By Rosemary Okafor
Paul
Twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two…
Christ! This was the hardest part of his morning exercises. Down on his fours, sweating under a fully air-conditioned room and counting. ‘Twenty-five, twenty-six…thirty.’ Whoever invented push-ups must be a sadistic prison warder.
The muscle tearing exercise hadn’t even got him buffed up since he added it to his routine.
Not that it mattered to him anyways. Broad shoulders, plank-hard packs and muscle rippling arms were never features meant for him. He’d come to accept his uniqueness since he was a teen. Thanks to his pretty face— the first thing that attracts people before his voice— he didn’t have to bother about his not so rock-hard body.
Thirty-five. Thirty-six… Letting out a loud breath, he collapsed on the floor same time he heard the pounding on the door.
George, he muttered. Only George, his manager could bang on a hotel door without giving ‘two cents’ about disturbing others. The man could bring the whole Hotel down with his ‘Loud’ self when he is extremely excited or crimson red angry.
The former was the case, as Paul would find out.
Scrambling to his feet, he took wary steps across the room, unlocked the door and walked back without a glance at his manager, collapsing on the bed.
“Get your ass up and get ready. We are going out,” George barked. For a man as big as he was, his voice was a perfect fit for his personality.
Groaning, Paul turned to face the man. Not surprised to see George’s black tee-shirt, emblazoned with ‘PRAISE UNLIMITED,’ damp with perspiration. The man could wring out four liters of sweat from his body even during winter.
“Where are we going?”
“Business. Your amazing act last night didn’t go unnoticed by one of the biggest players in the music industry here in Toronto.”
“It wasn’t an act, George.” The man wouldn’t understand. How would he? A carnally-minded man would not understand the things of the spirit. “So, what is the news?”
“A meeting with one of the biggest music producers in Toronto.” The man perched on the cushion’s armrest tapping his feet that was forced into his Stars and Stripes sneakers. “Liam, Liam Belanger. That is the name you want endorsing you, boy. That name performs wonders in the industry!”
“Mr. Belanger of Fire Sounds? He was there last night?” Now that gave his body all the refueling it needed. Feeling a surge of excitement shooting through his bones, he jerked to a sitting position.
“Belanger in flesh and blood. Yours truly got a wake-up call from the man himself demanding your presence at Le Sainte- Elizabeth, this night.” George bit off a nail and spat out. “He said he had wanted to meet you immediately after the show but you were gone. Which was good by the way. The more you are out of reach, the higher the demand for you.”
“And you agree to a meeting today? What happens to ‘the more out of reach I am?”
“This is different. Last night was enough to get him drooling for you.” Glancing at his watch, George picked himself up, smoothening his brows with his thumb, “Get ready kid, an official ride will be here in less than an hour.”
“You said this meeting is scheduled for tonight, it’s barely 8 a.m.”
“We are going shopping.” The man was already walking toward the door. “Belanger pays special attention to looks.”
“He was captivated by my worship last night, not the dress.” Pulling his sleeping shirt off, Paul walked across the room to the wardrobe, his eyes caught the rosary on the dressing table and he halted. Staring intensely on the object while his mind made a trip back to yesterday. At the hotel porch.
She was the most beautiful black lady he’d seen in years. Beautiful in a most worrisome way. She reminded him of the biblical Queen of Sheba, or the historical Egyptian Nefertiti. The kind of beauty every man should beware of, especially a spiritual-minded man like him. But right now, thinking about her had just aroused this tingling awareness, this strange sensation.
Picking the rosary, he stroked the crucifix at its tail end, his brows coming down into a barely perceptible frown. The old man he met at the elevator was right. Paul’s heart had been struck, but that didn’t mean he would want to have anything to do with the striker— from his assessment, she looked like a daughter of wantonness.
Don’t stop your heart from feeling… The old man had said. It’s not a sin.
He agreed. However, what was sin was allowing the image of her; lips lavishly sensuous, her body as groin-pulsing as an aphrodisiac in a drink, to mess up his head. It was obvious the lady was on the dark side. The more reason he shouldn’t be giving what the man said any thought. Wasn’t he supposed to be fleeing from every appearance of immorality?
You like her at one glance.
She exudes trouble.
Your heart desires her.
