Cruisin On Desperation. Pat G'Orge-Walker
a pincushion.
“And what’s your definition of hell?” Cill asked. She was in the mood to pay Lyon Lipps back for what he’d done to her sister, Jessie, her friends and to the whole human race.
“What’s with the telephone book?” Birdie asked as her pride and courage slowly began to return. “You ain’t trying to hire a hit man, are you?” From the looks on the other women’s faces, she wouldn’t be surprised if they wanted to do just that and of course, make her pay for it.
“Of course not,” Needy snapped. “Why kill him quickly when we could make him suffer slowly? I said let’s send him to hell, not to the grave. I ain’t trying to do jail time.”
“It ain’t all that bad.” Cill had spoke out before she thought. “I mean, that’s what I’ve heard.”
“Well, it made me the woman I am today,” Mother Blister said proudly. “Don’t nobody wanna mess with me.” Her voice trailed as she took another peek at the Polaroid that lay with its sides bent, secreted in the palm of her hand. She didn’t want to tell the others that she’d found the photo she sought. She was almost certain that it was that same Lyon Lipps that had sweet-talked her out of three months of her pension. At the time it happened, she felt it was payback because she’d stepped out on Slim with a much-too-younger man.
“I thought nobody messed with you because you were old and you had God on your side,” Birdie said, interrupting Mother Blister’s sudden silence. She’d never heard Mother Blister get so riled up.
“It is because I’m old and I have God on my side that demons, spiritual and human, will try,” Mother Blister answered and balled her wrinkled fists. “Who do you think gives me the strength to knock somebody out if they mess with me?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Instead she concentrated on the cotton ball that lay at her feet as she eased the frayed photo back into her pocketbook. She didn’t know why she’d continued to keep it. It was barely recognizable.
“Can we please get back to my plan?” Needy shouted. Her patience was about as thin as a piece of thread. “Think about it. If we want someone to wish they’d never been born, and to be left without a shred of dignity as they drown in payback hell, what should we do?”
A smile started to spread across Needy’s face as she saw the looks of understanding come forth, one by one, from the other women’s faces with the exception of Birdie. “Who do we know who is so cold-hearted that when she walks into a room the furnace kicks on automatically?”
“You wouldn’t,” Cill said without much conviction, as a wide grin appeared on her face.
“I wanted that Lyon Lipps to suffer, but do we have to go that far?” Petunia asked as she started to chuckle.
“Come on now, Needy. What that man did wasn’t all that bad to put him in that situation, was it?” Mother Blister had reached down and grabbed the cotton ball from the floor. She smashed it repeatedly in her hand as she started to giggle as her memory and some sanity returned. “Have mercy.”
“I don’t know if I want any part of this,” Birdie said as she nervously rubbed her hands together. “I don’t know if we, as praying women, should be involved in something that’s evil. After all, vengeance does belong to the Lord.”
“Well, I tell you what. When it’s all over we’ll pray for forgiveness,” Needy replied without conviction. “We’ll just make four reservations at the altar. After all, God knows our hearts, and He knows that we’re just weak sometimes.”
“Aren’t you talking about premeditated sin?” Petunia asked as her smile started to fade.
“Connect the dots, Petunia,” Needy said, exasperated. “If it wasn’t planned or premeditated, would we need to make reservations at the altar for forgiveness?”
“Well, I don’t know about the rest of you but I haven’t used up my seventy-times-seventy quota yet. So, I guess I’m down with the plan.” Petunia went back to grinning; this time with a smile that threatened to split her face.
“Anybody that wants to back out should leave, now.” Needy looked at each of the others. Not one foot moved. The look on Needy’s face went up a notch past diabolical as she folded her arms over her double-D arsenal and continued. “So the plan to destroy Lyon Lipps is a go.”
Even the temperature in the room seem to rise as it finally set in that they were about to go where most women will when disrespected by a man.
“Simply destroying him ain’t good enough for me, but if it’s all we got then it will have to do,” Petunia replied as the other women nodded in agreement.
“Good.” Needy put down the telephone book and reached for the phone. She started pushing the buttons. “You know once we start this there’ll be no turning back.” She let one chubby finger rest in the air for a moment before letting it slowly come down to push the last button.
“I don’t care. Let’s just do it! I don’t know what the plan is but I’m in,” Birdie said. “Let’s get it started so I can go home and anticipate the final date with Mr. Lyon Lipps.”
Suddenly, the old broken clock in the corner started to vibrate instead of chime. The entire room took on an atmosphere of urgency as Needy finished dialing. Several flies dashed themselves against half-opened windowpanes as they tried to escape as if they, too, preferred to die than buzz around those lethal women.
“Ooh, he’s gonna get it!” Petunia whispered to no one in particular as she twisted her skinny hands into the shape of a pretzel.
“Shush. It’s ringing…Hello. May I speak to Sister Ima Hellraiser please, if she can receive phone calls?”
A few seconds later Needy turned towards the other women as she cupped the telephone receiver. “We’re in luck. She made bail but she hasn’t left the precinct yet, so she’s available. When I hang up we’re gonna have to hold hands to pray and thank the Lord for helping her to get out.”
“You know that woman has her own private suite at the jailhouse,” Cill whispered to the others. “She’s a regular there.”
Needy raised her finger again for silence as she spoke.
“How are you doing, Sister Hellraiser?…That’s wonderful. I’m glad you’re going home. How much probation time did you get, this time?…A year? That’s not too bad. Anyway, listen. I have a problem. It’s a man problem…Can we come over in about an hour?…That’s great…Of course, I know the address.”
Needy winked and raised one thumb as a sign of success to the other women. “By the way, do you now take credit cards for your services? No. It’s not my credit card.” Any other time she’d have been insulted but she’d taken this one on the chin. “It belongs to Sister Birdie Tweet—she’s that new white woman in our group.”
Needy gave the women the “okay” sign instead of giving Ima specifics over the precincts telephone. She hung up. Apparently, everyone knew that Ima Hellraiser always thought that a white woman’s ice was always colder than a black woman’s.
That reprobate Lyon Lipps didn’t know it but he was in for the fight of his life. Ima Hellraiser, the gorgeous and only daughter of the infamous Sister Areel Hellraiser, and the niece of the infamous Mother Sasha Pray Onn, was one of ole Satan’s prizefighters and her record was still 100 to 0. She was so dangerous that it usually took an act of Congress and a huge monetary deposit just to get permission for her to visit another country.
If the women of the Oh Lawd, Why Am I Still Single Singles Club had never been on a manhunt before, they were now.
3
After Needy finished her conversation with Sister Hellraiser, she replaced the telephone in its cradle, seemingly in slow motion. Like a queen with well-trained servants, she relished the attention from the others. The silence was thick in her living room, making time stand still.
“Okay,