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An excerpt from LADYFINGERS: a novel

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“Sometimes a girl just chooses the wrong boyfriend. Or maybe a person’s timing is just for shit!” Muriel McCracken thought as she drove over to visit with her man Eddie Hayes, who still had 5 years more to serve in Elmira Correctional Institution.

They hadn’t seen one another in over 5 years, since she, herself, had been

locked up in the Women’s Prison for all that time after the unfortunate situation

that occurred after they both walked out on their jobs at that taxi company

and had gotten busted the same day.

Life was a pisser, as Eddie would say.

At the light stop, she took the opportunity to check how she looked by

briefly readjusting her rear view mirror of her brand-new Cadillac convertible.

She wanted to look good for Eddie, since she wouldn’t be making these visits

for a long while, since she had decided to take her new money and get the hell

out of the country for awhile.

She fluffed up her brand new ash-blonde coiffure with her fingers and

quickly freshened up her ‘Ice Lover’s’ pink lipstick, which she had forgotten to

do after having her hamburger…her last from this day forward…when she’d

stopped off for lunch at the “Quick Stop Palace” off the freeway.

She just loved her new make-over look. That Madame Arthuretta Bozell

was a genius! Her new socialite look would definitely give Ivana Trump a run

for her money.

She was sure that Eddie would love it, too.

Poor Eddie.

Poor Muriel.

Muriel loved Eddie and Eddie loved Muriel, but look where it got them.

She would find the best lawyer on earth and get him out of the joint as fast

as big money could buy.

The week after she was released from jail and had settled into her single

room occupancy hotel, as a lark, she filled out one of those Publisher’s Clearing

House contest sweepstakes papers. She hadn’t even subscribed to any of

their magazines. She’d never been much into reading until Madame Bozell

turned her on to those decorating and fancy lifestyle magazines a few months

ago.

The next thing she knew, six months later, there they were, in the lobby of

her hotel…Dick Clark and Ed McMahon…with some balloons, a limo, a bottle

of champagne and a huge check for 20 million dollars!

She fainted.

When she finally soaked it all in, she went to see Eddie and told him. Of

course, he had already heard about it. Seen it on the news. In fact everyone in

his jailhouse and in the world had seemed to have heard about her newly

acquired fortune.

He had seemed happy for her. Even told her to go on with her life…to forget

about him.

That was impossible.

She had fallen in love with him the first day she met him. He would be in

her heart and head for life. Sometimes a woman just doesn’t have a choice in

these matters of love.

Muriel McCracken certainly didn’t. And she told him so.

Someone beeped a horn from behind, jolting her thoughts. She quickly

adjusted the rear view mirror back in place, dropped her lipstick tube in her

purse in the passenger seat next to her, stepped on the accelerator and continued

to drive to her destination.

She’d never forget the day she met Eddie Hayes.

Muriel had been living with her parents in their rented house ever since her

divorce from her ex-husband, Georges Callahan, from Desertville, Nevada,

who had turned out to be a violent, sick and twisted individual.

Well…there had been some problem of some kind with trees or bushes or

something and the neighbors next door. So Eddie, who owned her parents’

property, among several others (Eddie had been quite a successful businessman,

in his day) made an appointment to assess the situation. Her folks had

never met the owner, so when he arrived and started up the walkway, her

father came out with a shotgun yelling, “what are you doing on my property,

boy!” and then shot him.

That’s why Eddie has that limp.

Muriel ran out to help Eddie, found out why he was there and then had her

folks call the ambulance.

She accompanied Eddie to the hospital and after that, she moved away from

her folks’ house and have never seen them since.

They would never have been able to tolerate her relationship with Eddie

Hayes and Muriel had respected that.

So…it was ‘bye bye…so long. Gotta go.’ She slammed the door shut on

them before they had a chance to do it to her. She hadn’t missed them at all.

Why should she?

