“I thought we’d stop by and see Nita Blue.”
“What you wanna see her for?”
“She hates Bull; so she kept tabs on him.” I thought for a minute. “And besides, I want a piece of her action.”
“You have for years.”
“This may be a way for both of us to get what we want.”
“You were gonna kill Bull anyway. Makes sense to let her think you’re doin’ her a favor,” Bobby said. “Good idea.”
“Thank you. I try to think up smart shit,” I said and waited for Bobby to say something, but he didn’t.
“You remember Keisha and Connie Mack?” Bobby asked.
“The Mack sisters. How could I forget them? Those were two fine-ass mutha fuckas.”
“Used to always be together,” Bobby said and laughed.
“Whenever you saw one, the other was around somewhere. They were inseparable.”
“How did we get them apart?” Bobby asked.
“You grabbed Keisha by the arm and dragged her in the room.”
“Yeah.” Bobby shook his head. “I had to talk to her for over an hour before she gave up that pussy.”
“Shit, soon as you closed the door, Connie looked at me and said, ‘wanna go in my room?’ ” I looked at Bobby. “Ain’t Keisha the one that used to go around sayin’ that you were her baby’s daddy?”
“That’s her.”
“What made you think about them?”
“Her daughter is dancin’ at Grant’s,” Bobby said.
“She call you daddy?”
“No!”
“She look like you?”
“No!”
“How you know she’s Keisha’s daughter?”
“She walked up to me and said, ‘You Bobby Ray, right?’ I said: yes. She said, ‘My mama said to tell you hello.’ So I asked: who’s your mama? She put her hand on her hip and said, ‘Keisha Mack.’ ”
“She got big-ass hips like her mama?”
“She look just like her mama. Got a body like her too,” Bobby said.
“Suppose that is your daughter? How would you feel about your daughter dancin’ at Grant’s?”
“It don’t matter ’cause she ain’t my daughter, Mike,” Bobby said, and I could tell he was gettin’ a little mad. Just like he did back then.
“Let me put it another way. How would you feel if Barbara, or better yet, if Bonita and Brenda were dancin’ at Grant’s? How would you feel then?”
“But they’re not.”
“They dance.”
“They do ballet!”
“Mercedes told me she used to do ballet,” I said quickly.
“Mercedes is dumber than a box of rocks,” Bobby partially shouted.
“What’s that got to do with it? She said that’s why she can stand in them four-inch stilettos and lift her leg straight up in the air-it’s from the balance she learned from doin’ ballet for years.”
“Fuck you, Mike.”
I laughed and so did Bobby. “All I’m sayin’ is that you need to find out if that’s your daughter or not. ’Cause I know I wouldn’t want Michelle shakin’ her ass in none of our spots or anyplace else. And I know you don’t want that for your girls either.”