Calling Out by Rae Meadows Page A

eyes that are never still. When I compliment her on her coloring,
she tells me she’s half Dutch, half Polynesian and pulls me over to the couch
by my wrist.
    â€œYou’re not from Utah, I take it,” I say.
    â€œMilwaukee,” she answers. “The ghetto. I was the only
white girl in my junior high. My mom’s a drunk. I shared
a room with my four brothers.”
    Ember wears her scrappy childhood as an emblem of
her exoticism and toughness. I know Ford must have been
smitten as soon as she told him of her origins. Although
he has talked up her beauty, I am still taken with how
pretty she is. She seems an altogether different species
than I am. When I talk to her, it’s as if she emits warmth
that settles only on me.
    Ford arrives just as Ember says, “Thanks for letting us
stay with you. It’s so cool of you.”
    I look at Ford but he just shrugs. I’m too tired to make
it a thing and Ember’s enthusiasm makes a month seem
not that long.
    â€œYou’re welcome,” I say.
    Ember wraps her smooth arms around my neck. The
towel falls to her waist but she doesn’t seem to care. Ford
mouths “thank you” to me over her shoulder.
    Ember disentangles herself from me and then sees
Ford in the doorway. I leave them to their groping reunion.

chapter 5
    Nikyla and Jezebel are in the lounge when I arrive at work.
Nikyla is figuring out her week’s earnings on a calculator and Jezebel is curling
her eyelashes while flipping through an old Cosmopolitan that has been
on the coffee table since I first came in to apply.
    â€œMen are like Slinkies,” Jezebel says. “It’s fun to watch
them fall down.”
    Nikyla smiles and shakes her head. “You’ll get tired of
all the running around one day when you find the right
one. Hey, Roxanne.”
    â€œHi, girls,” I say.
    Kendra is talking to a client on the phone, purring
with sex, surrounded by Doritos, Pepsi, and cotton candy,
and she waves with one long French-manicured finger.
    â€œDiamond is out at the airport Hilton,” Kendra says
when she hangs up, gathering up her snacks. “You can call
her out in ten.”
    â€œDiamond? I thought she quit,” I say.
    â€œShe did. But she needs to get a root canal and her
husband’s unemployed.”
    I take Kendra’s warm seat, and when the phone rings,
I quickly book Nikyla with an old-timer who lives out near
the zoo. He may be her biggest fan. She says they catch up
for a while, he tells her about his grandkids, then all she
has to do is take off her bra and it gets him every time.
*
    The late afternoon lull has left me sleepy. I’m making
halfhearted progress on a crossword puzzle when the
phone rings.
    â€œI was thinking about a new idea for a script.”
“Hi, McCallister,” I say.
    â€œIt’s a high school movie about a gay quarterback.”
“What happened to the last one?”
    â€œIt sucks. I can’t finish it. Nothing’s working.”
“I’ve heard this before.”
    â€œHey Jane?” he asks.
    I hear the telltale Jaguar-door slam of Mohammed.
“Got to go. The boss has arrived.”
    Mohammed has a four-pack of toilet paper in one
    hand and a bouquet of pink carnations in the other. “For me?” I ask. “You shouldn’t
have.”
    â€œWe have to make things more nice around here. I was thinking about some classical
music. Perhaps Chopin.” Mohammed rummages around in the back for something to
put the flowers in. “We are a professional establishment,” he says, returning
with a cloudy glass vase and handing it and the flowers to me.
    â€œNext time,” I say, “maybe not pink and not carnations.” I fill the vase in the grungy bathroom sink.
    â€œThey were on special at Albertsons. A beggar cannot
be a chooser.”
    â€œWhy don’t you bring over one of your rugs? That
would spice things up in