“Margot!”
Alphonso floats toward her and kisses her on both cheeks before pausing at her lips. “I knew you wouldn’t stay mad at me for long.” She pulls back when she sees he’s high, his pupils large. He rests one hand on the small of her back. “You look stunning. .” he whispers.
“Thank you.”
“Here, come join us.”
He leads her to the group of men. She greets them with a slight nod of her head. “Good evening, gentlemen,” she says. They respond in a tenor chorus. “Evening!” They have the accents of moneyed Jamaicans, their English with the right edge of patois to sharpen their innuendos and help them appeal to the common men they exploit. Alphonso leans back on his chair, his leg up, a cigar in his mouth. He converses animatedly with the other men. He openly caresses Margot’s shoulders, rubs her back, and she leans into him without hesitation. The phone rings, and one man teases Alphonso that it’s his wife who is calling. Alphonso runs to take the call, disappearing into one of the five empty bedrooms for privacy. When he returns, the men laugh. “See! Ah tell yuh it was di wife!”
That’s when Margot gets up to pour herself a drink. The men were mid-discussion when she stood up — something about the monkeys in Parliament who are allowing P. J. Patterson to run the country into ruins since his win last year, and making sure Seaga takes the ’97 election in three years. The girls sit around the men like decorative flowers, pretending to listen to the conversation as the men absently stroke their bony thighs. Poor things, Margot thinks, watching them hold glasses of liquor to their mouths, sipping it like medicine. Suddenly Margot feels maternal. The girl who noticed her earlier catches her eye again. She gets up from the sofa and comes over to Margot at the bar.
“Margot?”
“Yes?”
Margot cannot help but try to place her. “Do I know you?” she asks.
“Are you Thandi’s sister?” the girl asks.
Margot mentally wipes clean the purple eye shadow; the red rouge on the girl’s high cheekbones that goes all the way up to her temples; the beige mask that doesn’t quite fit her deep mocha complexion, making her look like a ghost.
“I’m Jullette,” the girl says, not waiting for Margot to piece it together. “Ah used to live in Rivah Bank. Me and Thandi went to primary school together. Ah remembah you.”
Margot isn’t sure how to respond. Jullette. Jullette? Jullette! Jullete from the river fork. Miss Violet’s daughter. Last Margot heard of the girl, she was sent away after the father left the family. No one knew what happened to him, but since he left, his children scattered all over the place and Miss Violet locked herself in the house.
“How is Thandi?” Jullette asks.
Margot takes a sip of her drink. Before she can begin to imagine what she can say to this girl that won’t threaten to reveal too much about her secret life, Alphonso comes up behind Margot. “Thought you went to the sugarcane plantation to make the drinks.” He encircles Margot’s waist with his arms, and wheels her off. Margot gives a surprised chuckle, grateful to be rescued from the conversation with Jullette.
“It was nice meeting you. .” Margot says.
“Sweetness. They call me Sweetness. Nice meeting you too,” Jullette says in a faraway voice like a pendant lost at sea. How little the splash; how great the effect. Margot leaves the girl standing by the bar.
In Alphonso’s bedroom, Margot cannot stop thinking about Jullette. Had she been doing this all along? Who introduced her to it? She thinks about Thandi again, fear mounting in her throat. She swallows and slips out of her dress. When she turns around to face Alphonso, his head is already lowered to the night table, where he snorts three white lines. He pauses on the second and offers her some. “You seem a little fidgety. You should loosen up a bit.”
She shakes her head. “You’re my only drug,” she says, smiling at him, though her mind is still on Thandi.
“Ah, you came ready,” Alphonso says.
“Always.”
“Then what are you waiting for, standing there like a statue?”
“I want to ask you something first.”
“Why not after?”
“I want to know now, before—”
“Margot, for godsakes, I waited all day for this.”
“Do you—”
“What? What!”
“Do you love me?”
Alphonso sits up in the bed. “Do I what?” He looks down at himself, then back at her. “You see this? If this doesn’t say it all, I don’t know what will.”
“But you said—”
“Margot, you know you make a grown man say shit when yuh do what yuh do in bed.”
“So yuh didn’t mean it, then.”
“I love your company. I love how you make me feel when we fuck. . That’s probably what ah meant.”
“And me?”
He scratches his head, the dark hair falling into his face to cover his eyes.
“Where is all this coming from, Margot?” He gives a nervous chuckle. “Are you catching feelings? You know I’m a married man. And you open yuh legs every which way for a handout. Because of you my hotel is in good business.”
Margot cocks her head to the side. And before she can say anything, Alphonso laughs. “Don’t worry about who told me. I have my sources. Do I mind? No. Ah think yuh can do something for me.”
Margot hugs herself in the middle of the master bedroom like an adulteress about to be stoned in Babylon. Who told him? Was it Paul? She knew that prick was an informer. Or was it Blacka? The way that midget looks at her is as if he wants Alphonso for himself. Or could it be Kensington? But the girl always leaves at four o’clock in the afternoon, two hours before Margot does her rounds. Margot could either leave, defeated; or she could stay and secure what she came for.
“What do you want?”
“Must I spell it out?” He reclines on the bed. Margot slowly climbs beside him. “Good girl. The two of us can profit from this. You give me fifty percent of your profit and I make you into a wealthy woman.”
“How exactly will that make me rich?”
“Simple. You know how some hotels sell weed on their property?” Margot nods. “It’s good business. More foreign money. We’ll sell sex. Lots of it. We can make enough to supply millions to the new resort, the one I’ll put you in charge of.” There’s a big grin on his face. “Our clients would be big investors.”
“And I’ll screw them all?” Margot is surprised by the sarcasm in her voice. Alphonso is serious.
“You will recruit and train girls you see fit for the business. You’ll be the boss lady in charge.”
She almost says no. What if Verdene finally takes her up on her offer to build a new life together? What would she say if she found out what Margot did when they were apart? But the money. “I’ll do it,” is what she says. Alphonso reaches for her and brings her ear close to his lips. “Now let’s fuck.” That night Margot fucks Alphonso with renewed drive. She marvels at the way he throws his head back, exposing his jugular vein, vulnerable and pulsating. He grits his teeth, clutches the sheet, and swallows hard — his Adam’s apple slides up and down his neck like a ping-pong ball. For only then, while looking down on him from the height where she sits, rocking like a queen being carried on a bamboo raft across a river, can she feel her power over him. And she’s sure he feels it too.
Maxi pulls into the driveway, his old white Toyota taxi shabby amid the manicured hedges and high, sturdy gates flanked by bushes of bougainvillea and red hibiscus. She told him earlier to pick her up by midnight. “Yuh went to a party up here?” Maxi asks as soon as Margot gets inside his car, smelling of cigars and whiskey. She ignores Maxi’s eyes clocking the thigh-high slit in her dress and her exposed cleavage. She winds the window down on her side. “Jus’ drive,” she tells him.