His Uptown Girl. Liz Talley

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СКАЧАТЬ hardwood floors. A strange bored-housewife gleam in her eye made him hurry his steps. She followed, running a tongue over her top lip then biting her lower. “Or if there’s something else you want? Something not on the menu maybe?”

      It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had fantasies about a little something-something with a client or two. Some of the women he made deliveries to were fine, but Mrs. Dupuy was too skinny, too straight, and her husband was a judge. Besides, he had to get to Devontay’s game in three hours.

      Better not even think about it.

      “No, thank you, Mrs. Dupuy. I gotta get back to the—”

      “Oh, sure. No problem,” she said, looking nervous, as though she knew he could read her thoughts and suddenly her unstated invitation was too real. She followed him out the room into the foyer and opened the large door painted black as sin. Sunlight tumbled in like a smack of reality upside the head. Mrs. Dupuy blinked, appeared confused. “Well, thanks again.”

      “Sure,” he said, stepping onto the brick stoop.

      The door shut behind him softly, like an apology, as he walked to the delivery van. He didn’t really blame Winnie Dupuy for not wanting to feel so empty. He knew what it was like to feel as if no one cared, to want some simple comfort, a human touch. He didn’t fault her...but he couldn’t oblige her and still be the man he wanted to be.

      The man he’d promised his mama all those years ago.

      The van was warm, which was good, considering a cold wind had picked up. New Orleans wasn’t cold in February, but it wasn’t warm either. The seat felt good against his jeans. He’d just pulled out of the driveway when his cell rang.

      It was Big Mama—she always called this time of day.

      “Yo, Big Mama, you get your applesauce cake yet?”

      “I’ve done got it, sugar. Merlene had some with me, though she ain’t as fond of it. You workin’?” Big Mama’s voice was still frail. His grandmother had been sick a long time and he hated she had to be in the nursing facility. But what could he do? Neither he nor his aunt Cici could take care of her.

      “Yes, ma’am. I’m getting off in a few hours for Devontay’s game. They playing at Erhet today.”

      “You gonna call me and let me know how he do, ain’t you?”

      “Yes, ma’am. I know you’d skin me alive if I didn’t.” Tre smiled as he swerved around the oncoming traffic and headed toward the store on Magazine. Luckily, he had only one more delivery, and it was a Queen Anne settee. Since the delivery was on the West Bank, Eleanor said he could take the van over the bridge—as long as he locked it up tight—and make Shorty D’s game.

      “How’s Cici getting on with that new job? She going in on time, ain’t she? I worry about her.”

      “Yes, ma’am, she doin’ fine.” Kind of. His aunt had missed work a few weeks ago and had to plead with the shift manager to put her on probation. Since then, she’d done good, making it on time every day, but he was worried because she’d started hanging with her former girls, going out, leaving Kenzie with him. Tre had threatened to call Child Protective Services if she went out anymore. He didn’t like threatening his aunt, but his cousin Kenzie needed a mother who wasn’t strung out and banging with the 3-N-G, a local street gang that hung on Third and Galvez.

      He wasn’t worrying Big Mama about Cici or anything else. Her health wouldn’t tolerate no worrying. He wanted her to get stronger so maybe she could come back and breathe some life into that rambling house of hers where they all lived. Things weren’t the same with Big Mama gone. It had been too long since he’d smelled greens and hocks cooking and tasted her fried corn bread. Been too long since he’d heard her laughter in the kitchen and felt the tenderness in her faded hands.

      “The doctor says maybe I can come home ’fore too long. They still working me to death, but I’m walking pretty good now. Maybe won’t be long, chile.”

      Big Mama had fallen and broken her hip almost seven months ago. After extensive surgery, she’d done well, until the pneumonia had set in several weeks later. She’d been in a nursing facility ever since, determined she wouldn’t live out her days at Plantation Manor.

      “That’s good. You keep doin’ what they tell you. Dr. Tom said you’ll be home to dye Easter eggs for Kenzie.”

      Big Mama cackled. “Lordy, that’s in two months. I need to see that baby hide her eggs. Gotta make her a dress, too.”

      Tre drove through the alley between the Queen’s Box and a vintage clothing store, and put the van in Park. A loading platform on his right led up to rusted double doors. “I’ve got to go now. Got to make another delivery before I can get out of here.”

      “Tre, you don’t worry about me. You got enough to worry about. Try to take some time for yourself, chile. You not even twenty years old yet.”

      He felt a hell of a lot older. “I know. I got time.”

      His grandmother huffed but didn’t say more, and after promising again to call her about Devontay’s game, he hung up.

      Pocketing the keys, he slid from the van, careful to lock it. As he came around the side of the van, Eleanor met him.

      “Hey, Tre, we need to talk if you have a minute.”

      He looked up, sensing what was coming. Winnie Dupuy had called. “Yeah?”

      “Mrs. Dupuy called me a few moments ago.” Eleanor held tight to the door, looking embarrassed. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

      “No, ma’am.”

      “Oh, well, she said you made her feel uncomfortable. Uh, like in a sexual way.” Eleanor stared him in the eyes and he could see her discomfort, but she didn’t shy away. He, at least, liked that about her.

      “No, ma’am.”

      Eleanor looked hard at him and nodded. “She’s lonely.”

      Folding his arms over his chest, he met her gaze. “Yeah, I guess she is.”

      For a moment they were both silent. Her studying him. Him bearing her scrutiny, defensive on the outside, hoping she believed him on the inside. As the seconds ticked by, Eleanor’s posture changed. Relief gathered in him because he knew she’d worked out the facts rather than jumping to conclusions.

      “Winnie propositioned you?”

      “What you mean?”

      Eleanor rolled a hand, still looking as though she’d rather clean toilets than have this conversation with him. “Make a pass? Come on to you?”

      “Why you think that?”

      “Because the more I think on it, the more I see the flaw in this accusation. Winnie’s husband ignores her, she’s lonely and you’re awfully nice-looking,” she said, holding open the heavy steel door and jerking her head toward the black yawn that led into the back room. “She’s a good customer, but I don’t necessarily believe you’d have to hit on older ladies when you’ve likely got plenty of girls your own age blowing up your phone.”

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