Yes… No… Yes… Christ!
“You are now a catholic?” His manager’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “Your father wouldn’t like that.”
Letting the beads slither out of his fingers, Paul turned to face his manager whom he didn’t know was still in the room.
“Where did you get that thing from by the way?” his manager asked.
“From someone you shouldn’t bother yourself about.”
“Are you planning on ditching your father’s church?”
“Shouldn’t you be downstairs waiting?”
“I am your manager not your waiting boy.”
“You’re still under my payroll.”
“I get the contracts that get you the money.”
“The money that pays you.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, boy. There are many talents on the street.” The man had started walking towards the door again. “I can pick any…”
“…of them and make him or her a star.” Paul finished for him, laughing. “Yet you are still with me.”
“That’s because I like you.” The man was half out of the room.
“That’s because You’ve not found a talent like mine yet. All you’ve seen and heard are voices and skills. None with the touch of the Holy Spirit.”
The man snorted and left.
As he headed towards the bathroom, he muttered a short prayer of thanksgiving. If things would work in his favour, he would be signed to the biggest record label in North America— if not even in the US, and that would be a dream come through.
You will not be returning to Armstrong as soon as you thought.
It didn’t matter, as long as he would get the deal. He didn’t mind staying a few more days in the beautiful city, recording music.
****
Scarlett
On the long bar chair, up the first floor of the popular yet conspicuously hidden La Sainte-Elizabeth pub, Scarlett sat near a plate-glass window that gave her a bird’s eye view of the terrace. While she would struggle to give the always bubbling, dimly lit pub a four-plus rating, the terrace on its own deserved a five. In her humble opinion, it was the nicest in Montreal, with long elegant trees growing over its brick walls. She couldn’t get enough of the view.
But today, she wasn’t here to admire nature and drink beer. She was here to face a nemesis after two years of coughing out five thousand dollars to buy her silence.
She ran her thumb around the rim of her beer glass, picked it up and sipped. The more she thought about Meggie, the more she was convinced she had to do something to get her off her trail completely, but what?
Her hand tightened involuntarily around the glass.
Meggie used to be sweet. Crazy- yes, but sweet. An old broad who worked for Madame Charlotte five years before her.
Scarlett remembered her first day on Madame Charlotte’s whore table. Caucasian men had haggled price over her as one would do while buying crayfish at Nigeria’s Amakohia market, Owerri. As if she wasn’t there; the men talked and laughed at her expense, only running their eyes over her once in a while, then one by one they left except the heavily bearded one.
“Two thousand dollars for one girl? Come on Madame; très, très cher, she is expensive.”
“Alexander, look at her. She is a trophy, a fresh meal to relax with.”
“That is true, but I have not paid even a thousand dollars for la pute, non… it’s one thousand dollars or nothing,” the one referred to as Alexander shook his head vehemently.
“Come girl,” Madame Charlotte beckoned, giving her attention for the first time since Meggie led her into the woman’s large room. “Come over here, this nice man wants to see you.”
Scarlett remembered how she was as timid as a rabbit. Yes, she remembered even more and it sent nausea jolting up her stomach to her mouth.
“Unfold your hands girl… turn around for him to see.” Madame Charlotte forced compliance on her. “Alex…what do you say now?”
“Oui! Qui!” the man slapped her butt, licking his lips. “I like them curvy…” he said, demonstrating with his hands, “Handful…le popotin…big backside you know. This one has little meat here…” Another spank on her butt. “But I like her. She is beautiful and innocent. Elle est belle.”
“My girl here is still young. Barely nineteen and you will be the first to have her.” Charlotte chuckled confidently, “And of course, with a girl like this, you will have no trouble throughout your time with her. She will obey you like a puppy.”
“Okay, I like her already.”
“Perfect,” Charlotte squirmed. “So, how many days?”
“That depends on how happy she makes me. A whole night for now, and if I like it, I will call you.”
“Okay,” Charlotte said in satisfaction. “You are paying cash, yes? You understand the reason why I always prefer that.”
The man had counted some cash and slapped them on the table, he made for the door and turned when he realized that his acquired property wasn’t following.
“Few seconds please, she will join you.” Charlotte apologized.
