Copyright ©2020 by Creole Gaudet. All rights reserved.
No part of this chronicle may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system – except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine or newspaper – without permission in writing from the publisher, Creole Gaudet.
JANUARY 26, 2020
PAPPAS BBQ – 8:20 p.m.
I’d taken Sway out for Sunday dinner at Pappas BBQ for ribs. We’d just wrapped up the meals and were sipping our drinks. “Do you write, Sway? Have you written any songs?”
“I have some new ones that I’ve been working on… They’re pretty good.” She lowered her head. “I haven’t put them on paper yet…”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know… Just never had a chance, I guess.”
“What about your old ones. Are you going to sing those?”
“I was, but I kind of gave them to Rosebud. I mean, I didn’t really give them to him. They were going to be for me to sing, but I’d signed away my rights.”
“He’s probably going to try and sell them himself… Or use them to play some other girl.”
“It’s alright. I don’t want those anymore anyway.” She looked up, smiling. “I don’t care. He can do whatever. I’m taking it in a new direction.”
“Like what?”
“I want to write all about love…”
I grinned. “Will that sell? Everybody’s talking about all the shit they own and how big a bitch’s ass is.”
“Right? I want to make beautiful songs, Andre. I’m going to be like Diane Warren and Celine Dione all wrapped into one.”
“Who is Diane Warren? I know Celine Dione. She’s fucking paid.”
“Diane Warren is big time. She’s got all kinds of awards.”
“You’ll win way more than she has.”
“I will… Then I’ll take care of you. You won’t want for anything. Any kind of car, you got that. I’m gonna get you your apartment…or maybe even a condo, paid for, on the top floor of the tallest building in Dallas.
“Then I’m going to build a big recording studio for myself, and I’m going to put up the money so you can start your business.
“Or you could just do nothing and be there when I come home to you. We could chill, go to the movies, eat, and I could fuck you silly whenever you want some of this pussy.
“You should see it too. It’s nice, Andre. I can show you now if you want. Look under the table. I’ll pull my fucking pants down right here.”
“I already saw it. I peeped at it.”
“When? When I was asleep?”
“No, the first night when you were getting dressed. Fat and thick…”
“It’s all yours, too.”
“Whatever… When you start making that kind of money, you’re going to be a major star, you’ll get with someone in the business. I won’t be mad at you, though. I’ll still support you…”
Sway’s face blanked. Anger filled its space. “Andre, don’t ever say that to me again! I mean it!”
“Whoa, whoa… I’m just playing, baby.”
“No!” Sway’s shouting caught the attention of the diners. “Don’t ever insult me like that!”
“Baby, calm down, okay? It was just a joke.” I could feel every eye in the room.
Sway turned red. She began to cry. There was a chorus of mutters in the background. I panned, seeing nothing but scowls and angry faces. “It’s not like y’all think.”
The waiter approached. “Is there trouble…?”
I struggled. “It’s just a misunderstanding, that’s all.”
He looked to Sway. “Are you okay, ma’am?”
Sway stood, eyeing the tall, thin dude. “A week ago, I was being trafficked by a pimp. This man saved me, took me in, and is housing and feeding me. I’m sorry for getting emotional, and I apologize for disturbing your guests. It’s just that I… I’m just finding it somewhat difficult to get him to understand how grateful I am and that I will never do anything to hurt him. I just need him to realize that.”
I was in shock. I looked to the waiter. He leaned in, tapping me on the shoulder. “Great job, sir. Great job. Your meal is on the house.”
The crowd was now smiling and cheering. I felt hot, cold, and clammy all at the same time. I looked back to Sway. She tugged my arm as we left to a round of applause. I couldn’t make it to the exit quickly enough.
We’d pulled out and were on Northwest Highway. Sway was singing to Justin Bieber’s “Yummy”. She turned down the volume. “Where are we going now?”
“Home, I guess…”
“You haven’t made any money today.”
“Sundays are always dead. I keep some shit with me just in case, but I usually take the day off.”
“Andre, there’s money to be made.”
“Where?”
“Do you go to Ecstasy?”
“That place is full of pimps and dealers already. Shit is on lock.”
“I used to go there with Mandy to pick up tricks. Rosebud would send us with his assistant…”
“Assistant?”
“Jermaine. He used to play it like we were with him, so we could get in. Then we would go from there.”
“Okay?”
“Customers and strippers would ask for coke all the time. The shit you got would go so fucking quick, especially if it were twenty bags. You don’t do twenties, do you?”
“Not really.”
“What do you have right now? You got anything?”
“I have ten forties.”
“Bring me and I’ll get rid of it for you. It won’t take me long.”
“Right now? You’re serious?”
“Let me do my thing.”
I was at the bar for all of fifteen minutes before she approached. “Are you sure you don’t have any more with you? Nothing in the car?”
“That’s all I had. Why? Is it gone already?”
“One girl got three for her and her friends, and she turned me on to a customer that got the rest for two eighty. I have four hundred for you.”
She placed the bills into my hand. “Fuck, Sway!”
“You have to let me do me, Andre. I got you.”
Creole Gaudet
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