Tina’s a young, hot fire cracker. Sexy, hazel eyes, hair cut short. See-through tight short dress, breasts pointing straight like two covered peaks. Tina, at the bar making a martini, lighting a cigarette, turns and asks her mother, “Who’s this? Another one of your boy-toys?”
Mrs. Fine Taylor says, “Why no, dear. Mr. Stacy is an insurance salesman.
“Tina, looking Stacy up and down, says “Mmm hmm, insurance salesman. You can come over to my house and sell me insurance anytime.” Taking her finger, licking it, pushing it in her mouth and pulling it out, slowly smiling at Stacy, her eyes saying, Come on, baby.
Mrs. Fine Taylor interrupts Tina to ask her, “Why are you here?”
Tina says, “I came over to see if you wanted to fly with me to Paris today to do some shopping.”
Mrs. Fine Taylor says, “No, not today. When is Charles due back from New York?”
Tina says, “Charles is still there with his parents on their yacht, fishing. He’s due back in a few days.”
Mrs. Fine Taylor says, “In a couple of days? He has a business to run here and in New Orleans!”
Stacy picks up on Mrs. Fine Taylor’s changed tone of voice when she spoke of Charles’ business in New Orleans.
While they are talking Stacy walks around the room and looks on the table at pictures of the Taylor family and out the window at the pool. He sees a pool boy cleaning it. Stacy notices that the pool boy keeps looking up at the window. He walks back and sits in a leather chair.
Tina finishes her drink and says, “A man like Stacy. I would have something to do, also.”
Mrs. Taylor says, “Please close the door behind you.”
Tina says goodbye to her mother, walking out the door, smiling at Stacy.
Mrs. Taylor walks over to the bar, makes herself a drink, lights a cigarette, sits down in a chair in front of Stacy with her legs wide open so Stacy can see up her dark canyon. Mrs. Taylor says, “Mr. Stacy, I came up very poor. I was born on a farm near a small town in Louisiana. When I was 16 I left home, moved to the big city of New Orleans with big dreams, like every small town girl. There I met a young man named Paul. A few months later I became pregnant. Paul was working, then he was drafted into the army and sent to Viet Nam. I went to the hospital to have my baby girl Sam. When I came out I received a telegram saying Paul was killed in action. I was left alone with no one and nowhere to turn.
“I needed money fast for myself and my baby. I went to the French Quarter on Bourbon St and took a job stripping and dancing for money. I had been dancing for six months when a well-dressed, man came in, watched me and asked to take me out for dinner after I finished work. His name was George. He took me to a fine restaurant. He was kind, he treated me with respect, like a lady. The next day he took me shopping. We dated and he told me he was there on vacation for 30 days and that he was from Washington, DC.
“Later, he came in and asked, could we sit and talk, he had something to ask me. George asked me, did I like this kind of life I was living, dancing? If I had a chance at a better life, would I take it? I thought, this may be my chance to get out of here. If I turn it down it may never come again. A better life for me and Sam. George took out an envelope and put it on the table and said, ‘This is $10,000. It’s yours to do whatever with, if you say no to what I’m about to ask. I want you to come back with me to Washington, DC. I’m a senator there.’ Then he asked me, ‘Is there someone I could leave Sam with, to be raised?’
“I asked, ‘Why?’
“George said that if it got out to his Republican friends that he was raising a half black child, it would hurt his career.”
Stacy’s thoughts were: And you married him?
Mrs. Taylor kept talking. “I told George, ‘I don’t know if I could do that. I could not leave Sam.’ George said he understood, said he was leaving in two days. That night I went to my apartment and sat looking out the window. I had a big decision to make. The next day I went to the Catholic Church to talk to the sisters. I made a promise that if they took Sam and raised her I would make generous monthly donations. I gave them $8,000 and told them to tell Sam I died long ago. I said when I got to where I was going I would call and give an address they could use if an emergency came up concerning Sam. I opened a PO Box in Virginia under a fake name.
“It’s been 26 years since I’ve seen my baby. George died in a plane crash 5 months ago, and I thought, Now is my chance to go get Sam. When the lawyers came for the reading of his will they asked me to come in the room first, before reading it out loud to Tina. It said the estate is mine, his fortune is mine, but if I bring Sam into his family, everything will automatically go to Tina. I would be left with nothing except for a small bank account in Switzerland with money I managed to save over these many years.
“Two days ago I got a letter saying Sam is missing.”
Stacy asks, “Do you have a picture of him?”
Mrs. Taylor hands him a picture. She says, “Yes. It was taken when Sam was two.”
Stacy looks at it and gives it back. Stacy’s street wits tell him that this dame is not telling him the whole story. Stacy says, “I heard you mention that Charles’s business is in New Orleans. What type of business?”
Mrs. Fine Taylor says, “Charles, that little twit. I have been supporting him over the years in many failed business ventures. Now he’s in the import and export business, dealing in rare pieces of furniture and rugs. Charles’ main office and warehouse is there, where he should be now.
“Stacy thinks, it seems like I’m not the only one that’s interested in on Mrs. Fine Taylor’s daughter Sam.
Mrs. Fine Taylor asks, “How much is your fee?”
Stacy says, “$500 a day plus expenses.”
Mrs. Fine Taylor gets up, walks over to a desk, opens it, takes out an envelope, walks over to Stacy, gives it to him and says, “There’s $30,000 in here. That should get you started.”
Stacy stands and puts the envelope in his inside suit pocket.
Mrs. Taylor asks, “Aren’t you going to count it?”
Stacy grins. “No. Should I?” He walks over to the table with the family pictures on it and asks, “Would you mind if I take this picture of Tina and Charles together?” Stacy just wants Charles’ picture but he doesn’t want Mrs. Fine Taylor to catch on to what he is thinking.
Mrs. Fine Taylor says, “Yes.” Then she drops her robe to the floor and asks, “Mr. Stacy, could I convince you to go for a swim in the pool with me before you leave?”
Stacy smiles, thinking about the pool boy. Three is a crowd. “No, Mrs. Fine Taylor. I have to go pack for my trip.” He walks out the door, closing it behind him. Mitch is at the bottom of the stairs waiting for Stacy with his hat. Stacy doesn’t go pack. He goes straight to the airport again.
To be continued…
Ivory can be found at the corner of 7th and E streets, NW and he has written dozens of short stories.
