The Supremes at Earl's All-You-Can-Eat

Chapter 15





A month before Little Earl’s eighteenth birthday, a cute girl at school told him that he looked like Martin Luther King. Then she

let him put his hand under her blouse in the name of Negro solidarity. That led Little Earl to celebrate his birthday that

November with a costume party so he could dress up as Dr. King in hopes of encountering more young women who were passionately

devoted to the civil rights movement.

Clarice, Odette, and Barbara Jean made plans to dress up as the Supremes since their friends, families, and even some of the

teachers at school were now calling them by that name. They spent weeks working on their costumes. Odette did most of the sewing,

stitching together glossy, gold, sleeveless gowns. They used hot glue to attach glitter to old shoes. And Barbara Jean’s boss at

the salon loaned them three acrylic wigs with identical bouffants for the occasion.

On the night of the party, the plan was that they would each get dressed at home. Clarice had been given a used Buick after a

third piano lesson with Mrs. Olavsky was added to her weekly schedule and her mother decided that she’d had enough of chauffeur

duty, so Clarice was to pick up the other girls at their houses for the ride to the All-You-Can-Eat. Clarice parked in front of

Barbara Jean’s house and she and Odette went to the door to fetch her and some accessories for their costumes. Barbara Jean had

offered to dip into her inheritance of fake furs and oversized plastic jewelry to help them complete their ensembles.

They were standing on the porch when Clarice saw an odd expression come over Odette’s face. She didn’t know what Odette was

reacting to. Maybe it was a sound or a smell. But Clarice had just raised her hand to knock on the door when Odette said,

“Something’s wrong.”

Before Clarice could say anything, Odette pushed right past her and turned the knob. The door opened and she rushed inside. Not

taking the time to think about the possible consequences, Clarice followed her, both of them moving in a kind of a shimmying

shuffle because of the restrictions of their outfits.

Barbara Jean, wearing her shiny gold gown, sat in a threadbare maroon overstuffed chair in a corner of the living room. Her bare

feet were tucked beneath her and she clutched her wig in both hands, pressing it to her chest. The fake furs and costume jewelry

she and her friends were going to wear that evening rested in a pile on the floor in front of the chair. She didn’t look up as

Odette and Clarice came into the room.

Vondell, her stepfather or whatever he was, stood beside Barbara Jean’s chair. He had disappeared a month earlier, making Barbara

Jean’s life easier and giving her the hope that she might not have to deal with him anymore. Between free meals at Odette’s and

Clarice’s houses, the tips she made at the salon, and the low rent on the dump she lived in, Barbara Jean had been able to afford

a teenager’s dream. She had a house of her own and complete independence.

But now Vondell was back and he looked even worse than he had the last time they had seen him. His stubbly graying beard had grown

thicker, and his processed hair had grown out so it was nappy at the roots and matted at the ends. And then there was that odor of

his that permeated the room, that sharp blend of cigarettes, whiskey, and poor personal hygiene.

He glared at Odette and Clarice for a minute. Then he said, “Barbara Jean, you didn’t tell me we was gonna have company this

evenin’.” That wide, froglike mouth of his broadened into a grin as he talked, but no one in the room sensed a bit of goodwill

in him.

Odette said, “Hello, sir, we’re going to a birthday party tonight and we just came to get Barbara Jean.” She looked at Barbara

Jean in the chair and said, “Come on, Barbara Jean. We don’t wanna be late.”

But Barbara Jean didn’t move. She just glanced up at Vondell and then stared at her knees again. The big man had lost his smile

now. He glared at her, daring her to rise from the chair.

Clarice joined in and said, “Yeah, we have to finish up our hair and nails at my house and …” She lost her nerve and didn’t

finish. No one was listening to her anyway. The battle was on, and it was being fought between the other three people in the room.

There was a long silence during which Clarice heard only the big man’s breathing and the sound of the plastic carpet runner

crunching beneath her feet as she inched backwards toward the front door. Then Vondell said, “I think y’all best get movin’.

