Malachi moon, p.32
Malachi Moon, page 32
“Nothing strange about it, Lady. One friend saying hello to another friend,” Malachi said.
Lady Marmalade turned to him. “Malachi, I ain’t no young woman, I’ve been around the chicken coop more than once in my young days. That woman came here to get something from you, or tell you something, or she wanted something from you, and, since you’re in front of me, and she isn’t, means you didn’t give her the answer she was looking for.”
Malachi stared at her.
“Your stare is my answer, Malachi. I guess I’ll go bring in the new recruits.”
Five minutes later, a rotund man in a plain white shirt nodded as Malachi pointed at him through glass. He picked up his washboard and, to the surprise of everyone, began to play it with unbelievable expertise for a full minute. His fingers were moving so fast and with great fluidity. It was amazing to watch. When he’d stopped playing, he turned to everyone. He received a thunderous round of applause.
“My name is Washboard Slim. I been playing this washboard since I could walk,” he said. He smiled to reveal a gap in his top teeth. “If you give me another minute, I can really make this baby come to life.”
The next instrument was a harmonica. Its reverberating sensation sent chills down everyone’s back for the minute it was being played. When the player stopped, he bowed.
“My name is Howling Hank Larks. I been pumping life into this here harmonica since I was eleven years old.”
The musical string plucking on a guitar made everyone look at Riley who was sitting on a stool playing his guitar as if it were trying to get away from him. Malachi was impressed by the man’s skill.
“I like that, Riley,” Malachi said.
“Yeah, Lucille has a way of making you take notice when she’s talking,” Riley said.
“That’s her name, Lucille? “ Lady Marmalade asked, as she placed a piece of steak in her mouth while giving Riley a look of scrutiny. “You name her after your first...or second wife?”
Riley laughed. His stomach rolling with the sound emanating from his throat. “No, ma’am. I named her Lucille because that’s the name she gave herself the first time I played her.”
“She named herself, huh?” Lady Marmalade asked, as she arched a suspicious right eyebrow. “Can it cook and wash your dirty draws, too?”
“Lady!” Malachi said. “Eat your food. I like the way you play, Riley. All right, let’s hear the skins.”
The man sitting at the drums looked up. When he did everyone saw the streak of white hair that was in the middle of his black, kinky hair. The leopard suit he was wearing did little to hide the man’s taste in clothing. He smiled displaying three gold teeth. Two on the top and one on the bottom. He looked back down at his drums, and with breathtaking speed, he began to play a rendition of One Night.
Malachi watched in amazement as the drummer made the pigskins he was pounding on come to life by beating the drums into musical submission with the quick movements of his wrist and shoulders. The drumsticks appeared glued to his fingers as he hit one after the other smoothly. He gingerly struck the cymbal followed by a thrashing of the snare drum, then a hollow pounding on his foot peddle to the bass drum. It was all done so professionally that Malachi smiled as he nodded his head, and clapped his hands.
“Beautiful! Beautiful!” Malachi snapped with joy. “Damn, you can play those things!”
“Yes, he can,” AB said, as he entered the recording booth.
Malachi turned around. “Did Tom come?” he asked.
“I’m right behind him,” Tom Thum said.
Malachi looked down. He saw Tom standing behind AB’s big leg.
“You ready to do your thing?” Malachi asked Tom.
“Show me to a microphone and a tall chair to stand up on, and I’d show you I’m ready to bring down the house,” Tom said.
“Take him to the session booth, AB,” Malachi said.
Malachi and Lady Marmalade watched as AB led Tom into the microphone area with the musicians.
“What the hell is his little ass going to do, Malachi?” Lady Marmalade asked as she tapped her foot.
“Watch and see,” Malachi said.
“I hope he doesn’t start dancing in there. He’s so little someone might accidentally step on his little ass,” Lady Marmalade said. She laughed. “And if he’s got that knife with him, somebody is going to get themselves a few wounds if the little man gets mad.”
