Babylon Sisters: A Novel

Author:Pearl Cleage [Cleage, Pearl]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General, Fiction
ISBN: 9780345482167
Google: mJQgqGClGoEC
Amazon: B000FCK1XE
Publisher: One World/Ballantine
Published: 2005-03-29T00:00:00+00:00

31

Two hours later we had eaten everything that was put before us. I’m sure any strict Freudian worth her hourly fee would talk about sublimation of a sexual urge into a more acceptable hunger, but so what? The food gave us something to do while we talked. And did we ever talk! It was as if we had picked up a conversation where we’d left it yesterday. We established that we were both single and unattached. I told him about Babylon Sisters and Mandeville Maids and Amelia’s law firm and Miriam’s sister going missing. He told me about information he was getting that there was a regular flow of illegal aliens between Miami and metro Atlanta, basically for the big office-park and discount-store cleaning contracts. He was focusing on Haitian women because his contacts told him there were a lot of Haitians being stashed in slum housing all over an economically depressed neighborhood called Vine City. Poor brown people to camouflage other poor brown people. These guys were shameless.

We had each heard the whispers about forced prostitution, but nothing on the record yet. I invited him to take a look through my files Friday afternoon. It was a testament to how comfortable I was by the end of the evening that I didn’t feel strange telling him to come by the house. He felt like a friend again, and I relaxed into the moment.

“Louis heard a rumor a couple of years ago that you were writing a book.”

B.J. groaned and looked slightly embarrassed. “I’d like to know who started that rumor. People keep asking me about a book that I never said I was writing. Then they feel bad for me because I haven’t finished it.”

“So I guess that pretty much disqualifies it as pleasant after-dinner conversation?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Is that what this is? Pleasant after-dinner conversation?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “We’ve conducted our business. We’ve had our dinner. Now we’re supposed to wind down with a little neutral chitchat, say good night, and go home.”

“You’ve never engaged anybody in neutral chitchat in your life.”

“People can change,” I said.

“No, they can’t, except to get more like what they already are.”

“That’s a depressing thought,” I said. “What about personal growth, spiritual transformation, sudden bursts of cosmic consciousness?”

“All of that is what makes you aware of who you are.” He smiled and sat back. “But getting you closer to your essence doesn’t change it.”

“So your best advice is to ‘go with the flow’?” He was getting so serious, I had to tease him just a little.

“Let me tell you a story,” he said, leaning forward again, ignoring my teasing, serious as hell. The restaurant was filling up, and even at our cozy corner table, the buzz could be distracting.

I leaned forward so I wouldn’t miss anything. “I’m all ears.”

“Right before I came home, I was held hostage in Afghanistan. There were two other American guys, and they took all three of us because somebody had told them we were CIA and they wanted to be sure before they cut our heads off.

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