82 Desire

hate Lamar so much? It’s like you never even give him a chance.”
    “I don’t like the way he treat you, girl. I had my share o’ that. You too smart fo’ it.”
    Now Talba looked at the table. “I know, Mama,” she said, and the phone rang.
    Her mother answered and came back, smiling. “It’s for you, Sandra. And it ain’t Lamar.”
    Thinking, It must be the damn client, Talba hoped they wouldn’t decide to eavesdrop.
    “Talba? Darryl Boucree.”
    “Who?” She couldn’t quite place the name, yet she felt a vague excitement.
    “I met you at your reading. The English teacher.”
    “Oh, the English teacher.” The fine-looking English teacher. She found she remembered him well, and with so much warmth it surprised her.
    “Following up on our conversation.”
    “Our—oh, your class. You want me to speak to your class.”
    “You weren’t just leading me on, were you?”
    “No. No, of course I ’ll speak to your class. When? “
    “Tomorrow?”
    She repeated, “Tomorrow?”
    “Unless you’re all booked up.”
    Well, she might be soon. “Sure. Tomorrow.” She hung up.
    “And that,” she told her family, “was an English teacher who wants me to speak to his class. I happen to be a role model for young people and I don’t want to hear any more of your shit—excuse me, Mama.”
    “Well, that’s wonderful, baby.”
    Corey said, “Listen, could we talk privately?”
    “Don’t you ever give up, Doctor Wallis? What you got on your mind you can’t say in front of Mama and your wife?”
    “You’re right. We should all talk together about it. We’re worried about this obsession of yours.”
    “Obsession? You mean Lamar? Lamar’s no obsession, he’s just a boyfriend.”
    “Not Lamar. Your name.”
    “Oh. Urethra.”
    “That’s not your name and you know it.”
    “It’s the name I was born with. It was on my birth certificate till Mama got it legally changed. How would you like to be named Urethra?”
    “Sandra, that’s not the point. You’ve got to let it go. You can’t go your whole life letting that eat you alive.”
    “I don’t plan to, Doctor Wallis. I don’t even see how you can stand to be in the same profession with the vermin who did that to your mama.”
    He threw his napkin on the table. “Well, maybe I’d like to bring a little dignity to the profession. You’re not helping with all this.”
    “Are you worried about your reputation, Corey Wallis? Is that what this is about? Your sister bringing down a member of your oh-so-honored profession?”
    “Sandra, you know better than that. It’s you we’re worried about. What if you get interviewed by that reporter? What if that poem of yours gets famous? Then you really are going to be famous as the girl named Urethra.”
    “You don’t get it. You just don’t get it, do you? I am The Baroness de Pontalba.”
    This time no one laughed.
    “Y’all don’t believe me, but I’m gonna get him.”
    “Gonna get who?”
    “Gonna get the Pill Man. Stay tuned to this channel.”
    Michelle looked like she’d just gotten a bad oyster.
    Until that moment, Talba had thought seriously about returning the client’s money, or maybe just keeping it, and not going back to work. But doubling it would buy her some time.
    The sooner she got the Pill Man the sooner they’d get off her back. She could go back to CompTemps tomorrow, before Darryl’s class.
    What the client didn’t know, of course, was that Allred had had special ways of getting his operatives hired. But Talba didn’t know if his connection would work for her. She called him first thing in the morning. “Mr. Currie? Talba Wallis.” She waited, but he gave her no sign of recognition. “Gene Allred sent me over there. To work for United Oil Company.”
    “Yes?” His voice was frosty.
    “I need another job. That was a great company—I wonder if they have any more openings.”
    “Come on in, Miss Wallis. I’ll see what I can do.” His voice was so tired it sounded like he might take a nap, right on the phone.
    Talba came on in, a folded fifty-dollar bill in her right hand for Currie to palm when they greeted each other. She had no earthly idea if that was the right amount, but it was as much as she was willing to pay—if it took more, she could go over to United and apply directly, or call her ex-boss over there and see what he could do. She’d done a good job and probably didn’t even need the damn agency.
    But Currie didn’t even look at the