Trust Fund Baby ~ 37 A Satire

Chapter 37 

I flashed my GQ smile headlined by sparkling veneers and took a step toward Evelyn extending my hand to shake hers. I may as well tried shaking hands with a zombie. Evelyn stopped and stared at my hand as if it were covered with infested sores. She picked up her walker and jabbed it me as if she were in a cage with a lion and she the lion tamer. Evelyn  said, “Filthy rich white boy, you keep your hands off me. You ain’t going fect me with any disease you got.”

“You go Evie,” the old doorman hollered. He went for overkill, “He takes another step toward you it be the last step he gonna take before he meets the good Lord and gots to splain why the rich stay rich and don’t help the little folk.”

J stepped in, “You two hold on. M hasn’t done anything to be attacked. How would you like it if he treated you this way.”

Oh my heart, hold together. My deep dark dish of chocolate delight sacrificed her body to save me. I can’t lose this woman, I told myself. My GQ grin flew off to the Caribbean. I replaced it with a foolish grin and shrugged my shoulders. Evelyn squinted at me behind thick glasses held by bright red plastic frames bought at Walmart. 

She said, “I can’t make out the color of your eyes, what color eyes you got?”

“Mama, the color of his eyes is not important,” said J.

I tried to be helpful. I said, “My eyes are the color of the sky on a cloudless day. They sparkle with love for J like diamonds reflecting the bright sun.”

“J what you doing with dumb ass filthy rich white boy? He thinks he gonna sweet talk me like he sweet talked you. If his eyes not be brown then he can’t dance. Any woman who got a right mind knows if a man can’t dance, he can’t perform when it counts.”

Before J could save me again, I said, “I can dance. I can tango. I can foxtrot. I can samba…”

Evelyn interrupted me, “What kind of fool dances you talking about. Those dances so old, the old movies don’t show them anymore.”

“Mama, please. Let’s go to supper. You promised you’d behave yourself,” pleaded J.

The doorman called over, “You want to borrow my pepper spray, Ms. J? He might be one of those Cue Clucks Clams.”

J waved the doorman off, and guided Evelyn out the sliding glass doors toward my M760i. Surely, the best BMW would impress her. 

“Where’s the car?” snarled Evelyn.

I was already ahead of J and Evelyn. I held the rear door open for Evelyn just like Oscar does for Mother, Father and me. 

“I ain’t going to no funeral. I don’t want to ride in a funeral director’s car. The bus will be by in an hour. We can wait on the street for the bus. Where we going anyway?” Evelyn was growing more belligerent by the second. 

I was about to tell J and Evelyn of the reservation I made at Collins Seaside Restaurant. There is market price for seafood and then there is Collins price for seafood. A simple meal of three ounces of broiled cod, three asparagus spears, and small baked potato was $32.95. Salad was an extra $14.95. The cheapest wine started and $350 per bottle. J shook her head at me and the words in her eyes read, ‘Let me answer. Don’t not say a word.’

J said, “M is taking us to Lonnie’s Family Diner. It was his idea. He loves black eyed peas, deep fried okra, hush puppies, and corn on the cob soaked in butter for two days.”

“Does he like his steak with the fat trimmed or with the fat left on the steak?” asked Evelyn. I’m sure she has the checklist for men who want to date J. I wish Mother could take this test for me. It’s tough. 

“He likes his food the same way Deter likes his food, with all the trimmings. You’ll see, he’ll even eat the fat and sop up the steak juices up with his butter roll.”

I wanted to vomit. I fought a gag reflux. I made a mental note to check into a spa for detoxing. I read something about a coffee enema. That is a waste of good coffee, but it may be the only thing to save my life and clean my colon after this meal.

Evelyn balked at sitting in the back seat. She said, “I ain’t sitting back there. I got to see where I’m going. You not going to trick me and take me to a nursing home. This is what happen to Della Smith. Her daughter tole her they were going for an ice cream. Ha! Some ice cream. They took her to Dairy Queen and got her a small cone. She made Della sit in the back seat. Della thought they was going for a ride. The road from Dairy Queen to the nursing home. It took three security guards to get Della in her room. They had to sedate her with a shot right through her dress and panties. No, I am not going to sit in the back seat.”

J rolled her eyes toward me. I shrugged my shoulders and opened the passenger side door. J said, “Mama, you know I wouldn’t treat you like Della’s daughter treated her.”

“That’s what they all say. You didn’t ask my opinion about dating a filthy rich white boy. There are plenty of rich black men around. You coulda gone gold digging for one of them if you wanted to be rich.”

“Mama, I am not a gold digger. Can we all be nice for two hours?” begged J.

Evelyn scowled, slid into the front seat. J helped her to fasten her seatbelt. J got into the back seat and sat directly behind me. The actual distance to Lonnie’s Family Diner was four point two miles. It felt like four hundred and two miles. Evelyn spoke once during the short ride, “I got my cell phone in my hand and I know how to use it. I memorized nine one one. You touch me. You try to take me to a nursing home, I’m calling the police and your white ass will be in jail with the brothers and they take care of you for hurting me.”

I gripped the steering wheel as tight as I could. I didn’t want to take a kidnapping or attempted rape rap on an 80 year old woman whose daughter sat in the back seat.

The next words spoken were by J, “There it is. M, pull up to the front. I’ll get out with mama and we’ll meet you inside.”

I wasn’t prepared for what happened next.


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