“Yeah I got a little jit. Ain’t seen the little nigga since he told me I wasn’t shit to him,” Mr. Ernie scoffed. “Imagine, I’m the reason the little nigga exists and I’m not shit to him. Guess, I can’t fix that, now.”
Remedy stood by, quietly watching him undress and step into the shower. She wet his wash cloth and lathered it in the antibacterial body wash she’d purchased for him. Handing it over for him to wash the front of his body, she asked, “why not?”
While Mr. Ernie washed the front of his body, Remedy washed the back and waited for his response. It was heavy. Probably a reason why the ghost of Cherie weighed on him so much.
“I fucked up with his mama. Young, old don’t matter. Niggas don’t play about their mamas. That’s just some shit I have to take with me,” he spoke into the water.
“I understand that. Truly,” Remedy said, almost letting the heaviness of her own past weigh on her. Life was supposed to be so much different for her now. More successful, like her brothers and sisters. More pleasing to her parents, and not so much of a stain on the family name. The only one who accepted her for all the right and wrong she managed to do was her grandmother. The house she lived in, thrown to her like a piece of scrapped meat to a stray dog. It was meant to hurt her, kick her while she was down, keep her in her place — under their feet. What they didn’t understand was the house, and all of its necessary repairs, were something to keep her mind focused and busy rather than letting her demons and past mistakes plague her.
“What kind of secrets a young girl like you got? You ain’t never did nothing horrible in your life. Not the way you takin’ care of me,” Mr. Ernie muttered, looking down at her.
She didn’t look at him. Just continued washing him. “We all have our things. You can get dressed on your own or do you want my help today?”
“I’m going to show you how I used to put that shit on,” Mr. Ernie commented. “Sweet Lick Ernie is what they used to call me.”
Remedy burst out in laughter. “Used to, because I’m not callin’ you that shit.”
“By the end of the night, all them hoes in the strip club gonna be callin’ me that. Not you though, you ain’t no hoe.”
“Ernie, I dance just like the next girl,” Remedy replied.
“Dancing is dancing. You ain’t fuckin’ for money though. I know that ‘cause no niggas be in and out your house. You honest.”
She blinked away a few tears. He was right. There was no one in and out the house. And she’d been called everything but honest – that meant that he saw her. No one had seen her since her grandmother closed her eyes.
“‘Preciate that.”
She assisted him with drying off and getting his under clothes on before scooping up his soiled clothes. “I’m going to take these to the laundromat tomorrow.”
“Can I come?” he posed.
“Are you going to sleep or are you going to be running down the street?” Remedy replied.
“I’ll sleep,” he compromised with a loaded smile.
“Then, when I get up we’re going to the laundromat and food shopping. Your fridge is bare.”
An hour and a half later, the pair were in Mr. Ernie’s wide body Cadillac Deville headed to the club. He insisted she drove his car because it matched his candy apple red sequin suit, hat, cane and shoes he’d pulled out his closet to put on.
Entering the club, Remedy could hear the muffled giggles but it was the bartender whose voice she heard the loudest.
“Uh uh, Rem. If you wanted to get pimped, I could have found someone else,” the girl spoke and Mr. Ernie started to step in her direction.
Remedy quickly blocked him, her tone cooling whatever heat he was getting ready to give her. “This is my friend, Mr. Ernie.Mr. Ernie is going to have the corner booth on my side tonight. His drinks and food can come out my tips. Aight?”
The girl nodded, taking in the words Remedy mouthed. “No alcohol.”
“Aight, Rem. You ain’t no fun.”
“I know,” Remedy spoke with a shrug before turning to Mr. Ernie. “ Come on, follow me.”
Once she had him situated in a corner booth and his wings on the way, she hurried to the locker room to get ready. Hair, make up, outfit, stretches and warm ups. It was Saturday night, the club was going to be packed and she needed every dollar that was coming to her. Make up and stretches completed, she looked at stared at her reflection in the mirror trying not to let the thoughts take over her mind.
“Do what you need to do, Rem.”
2
“E, I just saw ya momma. Every time I try to talk to her, she runs from me. I’m getting sick of this shit now. All this running shit. And where the fuck you been, nigga? Ain’t see your ass since the other day when you pointed that bitch ass gun in my face. Should’ve slapped yo ass since you big and bad. Anyway, tell yo mama to stop doing that shit. It’s pissing me off.” Ernest Moore’s voice was laced with confusion and delusion. He’d called his son in the past, always getting the voicemail because Erys didn’t have the heart to block him. Afterall, his blood ran through his veins and it wasn’t like Ernest hadn’t tried to be a father or get his mother back in his good graces. Erys was young and didn’t fuck with the idea of his father pimping his mother out or having her associated with a life that was a direct danger to her wellbeing.