Barbara Jean ain’t goin’ out tonight.”

The tone of his voice scared Clarice half to death and she ran to the door. But Odette stayed put. Odette looked back and forth

from Barbara Jean, still cowering in the shabby chair like a scared two-year-old, to the hulking man who had moved closer to

Barbara Jean and was now stroking her hair in an imitation of fatherly affection that caused acid to rise in Clarice’s stomach.

Odette said, “I haven’t heard what Barbara Jean wants us to do. If she wants us to go, she can say it herself.”

Vondell took a step toward Odette and put his hands on his hips to puff himself up. He was careful to keep a smile on his face so

she would know he wasn’t taking her seriously. “Li’l girl, I told you to leave my house. And, believe me, you don’t want me to

have to say it again. Now, get a move on before I put you over my knee and teach you some manners.”

Vondell had Clarice scared, but the look Odette gave him now frightened her almost as much. Odette’s eyes narrowed and her mouth

twisted. She lowered her head as if she were preparing to ram into him headfirst. Clarice could see that even if Odette didn’t

scare Vondell, she definitely surprised him. When he saw the change in her posture, he jerked back away from her a little before

he could stop himself.

Odette, talking louder now, said, “Barbara Jean, do you want to stay here or come with us?”

Barbara Jean didn’t answer at first. Then, almost too quietly for anyone to hear, she whispered, “I want to go with you.”

Odette said, “Well, that settles it. She’s coming with us.”

Vondell didn’t speak to Odette, but turned his attention to Barbara Jean instead. He moved beside her again and grasped her right

forearm in his big hand, pulling her halfway out of the chair so awkwardly that she would have fallen to the floor if he had not

been supporting her with the strength of his hold. She let out a gasp of pain and Vondell growled, “You best tell these girls to

go on home, or you gonna be in some real trouble. I fixed your mama’s uppity ways and I can do the same wit’ you.”

Odette’s voice dropped an octave and she very slowly said, “If you don’t want that hand broke, you’d better get it off of her

right now.”

Clarice got swept up in the moment and put in her two cents. “She’s coming with us,” she said, trying to act like Odette.

But Clarice wasn’t born in a tree. When he took a couple of quick steps in her direction, she hopped backwards and let out a

squeal. Odette moved, too, but she moved sideways to stand between Vondell and Clarice.

He said, “What you gonna do, call your daddy? You know, I asked around about your daddy after the last time you was here, and I

heard he ain’t no cop at all. What I heard was that you was that child born in a tree and you ain’t supposed to be ’fraid of

nothin’. Maybe it’s time somebody gave you somethin’ to be scared of.” He moved closer to her and pushed out his chin.

Odette stepped away from him then and came over to where Clarice stood with her fist clinched around the handle of the door, ready

to escape. Vondell laughed at her and said, “That’s a good girl. Run on home.” Then to Clarice he said, “You can come back

sometime if you wanna, baby. But leave that crazy fat bitch at home.”

A few feet away from Clarice, Odette stopped, yanked the wig from her head, and tossed it to her. Clarice caught it out of reflex

and then watched in bewilderment as Odette spun away from her and said, “Clarice, unzip me.”

When Clarice didn’t say anything or do as Odette had told her, she said it again. “Unzip me. I spent too much time making this

dress to get this a*shole’s blood all over it.”

She fixed her eyes on Vondell and said, “You’re right about me. I am the girl who was born in a tree. And you’re right about my

father. He’s not a cop. But he was the 1947 welterweight Golden Gloves champion. And from the time I was a little girl my boxer

daddy has been teaching me how to deal with dumb-ass men who want me to be afraid. So let me thank you now, while you’re still

conscious, for giving me the opportunity to demonstrate some of the special shit my daddy taught me to use on occasions like this.

“Now, Clarice, unzip me so I can take care of this big bag of stink and ignorance, once and for all.”

