Chapter 24.1: 1994, Ruiz
The doorman of Georgina's building was looking at me with narrow eyes and a suspicious manner. Why today?
"I told you, I know Mrs. George," I sighed, looking down at my grubby sneakers and feeling awful.
"Our Mrs. George doesn't get visitors," he told me for the third time, "it must be some other Mrs. George you know."
"Just tell her Ruiz is here to see her. She'll let me up, I'm telling you," I told him smartly again.
He shrugged then went inside the building. I saw him sit beyond the glass doors with the gold trim and I stared at him with a new anger. He sat there, staring at the wall, on purpose not letting me up. I banged on the door again and he didn't look at me. I couldn't believe it.
So instead, I stepped backwards on the sidewalk, getting a good aim at the third floor window of Georgina's and began to yell.
"GEORGINA!" I shouted, my hands surrounding my mouth, "GEORGINA!"
The double doors burst open and the doorman was on his feet looking thoroughly annoyed.
"Get away from that window, go on, dammit, I told you there isn't anyone here for you!" he said harshly.
"GEORGINA! YOUR DOORMAN IS BEING-!" I shouted once again.
Suddenly the window went up by two slender hands through the lace curtains. In a second more, Georgina stood just beyond the window looking down at us like a queen. She was wearing a bold red sweater set and matching red slim pants in a 1960's style, as always. Her hair looked like Marilyn Monroe's and her ruby red lipstick topped off an eye popping look. It was like looking at Marilyn Monroe if she had been allowed to age a little bit.
"Benjamin Beasley, I should have known," she called down like a 1960's movie starlet.
"You know this man?" The doorman called up to her.
Georgina looked startled for a moment and I looked down at the ground in shame.
"That's Ruiz, I know Ruiz," she said delicately.
"Okay then, sorry," the doorman said quietly, opening the door.
"Take note of it, Ben," I heard Georgina call down to him. The sound of the window shutting followed shortly after.
In a moment I was up the stairs and Georgina's door was already open for me. I hurried inside and Georgina shut the door with it pressed close to her. In a fluid movement she slid both of the locks into place.
"I didn't know you were coming, otherwise I'd have made something?" Georgina apologized, sitting down in her red chair like always. The red velvet mixing with her ruby red outfit played scandal on my eyes.
Then something about what she had said earlier in the window hit me.
"You called me Ruiz," I breathed, sitting on the pink rose couch as custom with us.
"Yes," she said, her eyebrow raised as if to say, what of it?
"You know how to pronounce my name? You always call me 'Louise'."
She smiled at me knowingly. My mouth dropped open a little as I tried to catch my breath from having run up the stairs.
"I call you Louise because its a girl's name," she said simply, continuing to smile.
"Oh," I whispered, so touched in my heart I couldn't really express it.
"Shall I take your coat? I can put it in the bedroom. I can also put some tea on. It felt mighty cold out there. You must want a hot drink," she said warmly, already getting up from her seat.
"Okay," I told her, still a little shocked from the revelation.
She gathered up my white bubble coat in one movement as I took it off and headed for the bedroom. "So what brings you here this morning?" she asked, her voice distant. I heard her rustling in the bedroom, fabric against fabric. Her red kitten heel shoes echoed on the hardwood floors as she shuffled around, then un-echoed and came towards me as she re-entered the hallway.
The kitten heels met tile and began to click as she went behind her counter, and I lost sight of her pretty blonde head as she dipped down and opened a cabinet in the counter island.
The heels, clear plastic with marabou red feathers over the toes to complete a sandal, looked more flirty than I ever thought possible for her to be, but given the pictures I had seen of her from the 1960's I knew she was more than capable. But the Georgina I had grown to know...it seemed like every time I saw her more and more these two images, young and older, were coming together to form one incredible, fantastic person.
"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about," I told her loudly over the clanging of pots and pans that she was sifting through in the counter.
The noise stopped abruptly as she reappeared over the counter holding a metal tea kettle. It startled me because I never really realized how short she was. The kitten heels had to have been only two inches, and at this height she looked so innocent, like a little golden haired fairy. It made me wonder if she was as short as me.
"Give me a moment, its going to get loud, the water on the metal," she said in her breathy way, and it did indeed get loud like water on a tin roof. After about a minute, all was quiet again. Now she came over finally and sat on her red chair. "What's wrong, dear?" she asked, giving me her full attention.
"Sorry to play psychiatrist," I said shamefully, looking down at my sneakers. They made me frown, how ugly they were.
"Not at all," Georgina assured gracefully.
