“Okay.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Sue Ellen saw the bikers staring at them and Roxie egging them on.
“Are you trying to pick me up?”
He shrugged.
“Sue Ellen,” Roxie called. “Sue Ellen, come over here, please.”
“Do you want to get out of here?” she asked Andre.
“He looked very discreetly over his shoulder and said, “Maybe that’d be a good idea.”
“Great, let’s go.” She waved to Roxie as she walked quickly towards the door. “See you tomorrow, Rox.”
“Sue Ellen!” she called, but they were already out the door.
“Sue Ellen,” Andre said with the softness of an overnight disc jockey. “That is just the prettiest name I ever heard.”
“Aw, shucks. Thanks.”
“You are so beautiful.”
She walked while he limped down the street. He stopped in front of a minivan. He looked both ways, then slid open the door.
“This yours?” she asked.
“Yeah. I borrowed it.”
She stepped in and saw two child car seats.
“Ignore those. Those belong to my nephews.”
“Okay.”
“You sit in the back there. It’s more comfortable.”
“Okay.”
She climbed over the seats, ducking her head so as not to hit the roof, and plunked herself down on a long seat in the back. He followed.
“Yo, check this out.” He grabbed a remote control that was stuck in the wall and pressed a button. A screen lowered in front of them. “D-V-Fuckin’ D. Can’t beat that shit with a billy-club, yo.”
“Cool.”
The screen came on and a big red puppet was chirping in a high voice. Andre quickly fumbled with the remote and said, “My fuckin’ nephews and this shit.” He hit a few buttons and the screen changed. A tiny, bleach-blond girl was inhaling the cock of a large man with chocolate skin. “There. That’s what I like.” He turned to her. “You like that?”
“Sure. Does it taste like chocolate?”
“Ooo baby, you wanna find out.”
“‘kay.”
He stood up and slid off his underwear, then lay back on the seat. She grabbed his cock. It was pretty big but wasn’t beautiful like Daddy’s. And it didn’t taste anything like chocolate.
“This doesn’t taste like chocolate.”
“Shee-it. Let’s just fuck then.”
“Okay.”
Sue Ellen tumbled on top of him and took a hold of his tall and tender timber. She lay lovingly on his lumber and lashed out loud.
“Woo wee. This is better than the circus!” she cried.
He looked up at her, his gigantic sunglasses and sequined top hat still in place. “You betcha, girlfriend. You ain’t never had nothing like me.”
“Never! Never!”
“Ride the painted pony. Ride it good.”
“Woo wee! This is better than a day off on a Tuesday!”
“Better than a fresh fade and side of con carne!”
“Better than a fifty dollar tip from a farty old foreman.”
“Better than a tax return!”
“Tax return?” she asked.
“Come on. Just fuck me, girlfriend.”
“Woo hoo!” Sue Ellen shouted.
Sue Ellen heard shuffling sounds underneath the seats. “What’s that noise?”
“Oh, that’s nothing.”
She leaned over. In the back of the van, his two buddies were huddled in each corner.
“Don’t mind them,” Andre said.
“I don’t.”
“You don’t?”
“Nah.”
“Cool. Come on out, fellas.”
They climbed over the seat and plunged down in a heap in the middle of the van. They were wearing bright, sequined gowns that matched Andre’s top hat.
“Oh, cool,” Andre said. “You boys changed.”
“Those are nice dresses,” Sue Ellen said.
“You like? Awesome. Get out the wigs boys.”
Andre jumped up and tore off his multi-colored moo moo. He changed the DVD player. His buddies each put on long black wigs and he slipped into a pair of tight sequined underwear. Music came blasting out of the DVD player and on screen, three chocolate women were singing and dancing. Andre and his buddies sang loudly along with the music.
“Stop! In the name of love,” Andre called.
“Before you break my heart,” his buddies returned, clapping and stepping perfectly along with the tune.
“What is this?” Sue Ellen asked; she’d never heard such great music before.
“Ain’t you heard Dina Ross and the Supremiums?”
“Nah, but it’s great.”
Sue Ellen jumped up and danced in the middle of the three men. Andre grinded her midsection while the other two danced right along with the women on the TV.
“You guys know every dance step.”
“Shit yeah. We watch this all the time.”
“All the fuckin’ time.”
The song ended and Sue Ellen stopped. “What happened?”
“Don’t worry, pretty thing. Another song is coming.”
The music came back on and Sue Ellen leaped into Andre’s arms. The music was so exciting. She couldn’t contain herself.
“Give it to me. Let me have it!” She bounced on Andre as he leaned into the edge of the bucket seat and slid off his shiny underwear.
“You better slow down! A brother don’t like to pull it out.”
“Pull nuthin’ out! Give it to me!”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah!”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah!”
“Yeah!” they shouted together. And it was done.
Too much to drink and too much damned fun. And a third little baby was all hers. Nine months later, Elie-Dre was born. It was the last child she’d ever give birth to, she vowed. Soon after, Dr. Kurtsworth tied her tubes, supposedly insuring it would never happen again.
NINE
Who the fuck is she talking to now?
“I need help! Someone’s gotta help me,” I hear Mommy whine.
Her bitch friend says back, “You have to go back to Dr. Kurtsworth.”
“I can’t. He won’t do it. He says it’s too late to abort.”
“Too late?”
“Yes, too late.”
That’s right, Momma. You ain’t gettin’ rid of me. You just can’t fuck with Super Foetus, Biiiaccch!
“Chrissy, what did you do that time? I know you were broke and didn’t use no kinda fancy doctor.”
“Honey, you don’t want to go to him.”
“I have to. I have to get rid of this… this thing in me. I have to! What is his name?”
“His name is Dr. Aburamatoosi. He says he’s legit and all, but…”
“Then give me his number.”
“But, Sue Ellen.”
“His number!”
“He doesn’t work out of an office. He has this dungeon. It’s awful.”
“I said give me the number, Chrissy.”
“The guy is creepy. He has this slicked-back, greasy hair that’s like, half bald. And his face is all full of pockmarks.”
“Chrissy. The number.”
“But, Sue Ellen, it still stings when I pee.”
“I don’t care. I need this thing out of me!”
Keep dreaming, Mommy. Keep dreaming.
Was I napping? Where the hell are we now?
“Sue Ellen, I’m going to run an IV with some medicine,” I hear this guy with a cab-driver accent say, “it’s going to induce your labour. It’s the best way at this point to get this taken care of for you.”
“I don’t care what you have to do, Dr. Aburamatoosi. And I don’t care how you have to do it or what it takes. If it hurts it hurts. Just get this thing out of me.”
Yeah, well, fuck you too, Mommy.