dedicated to @blackberries_02 because she's the biggest supporter for this story
We arrived back at the Mayfair Motel a twenty grueling minutes later, and Miss Eloise 'bout had a heart attack when she saw the state I was in. After her and Norris helped me up the flights of stairs to my room, I settled on the bed as they began fussing over me. Miss Eloise started filling an old rag with ice and having me hold it against my bruised cheek while Norris began rummaging through a first-aid kit.
Norris carefully rolled the pants leg of my dungarees up to my knee, taking a cotton ball soaked in peroxide and gliding it against the bruises on my skin. I didn't even flinch from the burning sensation I was met with next. I felt hollow and numb from the experience. Something I felt many times after Clay's tyranny. I hated how familiar this was all to me.
Norris began wrapping the gauze bandage around my swollen ankle, in a motion so tender and firm that it reminded me of all the times Daddy had to bandage me up after falling out of trees or scraping my knees and hands doing cartwheels. I had aided myself so many times after Clay's rage. Miss Eloise and Norris looking after me did something different to my spirit, and quickly the air in the room got heavy.
"Lord, child," I heard Miss Eloise speak, her fingers smoothing the flyaway strands of my hair, "That man sholl put a beating on ya."
"Ain't my first time being beat," I gave in a whisper, feeling Norris' hands halt. I meet his gaze. Heavy, hot tears began streaming down my cheeks. The same look of caution and worry meets his orbs, and he drops his eyes, tearing the gauze and dropping my foot back on the ground.
"Celia still down at the market with Slick and his boy," Norris spoke, rising to his feet, staring back down at me. I felt him move my hand where I rested the ice, observing the burning bruise on my face.
"You betta not get into no more trouble, ya hear?" Was all he said before walking towards the door.
"I'm gone check on ya later, get some rest now," Miss Eloise told me, a tender smile on her lips. I gave a soft thank you.
As I heard the click of the door shut, a sob escaped my lips. Years of Clay's torment seemed to race through my mind all at once, and all the times I had to handle things on my own.
With a shaking hand, I took out the picture of my Daddy feeling every bit of shame.
This was not the life he wanted for me.
❀❀❀❀❀
I woke to the crackle of thunder. The sky outside my balcony window was jet, other than the flints of lightning that lit up the dark sky. The shadows of the raindrops danced on the wallpaper of my bedroom. The clock on the wall told me it was early evening, only a few minutes after eight.
I was always terrified of rainstorms. When I was a little girl, I remember a windstorm so bad it nearly tore the roof off our little house; the branch of a tree falling right through our living room window. We had made it out alright, but I still couldn't shake the fact that God was doing some work, maybe angry at us all. Staring out at this storm, I only hoped that God was washing away any bad luck I had brought to this good place.
Rising out of bed, my body felt stiff as my bones and resting muscles came back to life. The lamp was on in my room, and I noticed a note taped to the lampshade, in Miss Eloise's scribbled cursive:
Came to check on you, left ointment in the lobby behind the desk
- Eloise Mayfair
Next to the lamp, I saw the picture of my Daddy resting next to it on the nightstand, making it evident Eloise had been examining it. Maybe trying to piece together who I was. I recalled her saying she wanted to have a talk with me. I pray the old woman had a shred of mercy.
I walked downstairs, being met with the tallest man I ever seen, wearing a dripping trench coat. He was peering down at Celia's small frame, the girl clutching her tarot cards to her chest. Instinctively, I ran in front of the girl, who cowered behind me. The man's lips fell into a sour grimace. His dark eyes left little to be desired, but plenty to fear.
It was safe to assume he wasn't the friendly type. I got a strange sense from this man. Pushing my shoulders back, I held a neutral face.
"What's ya business here," I cautioned.
The frown on the man's lips deepened. His features were strong, large broad nose, sharp jawline, thick eyebrows. His hair was picked out in a large afro, his skin the color of copper. He glanced me over.
"You know Norris Mayfair, this his hotel right," his voice was low and had a rumble to it. Whatever business he had with Norris I knew it couldn't be nothing but trouble.
So, I lied.
"I ain't never met a Norris Mayfair."
He squinted, staring at me with strangeness in his eyes, he glanced at Celia, and I pushed her further behind.
"She a child, this ain't her business," I told him, "Now, whatever correlation ya have with that Mayfair is a sheer coincidence to this establishment. Mayfair ain't that uncommon of a name," I assured, "Now if ya ain't finna rent a room, I'm gonna have to ask you to kindly leave."