Malachi and Lady Marmalade watched AB help Tom onto a stool. AB pulled the microphone that was hanging from the ceiling down closer to Tom’s face. When he saw that Tom was comfortable, AB walked back into the recording booth with Malachi and Lady Marmalade.
“All right, men,” Malachi began. “We’re going to follow Tom’s lead. Ya’ll sheet music is easy to read. Tom, we’re going to take it at two, okay?”
Tom smiled.
“What is he going to do again, Malachi?” Lady Marmalade asked, as she filled her mouth with a fork full of macaroni and cheese. “I’m dumbfounded as to what is his purpose here.”
“Here we go,” Malachi said. “One...Two.”
As on cue, Tom opened his mouth, and out came a controlled voice filled with softness that Malachi had ever heard. His words seemed to come from the bottom of his stomach and traveled with precision out of his small, warm mouth lovingly. He sung solo for two minutes until the instruments came into play.
Malachi turned around. He saw Lady Marmalade sitting there with her mouth opened, and macaroni and cheese falling out of it as she stared at Tom Thum. He laughed.
For hours they made music, and Malachi and AB recorded everything. It would be early morning on the next day that Malachi decided to call it a night. He sent everyone home, and then fell on the small sofa that Lady Marmalade was sleeping on. AB took the chair across from him and sat down. He leaned his head back.
“What are we doing with all of this again, Malachi?” AB asked.
“Make money as we record history, AB. Man, you can take something special and turn it into something worth thousands of dollars if you know what and how to do it. There are some real special people out there with gifts the world needs to hear. Musical talent that could one day change the world the way we know it. Or, maybe these recordings will turn out to be nothing at all,” Malachi said, as he shrugged. “And, maybe, one day they might be their weight in gold, but the reality of it all is that we are doing something different than any other Negroes.”
“Yeah, you right. It is something different. Especially when Tom started to sing. Man, I didn’t know that little bastard had a voice like that,” AB said.
“Neither did I,” Lady Marmalade said, as she sat up and wiped sleep from her crust covered eyes. “That little man can sing his little ass off. How did you know he could sing, Malachi?”
“I heard him one night singing Jane to sleep,” Malachi said.
“Whew. He’s a powerhouse,” Lady Marmalade said, throwing her feet off the sofa. “Well, I got to be getting back and making breakfast.”
“We’re going back with you,” AB said.
Fifteen minutes later Malachi was locking the door to the studio as Lady Marmalade and AB walked ahead of him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ten months later, Malachi and AB saw their fruits come to full bloom. Malachi had pressed the wax with different singers on it, and began to sell them out of the studio. He had singers who went by names that were funnier pronouncing than listening to some of their music, but in the end, Malachi knew everything would work out. He was making money selling the records, and had begun to charge one dollar every two hours for jam sessions. No one complained because they were getting their voices on wax.
By 1953, Malachi had seen and heard enough. He was becoming homesick. Sitting in the studio one summer night, he turned to AB.
“How would you like to buy me out, AB?” Malachi asked.
“Buy you out? Whatta mean?” AB asked, as he stared at Malachi.
“How much money do you think we made in the past three years?” Malachi asked.
“You know how much. We looked at the books together last week,” AB said.
“Yeah. We got a little over twelve thousand dollars in the bank,” Malachi said. “You give me eight thousand and half the master recordings, and everything else is yours, AB.”
AB leaned back in his chair. He stared at Malachi, as he crossed his fingers over his now protruding belly.
“It’s not hard to do, AB. It’s a good deal for you,” Malachi said, as he walked to the sofa and sat down.
“Why do you want to get out of this sweet thing, Malachi?” AB asked. “Everything is going good for us. We have people from everywhere to record. We have this market shutdown.”
Malachi touched the side of his scarred face. “I know, AB. It’s just that I want to go home and...rest.”
“Rest? That’s all? Hell, you can do that here. Go grab one of Stella girls and disappear for a week or two. You know how Stella girls treat you when you come into her spot,” AB said. He emphasize the comment by twirling his index finger, and looking up at the ceiling.