“Look here…” The sudden change in demeanor was like magic, “I don’t know what your problem is but this is my business and you will not ruin it for me.” Charlotte had said splaying her cellulite-ridden arms. “What am I even saying, you have a lot to pay back, in fact; you are paying double what others are paying. Mr, P said you didn’t come cheap, so the sooner you started working this your ass off, the better for you.”
That was the first time she heard about the mysterious Mr. P. She would later ask Meggie about the identity of the man.
“See kiddo, if you want to survive here, don’t bother your pretty face about who Mr. P is, and don’t start asking questions. Do your work and everything will be fine.”
Meggie became her guardian angel from hence—until she turned into a thorn in her flesh.
Kicking her shoes off, Scarlett wiggled her toes while allowing her eyes to roam around the bar for a while.
Eight years ago, they would have smiled at couples laughing and flirting with each other in this pub, she and Meggie. She would have seen her future in the love-struck couples, her hands being touched gently by a man who loved and adored her and a shy smile playing on her lips like it was doing on the lips of the blond-haired girl sitting three tables away, whose man was whispering into her ears.
A sad smile grazed her face as she tore her gaze away. Meggie didn’t believe in love and ever after. However, she had allowed Scarlett to dream. “What kind of man do you want to settle down with?” Meggie would ask, suppressing laughter as she described her prince charming.
Those days, they’d steal some times to give themselves treats with the money they’d stolen from unsuspected clients and from running solo.
Meggie taught her how to run personal underground businesses. Without it, you will remain wretched and when they finally discard you like an old rag, you will end up on the street, Meggie had told her.
This pub had been their little hideout, perfect for dreaming of love, admiring free people and celebrating their little wins. Some of the nights, they had ended up with horny men who wouldn’t mind some quick ones in their trucks and cars, only a handful took them home.
It was a dangerous game that could have gotten them severely punished or even killed— one of the girls was dumped in front of the inn, with a scissors buried in her temple, a message that nobody should dare play games with Mr. P’s clients or his money.
Her head swung towards the entrance as the glass door quirked.
Not Meggie. Scarlett hissed, grabbed her glass, and gulped the whole beer down. She’d rehearsed what to say to Meggie when she finally walked in, but somehow, she knew she would not be able to say any of those things. The lady had a way of wrecking her nerves and turning her into that small naïve girl she once was.
She hated it so much when Meggie reminded her of the past, and threatened her with a scene she tried to forget, something the other lady had used as a noose around Scarlett’s neck all these years.
The entrance door quirked again, this time, it was who she was waiting for. Meggie.
Scarlett watched her look around, then locked gaze with her and started walking towards her table. In an oversized coat over a long dress. Her legs were covered with a pair of socks, and a grandma’s scarf knotted around her neck, Scarlett almost didn’t recognize her.
“Relax, Kiddo. I don’t bite.” The other lady settled on the stool opposite hers. “Damn, I can do with a good drink right now.” She beckoned at the bartender, and smiled with satisfaction as the young man left with her order.
“You look, uhm…”
“Don’t say it.” Meggie scuffed. Grabbed the glass of beer before it reached the table and chugged down, beckoned on the bartender again.
With each gulp, her throat bobbed violently and the liquor drizzled from both sides of her thin cracked lips. Drinks like the one she ordered were meant to be sipped from small glasses, so one would not knock himself out. Somehow, Scarlett desired nothing more than to see Meggie drink herself to death.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Meggie was on her third cup.
“What is going on with you?”
“As if you care,” Meggie retorted. Wiped her mouth, “See, I am here for the money. Hand it over and you will never see me again, I mean for a long while.”
“For a long while? You said you will be gone forever.”
“You want to get rid of me so fast? How disgusting you must think I am…a dirty drug addict, hanging around a high-class whore like you— you must want me dead now.”
“You should stop.”
“Who made you my mother? The last time I checked, I was the one wiping your butt.”
“I’m only showing concern.”
“I don’t need your pity. Just give me the money.” Scarlet gave her a long stare, “You don’t want me hanging around you, I get it. Let me have my money and I will be gone.”
“If I give you this money, will you stop bothering me?”
“You don’t tell me when to stop, I choose when the time is right”.
“I can’t stand your blackmail anymore…”
“I saved you. If not for me, you would have been dead long ago.”