He glanced me over again, his face not once softening, "If you ever meet or run into people who know him, tell him Victor looking for him," he boomed, turning on his heel and walking out the door.
I let out a long breath, not realizing I had ceased my breathing in front of that man. I knelt down beside Celia, who had a scared frown on her own brown face.
"He ain't hurt you, did he," I asked her, examining her, "What ya doing down here by yourself?"
The girl was dressed in purple flannel PJs, worry in her eyes, "Is my Daddy gonna leave again?" she asked me, tremble in her voice.
I bit my lip, staring into her doe eyes. What on earth could I say to that?
"I'm sure ya Daddy is gonna be alright," I assured her and myself. I held out my hand, "Come on, let's get you back to upstairs to bed. It's getting late and ya know ya Nini would have a fit if she saw you down here by yourself."
The girl reluctantly took it, and we both drudged up the steps to the Mayfair's family suite.
I wasn't able to go back to sleep, so I stayed up listening to the storm, and writing my woes in my journal. As the night began to brighten into dawn, the rain had ceased but a dreary overcast hung over Eva. This place had slowly become my safety net, but today I felt it's eeriness and mystery.
I had cracked open the door of the balcony, letting in some of the cool damp air. From the window, I could see Reed and Norris shooting the breeze. Against my better judgment, I decided to head downstairs and say hello myself.
"Demetria!" Reed was always ecstatic, even on a glum day like this, "What's happenin'?"
I gave a smile to him and Norris. Norris looked beat, it was very early. Maybe he was just getting back from.
"Ya good?" The man asked me, staring down at my bandaged ankle.
A wave of guilt hit me. I wanted to be honest with Norris, tell him about the mysterious Victor that was going around asking about him. Especially after all he had done for me.
Despite my guilty conscious, I gave small nod. Norris took a long drag from his cigarette then, staring past us at the rising sun.
"It's Sunday, Demetria! You know what that means?" Reed asked.
"Sunday church service?" I pondered, bumming a cigarette from him and lighting it between my lips.
"Nah, Foxy. It's Sunday, which means dancing tonight down at the Cool Blue," He said with an eager grin.
"What kind of sinners party at a club on a Sunday," I asked with a snort. The Cool Blue was the club Norris worked at in New Orleans, one that Reed had told me about countless times. Stories of bar fights, drunken dancing all under the melodies of jazz and blues. He seemed to spend a lot of time with Norris and his cohort Slick, and another gentleman by the name of Tips. To me, Reed was like that pesky little brother always hanging around.
Norris didn't seem to mind him, and I enjoyed him and all his quirks.
Still, the thought of a club made me uneasy. Some nights when I was young, I'd follow behind my Daddy and sneak to the juke joints. People smelling like corn whiskey and reefer. One night Nana caught us both sneaking back in and boy did she whip me bad, and gave Daddy the same nasty whipping with her tongue, saying that his ways were rubbing off on me.
"You should come with us tonight," Reed offered, pulling me from my thoughts.
I opened my mouth to decline, but I saw Norris cut his eyes at me. Tossing the bud of his cigarette to the sewage drain.
"That's a good idea," Norris butt in, "Need to keep an eye on you, make sure you ain't gettin' into no trouble."
The nerve of this cat, "I don't need a babysitter, Norris Mayfair." I spat, blowing a chain of smoke from my nostrils.
"I don't look after nobody but my child," He said, sizing me up, "Reed, make sure ya get her out tonight." He told him.
"Yeah, we can take my truck," Reed cheered, "Ya a young thang, you shouldn't be spendin' ya nights locked up in that motel! Spend a night wit' our crew for a change. Us Louisiana men will show ya how we get down."
A chuckle fell from Norris, stepping off the sidewalk headed down across the street to the motel, "I'm gonna get some rest." He told us.
Reed smiled something like a Cheshire cat, "Tonight's gonna be fun, 'Metria. I promise ya."
I huffed. I could only hope.
Norris had kept his word with making sure I stayed out of trouble. Between Reed being on guard in town, and the wandering eyes of the employees of the motel I was under constant supervision. Bunny's shop was closed on Sunday's, so I couldn't even use that as an excuse to escape.
Miss Eloise and Celia arrived back from Sunday service and she made a big deal to fuss over me. Celia was even quick to pull out a deck of cards and use her big doe eyes to woo me into playing go-fish and even poker. How this little girl knew how to play poker was a mystery.