After all those years in the Penn, Eddie still looked good. Healthy. Although

a bit disorientated. But she could handle it, as long as he still loved her.

And he did.

She smiled at him through the partition that separated them and picked up

the prison phone.

“How are you doing, baby?” she asked breathlessly into the receiver.

His big, brown eyes made her heart melt. She longed to caress, again, those

long, thick dreadlocks and her body tingled at the sheen of his sable colored

skin which she remembered as the warmest and smoothest that she had ever

felt in her life.

“Can’t complain…can I?” he had joked, in his Eddie way.

“You can to me, sugar,” she chuckled into the phone.

After Eddie’s foot healed as much as it could, they had moved into his

house.

Things happen, you know?

So…circumstances demanded that they get out of the town they were in

and they ended up in a really nice co-op apartment in the Bronx, in New York

City.

They had set up their system. She had become a dispatcher at the cab company

and he drove a cab.

Those weird Pakistanis messed up everything!

That day, after his shift, Eddie had brought his cab back to the station.

Those rag heads…forgive me, Lord…she thought making the sign of the cross,

as she apologized for her thoughts, accused Eddie of not picking up black fares.“We cannot have you here if we continue to receive complaints from the

black people that you pass them by in our cabs!” the head boss had accused.

“We have had 30 complaints today!” the wife of the boss had screamed.

Muriel was as mad as hell and speechless, even though all Eddie did was

laugh as if he were at some kind of stand up comedy show.

Finally, she got her speech back and yelled, “This is ridiculous! Why would

Eddie refuse to pick up black people when he is a black man himself, you

fools!”

“You are fired!” the two idiots yelled at the same time.

“No, we’re both outtah here!” Eddie yelled back in her defense.

They walked out together. They’d find another system, they’d agreed.

Eddie’s a sweet but often naive man, she had thought. He had told her that

they had fired them to make room for some relatives from Delhi (she had no

idea, after all where that was since she had never studied any geography), who

he had said they were sponsoring to come to America.

But she, Muriel McCracken, knew beyond the shadow of the doubt that

they were simply prejudiced against Eddie, just like her folks were, because he

is a Negro.

“So, baby, what are you planning to do? I’m sure with all your money,

they’ve escorted you out of your cashier’s job at Walbaums. Am I right?”

“Don’t be funny, Eddie. You know I left that job as soon as they showed me

that check!”

“Um hum,” he smiled, broadly, in that Eddie way.

“I got you a good lawyer…”

“And if I get out…”

“You mean…when you get out. I’ve got plans for us. I’m setting up a life for

us in the South of France. What do you think of that?” She tapped her fingers

nervously on the table in front of her, waiting for his answer.

“Sounds…different. Life is a pisser.” He scratched his head and looked

behind him, nervously.

“Look at me, baby! Don’t turn away. You see, I’ll be staying at the Negresco

Hotel, in Nice, France, until I find a house for us. You’ll write me there, okay?”

“Yeah, whatever…”

“Stop that! Don’t talk like that! I have everything under control.”

“I’m sure you do, Muriel, honey. I’ll see you in France then, right?”

“As right as rain on a desert, mon cheri,” she said, fluffing up her hair again

to see if he noticed her new style.

82 Ladyfingers

“I love you, girl. You’re looking very pretty, Muriel, with your new hair style

and all. What did you do?”

“I heard that it was true that blondes have more fun!” she laughed, standing

up to kiss him through the partition.

“I preferred your red-pepper, Irish girl hair, baby.”

“Too bad. Everybody has got to try something new sometimes. When you

get out, I might even be speaking Français. What do you think about that?”

“Très bon,” Eddie laughed and then stood up to return her kiss though the

partition.

available from Amazon.com

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About La New Yorkaise en France

Originally from New York City, I am the author of two novels: GINGERSNAPS and its sequel LADYFINGERS and a sceenplay, titled BLOODLINES. I am also a figurative painter living, since 1999, in the South of France. www.deloryswelchtyson.com

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