“You were using me the same way Mr. P and Charlotte did. I wanted a steady life.”
“You are a whore, a slut. There is no life for people like us in the real world.”
“Yet I made one for myself!”
The edge between them was skin-prickling; Scarlett stared into those bright blue eyes burning with anger and resentment and knew she had said more than she was supposed to, what would follow would be a threat, something to cut her to size.
“You think so? How comfortable you have gotten on your throne that you have forgotten the horrible things you did in the past.” Looking around to see if anyone was within earshot, the other lady continued. “You murdered a man.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about and please bring your voice down.” Scarlett gritted.
“Scared now uh? I thought you were playing tough?”
“I didn’t kill anybody, you were in that room that night, the man died of heart attack!”
“What are you now? A doctor? See, you and I know what happened that night. But I covered you. I didn’t report it because I have loved you like a sister. Now you dare want to throw me out?”
“You chose your part and I chose mine.”
“I gave you everything you have.”
“I worked hard for every penny I own now; you only gave me shelter for a short period. As for your silence, I bought it. I have kept paying you.”
Cocking her head backward. Meggie observed her intently. “What you do with your life now is none of my business. Just hand me my money and I will be gone, it’s getting late.”
Grabbing her bag, Scarlet threw a passing glance around. She was about to return her gaze back to Meggie when the entrance door swung open and two men stepped in…
Two men…
One as big as a pregnant whale. The other… The pretty singer that justled her heart yesterday.
What… what’s he doing here?
And for the life of her, he was extremely good looking. Too pretty for his own good.
When Paul Clurkin—She learnt his name last night, after watching him sing— walked into a room, everybody took notice, women especially. Not only because of his looks, but a certain something… a compelling aura she was yet to understand.
“Hey, Kiddo.” Meggie’s voice jerked her back to her reality. “Hand my money over.”
Sparing the handsome singer one more glance, she pulled her bag closer, opened and brought out a purse. Her hands trembled as she brought the money and moved it from her side of the table to Meggies’. The other lady snatched the notes, and shoved them inside her bag without counting.
“Thank you,” Meggie said in mocking politeness. Got on her feet and hunched over the table, coming forehead to forehead with Scarlett. “The handsome over there.” She thrust her head towards the singer and his friend now seated two tables behind theirs. “You think I stand a chance with him?”
“Don’t you dare get your filthy self near him.” Her anger rose hard and fast. The need to hide Paul away from the likes of Meggie, steamed inside her. “You don’t get close…”
“Hey… hey…” The other lady leaned her face back. “I was just kidding! Wouldn’t approach him looking like this.” Hanging her bag over her shoulder, Meggie straightened up. “I advise you let that one go too. He looks too decent for you.”
“Get out.”
“I see the way you look at him…”
“Get out!”
“See you, kiddo.”
Scarlett waited for the other woman to leave, then with shaky hands, searched her bag for a hankie or a tissue paper. She found a tissue and dabbed her eyes while swallowing a sob.
Against her wish, she turned her head backward, more men had joined the singer and his big friend. Her eyes stayed on them… on him. He was laughing now, drawing her attention to his thin pink lips.
So relaxed. So laid-back and his…
The words had not finished forming in her head when he threw a glance backward and… phew! he turned his gaze away as fast as he…
Oh no! He looked back again and straight into her eyes.
She shivered at the odd connection that passed from him to her. the heat and warmth that wrapped her like a wave as his eyes searched, probed. And for some skin-fizzling seconds, it felt like those calm-bluish pupils could see right through her, see her erratically beating heart, her soul jumping out of her skin.
He smiled at her and she… uhm, bit on her lips and looked away, wishing she could be anywhere but in there, with him.
She heard chair scraped on the floor and knew he just stood up. Was he leaving already? Glancing up, she saw him walking towards her.
“Hey.” He’s now standing beside her, his face melting into a soft smile.
She should smile back, but she didn’t. All she did was stare, because, seriously, how could one smile past a thundering heart?
“You— remember me?”
“H… Hi.” She squirmed a little as his smile broadened and his gaze languidly slid down her face, then settled on her neck.
“You look different,” he said, his eyes wondering back to her face. “Can I sit with you?”
To be continued