“It’s more than that, AB. I miss my sister.”
“Oh. I see. Let me think about it for a minute, Malachi.”
“Uh-uh. You think too long for me. You’re an ex-boxer. You can think on your feet, and you sure as hell can think when you’re sitting down. Give me an answer now, AB.”
AB glanced at Malachi. He nodded. “I don’t want you to go. Who’s going to help me run all of this?” he asked.
“Lady Marmalade,” Malachi answered. “And we’ve been letting Tom Thum come in and play with the instrumental boards, so he knows how thing work”.
“Damn! I knew you was going to say that witch,” AB said.
He and Malachi laughed.
“There’s no way I can change your mind, Malachi?” AB asked. He watched Malachi shake his head. “Do we have to write a contract or something?”
“We didn’t write one when we first started out as partners, did we?” Malachi asked.
“No, we didn’t,” AB said.
AB stood up. He walked to Malachi and opened his arms. “You’re always going to have a friend in me, Malachi,” he said.
Malachi stood up. He hugged AB. “I know, AB. I know,” he said.
Four months later, fall was beginning to set in. Lady Marmalade, Tom, AB, and Jane led Malachi into Egghead’s place. When they entered, a band greeted him on the stage and a crowd of partygoers called out his name. Egghead came up to him and gave him a bottle of champagne.
“So, you’re leaving tomorrow,” Egghead began. “There have been some stories told about you, Malachi. Good stories, and you’re going to be missed, young man. Tonight is your night. We’re here to send you off in a blaze of drunk ass glory.”
“Thanks, Egghead. It’s been a pleasure knowing you all. I don’t know if I’d ever get back this way again, but ya’ll all be in my heart,” Malachi said.
“Forget the sad tidings, my friend,” AB said, as he wrapped a big arm around Malachi’s shoulder. “Let’s go drink, get drunk, and listen to the music.”
Malachi felt his eyes become moist as he nodded his head. AB led him to a table that was decorated with an assortment of plastic bells, garter belts, and musical instruments. They all sat at the table situated in front of the stage. There was an eight-piece band playing great songs of Blues, Jazz and other grassroots tunes. There were men he’d recorded their songs with on the stage and sitting around at tables enjoying the festive. Malachi reached for the glass of champagne that AB had poured for him. He brought it to his lips.
For the next five hours, Malachi watched the changing of bands and drank champagne continuously. He had to admit, he was happy, and that happiness was watching some of the singers and musicians before him create history. A history he knew would one day become an anthem for other Blues artist who liked singing those songs of deep, thoughtful messages of women gone bad while loving the man who sent them on their journey; men paying for their pain of sorrow and glory through alcohol and jealousy, as well as relationships always spiraling out of control from terrible decisions. It was beautiful.
When Malachi awoke in the early morning, he opened his bloodshot eyes to the darkness in his room. He glanced out the window. It was still dark. He sat up. He blinked a few times to clear his vision. He licked his lips and tasted a chalk-like substance from his mouth being dry and too many glasses of champagne. He threw his legs out of bed. He cradled his throbbing head in his hands as he tried to stop the room from spinning. Malachi stood up very slowly on wobbly legs, and headed for the bathroom that was down the hall.
When he opened his door and walked out of his room, he felt a chill. He didn’t care. He was trying to relieve himself before he had an accident that might start running down his legs. As he hurried down the dimly lit hallway, he heard a door opened behind him but he paid it no attention. His only concern was making it to the bathroom.
As Malachi stood over the toilet urinating, he looked down into the toilet. His eyes caught what he hadn’t noticed earlier when he’d hurried out of his room. He was butt naked.
Malachi was startled at the sound of someone pounding on the door.
“Hurry up! Get out of there!” Jane shouted.
Malachi cursed under his breath.
Jane pounded on the door again. “Come on! Get out!” she shouted impatiently.
Malachi, shaking his head, reached for the doorknob.
Jane took a step back at hearing the bathroom door unlock.