"I'm wearing the ribbon brooch, though. I couldn't let my Mama see, so I put it on before I left my room. I just wanted to feel a little...pretty today," I said slowly, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks even though I knew I was in good company.
Georgina sighed and smiled, looking at me very pleased. It made me blush more.
"That's what the brooch is for. Its seen many a day where a girl needed just a little something to feel pretty," she said gently. "I hoped you'd use it for that. It makes me so pleased to hear you are. Where is it?" Her blue eyes scanned me and I folded in on myself just a little under her friendly gaze.
"Its in my sneaker...see the pin? I couldn't bear to wear them by themselves," I half whispered, hoping she wouldn't be mad. Putting such a thing in something so ugly...so dirty...
She winked at me. "I used to put it in an old ugly coat. Just in the pocket, sometimes. It was an awful thing, big brown and scratchy. I used to wear it to butch myself up when I was with ladies. I couldn't wear it by itself. One time, a lady went into my pocket to get my wallet and she found the brooch. I told her it was a hooker's and she slapped me right across the face, right here." She poked her dimple and puckered her lips when she said the last part. I started laughing at her expression. She started to giggle at my laugh, her eyes looking so glad. "I wanted to get rid of her anyway. That brooch is really a life saver, in so many ways. You'll see." Her elegant hands went gracefully onto her knees and slid up her legs as she got up from the chair. "Water must be ready soon," she said. "What kind of tea would you like today? I've got chamomile, earl grey, lemon and ginger, peppermint-"
I coughed a little bit on the back of my hand and blushed for interrupting her.
"Peppermint it is," she smiled at me from behind her counter, taking down a small package from her cabinet. "You have a cold?"
"Maybe," I answered, clearing my throat in a small cough.
"Always a lady no matter how you dress, coughing to clear your throat like that. Just goes to show that no matter how someone is dressed, you can't change them," she said brightly, turning off the stove and pouring boiling water over tea bags in those now familiar bone china tea cups.
The sides of my mouth began to spread a little bit at what she had said. I knew coming here would cheer me up. Just her company, how she was like me. Her understanding.
"Its nearly Christmas, isn't it? Just another month to go. I suppose this peppermint cheer is in season anyway," she continued, swinging around the counter with our cups on their little tea plates on top of the silver service. The smell of peppermint began to steam up from the cups, instantly clearing my airways. I breathed in and out deeply, finally freed.
"I can tell there's something on your mind. You're awful quiet today," she observed, sitting down yet again in her red velvet chair. She leaned over elegantly and began to slowly stir her tea with a little golden spoon, lifting her little bag by the tag in the liquid. I leaned over and did the same.
"Yeah...I've been thinking about this for about a month," I said quietly, more so to myself. I looked up and her eyes were looking at me curiously, the blue of her eyes so bold in close quarters. They were beautiful, stunning really. They caught me off guard, yet something about them was so familiar, making me think for a split second.
I gasped internally when I realized where I had seen that color before. They were Tiffany blue. Tiffany blue eyes!
"I'm sorry," I said, blinking myself. Her curious expression stayed there, and she paused, looking at me. "But your eyes...that color..."
"They're Tiffany blue," she said proudly, righting herself in her seat, carrying her tea cup and plate with her. "Frankie used to call me 'pretty eyes' because of them." She sighed to herself and I couldn't help but smile at how pleased with herself she was. But then her expression took on all seriousness. "Now tell me why you are sad. I am dying to know."
Pretty eyes. How sweet... The more I learned about Frankie the more I was dying to know about him, too.
"Well...I don't know if you'll believe it- well of course you would believe it, I mean..." I struggled.
"Drink your tea," she said softly, sipping her own afterwards.
"Right," I nodded, taking mine up. The warm, sweet liquid cascaded down my gritty throat and I breathed in the warm peppermint smell so closely. My airways felt so refreshed. Once again, she had been right and the warm drink was just the right medicine to loosen me up.
"Feel any better?" she asked gently.
"Lots," I smiled to her.
"Good," she smiled back.
"Well, what I wanted to say..." I paused, looking down at my sneakers again. But the pin poking out made me breathe in. It was almost as if I could see the pretty ribbon brooch, winking up at me with its crystals. "I wanted to say...on Halloween, me and Ambrose...we got into this...thing...where a guy pulled out a gun on us and..."
I heard her gasp and my eyes flicked up to her. Her hand was over her mouth, her eyes brimming with concern.
"Were you okay? Is Ambrose okay? Oh my goodness," she gasped in a flurry.
