Out of the Easy(16)

“Get lost, fatso,” said Sonny from the booth in back of me.

Walter scurried out like a frightened squirrel, passing Mother as she walked in.

Mother wore a new red dress with jewelry I had never seen. She slid into the booth, laughing.

“Walter Sutherland. What a pathetic old pig. He’s slow as molasses and then wants you to hug him all night while he cries. I’m so glad he’s never picked me. He’s loaded, though. He generally goes with Sweety. She’s made a mint off him.”

I nodded.

Mother looked at her wrist, admiring her diamond bracelet. “You changed your hair, baby. Looks real pretty.”

“Thanks. You look good too. New dress?”

“Yeah. Cinci’s taking me to Antoine’s tonight for dinner. You know how I love Antoine’s. It’s been years since I’ve been able to go.”

The saliva in my mouth soured. The thought of Mother having a fancy dinner with Cincinnati at Antoine’s was revolting. And what if one of the patrons recognized her stolen jewelry on Mother?

“New Year’s Eve was a real ball this year. You have a good time?”

Mother had told Willie that she didn’t feel well on New Year’s Eve. Now she was saying she’d had a ball. “Yes,” I said. “I stayed in and finished a book.”

Mother rolled her eyes. “You better get your nose out of those books and get busy livin’, Jo. In a couple years, you’ll be past your prime. You’d be something to look at if you wore a little more makeup and a better bra. I was a real knockout at your age . . . until I had you.”

The waitress arrived at our table. Mother ordered a sweet tea. I saw Sonny over Mother’s shoulder, still buried in the newspaper. His ashtray was already overflowing with butts.

“Mother, I’ve been wondering . . . why did you name me Josie instead of Josephine?”

“What are you talking about? Her name wasn’t Josephine.”

“Whose name?” I asked.

Mother took a compact out of her purse to inspect her lipstick. “Besides, aren’t you happy I didn’t name you Josephine? That sounds like a fat old washwoman. Josie’s much sexier.”

Sexier. I looked across the restaurant and saw a mother sitting next to her daughter in a booth, helping her read the menu. She smoothed the little girl’s hair and put her napkin on her lap.

“Whose name was Josie?” I asked.

“Josie Arlington. She was the classiest madam in Storyville years ago. Had a house on Basin. Willie used to talk about her all the time, said she died on Valentine’s Day. So when you were born on Valentine’s Day, I thought of Josie Arlington and named you Josie in her honor.”

“You named me after a madam?”

“Not just any madam, the most high-class madam that ever existed. She was a smart woman. With your brains, Jo, you’d make a fine madam yourself.”

“I have no interest, Mother.” Humiliation bubbled inside of me. I thought about explaining to Charlotte Gates that I wasn’t named after a virtuous character in Little Women. I was named after a woman who sold five-dollar hookers on Basin Street. And my mother thought I should be proud of that.

“Don’t get on your high horse, Jo. What, you think you’re gonna be Cinderella?” She tipped her head back and laughed. Ugly. “You think your life is going to be some fairy tale, hon, like in one of your books?”

The waitress brought Mother her iced tea. I knew what to do. I should have ended the conversation there. I should have left. Instead, I sat in the booth staring at her, wishing that she could be like other mothers, wishing that she were different. Mother would never square up. I knew that.

“So, what did you want to tell me?” I asked.

“We’re leaving,” said Mother.

“What do you mean?”

“Me and Cincinnati.” Mother leaned in toward the table. “We’re going to California. I need you to tell Willie for me, but wait until tomorrow, after we’re gone.”

“You’re going to California.” For some reason, I wasn’t surprised.

She tousled her hair. “It’s time to get outta Dodge. This could finally be my break, going to Hollywood.”

My mother was ridiculous. “Mother, I don’t think it’s wise for you to go anywhere with Cincinnati. He’s dangerous. He beat you. I don’t want that to happen again.”

“Oh, he’s changed, baby. Look at the gorgeous bracelet he bought me.” She extended her arm.

“Who cares, Mother? It’s probably stolen.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe not, but I know you’re too old for Hollywood.”

That did it. I had taken my foot off the brake, and we were barreling toward blackness. Soon we’d be a hideous, mangled mess. Mother lurched over the table and grabbed my wrist.

“I am not too old,” she said through her teeth. “You’re just jealous, and you know it. You’re lucky I didn’t throw you in a trash barrel, you little ingrate. I sacrificed everything for you, so don’t tell me what I am.”

I took a breath and tried to speak quietly. “You don’t mean that, Mother. Stop it. You’re making a scene.” I tried to pull my arm from her grasp. “And you’re hurting me.”