By the time I looked up, the sun was gone, and Norris was headed towards the bus stop, but not without warning me to get dressed.
"That one!" Celia gleamed, sitting in the center of my bed as I stared in the mirror at my reflection, "You look like Diana Ross!"
A smile crept on my face as I gazed at myself. I wore a baby blue skinny strap dress that hugged my frame and was open in the back. I had combed out my waves in my hair and it was wispy and wild in the best way.
Uneasiness met my stomach. It had been years since I exposed so much skin. Clay didn't even like me having my toes out. I swallowed the lump in my throat, shaking away my past.
I was no longer living under his tyranny.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, I figured I wasted enough time. I fluffed at my hair and touched up on my makeup before turning to Celia for the final approval. She smiled at me.
"Solid," She exclaimed, hopping off the bed.
Celia rested on my back as I walked down the stairs of the motel, her eyes heavy although she swore she wasn't sleepy. Eloise laughed at the girl, ushering her to wash up for bed. She glanced me over before smiling.
"I remember when I had a tiny little waist like that," She commented, "Now everythang just hangs," she laughed at herself.
"Miss Eloise ya the baddest woman there is," I told her with a smile. She rose her brows at me.
"Bad means good these days? Lord ya young folks with ya slang."
It was my turn to laugh then. Miss Eloise encouraged me to have a good time, but I felt anxiety as I walked out the door.
Reed drove a cherry red Ford, an old rickety thing he named Lucille. The twenty-minute ride to New Orleans the man talked nonstop, though my mind was completely distracted. The Cool Blue jazz joint was further up the block, on the corner of Bourbon Street Reed had told me. Bourbon Street, that sounded like the home for heathens and sinners.
Characters with large afros, rainbow scarves, glitter pumps, sequin dresses and zebra print belts all congested the streets. Sitting outside of restaurants, hustling, all carrying on. The city was alive, I had never seen so many black folks with so much joy.
We pulled up to the Cool Blue, a small little club in the middle of the sinful street, jazz music trickling from the open door. Silver flints of light danced throughout the club. To me, this was just a flashy ole juke joint with fancy tables, chairs, and centerpieces. Bodies gyrated and slow danced in the middle of the space to the mellow song that was echoing throughout from the musicians playing on stage.
Reed led us to a table close to the bar, a cat already settled in one of the chairs at the table smoking a cigar. Upon further inspection, I recognized the man as Slick. When he noticed me, a sly grin curled on his lips.
"Aye, Slick," Reed exclaimed as the two men slid palms, "This Demetria."
"We've met," I told Reed who pulled out a chair for me, I held out my hand, "Good to see ya again, Mista Sonny."
"Call me Slick, Foxy," he flirted, kissing my knuckles, "I was hoping we'd meet again. Especially how Norris be carrying on about ya."
What? Mysterious Norris Mayfair carrying on about me? That had to be a fib.
"I know ya jivin'," I told Slick, causing Reed to go into a hoot.
Slick rolled his eyes, standing from his chair, "Come dance with me, Mama," he offered. I shook my head, causing the man to chuckle, "Ya need to live a little, Foxy," he told me before wandering onto the dancefloor. Dancing so close to a woman I felt my own skin burning.
The atmosphere was busy, but I wasn't entirely overwhelmed.
"See that small fella on the piano," Reed pointed out to me, a piano player center stage, "That's Tips, baddest man on the keys, and short tempered like a motherfucker," He laughed. From the stories, he told me I felt almost familiar with everyone.
I knew Slick was the ladies' man, him and Tips sometimes performing in the band together. I was familiar with Old Man William; the geezer Reed called him, who would get so drunk he'd soil himself most nights. Just like all the nights' Reed had described, I saw him sitting at the end of the long bar across the club. It was like a dream come reality as all the things told to me I came face to face with. Still, my mind wandered, an evident somebody I still ain't know too much about.
As I glanced at the bar I noticed Norris, pouring dark alcohol in fancy glasses.
"Ya gone get caught up messin' wit these with these women," Reed called to Slick, his body drenched in sweat already as if he ran a mile.
"I'm just bein' friendly," He gloated, smirking.
I found myself bobbing my head to the music that was played throughout the club, collective horns and cymbals clashing together. I paid little mind to the conversation the two men were having, resting my chin in my hands feeling for a temporary moment I was at peace, surrounded by new friends. I hate how my mind kept wandering back to my guilt, and I knew that this moment of peace would soon be overshadowed when it was time to get moving again, that was the plan.