"Yeah, Ambrose is okay. He didn't hurt us or anything, but...Ambrose is...I don't know how to say it or deal with it," I rushed. I had to put my cup down on the silver service because I was squeezing it too hard, worried I might crack it.
"He's what?" Georgina asked in a concerned voice that paired with her expression.
"...Well...but...the guy who pulled a gun on us...he seemed to know him?" I said slowly, trying to make sense of what was coming out of my mouth, it becoming too much of a reality.
"Know him? That's very strange," she said quietly.
"Yes, I know. Its very strange. Ambrose never gets into any trouble. Well, he does steal a lot, but he's just 'liberating stuff from rich people' like Robin Hood, he says." I made quotations with my fingers at the appropriate time. "He said he's going to pay it all back when he gets rich being a clothing designer. But that's not the point. The point is, he says he owed those people money. But why would he owe them any money? I don't understand it."
The words were gushing out of my mouth now. I couldn't stop.
"Curiouser and curiouser," Georgina said even quieter, looking down into her teacup.
"Yeah," I sighed. "What I want to know is, how long has he known those people? Why? And what did he owe them money for?"
Georgina gave a deep, deep sigh. I looked up at her and she had a pained expression on her face. At this exact moment I began to cough, having spoke too much. I coughed deep, and picked up my peppermint tea and began to drink in small sips, feeling the peppermint soothing my throat again.
"I don't want to upset you or put ideas in your head or anything," she said slowly. She looked up at me with her lovely blue eyes, her mouth slightly open.
"Hm?" I asked, coughing behind my fist and putting my hand on my chest.
"But being that I know organized crime, I wonder it is doesn't have to do with...drugs or gambling or selling those clothes he steals."
I could barely hear her over my coughing and I think she meant to say those things while I could barely hear. She was speaking very low, cautiously.
"Pardon?" I asked, coughing a little to clear my throat.
"I'm just wondering why he owes the money, too."
"What did you say about...drugs and gambling?" I asked slowly.
"Don't worry about it. I know Ambrose is a good kid. I don't think he'd be involved with those," she nodded to herself, a slight blush appearing on her snow white cheeks.
Unfortunately the seeds of these thoughts had been planted in my brain. "Do you think those guys were gang members?" I whispered, trying desperately to think otherwise.
"I don't know, sorry. I shouldn't have said it," Georgina said quickly.
My eyes started to brim with tears, thinking about Ambrose. Was he involved with gangs? Was he...a gang member? If I really thought about it, some things did stack up. He had been homeless for a year, and I'd lost track of him during that time. When he had come back to school, he had all of these nice clothes and all of these things...but I had assumed that was because he was making extra money being a drag queen and then he'd told me he'd stolen all of those clothes... Things were now making a lot of sense and I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it.
"Oh, Georgina, what if he is a gang member?" I gasped. The gasp tickled my throat and made me cough again.
"You're getting upset, I'm sorry. You're sick, too, oh no," Georgina fluttered in her speech, clearly getting much too worried for someone her age.
"No, I'm sorry," I tried to cover, trying to get her to calm down. What had I done?
"I'm sure he's not a gang member. From what you've told me... Have you ever heard of a gang member who was a drag queen? Its ridiculous, really. Really it is. You must not think it," she said quickly to me, trying to change my thinking still.
"You're right," I said for her sake. She gave me such a desperate look and I wanted to make it go away, replace it with one of her happy smiles.
I gave her a small smile, and my effort worked. She smiled back at me, a hopeful sort of one.
"Well, let's not talk about this," I sighed, trying to change the subject. Then a thought struck me. I began to smile for real. Her own widened. "Tell me about Frankie," I said, looking up at her with wonder.
She looked shocked for a second, but then her face warmed visibly, the pink blush rising in her cheeks. "Frankie...well, what is there to tell?" A sort of sneaky expression bloomed on her face, and she looked at me with a knowing smile.
"What?" I asked.
"I think I should say something that has relevance to our conversation. It might make you feel better," she nodded, leaning her elbows on her knees and crossing her slim arms delicately.
"Hm?"
"Just know that..." she sighed and looked at me seriously, "even if Ambrose is involved with crimes...not all people who are involved with crimes are bad people. There's all different kinds, you know? Take Frankie for instance. He was the sweetest boy you could ever find. There was not a bad bone in his body, ever. Always wanted the best for people, always got so nervous and was so timid around others. He'd give you the shirt right off his back and he even did for me a couple of times. Well, you wouldn't imagine the kinds of things he'd done. He'd beaten the crap out of people with tire irons, held people's heads down in water as they got their lives near whisked out of them from drowning, broke people's knees...but he'd cry with me afterwards. He'd come to my apartment, tell me all about it and just cry. He didn't want to do any of that stuff. He'd tell me about their families and how he wanted to send them money, no matter what it was those people did. Most of them, he said, owed his father for gambling or drug money, things like that. His family was kind of like loaners? They'd loan out money, things like that. Frankie was one of those guys who went to collect and if they couldn't pay...him and his brother would just beat the shit out of them. It broke his heart."
