“Hey, Soup,” he said, putting an arm around each of the two young women. “You know you never played for me before.”
“You didn’t like my music when you used t’come visit, Rudy. You just liked ice cream and the Lone Ranger.”
“Then call me a fool.” Rudy was grinning. “What you think, Chevette? You think Atwater here should come play at my club?”
“Uh-huh,” she said. Soupspoon could see much more than that in her eyes.
“What you think, Sono?” Rudy asked his waitress. “Do we need some blues down there?”
“I guess that be okay,” sour-mouthed Sono said. “Least we have somethin’ good for you old folks.”
“You wanna pay’im?” Kiki’s voice came from behind. Her gaunt face, that had never been pretty, was now sick with alcohol. Soupspoon had seen that bony-eyed look many times before. On their way to the grave. Her eyes drooped and her smile made him want to cry.
“That’d be great,” she said, looking into Billy Slick’s face. “You could help us make some money while I find a new job.”
“Yeah,” Billy Slick said under the pressure of her gaze.
“What’s your name?” Kiki asked.
“Come on, Billy,” Rudy said. “Put your eyes back in your head. We gotta go.”
“What? What I did?” he asked, but his eyes were locked with Kiki’s.
“You wanna help me stack shirts, Kiki?” Randy asked.
“Not right now.” There was a big smile for Billy on her face.
“So, Soup, you still wanna play for me?” Rudy asked.
“Yeah. Damn right.” He saw Chevette smiling at him and Kiki leaning toward Billy Slick. He could smell the Delta on the sweat of his friends.
“You get Randy here’s number. He gonna be my business agent. Right, Randy?”
“Sure thing, Mr. Wise.”
“All right.” Rudy was looking at the boy, at his hair actually.
“Give Billy here how he could get in touch wit’ you and he’ll tell you what we could do tomorrow.”
Randy scribbled his phone number on a brown paper bag. He handed the bag to Billy but the big man hardly noticed. He was talking to Kiki while she studied his face.
“Come on, Billy,” Rudy said again.
Rudy left with Billy and Cholo. Sono and Chevette hung around with the kids nearby. But before Soup could talk to them he turned to Kiki again.
“What’s the matter wit’ you, girl? Why you drinkin’ like that?” Soupspoon was really worried.
“It’s okay, honey. I can take it. I can take it.”
Her arms felt cool around Soupspoon’s neck as she whispered, “That was beautiful, honey. I knew you were something. I knew it.”
They walked together, Kiki draped over him, to Randy. He was sulking and counting the money from Soupspoon’s bucket.
“Forty-two dollars not counting the twenty-dollar bill somebody put in. Sixty-two in all.”
“Man, if I made money like that back in the old days in the Delta I might coulda retired.”
“It’s all yours, Mr. Wise.”
“Uh-uh, Randy. We partners, so we split it.”
“But I got the shirts.”
“Don’t matter. Don’t matter at all. You got me here and I’ma pay ya for it.”
Kiki slid from Soupspoon to the ground next to Randy’s feet. She put her head on his lap and he moved his dusky fingers in her hair.
The afternoon set was more popular than the morning. Sono and Chevette came back. The little girl liked dancing with Chevette. The baby boy was asleep most of the time in Sono’s arms.
Music came back to Soupspoon from a time so long ago that it didn’t even seem real anymore. He felt like he was making up the music. There wasn’t a thing he had to worry about. He didn’t even mind the pain.
They made eighty-three dollars in the afternoon. Randy gave Soupspoon ninety-seven dollars in bills and kept the change for his “bank.” Kiki sobered a little but was hungover. She went with Randy to take his shirts to the station wagon while Soupspoon looked after the door and cinder blocks.
Sono and Chevette came up with the children and a big bulky-looking young man. They came over to Soupspoon while he was packing away his guitar. The little girl Hamela was crying and Sono tried to calm her down. Soupspoon liked Sono more then, because she wasn’t yelling at the child. But he really liked Chevette. There was something about a woman-child with a baby in her arms that made him feel good.
“What’s the matter with your leg, uncle?” Chevette asked.
“Musta been sittin’ funny. You know you had me workin’ hard out there.”
Chevette showed him her teeth. “You was workin’ fo’you. I ain’t done mithin’.”
Soupspoon held out his hand to the big young man and said, “Atwater Wise, but my friends call me Soupspoon.”
“Gerald Pickford, but call me Gerry.” The young man’s voice was high and crackly but Soupspoon had heard worse in men. It’s better to be a big man, he always said, if you got a girl’s voice.
And Gerry was big. He was barrel-chested and long-armed. His face was all pushed together and sharp like a wedge. He wasn’t a pretty man by any means.
“I’m hungry,” Chevette said. “Why’ont we go get sumpin’ t’eat.”
“I cain’t go with you guys,” Sono said. “I got the kids here.”
“We could take them to Swenson’s,” Gerry offered. “They could have some ice cream.”
“Ice cream,” Hamela said.
“I got money from my guitar right chere in my pocket. The sundaes is on me.” Soupspoon looked straight into Chevette’s eyes.
Randy drove up and looked around for any extra shirts he might have left. Then he flipped down the back door of the station wagon and started to load in cinder blocks. Without a word Gerry lent a hand.
“Where’s Kiki?” Soupspoon asked.
“She’s asleep in the backseat.”
“You need help, Randy?” Soupspoon picked up his guitar case.
“No, sir. We got this. Jump in.”
“Naw, uh-uh, don’t worry ’bout me. We goin’ out. Tell Kiki that I’ll be back later on.”
Randy looked at the girls and gave a quick smirk. “You got it, Mr. Wise. You want me to take your guitar?”
“No, no. I got it.”
Twenty-One
Big lumbering Gerry and Soup-spoon went with Chevette, Sono, Hamela, and baby George to the ice cream parlor on Mercer. The adults had hamburgers. Hamela had chocolate ice cream with strawberry syrup and George had his mother’s milk. When everybody was through, George started whimpering and Gerry picked him up in his big hands. After a while George stopped crying and even smiled for his big playmate. Soon the baby was sleeping in the crook of Gerry’s arm. His tiny lips pushed in and out and his little chest pumped like a bird’s.
“That music was really good, Mr., um, Mr. Wise,” Gerry said. He was whispering.
Soupspoon smiled at the gentleness of this awkward, high-voiced man.
“Call me Soup. And thank ye for the compliment.”
“I mean it. It was real good.” Without looking he stroked George’s forehead with his finger. Sono smiled in spite of her taciturn nature.
“You two married?” Soupspoon asked.
The question brought a sad frown to Gerry’s face. He looked over at Sono with dread.