MadameFrankie by Stanley Bennett Clay Page B

don’t think Jazz sees it
that way.”
    “How do you know? Have you discussed it with him?”
    “No, I haven’t.”
    “You’d be surprised, Frankie, how fluid some men can be.”
    “Would I?”
    “Trust this old oracle of love, my dear.”
    Cedric then peered into the parlor, where music played
softly, Fidel sang seductively and couples sat sharing glances and whispers at
candlelit tables.
    “Take a look, my dear,” he continued. Frankie turned her
head slowly around and looked into the lovely space. “Husbands and wives,
fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, gays and straights, bisexuals and the
curious. All gathered under one loving chandelier, for one common cause.
    “So many discount the sacred place sex often plays in the
affairs of the heart,” he sighed. “Sex can be such a wonderful expression of
love among all kinds of people. I’ve witnessed so much in all my years of
running Casa de Mita , or as my wonderful American clientele likes to
call it, House of John. That they see themselves as that is most curious.
Johns. I don’t know if they are Johns. I see them as pilgrims to a promised
land. They are thirsty souls from the desert of overburdened lives seeking the
waters of pleasure’s oasis, seeking the fountain of carnal youth. They seek the
glee of God-given joy and happiness.”
    Frankie couldn’t have agreed more. What she received during
these too infrequent trips to her Dominican retreat made her a different woman,
a more relaxed woman, reflective, calmer, with an easy appreciation for the
pleasures of this world.
    “I shall miss it so,” Cedric said softly, to himself, to his
guests in the parlor, to Fidel’s music. Frankie wasn’t quite sure what she
heard.
    “What do you mean, Cedric?” she asked.
    “I am getting old, Francesca,” he said, still staring into
the parlor. “And so is my mother in Brooklyn. She turned eighty-five on her
last birthday. I’m not sure how much longer I will have her. And I don’t want
to miss the roulette spin of back-and forth from here to Brooklyn and not be
there for her final goodbye. I’ve decided to sell Casa de Mita . I will
spend the rest of my days with my mother. As soon as I can find a suitable
buyer I will be gone from my paradise and return to my home.”
    Frankie was speechless, but somehow, not shocked. There was
no sadness in Cedric’s words. He was simply resolved. He wasn’t doing what he
had to do. He was doing what he wanted to do. Frankie knew that, when he turned
to her and smiled, she could see it in his tear-glistening eyes. She smiled
back at him, totally understanding. She was in total awe of a man she had come
to call a friend.
    “You’ll be so missed, Cedric,” she said, taking his hand.
    “Keep me in your heart, my beautiful friend. And we will
never be far from each other.”

Chapter Sixteen
     
    The next day, the moment Frankie and Yvette cleared customs
in Miami, they hit the terminal bar, ordered cocktails, called up Trudy and put
her on speakerphone.
    “We’re back, girl!” Yvette declared, hovering over the
phone.
    “And not a moment too soon,” Trudy jollied. “I know y’all
got plenty, didn’t you?”
    “You know we did,” Yvette laughed, chewing on the ice from
her Harvey Wallbanger.
    “Miss Thing got enough for both of us,” Frankie finally
chimed in.
    “Oh don’t let Frankie pretend like she didn’t walk the
ceiling with her toenails. Bitch kept them legs up so high, I thought she had
helium balloons tied to her ankles.”
    “Now how you know what I was doing, doll, since you were
busy being Sealy Posturepedic for every man in House of John.”
    “Every man but Edgar.”
    “That’s right, bitch. Every man but Edgar.”
    “Ladies! Ladies! Put down your drinks and daggers for a
second. I miss you fools, you know that?”
    “Well we missed you too, Trudy.”
    “Even though we knew you couldn’t wait for us to get back
and help you with Michael’s party.”
    “Well that’s true