“Well, it’s about damn time,” Jane began, as she reached for the edge of the door and yanked it open further. “What—“
Malachi saw Jane’s expression turn from anger to shock. He heard her purr. Her eyes seductively began a descent from his face, chest, crotch, thighs, and then his feet as she took a step back while biting her bottom lip. Her eyes rose and stopped at his crotch. She licked her lips seductively.
“Malachi?” Jane said. Feigning shock, as a smile formed. “You’re naked, baby
Malachi hurried by her while his hands covered his crotch.
Jane stood there and watched Malachi half run and half jog down the hallway.
“I like your tight ass, Malachi,” Jane said. She began to laugh as she continued to look at Malachi. “Keep it right and tight, you handsome devil.”
Malachi ran into his room, and slammed the door. He leaned on the door as he continued to protect his crotch while breathing hard. It took a few seconds before he finally let his hands fall from his crotch. He shook his head and began to laugh. He walked to his bed, and climbed in.
Seven hours later Malachi was up again. It was mid-afternoon. With his bag packed and his guitar case slung over his shoulder, he made his way quietly down the stairs. As he reached the front down, the sound of someone clearing their throat made him turn around.
“Didn’t want to say goodbye, huh?” Lady Marmalade asked from the kitchen doorway. One of her thin cigars was clutched loosely between her fingers. Big yellow rollers were in her hair, and she was wearing a multicolored cotton nightdress. “I would’ve been upset if I’d missed you.”
Malachi put down his bag, and walked toward her.
As he and Lady Marmalade hugged, Malachi knew he would miss her rough, but loving ways.
“It’s been a pleasure knowing you, Lady,” Malachi said. He pulled away, and stared into her eyes. “Through all that meanest of yours, there lies a good, warm, loving heart.”
Lady Marmalade smiled. “Yeah, you’ve been a jagged, sharp edge around here also. But don’t let anyone know that,” she said and laughed. “Does AB know you’re leaving at this hour?”
“He knows I’m leaving,” Malachi said.
Lady Marmalade nodded. “Wait, I got something for you,” she said, as she spun around and disappeared into the kitchen.
Malachi walked to the door and grabbed the rest of his things.
Seconds later, Lady Marmalade returned carrying a food basket. She walked over and handed it to Malachi. “Something to get you through that long journey ahead, son,” she said.
Malachi took the basket. He lifted it to his nose. “Fresh biscuits? I also smell some beef stew and some fried chicken in there. How long you been up?” he asked.
“Please, boy, you know I got to run this here house. If breakfast ain’t ready when they get up, I got to hear a lot of noise about people being hungry,” Lady Marmalade said. “Can you get everything out to the car?”
Malachi nodded.
“You’re going to be missed,” Lady Marmalade said.
“So will you, Lady.”
Lady Marmalade smiled. She turned around and went back into the kitchen.
Malachi sat behind the steering wheel of his new Buick Roadmaster for a few seconds. He let some things run through his mind as he savored good memories of wonderful people. He smiled, as he reached for the key in the ignition and started the car. As he shifted it into gear, an image of Rose Ann appeared, and he laughed. At that moment, he really missed his sister.
Malachi had been driving for three weeks though some towns he quickly hurried through and some towns he stayed for a night or two. Some nights he would pull over and spend the night in his car on the shoulder of the road if he became too tired, and other nights he would locate a motel to stay the night so he could take a shower. To pass the hours, he’d listen to a new radio station on the radio which nothing but the Blues. As he listened to some of the songs, he knew the names of the singers and musicians before the disc jockey announced it because he’d worked with the artist.
On this particular night as he drove, Malachi listened to a man who played his guitar with devilish dexterity. Malachi cocked his head to one side to listen more closely to the voice singing, and to get a better pickup of the chords being played. He knew that sound, he said out loud. Who was the person?
It had begun to rain, so whenever Malachi found himself about to put a face to the music, he had to concentrate on the slippery road ahead of him. The song continued to play. Malachi glanced in his rearview mirror. There was a car behind him. He paid it no attention, as he tightly clutched the steering wheel to concentrate.