My eyes had gone wide in her telling me this. Utter shock was going through me completely. My brain couldn't think, too many things were trying to go through it like a traffic jam. Things about Frankie, how he had looked so cute and innocent in that picture with her. About how she said he had been so shy and nice, and Ambrose was so nice, too...
"You'd never guess by looking at him on the street, the things he had done," she continued, lost in her memories, "but he'd done so many awful things. I don't think he ever murdered anyone. But his brother...his brother, he..." She stopped abruptly, her eyes going wide slowly. She wasn't looking at anything anymore. Her hands gripped her knees, and I saw her fingers starting to go white.
"...Georgina?" I asked carefully, leaning forward.
She wouldn't speak to me and it was making me very worried. Scared. Her eyes went wider, her lucidity completely gone. There was nobody home anymore.
"Georgina?" I asked louder, getting up slightly from the couch. "Georgina?"
LA CUCARACHA, LA CUCARACHA, LA LA LA LA LA!
Georgina startled violently and I jumped, so glad I wasn't holding my teacup because it would have gone flying.
"What the fuck?!" I gasped, but my hand flew over my mouth. "Sorry, Georgina, I didn't mean to swear!"
Her personality was back in her eyes and she looked at me with a very confused expression. Then she looked towards her window. "What the heck is that?" she asked with a little laugh.
This little laugh made me feel so relieved. So relieved.
"It can't be," I said in a breath, my hand going over my still racing heart. I nearly galloped to the window, pulling back the lace curtains. I gasped again as a familiar vision peered up at me from the street.
Familiar hazel eyes looked up at me from a violently pink Cadillac and a slightly tanned hand waved at me from the boy the eyes belonged to laid over the front seats.
"Its Ambrose," I whispered in shock.
"Is that him making all of that noise?" Georgina chuckled.
"Yeah, that's Miss Cha Cha's car. Its a pink Cadillac that plays 'La Cucaracha' when you press the horn," I told her, still holding the lace curtain back.
"Cha Cha..." I heard her say behind me slowly.
"Yeah, kind of a weird name," I said, staring down at Ambrose. He was pointing at the passenger seat and beaming a grin at me. He wanted me to come downstairs. But did I want to?
"Yeah," she said quietly, and I heard her take a sip of tea. She cleared her throat with a little cough, like mine. It made me blush, knowing we did the same thing. She went on, "you should go with him, then. He drove all the way here. Just remember what I said. I'm sure he's not a bad guy. Frankie wasn't. Just remember. He's still your best friend. Nothing really changed, you just know what he does. He's still the same."
My lips pressed together as this information sunk in. She was absolutely right. What really had changed? I knew what he was doing, but he'd been doing these things for who knew how long...
"You're very right," I nodded. I gave Ambrose a wave and his grin increased incredibly down below.
"Do you want me to get your coat? Its on my bed," she said, already getting up.
"No, I'm already up, I'll get it," I smiled to her. But then my smile disappeared.
Her expression was the weirdest I'd ever seen. Her eyes were wide, and she was doing a sort of half smile. I knew this expression very well, for I had seen it everywhere in my life.
She was doing a fake smile. But I didn't have time to process it. Why was she...
I marched to her bedroom and found my coat. I realized I'd never been in here before and with a whiff, the strong smell of Chanel no. 5 tickled into my throat. I started coughing a little, not wanting to cough on her bed. A quote from Marilyn Monroe floated in my head immediately, thinking of Georgina, and I chuckled a little. 'What do you wear to bed?' 'A few drops of Chanel no. 5.' Of course Georgina would, too. I scooped up my coat, putting it on quickly, and I raced out of the bedroom.
Georgina was in the kitchenette now, putting the barely used silver platter away. She grinned and waved to me. Having just been thinking of Marilyn Monroe, I had a double take. They really did look so alike.
"Good-bye," I said sweetly to her, suddenly feeling a little nervous.
"Good-bye, dear. I hope that cough goes away soon. Drink hot things, they'll melt it away," she smiled warmly to me, waving again.
"I will," I assured her, unlocking the door. As I left, I made sure to close the door tightly as she liked.