonderful.” Birdie suddenly felt invigorated. “Getting even may be expensive but you can’t put a price on what I’m feeling right now.”

“Why shouldn’t we go on a breathtaking cruise? And, I mean that literally.” Needy’s fat cheeks plumped with joy.

“It’s sailing to the Southern Caribbean. I’ve never been to that part.” Birdie’s thin fingers flipped through the brochure and her enthusiasm mounted. “It starts off in Miami, Florida and sails to Mexico, St. Maartens and Jamaica.”

Needy pushed her chair back and leapt up. “This is a gift from heaven.”

“It’s not really a gift if I’m paying for it,” Birdie reminded her.

Birdie might’ve as well have used sign language because Needy didn’t hear a word said as she reveled in her imagination. “We’ll be on the high seas eight days and seven nights on a ship. Elbow to elbow with an abundance of single and available men. I’m getting that old feeling again.” Needy had a smile that seemed to emanate from her very core.

“Listen up! Earth to Needy!” Ima roared, slapping the back of Needy’s chair to startle her, which caused her to take her seat again.

“This is not about getting you a man.” Ima continued, “Keep to the plan. It’s about payback.”

The smile vanished from Needy’s face faster than her money around the first of the month. How was she going to stick to the plan of getting back at Lyon Lipps when she could be getting a man? That particular cruise was very expensive. In her mind, any man who could afford it had to be someone of substance and financial stability, and she didn’t care if he came aboard in a wheelchair or on a skateboard. She wasn’t sure how she was going to pull it off. No way was she going to go on a cruise and return without a man.

Time was running out and that’s probably why they chose to sail on an ocean liner called Desperation of the Seas.