Magda sat at a table by herself in a dark corner of the
restaurant nursing a Long Island Iced Tea.
The rest of the crew was out on the dance floor swaying, bobbing, and
egging Soja on with yelps and whistles.
When the band paused for a break, Soja leapt from the stage and beamed
to Magda from three tables away, “Did
you fuckin’ see that? – that was so much fuckin’fun!”
Without breaking her stare from the back wall of the stage,
Magda flatly replied, “Yeah – kinda hard to miss, girl.”
“Hey you want to kick it for a
while – you know, backstage party?”
“What
fuckin’ backstage; you mean their bus?
Soja I don’t know if that’s a good idea – I heard about those
dudes.”
“C’mon!
Shit live a little.”
“I am
livin’ homegirl. Don’t you think you’re
a little drunk for that shit?”
“I can
handle myself.”
“Yeah –
anyway I’m just gonna go home.”
“Whatever –
you still takin’ Jacque – he’s pretty handsome huh?”
“Yeah –
I’ll take him home. You sure you not
coming?”
“Geez you
act like a fuckin’ old maid.”
“Whatever. Do your thing.”
“Fuck you.”
The next morning back at Magda’s place Duck and LC were sunk
in the couch watching cartoons.
“Man,
Sylvester’s a fuckin’ playa hayta.”
“No shit -
so’s Daffy Duck. Pepe Le Pew’s fuckin’
pimp though– he just need some Tres Flores to cover up the skunk smell.”
“Yeah that
pussy he’s chasin’ need to smoke some fuckin’ weed and she’ll get down.”
“No shit
huh.”
Magda alerts the boys she’s eavesdropping from the kitchen, “You
guys are fuckin’ hilarious.”
“Where Soja
at?”
“ I think
she stayed at Clair and them’s.”
“Oh. You
got any Fruit Loops or anything like that?”
“Yeah I
think I got some Capn’ Crunch.”
“Coo’”
As the brothers were devouring their cereal the front door
opened gradually and Soja slipped in as if it were still the middle of the
night. Magda stopped in her tracks,
mouth half open, failing to mask her disappointment. “Oh hey, s’up Soja.”
“Hey.”
“So . . . you all right? You look wrecked girl.”
“Yeah, I think so – I don’t
remember a fuckin’ thing – where are the boys?”
“Kitchen.”
“Oh, well we should talk later, but
I think they drugged me or something.”
“Well you were pretty shitfaced.”
“Yeah, but I don’t usually black
out.”
“Did you smoke a lot too?”
“Yeah, I don’t really remember
anything after the third joint.”
“Shit Soja is everything, I mean .
. .?”
“I don’t know I gotta get ready for
work.”
When Soja got to work her mom was standing at the door
supporting her weight with the stroller.
Before Soja was within talking distance Mary Blackdog forced
out, “Hi baby, got any money?”
“Just a few bucks – got any food
stamps?”
“No.”
“Shit, what am I supposed to feed
the boys?”
“They could stay with us.”
Soja lifted her baby sister from the stroller, cradled her
on her shoulder and stroked her hair.
“No, mom – what about Sunshine is
she okay?”
“Yeah, she’s good.”
“Where is she?”
“Back at the house with Mike.”
“Shit mom you can't leave her there with him!”
“Fuck you.”
“Go get yourself fixed up before
you fuckin’ hurt the baby, mom. Here’s
ten.”
“Thanks Soja.”
“You know CPS is coming any day.”
Mary ignored Soja’s last statement, whisking the baby away
and strapping her back in the stroller.
Soja worked like a statue throughout the day, trying to
piece together the night before but nothing came, and there was a throbbing
pain that consumed her abdomen.
Back at Clair’s the Native Club was holding an emergency
meeting to finalize the Powwow preparation.
“Once she
gets her mind set, there’s no stopping her . . .”
“Especially
when she’s drunk.”
“I mean
that’s some embarassing shit –she don’t gotta do that, she could get any guy.”
“Bullshit,
she couldn’t get me – no fuckin’ way.”
“Shut up –
like you wouldn’t hit that.”
“No way
man, the way she act it’s a total turn off.”
“Oh I see –
you looking for a lady.”
“Yeah,
what’s wrong with that?”
“Good luck
man, this is the nineties.”
“Hey there
are plenty of well-bred ladies out there.”
When Claire’s temple rubbing and ceiling staring was
ignored, she finally took charge, “I
can’t believe what I’m fucking hearing – Can we get on with the meeting? –It’s
Saturday.”
“Yeah, less
than a week to go.”
“We really
need to finalize this dinner. So what’s
up with the fish?”
“Well, Kim
Sanders says he’s putting a net in tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?
what if he doesn’t get any?”
“Well we still
got some frozen fall salmon.”
“What are
we doing for backup – burgers, chicken?”
“Hell no.”
“Got any
bright ideas?”
“No man,
just relax - we’ll get the fish.”
“Okay,
who’s going shopping, Amanda and Jaque? Got the P.O. yet?”
“P.O.?”
“Yeah the
purchase order for co – you were supposed to be working on it.”
“I thought
you just had a card to give me or something.”
“Oh my god
– haven’t we been through this before?
Come by the office first thing Monday.”
“Okay, what
else we got – vendors, raffle, program is set right? Everyone confirmed?”
“Except for
the Aztec dancers. They need gas money up front.”
“What’s the
backup plan in case they don’t show?”
“Not another damn Inter-tribal.”
“Whatever
Speghee, why don’t you just get up there and read some poetry?”
“Uh, maybe
we could just do a ladies’ choice round.”
“Yeah, hell
of a choice.”
****
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