With fingers that shook so badly she could hardly grab hold of the zipper, Clarice did as she had been commanded. She pulled the

zipper down and Odette’s shiny gown slid off of her and formed a shimmering pool at her feet. Wearing just a white bra and

floral-patterned panties, Odette lifted her fists and danced her way toward Vondell, already floating like a butterfly and

apparently prepared to sting like a bee.

For a moment, Vondell stood gaping at her, eyes wide, mouth open. Then, to Clarice’s amazement, he started to back up. First one

step, then another. He tried to act as if he were in charge, calling her a string of filthy names and threatening to hurt her. But

Clarice could see from the way his eyes darted left and right searching out an escape route that this short, chubby teenage girl

had him unnerved.

Odette kept moving toward him and he kept backing away. He moved across the living room floor, his feet shuffling across the

orange carpet. His hands gripped the backs of the heavy, mismatched furniture he was careful to keep between himself and Odette.

When he had backed completely out of the room and into the hallway that led to the kitchen, he yelled out, “I ain’t got time to

be dealin’ with this crazy shit. Go on, get out. I don’t care where you go. You ain’t none of my concern.” He moved out of

sight then, and a few seconds later they heard the rear door of the house open and slam shut.

Odette maintained her Golden Gloves stance for what seemed like an hour, but was probably less than a minute. When Vondell didn’t

return, she brought her fists down, shaking out her shoulders as if she’d just gone ten rounds. Then she walked toward Clarice,

who was still frozen at the front door. Stepping into the circle of golden fabric she had shed onto the floor earlier, Odette

said, “Clarice, could you give me a hand getting back into my dress?”

After Clarice packed Odette into her gown, the two girls went to Barbara Jean, who sat in the maroon chair staring at Odette with

awe. Clarice picked up the imitation fur stoles and dime-store jewelry from the floor while Odette helped Barbara Jean up from the

chair. Odette said, “Come on, Barbara Jean, we’ve got us a party to go to.”

The three girls squeezed into the front seat of Clarice’s car for the drive to Little Earl’s party. They were about a third of

the way there when Clarice finally found words. She said, “That was incredible, Odette. I had no idea your father taught you how

to box.”

Odette snorted and said, “Box? Daddy’s never weighed more than a hundred ten pounds his entire life. Who the hell was he gonna

box? Vondell would’ve broken my neck if he’d decided to fight me.”

During the rest of the ride to the All-You-Can-Eat, Clarice fought to keep her eyes on the road and not stare at her insane friend

in disbelief. Barbara Jean gazed out of the car window and periodically gasped, “Holy shit.”

They had fun at the party that night. They flirted and lip-synched Supremes songs. They watched Little Earl, in a costume

consisting of his best Sunday suit and a Bible, try to use the “I Have a Dream” speech as a pickup line. They admired Chick

Carlson.

Girls approached Chick all night. Freed from convention by their costumes, they forgot for that evening that they were on opposite

sides of a racial divide and constantly interrupted his busboy duties by asking him to dance. Clarice, Barbara Jean, and Odette

got a kick out of watching him hop across the floor in his cowboy costume—his everyday clothes plus a bandana. And they giggled

as, regardless of the song, he treated each girl to a two-step—the only dance that country white boys knew back then.

Late in the evening, Odette went missing for a while. She returned to the window table with Big Earl and Miss Thelma, who promptly

shooed away all of the kids, except Barbara Jean, Odette, and Clarice. Then, after seating themselves on either side of Barbara

Jean, they told her that she would be moving into the room that their daughter, Lydia, had vacated when she left Plainview two

years earlier. They didn’t ask her opinion or entertain other options. Each of them held one of Barbara Jean’s hands and

informed her that Lydia’s room was hers that night and for as long as she wanted.

Barbara Jean protested just long enough to show that she had good manners. Then she agreed. So that evening, courtesy of Big Earl,

Miss Thelma, and Odette, Barbara Jean had a family for the first time in her life. And Clarice came to understand that she had a

friend who could perform miracles.