Blacktop Wasteland(8)

“Bout time you get your ass up,” Kia said, but there was no malice behind it. It was more for Darren’s benefit than anything else. Darren howled with laughter again.

“Oooooh, you said bad words,” Darren whimpered between deep breaths. “You going down there!” he exclaimed. Javon was sitting at the small table, lost in his ear buds. Beauregard thought Javon could have passed for his twin when he was that age. Slim and tall with sleepy eyes. He put Darren down and gently plucked Javon on the ear. Javon snapped his head up and pulled out his ear buds.

“Good morning to you too,” Beauregard said.

“Y’all finish your biscuits so we can go to Aunt Jean’s,” Kia said. Beauregard grabbed a biscuit and dipped it in the gravy that was in a bowl on the table. He plopped the whole thing in his mouth.

“I knew I married you for some reason,” he said through a mouthful of bread. Kia snorted.

“It wasn’t the biscuits,” she said as she slipped by him to put her plate in the sink. He saw her in his mind as the young girl she had been when they first met. She had been dancing on the hood of Kelvin’s car to a funky go-go song. Her wild hair in braids and wearing a black jumper with a white T-shirt. They had all been hanging out at the basketball court in the park near the high school. He had been a teenage ex–juvenile detainee with a two-year-old daughter. She had been an eighteen-year-old high school senior. Three weeks later, they were exchanging promise rings. Four years later, they were married and expecting Javon.

“Can I go to the shop with you today?” Javon asked. Beauregard and Kia exchanged a glance.

“Not today,” Beauregard said. A long time ago, when he had worked in a different industry, he had taken great pains to make sure his private and professional lives never shared the same space. He didn’t want that world to touch his family. He didn’t want it to sully them with its filth. He was three years removed from that place, but he knew it still had teeth. He didn’t want it to reach out and bite his boys or Kia. He kept them away from the shop just in case someone from that world came knocking.

Javon popped in his ear buds and got up from the table. He went and stood by the door. Beauregard knew the boy wanted to hang out with him. He liked cars and he was good with his hands. He hoped Javon would still be interested in cars by the time it was safe enough for him to come by the garage.

“Come on, Darren, let’s go,” Kia said. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed Beauregard on the lips. He could taste peppermint on her breath. He slipped an arm around her waist and returned her kiss tenfold.

“Eww,” Darren said. He stuck his tongue out and rolled his eyes.

“Watch your mouth, boy,” Kia said after she had pulled away from Beauregard.

“I’ll call you on your lunch break,” Beauregard said.

“You better,” she said. She and the boys left. School was out, and Kia worked the ten-to-six shift at the Comfort Inn over in Gloucester. Javon wasn’t quite old enough to watch out for himself and his little brother, so while Beauregard and Kia were working, she took the boys to her sister’s place. Jean Brooks ran a hair salon from the back of her house. The boys got to play with their cousins the way Beauregard used to play with Kelvin and his brother Kaden at his Aunt Mara’s house. Kaden had been dead for seven years. He’d been murdered when he was just twenty-three years old in a motel robbery. Word on the street had been that it had been a setup. Kaden and his buddy had been lured to a motel in Church Hill by some party girls they had met in the club. Church Hill was one of the roughest neigh borhoods in the city of Richmond. It was so bad the postal service had stopped delivering mail there. They had gone there expecting some casual sex and some bomb-ass weed. What they had gotten were two bullets to the head and a closed-casket funeral.

When Kelvin and Beauregard had found the two guys that had popped Kaden and his friend, they had tried to shift blame to the girls. Then they had blamed each other. Finally, they had cried for their mothers.

Beauregard slipped out of his underwear and padded down to the bathroom. He was going to take a shower and head to the garage after making a few stops. As he turned on the water, he heard a chirping coming from the bedroom. It was his cell phone. Kia had taken it out of his pants and put it on the nightstand. He ran to the room and picked it up off the nightstand’s scarred surface. He recognized the number.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hello, is this Mr. Beauregard Montage?” a slightly nasal voice asked.

“Yes, it is, Mrs. Talbot,” he said.

“Hello, Mr. Montage. It’s Gloria Talbot at Lake Castor Convalescent Home,” she said.

“I know,” Beauregard said.

“Oh yes, I’m sorry. Mr. Montage, I’m afraid we have a problem with your mother,” Mrs. Talbot said.

“Has she verbally abused another aide?” he asked.

“No, it’s—”

“Has she peed on someone on purpose again?” he asked.

“No, it’s nothing like—”

“Did she call 10 On Your Side again and tell them the staff was beating her?” he asked.

“No, no, Mr. Montage, it’s not her behavior … this time. It appears there is a problem with her Medicaid paperwork. We were hoping you could come by in the next few days to discuss it,” Mrs. Talbot said.