Lousiana Hotshot

cars came in, moving on to become manufacturers and merchants. They now owned a locally famous foundry, which made high-end hardware and accessories for old houses— doorknobs, shutter hinges, heavy-duty latches, faucets, and cabinet handles. Tircuit’s was the place to go if you were restoring a house, or even building a new one— and with all the yuppie developments cropping up, they’d now branched out to contemporary goods.
    Michelle’s brothers, sisters, and cousins were doctors, lawyers, fund-raisers, accountants— not a blue-collar worker among them. Miz Clara was deeply impressed.
    And, truth to tell, so might Talba have been if Michelle had not, with a Howard University education, taken a job as a receptionist, apparently to mark time till she was married. And then, having caught Corey, quit her job to devote her life to shopping and grooming.
    The woman had never shown the slightest interest in anything else— and to think, with all that time and money, the best she could come up with was a little gray suit and pearl earrings. The lack of imagination made Talba almost as mad as the lack of ambition.
    Darryl was telling her and Corey about his three jobs— schoolteacher, bartender, and musician. (Actually, he was laying it on a bit— he hardly ever tended bar any more except as a substitute.)
    Corey was trying to steal the floor— getting up a good whine about how hard he’d had to work during his residency.
    The weenie-waggling began in earnest just as the entrées arrived— at least Talba imagined that was what it was. She wasn’t privy to it because Michelle was bending her ear.
    “God, I wish I could have a drink. Do you
know
how careful you have to be when you’re pregnant? My older sister developed placenta previa, and couldn’t get up for the last four months— can you imagine?”
    “Not really.”
But I bet
you
could. I bet you’d love it.
    “Talba, that is the most
amazing
outfit— where
do
you find these things? I could shop and shop and never even come across anything like it.”
    “I’ve got a feeling we go to different stores.”
    Michelle laughed, filling the air with malice. Her Ms. Nice guy act of the night before had withered after Talba’s bivalve crack. “Well, there’s no doubt about that.”
    Change the subject,
Talba thought, and drank the last of her fourth glass of wine.
Get out of this before you lose it. But what the hell to talk about?
    Kids were always good. “Tell me— are you hoping for a boy or a girl?”
    “Oh, a girl. Of course.”
    “Why ‘of course’?”
    “Well, every mother wants a girl. So she can dress her up and teach her things.”
    Oh, God, Talba. Don’t say ‘Things like, what color pink to put on her nails.’ Just don’t say it.
Instead, she said, “Things like Faulkner and Shakespeare?”
    She knew she was starting to lose it.
    “Why…no.” Michelle looked uncertain, not really wanting to believe she’d been insulted. “Things about life.”
    Things about life. What the hell does the Black Barbie know about life?
Her fury was getting out of hand. She nodded to take up the slack while she broke off a piece of bread, buttered it, and stuffed it in her mouth to avoid saying the wrong thing. Which would be just about anything, considering her mood. She tried to analyze it.
    She was nice to me last night. She got all dressed up and came out just to honor me and my boyfriend. Why am I so hostile toward her?
    The answer came so fast it shocked her:
It’s the baby. I don’t want her having a Wallis baby.
    Wallises were achievers; Michelle was a parasite.
    The humor of it eluded her— the likelihood that Michelle’s family would feel the same way about a Wallis baby, for entirely different reasons. She turned furious eyes on Michelle, who seemed oblivious. She had used the time to think of a way to change the subject. “Sandra, I’ve been thinking.”
    “Talba.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “Talba. My name’s Talba. Why can’t my own family even call me by my name?”
    “Oh.” Michelle seemed genuinely startled. “I thought that was just your professional name.”
    “No, it’s my everyday name. The name everyone calls me.”
    Michelle took a bite of lettuce. Talba was sure nothing fat, sweet, salty, or chocolate ever entered her mouth.
    “Corey says you’ve really had it tough with that name of yours. And there were other things too. I want you to know that we understand how badly damaged you are,… ah, how