"Glad to see yall out tonight," A baritone voice boomed over the blues music that played. I bit my lip in embarrassment, darting my eyes up at Norris Mayfair, who was staring dead back at me. He held a tray of glasses in his hand, a dark substance that I only presumed to be whiskey.
"Not like I had a choice," I shot back, watching as Slick swallowed his whiskey down like it was pure water.
"Ya know we a bunch of street walkers," Reed smiled, taking a glass. Slick slid Norris some skin as he pulled up a chair, the same backwards notion he always sat in.
"You looking, bad, brotha, real bad," Slick commented with a whistle to Norris. He wore a dark navy sleeveless jacket with no shirt, a colorful brown and orange scarf wrapped around his neck and matching dark pants.
"Learnin' from you, Slick," He smiled, his eyes sizing me up, "Enjoyin' ya'self?" He asked me.
"'Metria having a good ole time, right Foxy," Reed vouched with a smile, squeezing his arm around me.
"And lookin' mighty fine," Slick added with a smirk.
"Careful," Norris warned, "She somebody wife."
Both Reed and Slick cut their eyes at me, a sneaky smile curling on Norris' lips then.
So that's the game he wanted to play.
"I ain't nobody's wife," I told him, "But I heard you was carryin' on about me. What is that all about?"
"Only because don't nobody know you. This don't seem much like ya lifestyle," He shot back, "And Mama said you had a pretty little wedding band the day ya arrived and now it ain't there."
Reed pursed his lips jokingly, taking down his glass of whiskey. I smiled, grabbing my own glass then.
"Well like I said, I ain't married. I left my husband," I said blankly, watching the three men stare at me then.
Something about that statement made me feel strong. Quickly, I took down my own drink then, shooting my head back and letting the brown substance burn the back of my throat. Inhaling sharply, I peered at Norris, to show I wasn't afraid of his judgment or his game of intimidation. He bit his lip, smiling.
"Where ya from, Foxy," Slick asked then.
"Little town right outside of Montgomery," I replied, causing a collective "ooh" from the table, the kind of response you'd give if you see someone fall or hurt themselves bad. The reaction caused me to laugh.
"Why come to Eva Parish?" Norris asked, "Out of all the parishes in Louisiana, why stop in our little town?"
I stared at him then. I didn't want to tell him the truth about the mysterious man in the picture or the small shack in the swamps. Or even about my Daddy and my past. Gliding my finger around the rim of my shot glass I just shrugged.
"Just tryin' to move forward. Do what I want with my life," I told them. Even in the dim light of the club, I saw Norris cock a brow, and didn't say another word.
I pondered on my own words then, for once believing the affirmation that slipped from my lips. Doing what I want with my life. For so many years I forgot what true freedom felt like, I lost sight of myself. I let my Daddy down. No longer would I live in fear. Tonight was a great stepping stone towards that.
The funk and blues from the band didn't disappoint, and after another drink or so I found myself on the dancefloor, bumping hips with Reed, and even a slow dance with or two with Slick. Later that night Slick made his way on stage, singing songs of love, sex, and funk, and I was actually enjoying myself. Demetria Claude, not worrying about what's to come, but living in the moment, truly having a good time.
Norris and I constantly exchanged glances across the room as he worked at the bar, it was just like that night on the balcony, his light eyes still being visible throughout the darkened room. His eyes were surely the window to his soul; instead of its normal barriers, they had toned down to a softness, but still much mystery. I tried to ignore his gaze, but it felt like a burning hole to my flesh each time I turned around.
By the end of the night I was pooped, and my mind was swimming. By early dawn I squeezed myself in Reed's truck between him and Norris as we headed back to Eva. My mind was fogged with liquor, so it was hard to tell who helped me out of the truck, but I did remember Norris was behind me as I tried my hardest to stay upright as we walked up the stairs to the Mayfair Motel. He had his palm on my lower back, my skin seemed to ignite from the contact.
We made it to my room, fumbling with the key for what felt like hours, the door opened, and I flopped face first on the bed, hearing Norris chuckling at me from the doorway.
"You ain't no good," He laughed, "Gotta get ya hangin' with us boys more often."
I couldn't respond, as much as I wanted to, I couldn't find the words. As I heard the creak of my bedroom door shut, the heaviness of my eyelids gave in.
That was the first time since arriving to Eva I had gotten a full night's rest.
song Slick sang on stage: