"HARRY & IVORY" – Chapter 15

"Harry & Ivory"

A love story you have not heard before.

   Chapter Fifteen

    "Broken In"

    It was morning in full swing, and the rumble of traffic on the expressways off in the distance reasserted itself in Harry's consciousness. Soon he would be at the boat-yard – late. But the Cubans would want to see his excuse, to see Ivory. They would not have a problem with her being black. Not as pussy, anyway. His Cuban brothers, his city family now, all aliens, all men.
    When Harry heard the shower water finally start up, he pulled on a clean pair of jeans and went to the kitchen to start breakfast. As soon as he had the grits soaking and the bacon simmering, he knocked on the bathroom door. "May I come in?"
    "Okay...."
    Ivory was behind the shower curtain, the water at a slow trickle. Harry popped a finger against the curtain plastic.
    "Let me look at you for a second, okay?"
    "Okay...."
    He pulled the curtain aside and looked in. She was higher than him now, her eyes looking down into him, her sleek body glossy black. She interrupted her pout with a brief smile, then looked away.
    "I'm in love," Harry said.
    "Mmmm - hmmmm."
    He pulled the curtain to and headed for the kitchen, an aching erection growing against his jeans. "Damn!" Harry had been horny since he was ten years old, but nothing like this. He tried to concentrate, and turned the flame up under the grits. He opened the refrigerator for the eggs. He had to think hard to realize it was too soon to start the toast.
    She'll be in the bathroom forever. Well, good. Squeaky clean.
    Country eggs. Dark brown, thick shells, and orange yolks.
    Thanks for telling me about Ivory, Janey!
    It was Janey's chore to get the eggs every day, and wash them, and put them up. It was a chore she said she liked.
    If this hard-on would go down I could finish breakfast!
    Harry looked at the stove and the refrigerator, trying to figure what he was leaving out.
    Set the table! Get out some real napkins!
    Maybe I should just fuck her again now and get it over with.
    LET HER HAVE A HAPPY MORNING. IT'S HER FIRST DAY HERE.
    Yes, Lord.
    AND SHE'S AWAY FROM HOME....
    And she doesn't need to see me with this hard-on! Harry tried to concentrate on something else – everything except Ivory and sex. He tried picturing home, and Perry, and Pounder and Pumkin (oops!), and his reefer plants all budded out in the fall and dancing in the wind.
    He pictured Annie naked, and the erection began its retreat.
    Ivory entered the kitchen just as Harry was buttering the hot toast.
    "You want grape jelly with it? Blackberry jam? Wait! Stop! Turn around, Ivory. Beautiful! You had that outfit in your knapsack?"
    Ivory smiled and turned completely around, her wide, polka-dot skirt whirling about her long legs. Peasant blouse. She was a princess from another time. A cult priestess. He wanted to get up from the table to hug her, to feel those neoprene tits mashing against his bare chest, to roam his hands over her chunky-little ass, but....
    "Sit down and eat. I'm late for work. I know that's not your fault, but nevertheless...." He tried to sound cheerful about everything. Her first day....
    "You have to go to work today?"
    "Yeah. Don't worry. You can come along. I'll take good care of you. You look great! Ivory, I am so proud. You're a star!"

* * *

    The time clock had been removed from the wall. In the office, they paid Harry for his last two weeks in cash. Bo was there – Harry had heard them page him from the yard – and Bo's son, Timmy. Timmy looked very secure in a shirt and tie, and Cuban shoes with stacked heels. Timmy handed Harry another envelope, holding a finger to his lips. "Cash bonus," he said softly as they walked outside. "For keeping your mouth shut about the Cubans in case any reporters or whatever come by."
    "Yeah?"
    "They're buying out the yard. Everything. All you know is what you worked on – installing electronics in the boats. Deal?"
    "That's all I do know! What about this bonus? How much? Is it going on my W-2?"
    "No. I don't know how much."
    "My son, the big-shot," Bo said. He spit, and burped.
    "Bo's staying here," Timmy said. "And I'm leaving to manage the office at the trucking company. Boat haulers and flatbeds – I start tomorrow. The old James Company yard down the street. When you finish up on those boats you're working on now you can quit if you want and come work for me. I want you to complete the truck-driving course you're taking, though, and get your CDL certification. Then we'll put you in a truck if that's what you still want."
    "Sure!"
    "Well, the Cubans here'll probably pay you in cash every day – as long as they can get away with it. You may not want to leave. And no time clock. They seem to trust you."
    "They took the time clock out already," Bo said. "Guess they trust everybody!"
    "I saw it. They're all family," Harry said. "You'll probably be the first one to abuse it."
    "Yeah? I got here on time today and you got here late. With your new play-toy. Yuk! You find her washed up on the beach somewhere facing Haiti?"
    "Knock it off, Daddy!" Timmy lowered his voice. "I saw her, Harry. She's beautiful."
    "Thanks, Timmy." Harry's heart felt heavy, though. Everything was changing too fast. One false move and his whole world could slip out from under him. There were no guarantees anymore – not that there were before, but...
    "Them Cuban niggers, well, I mean: the new owners, they have the purchasing department all pissed off about your project over there, Harry."
    "I'll stop by there before I leave," Harry said. "I think I know what it is."
    "Before you leave? Another day off?"
    "I'll be here tomorrow."
    "On time?"
    "Daddy...."
    "No time clock. For twenty-five years I've been on the job on time – punching in on time – and now because of you dopeheads and freaks I get here on time and nobody knows it!"
    "God knows it," Harry said.
    Bo spit.
    "He's right, Daddy. God knows it."
    Bo's bleary eyes looked into Harry's. "Well, then I guess He knows you're fucking niggers, Harry."
    "Daddy, God made his lady-friend."
    "I'll kill you for that, Bo," Harry said evenly.
    "Harry, God made Daddy, too. God made each and every one."
    "Made He them."
    Bo sighed and stomped off.
    Harry spent the next hour-and-a-half running back and forth between the Cuban project and the purchasing department. When he finally had his paperwork straightened out, the shade in the parking lot had moved and Ivory was sitting inside the pickup in the sun.
    "I'm sorry it took so long, Baby!"
    Ivory sat there motionless, eyes straight ahead.
    Harry climbed in behind the wheel, then had to raise up to pull the fat envelopes out of his back pocket. He pulled the bills out of his pay envelope to check that it was all there. He had figured there would be about eight-hundred dollars after taxes but there were fifty twenty-dollar bills there, and no account slip with the deductions.
    No taxes!
    And no insurance deduction....
    No health insurance!
    He shoved the bills down into his left-front pocket and tossed the envelope into the litter bag. He looked at Ivory.
    "So! Seeing that money puts a smile on your face?" He tore into a corner of the bonus envelope and his heart speeded up. Hundreds! He handed the envelope to Ivory. "Put this in your purse for now, okay? My jeans are packed."
    Ivory nodded solemnly and shoved the money deep down into her antique purse. It was a large shoulder bag. Tooled leather, and beads. A hippie princess purse. When Harry was younger, he fell in love with every bra-less girl he saw with long-hair, bare feet, and a big stash-purse.
    "I love you, Ivory."
    "Mmmm - hmmmm."
    Harry remembered how much Ivory seemed to love to eat, regardless how lean she was. "Want to stop somewhere to eat?"
    Ivory nodded. "But I don' wan' no fancy place right now. McDonald's be okay, or Chicken Unlimited, an we can eat in the car."
    "In the car?"
    "Well.... We be alone that way."
    "Not be seen?"
    "Well, yes."
    "We're in Miami! We can do what we want here! It's neat here!"
    "Well, okay...."
    The cantina was only a few blocks away and since it wasn't lunchtime yet, Harry was able to park under the banyan tree out in front, dark and cool – where he could show off Ivory and Love Jones when the workers from the boat-yards would come trickling in. He coaxed Ivory out to one of the make-shift, outdoor tables and they sat on insecticide drums with cushions on top, and sipped beer and munched on empanadas. Ivory sat perfectly erect, turning her Corona bottle around and around in her hands.
    "I like Busch beer sometime...."
    "Oh, Baby, I'm sorry. I didn't ask."
    Busch....
    Every litter-bug in the world drinks Busch. Everywhere you go – Busch cans. All over the ground. On every road. In every parking lot. And those silly, blue mountains on the cans with the snow on top. Dumb.
    "Get out the envelope," Harry said suddenly. "Before it get's crowded here. I want to see how much is in there."
    Ivory smiled and dug the envelope out of her purse. She pushed it toward Harry.
    "You count it," he said.
    Ivory sent him a smokey look and slit the envelope open cleanly with a snick of her brightly-painted thumbnail. Limp and raggedy hundreds. Some fifties. Harry looked around.
    "Five thousan'" Ivory whispered.
    "Okay."
    Ivory shoved the stack back into the envelope, looking just a little frightened when she returned his smile.
    "There will be more," Harry said, hoping she could be proud of him now. "For a while, anyway. Then I'm either going to drive a truck or stay with the boat-yard – I guess that decision is a ways off."
    "A truck?" Ivory pointed a finger back to the road, then quickly withdrew it. "No, I don' think.... Not like that one." She lowered her eyes and Harry turned around.
    "Yeah," he said. "Like that one!" They watched the huge eighteen-wheeler pull away at the green light. Bright-red tractor and sleeper. Aluminum wheels. Stainless steel trailer.... Harry saw the gleam in Ivory's eyes, but she looked down again, saddened by something, still clutching the envelope in both hands.
    "I jus' be dreamin'," she said.
    "You, too? Ivory, put the envelope back in your purse. Listen. Dreams come true. They do! They do for me!"
    "You have your family. Your wife. She want to be goin' along."
    "Shit, Ivory. She thinks the whole idea is dumb. She wants me to find a job near home. At a gas station. Or the Seven-Eleven. No way!"
    I need to stop at the PO – send Annie some money.
    "Mmmm - hmmmm." Ivory sadly snugged the envelope down to the bottom of her purse.
    "This beer and this food is so good!" Harry said. "And you are so pretty. And the sun is out, and it's getting so nice and warm. It's a beautiful life, Ivory!"
    "Mmmm - hmmmm."
    Harry tried to understand. Was it this place he liked so much? Soon it would be alive with hard-working men from the boat-yards. Cubans and Anglos, and immigrants from everywhere. But mostly Cubans. Castro-haters. Cold, hard cash. Fat wives at home. Fancy houses. Spoiled children who spoke fluent English and Spanish. The big houses and the family kept distant from the husband's dope business and his whores. Miami, Florida, USA. Land of the free.
    Ivory was watching a young, tall, muscular black man who was setting up his lunch at the next table. The man smiled at Ivory and she gave him a big smile back.
    Harry's heart burned. "Ivory?"
    "Mmmm - hmmmm."
    "Are you happy?"
    "Well...."
    "You don't really like me, do you."
    "Well – you're a nice man, but...."
    silence....
    "Ivory – listen – this morning when I woke you up.... I know what I did. But I didn't do it because I don't care about your feelings. I did it because I'm obsessed with you. Feeling you right there in my arms like that, well, I couldn't stop. I couldn't wait. I was afraid I might never get another chance and if..." Harry was about to say: if I let you go without getting in you, the angels would never forgive me. But Ivory might think that was nutty. Crazy.
    "We don' have to talk about it now."
    "I'm sorry, Ivory."
    "It's not the firs' time...."
    Another stab of pain cut Harry in the gut and began to glow there. She was sitting so erect, so serene – colorful and unique – eye-catching – in her pretty clothes. And those big, gold, hoop-earrings. Ivory was so black and so – African!
    Harry suddenly realized he wanted to get her away from this place before the lunch-hour rush.
    They stopped at home and squirreled away some of the money, Harry noticing again that the sight of a quantity of money put an instant smile on Ivory's face. "Sometime my Daddy, he too broke to put gas in the truck. An' my sister an' me, we roll up pennies from the penny jar. We keep a nickel jar, too, an' Mama, before she got sick, she kep' her own jar under the bed."
    "I don't like to be that broke, but I have been. It's scary. I try to keep ahead with the money now. When I was a kid Dad always had money but I didn't appreciate it then. I didn't appreciate him then. I wish I could tell him now. He had a big church in Chicago and he sent me to private schools, boarding schools, so I wouldn't embarrass him at the parsonage, I guess. No. So I would get a good education, too." (Ivory, making herself up in the bathroom, taking all of this in – Harry standing in the open doorway from the kitchen, watching her, knowing his life was alien to her, trying to explain it, trying not to exaggerate). "I was born in Florida City, where my mother's from, and I remember moving to Chicago as a kid. So different! I got to learn my way around the city but I missed Florida, and I missed Miami, too. When I was fifteen I ran away for the first time and came back down here. I lasted two months. They didn't have hot-lines back then like they have now where every time you have some shitty little problem there's a number you can call. I was broke and hungry! No money.... When I finally gave in and called my parents they told me to come on home but they wouldn't send me the money for it – they wanted to teach me a lesson. And they did. I hitchhiked all the way back up there hungry."
    A car honked. It was their cab. Harry had called it because he didn't like parking Love Jones downtown, the radio antenna too high and wanging against the ceilings of the parking garages. The chance of his stereo and his tools getting ripped off. Harry had promised to take her shopping. "You won't believe some of the shops, Ivory!"
    On the way down the stairs to the cab, Ivory said: "I hate to be wearing these same shoes."
    "Hint hint. Did you bring any others?"
    "No.... Well, I have my zoris."
    "We'll take you to a shoe store first, okay? And the plural of zoris is zori."
    Ivory stopped abruptly and Harry almost smacked into her. She looked up at him from two steps down. Right into his eyes. "I know what the plural of zori is. I ain' dumb."
    "I'm sorry, Baby. I do that all the time with my kids, correct them, and I..."
    "An' I'm not your baby, an' I'm not a kid."
    "You mean, you ain't no kid."
    "Dat right!"
    Harry bit his lip, and fought a smile. At the bottom he tried to hug her but she did not hug back. "Ivory, you better do something – give me a kiss or something – the cab driver's watching."
    Ivory smiled and gave Harry a quick kiss. The cab driver was outside, leaning against the passenger door. A middle-aged blonde lady with frizzy hair and a black, leather motorcycle cap. "Honey," she said to Ivory, "I'd give two golden Cubans if my old man would call me baby just once."
    "Mmmm - hmmmm."
    "What are you doing out of the cab?" Harry said.
    "That's my dog over there. He's wetting tires."
    Harry watched the large German Shepherd piss all over Love Jones' right-front wheel. "The company lets you take guard-dogs along now?"
    "No."
    "Take us to Lincoln Road. We're going to get Ivory some fancy shoes and stuff."
    "And stuff, huh?"
    "Dat right!" Harry said. He looked at Ivory, who was not about to register any sign of having heard that.
    "Woofer sits in front. He likes to look out the windshield. He gets motion sickness looking sideways."
    "By all means." Harry helped Ivory into the back. She did not scoot over so he had to run around to the door on the other side.
    Must be her first time in a cab....
    "Take the scenic route. Take your time." Harry tried to snuggle up to Ivory but she sat rigidly upright, her head turned toward the side window. She spoke for the first time when they neared the MacArthur Causeway.
    "All these boats...."
    "You're not from around here, Honey?"
    "No.... But I been to Apalachicola once. An' I been to Pensacola."
    Visions burned through Harry's brain of sweating black men pressing Ivory down against dirty, uncovered mattresses. His beautiful lady.
    Lincoln Road. Closed to vehicles except for the electric trams. Harry and Ivory took the tram ride up and down the length of the shops before stopping for an ice-cream. Harry ordered a hot-fudge sundae and Ivory ordered a banana split. "They got a picture of one up there," she explained, "'an I never had one before."
    Harry leaned over the little table and kissed her cheek. She smiled briefly, the anger apparently gone now. Harry was glad the weather was holding up so Ivory could get a good, first impression. And the air! On this day especially, the air had that special Miami scent: the funk of the ocean with the tropical scent of exotic flowers in bloom – with just a trace of automobile exhaust. Harry remembered the gray, bleak skies of Chicago, slushy snow and thick diesel.
    "So many different kinds of people walking by, huh, Ivory?"
    "'An they all be dressed so nice...."
    Harry realized he was usually high doing things like this, and that he hadn't had a hit of reefer since he'd picked Ivory up. Better stay that way, too! Stay on your toes.... "Well, when we finish up here we'll start you shopping. But you know – I've never seen you dressed in anything that wasn't beautiful and unusual."
    "You ain' seen me that many times."
    "No, but I'll bet I never see you in baggy shorts or one of those I'm with stupid T-shirts, or your hair in rollers in public."
    Ivory smiled, an ice-cream mustache on her upper lip. "Nooo.... But my auntie sew my clothes an' she dress like a hippie, so.... But I guess I'm a hippie, too."
    A hippie. Harry wanted to ask her if she knew what a hippie was but he'd already learned not to presume she was ignorant. Even so.... "A hippie, huh? Yup. No regular job. No routine, well, I don't know about your routine. Live one day at a time. No rules."
    "I got rules."
    "So does every other hippie. I thought I was a hippie once. For a long time, actually."
    "My auntie, she run off to California in 1967. She tol' me. An' she did that LSD. She run off wif' a white man an' my uncle, he divorce her."
    "You're kidding! No, I know you're not kidding. Well! That's neat! I think I'm beginning to get the picture! Hey, Ivory, you ever do acid yourself?"
    silence....
    "If you did, you can tell me. It would explain some things. I did it a lot – years ago. Sometimes I think, maybe I did one trip too many."
    "No."
    "Did you ever want to?"
    "Nooo.... My auntie, she tol' me I don' need it."
    "So tell me about Pensacola." The words came out before Harry had a chance to think about what he was asking.
    "An' she tol' me 'bout the things she saw, when she was trippin', an' she tol' me 'bout the places she wen' to, an' it all soun' like, well, what be goin' on in my head all the time when I'm all alone an' by myself."
    "Oh, Ivory, that's beautiful!"
    Ivory got up from their little table, her banana split only half eaten. So tall in her clogs. "Maybe we better be doin' that shoppin' now. If you help me. I need you to help me pick out."
    "Okay, for sure, but I know you would pick out only neat stuff."
    "Mmmm - hmmmm.... But I need for you to go in an' talk to the lady."
    "For sure, Baby. Oh, I don't mean baby Baby."
    "I know what you mean."
    They stopped at a travel agency window. Posters of cruise ships. The pyramids. Ivory told him she had always wanted to see Egypt. She would take her gun along in her purse, and sneak off into the middle of a pyramid, in the crypt, and be all alone so she could feel "that funny power you get in there." And telling him this, she quickly tacked on that the Pensacola story was a lie.
    "Yeah? You weren't kidnapped? They didn't tie you up there?"
    "Nooo.... An' one day I tol' my Daddy the truth an' he was so angry an' he tol' me the police were still workin' on it, an' I had to go to the police station wif' this doctor an' explain, an' that's all, an' I don' have to talk about it no more."
    "So what about the black guy in Apalachicola? Was that bullshit, too?"
    "No. That's when I said I was in Pensacola."
    "Ohhh...." Harry's heart sank. "So was he a tour-bus driver like you said at first, or did he work at the paper mill?"
    "Oh, he work at the paper mill now. He got fired from that bus."
    "Ivory – that makes me so jealous."
    "Mmmm - hmmmm."
    "Did he rape you?"
    "Noooo.... He was nice, I guess."
    "Did you enjoy sex with him?" Harry hated to hear what he was asking but he was so crazy over Ivory he couldn't stop. He quickly looked from side to side to see if anyone could hear them.
    "Nooo...."
    "Ivory, did you sleep with him?"
    "Well, yes, he only had this little bed – he live in, like, this shack. An' he get angry wif' me 'cause I didn' know what to do, so when he wen' to work he put this movie in the VCR, an' it had all these people doin' bad things, an' I watched it all day, no, it took six hours. An' when he come back he still angry an' he say I didn' learn nothin'. An' then he try to rape me but his...."
    "His what?"
    A family from India, or Pakistan, stopped at the window and looked at the displays and moved on. Harry watched Ivory look them all over, especially the lady with the long, embroidered skirt and the bolero top and her bare midriff. When they moved away, chattering in a musical English, Ivory gave Harry a disapproving look.
    "She wasn't as beautiful as you are," Harry said, (but his heart was beating with the rush of being so close to that exotic and vivacious woman).
    "Mmmm - hmmmm."
    "He tried to rape you and – Ivory, I have to know. I'm so crazy over you!"
    "His – little man – it go limp on 'im an' he started beatin' on me an' he broke this tooth with the gold cap I have now, an' then he was sorry he done it an' he come back wif' a necklace for me but it wasn't real gold an' I threw it away one day."
    "Not real gold, huh?"
    "It was scratchy, an' junky lookin'."
    "So how long did you stay there?"
    "Oh, I stayed a week. I don' like to stay more than a week."
    A week!
    "So did his little man ever get hard?"
    "Nooo.... I don' want to talk about it."
    "Ivory, I'm doing a lot of stuff for you. You can do something for me."
    A local couple walked up to the window. Expensive clothes. Gold watches and rings. Tailored, white shorts. (Harry always had to wonder why working-class women thought baggy shorts and extra-large shirts were fashionable). The couple was discussing various islands in the Caribbean, and Harry thought Ivory would wait until they left or went inside the building.
    "Well, he had this one movie where they tie up these white ladies and then all these men come in an' they fuck 'em all at the same time, an' he made me watch it an' he tied me up an' then he come all over me an' he had to wipe me off."
    The couple stopped talking and looked at Ivory in disbelief. They looked at Harry. Harry shrugged his shoulders. "God made each and every one!"
    "Then there's got to be more than one god," the man said. His companion laughed and looked Harry over again. They went inside.
    "...an' then he hit me on the head an' the next thing I know is he's got this wash-rag an' he's cleanin' me all up an' then he make me promise not to tell my Daddy."
    "You promised, huh?"
    "Him an' his buddy, they took me to Tallahassee an' they put me on a bus but the bus don' stop at home so the driver, he put me off in Ponce de Leon an' I started walkin'. It was real early, an' nobody saw me, so when the police pick me up I tol' them I was in Pensacola 'cause I promised not to tell."
    "You should've had him busted. I'll kill him myself."
    "You done it to me when I didn' want to."
    "Oh, Ivory...." Harry pulled her close and hugged her, but she did not hug back. He became embarrassed, with passersby seeing that she was not responding.
    "Let's go."
    "Mmmm - hmmmm. I need shoes firs', an' I need a swimming suit 'cause in Miami Beach, an' I need some tampons, an' I need batteries for my Walkman."
    "Tampons?"
    "Well...."
    "Well? Remember what you told me?"
    "Well, now that we be doin' it maybe my period start comin'."
    Harry almost said: Baby, that's not how it works but he picked up her hands and kissed them. "I love you so much, Ivory!"
    "Mmmm - hmmmm. An' maybe we could buy me, well...." Ivory cast her eyes down.
    "Ha! Don't be coy! Buy you what?"
    "Oh, I need my own car."
    "A car!" Harry was shocked, but just for a moment. He thought of what Danny had said: "They suck your brain out for a car!"
    Yeah, Danny, maybe, but not this chick!
    "Oh, it don' have to be a new one. But I be dreamin' 'bout it all the time. It be big an' all clean an' shiny, an' it have these big speakers in the back...."
    "Can you drive? Do you have a driver license?"
    Ivory cast her eyes down again. "An' I need batteries for my vibrator."
    "Your vibrator?" Harry grabbed Ivory's hand and led her to a bench where they could sit for a minute, out of the stream of pedestrians on the promenade. It was a long bench but Ivory sat down as close to him as she could. It was a nice feeling for Harry – whether she did it for the security, or for the feeling of being part of a couple. "Did you bring a vibrator along?"
    "Noooo.... I kep it home – I hide it outside. It make noise so I have to use it when nobody home, an' now wif' Mama sick.... So I have a special place outside. Connie always use to be borrowin' it an' then she ordered one in the mail an' my Daddy, he got crazy mad an' he took it away from her, so I keep mine hid away in my special place. But the batteries is almos' run down."
    "Where did you get it? You have a secret place in the woods?"
    "Mmmm - hmmmm. O, Harold, he give it to me."
    "Harold? That's my name! Harold.... How dignified!"
    "My fren' in Apalachicola."
    "Your friend? He beats you up and you call him your friend?"
    "Oh, he's a nice man, I think. He jus' be angry wif' me 'cause he come all the way to get me an' then I don' know what to do in bed, so.... He write me sometime. An' I listen for the mailman every day so my Daddy don't get there firs'. The mail is my job."
    "Do you write him back?"
    "Nooo.... Oh, I write him sometime, but I never mail it. I keep them under my bed. When I mail your letter, I tape a quarter an' a nickel on it so the mailman put a stamp on for me I hope. But I see you got it."
    Harry shook his head and smiled.
    "I never mail Harold's letters."
    "It's okay, baby – Ivory." Harry pictured Ivory's bed and wondered what else was under there.
    "They use vibrators in them movies."
    "Yeah. Does it make you feel good?"
    "Oh, yes."
    Harry sighed. But he was happy. There was hope. And directly across the promenade from their bench was an auto stereo shop. "I've got an idea." Harry stood up and extended a hand to Ivory but she was up like a cat.
    "We'll get your batteries first. And a stereo and a set of good car speakers – we can't buy good stereo stuff back home." Harry caught her eye. "Don't ask. Not yet. But I want to put a smile on your face, a permanent one. You can count on me for trying, anyway. C-batteries? Size C?"
    "Mmmm - hmmmm. An double' A's for my Walkman."
    While he worked with the counterman at the electronics store, Ivory amused herself at the wall of television sets, each tuned to a different channel – so much more than just CBS, NBC, & ABC – the known world back home via the rabbit-ear antenna perched on top of the TV. When Harry had everything just about wrapped up, he wondered what he could get to bribe Sunday with. A new stereo for her car? No, it had one.... Maybe a pair of speakers for the back deck. Sunday, I need you to get me a title for a car. I've got all the numbers written down here. It's not exactly hot, but....
    Harry saw Sunday's face fall. "A Lincoln?!"
    "Sir?"
    "Harry, you've got your dream now. Dreams don't need no Lincoln to drive!"
    "Sir?" The man was showing Harry a partially completed invoice.
    "None of this stuff is made in Taiwan, is it?"
    "All from Japan. Stereo speakers with forked tongue."
    Harry looked the little guy in the eye. Kind of young to be so fast on his feet. "All metric? All left-hand threads?"
    "And tight."
    "I like a four-ten smooth-bore, myself."
    "I can see that. But I should warn you – that drifter out there has been hitting people up for money and your lady seems to be..."
    Harry turned around. Ivory was gone. "Be right back!"
    Outside, in the bright hustle. Ivory was eye-to-eye with a tall Haitian – and she was smiling. The man was dressed to kill in a black zoot-suit and a pink shirt, black shoes which outshone his skin, and a broad-brimmed, gray fedora. He tipped the hat when Harry rushed up.
    "Yes, sir! Bye-bye now, pretty lady!" The Haitian walked away, then turned and waved to Ivory with a gleaming smile. Ivory waved back.
    "Ivory!"
    "He seemed to be nice...."
    "You told me you used to watch Miami Vice on TV. That guy's a con artist! Why did you leave the store?"
    "Oh, he look through the glass an' I seen him an' he motion for me to come out."
    "So you came out. I need to keep a better eye on you – you could've gotten ripped off!"
    "Mmmm - hmmmm."
    Harry sighed. "When we're through shopping, remind me to come back to this store to pick up the speakers and the batteries and stuff. And the radio for your car."
    "My car?"
    "As it was foretold." Harry paused. "Ivory, in the city here, I'm the boss, okay? Very dangerous. I know it all looks neat and harmless. And most of the people are good people, but...."
    "Tell me about the car, Harry."
    Tell me about the rabbits, George....
    She called me by my name! With a real sentence!
    They sat back down on another bench and Harry told her about her new car, (Ivory holding his hand this time). With luck he would be able to sneak her in to see it before he got it down. He wanted Ivory to see what he had seen when he chained the Lincoln up there.
    Fat chance, with Annie home all the time....
    He told Ivory he didn't have a tag for it yet, but...
    "That be okay.... The tag.... If I can keep it at home. An' maybe one day I can learn how to drive...."
    ...learn how to drive....
    It's your color, Ivory! Midnight Blue!
    "'An my special place – if you can drive it in there – I can sit in it an' I can listen to the radio, an' I'll have me my new little puppy-dog an' I'll train him to ride...."
    Harry loved her even more. So sweet and foxy in her polka-dot skirt. "I'll put a brand new battery in it and I'll show you how to crank it up to keep the battery charged. Or if you need to run the AC."
    "That be nice. But I need to be shoppin' now 'cause I need some shorts for on Sundays when Connie an' Daddy an' Mama be visitin' folks I can be washin' an' waxin' my new car."
    Harry pictured Ivory's chunky little ass in white shorts, her long legs, the soapy water....
    When they finally made it home, Ivory began to go through all the packages spread out on the bed. They had spent a lot of money but it was Harry's fault. They bought most of Ivory's clothes in a reasonably priced boutique (Ivory spotting a copy in the window of an outfit she had seen in an old Elle magazine). The Jewish salesgirl was quick to adapt to the two of them. She turned on the charm for Harry, and babied Ivory along at every step, getting her to try things on to model for Harry. "We model some of this stuff at luncheons," the lady said, "but they only fit the models, so I'll discount this one for you!" An elegant, creme-colored suit. A short, pink, pleated dress with large, navy-blue polka-dots. This one's a Patrick Kelly original!" White, short-shorts with little cargo pockets. Two pair of red-tag Levi's which had been broken-in by a professional. "I've been turning this girl down lately – there's simply nobody her size! Until Miss Ivory came in here! The girl's maybe even a bit taller, if you can imagine," the lady said, looking at Harry. "Very pretty. A Eurasian. You'd love her! Now these broken-in jeans are seventy-five dollars – slavery's been outlawed, you know!" Turning to Ivory who is emerging from the dressing room in a one-piece swimsuit, the colors of the rainbow. "Oh, your lady is a dream! A dream!"
    "You see it," Harry said. "I love you for that."
    At home now, Harry was horny but he tried to control it. Ivory looked so happy. "Ivory! Let's take the pickup to Watson Island and watch the seaplanes come and go from Bimini. I want to get you a Chalk's Airline shirt to match mine. And we can get some chow somewhere, too."
    "I think I wear my new Reeboks an' my new jeans. I ain' never thought I be rich enough to have some other lady break-in my Levi's." Ivory was holding the softened jeans to her cheek. Harry tried to picture the Eurasian girl sliding out of them and his heart speeded up.
    They've been washed since then, though. All trace of her gone....
    "I'll never see her."
    "Hmmmmmm?" The happiness left Ivory's face, and her golden eyes found him.

     <end chapter-15>

Humanism with attitude! Rev: 9 April 2005