Free Borrow Trouble by Mary Monroe Page B

the time that Mindy Stargen came to school with a condom she’d found in her father’s pants pocket, blowing it up like a balloon during show-and-tell. Leon didn’t laugh or even comment about that incident, or any of the others that I shared with him, even though I gave him my undivided attention all the times he held me hostage for hours on end, repeating conversations he’d had with difficult taxpayers. Inez seemed to be the only one who was genuinely interested in my day-to-day life, and that’s why I spent so much time hanging around her nail shop.
    The two sisters that Inez employed, Pat Jenkins and Shonda Jones, got sick of me coming into Soulful Nails while she was still out of the country, whining about how I needed to talk to Inez. Their impatience and exasperation showed on their faces each time they saw mine. But I didn’t let that stop me.
    â€œShe didn’t tell you what hotel she was going to be staying in?” I asked, looking from Pat to Shonda. Both of them had on more make-up than Ronald McDonald. Like Inez, they thought their shit didn’t stink, but in a good way. I was one woman who was not afraid to admit that I admired and envied confident women.
    Impatient customers were lined up in chairs along the wall like convicts. Pat and Shonda were both frantically filing and buffing the fingernails and toenails of the two women who occupied the seats in front of them.
    â€œInez didn’t want nobody to know how to find her,” Shonda said, tossing her head back so that her blond weave flopped and fluttered like a scarf. She handled the nail drill like it was a Gatling gun, looking up from the customer in front of her just long enough to glance at my shabby nails and give me a disgusted look.
    â€œIf Inez calls, tell her to call me,” I ordered, curling my fingers into a fist to hide my raggedy nails.
    Just when I was about ready to start climbing the walls, Inez came home four days after my last visit to the nail shop. It was Halloween night, so when I went to answer the doorbell, I carried a large bowl that I had filled with suckers and other goodies.
    â€œTrick or treat!” I yelled as I snatched open my door, expecting to see the faces of some of the neighborhood kids grinning up at me. I was shocked to see Inez standing in my doorway, loaded down with gifts and souvenirs.
    What was even more shocking was the fact that Leon was with her. “This handsome devil you married was sweet enough to pick me up and drive me home from the airport,” Inez squealed. She leaned toward me and air-kissed my cheeks.
    â€œHe what?” I mouthed, puzzled. The bowl suddenly felt twice as heavy in my hand.
    â€œI tried to call you, and everybody else I know, to come pick me up. Leon was the only person I was able to reach,” Inez explained, with a sheepish look on her face. Over her shoulder, I saw Leon dragging his feet up our walkway. There was an odd expression on his face. He looked like the grinning jack-o’-lantern I had set on our front porch banister a few days ago. “Your honey was sweet enough to bring me by here first.” Inez said the word “honey” like it was painful. I looked from her to Leon and back to her, trying to figure them both out. They were not acting like two people who couldn’t stand one another.
    I didn’t know what confused me more: the fact that Inez had suddenly returned and come straight to my house, or the fact that Leon—who had just referred to her as the poor man’s Paris Hilton the night before—had picked her up from the airport.
    â€œGirl, I’ve been dying to talk to you!” I squealed, hugging Inez. I set the bowl of candy on the end table next to my sofa and threw my arms around her. She had lost a few pounds, which made her body look even more luscious. But with her hair hidden under a scarf and no make-up, she looked rather plain from the neck up.
    â€œI want to hear