I roamed the mansion alone. I found the basement, it had some copper plumbing and copper wire. The library, dining room, and most of the house was paneled with fine wood, the bathrooms with marble. I was fascinated with the library, it was the repository for the manufacturing catalogues, blueprints, and family photographs. Samuel was correct. The catalogues read like a history book about a fine, manufacturing Detroit family of a bygone era.
I joined Samuel for a cup of coffee in the late afternoon before he and Roxie would catch the bus to Detroit.. Queenie arrived home with a cooked, sliced ham. She had bags of potatoes, a pumpkin pie, vegetables, and fruits. We rose from the table to help the tired old woman carry the groceries inside the kitchen. She was breathing heavy, wiped her brow, and said, “Whew, what a day but I sure did score a fine Christmas dinner for tomorrow night!” Queenie began to wobble on her feet as if she was about to pass out. I quickly grabbed her and helped her sit. Samuel brought her a glass of water. I heard someone in high heels hurry down the hall and Roxie entered the kitchen, dressed to kill, and ready to catch the bus to work. Queenie remarked, “Girl, you ain’t out hustling yet? Roxie looked into the glass pane of the kitchen cabinet, primping herself, “I got to buy my fix, first.”
Queenie knew the drug dealer would be stopping by shortly to deliver Roxie and Rascal’s heroin. “I guess that nasty, no good pusher, Wrangler, will be showing his ugly, hillbilly face soon!” She lamented. We heard Rascal’s old shopping cart approaching the kitchen. He came into the kitchen beaming with pride because he had a great day dumpster diving. “Check it out, Christmas ornaments!” He yelled. He found discount store price tags cut into the shape of stars in red, green, gold, and silver inside a dumpster. Despite the word, “Discount Price” printed on each card, they were beautiful. Rascal also scrounged some plastic Christmas bulbs with the name of the discount store printed on them. He dangled one and asked,”Did you dig up the Christmas tree, Samuel?” Samuel replied, “Me and the lodger dug it up and it’s sittin’ in the livin’ room ready for the ornaments.” Rascal made a dash with the ornaments towards the tree but was stopped by Queenie, “Not so quick, Rascal. We’re decorating the tree tomorrow night, together, like a family.” She tried to get up but fell backwards, sighing, “I sure did wear myself out today.”
There was a hard knock at the back door and a man with a stern voice, announced, “It’s Wrangler.” Roxie opened the boarded up service door and Wrangler came in. He was a forty-something-year-old, medium built, Caucasian man with a frightening look. He wore a leather jacket and jeans. I noticed his shiny cowboy boots were rattlesnake skin and his briefcase was genuine alligator skin. I caught a glimpse of a hidden pistol inside his coat. He looked me up and down and I knew he was suspicious of me when he said, “Who’s the dude?” Queenie replied in annoyance, “He’s our lodger and you pay him no mind. I don’t want you pushin’ your junk in my kitchen. Go do your business in the library.”
After Roxie, Rascal, and Wrangler left the kitchen to conduct their business, I lamented, “I hope I didn’t scare their pusher away.” Queenie answered, “I never liked that ‘ol redneck. We call him Wrangler because he rides the horse- which is slang for the product he’s pushin’, heroin! I bet his grand-daddy was lynching Black folks down South.” Samuel piped in, “Now woman, don’t get carried away. Wrangler moved to Detroit with his parents from the South when his daddy got a job at the auto plant. Don’t blame him for not losin’ his Southern drawl. He’s just tryin’ to survive in Detroit like everybody else since the auto plants closed down.”
Wrangler finished his business and entered the kitchen to leave by the service door. “Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.” He said and turned to leave. Queenie shouted, “Join us for Christmas Dinner, Wrangler. 6pm sharp.” Wrangler’s business of death dealing was a lonely business, and an invitation to join a rag tag family for Christmas dinner, was a special invitation. He paused, thinking about the many Christmas dinners he had missed over the years, and gratefully accepted, “Thank you. I’ll be here at 6pm, sharp.” He left hurriedly to deliver more “holiday cheer” to his eager clientele.
I helped Queenie prepare the Christmas meal in the kitchen. I peeled potatoes, cut string beans and did whatever was asked of me. Samuel prepared a layer of charcoal atop tin foil in the vintage oven which would warm the ham wrapped in aluminum foil. I spent the remainder of Christmas Eve alone in the library, pouring through product catalogues and imagined the cheerful Christmas holidays inside the mansion during the heyday of the family business.
On Christmas day, Queenie had the meal fully prepared and cooked. Roxie set the makeshift dining room table with paper plates, plastic utensils, and paper cups. I produced crystal champagne glasses I found in the basement which would do justice to the champagne Samuel had purchased.
We all retired to the living room to decorate the tree. It was eerily silent as each person hung a star shaped store tag or plastic bulb on the little tree. I suspected each person was remembering happier times with family. Our efforts produced a magnificent Christmas tree. Samuel planned a surprise. He removed the folded up Downbeat Cover from his wallet revealing a handsome young musician, and tacked it above the fireplace. He handed us copies of his poem and asked us to recite it slowly while he played beautiful notes on his tenor sax. Each note conjured up a beautiful lullaby spoken by loving parents to children eagerly waiting for Christmas morning. We held hands and recited:
Come out bright, lonely little star.
Don’t fear the dark clouds, the cold of winter, or the pain below you.
Bless us with your divine rays of hope, warm our spirits, and guide us to a peaceful world where every man, woman, child, and animal lives in dignity and happiness.
Come out bright, lonely little star. Don’t be shy. We’ll accept you as you are and take you into our hearts.Come out bright lonely star, you won’t be judged nor shunned.
Just loved and adored atop our tree of many beautiful lights.
Revered and respected for whom you are.
Beautiful and original as you were created to be.
You’re a loving reminder that we all have self worth.
Samuel’s beautiful melody triggered some memories and painful introspection. It affected Rascal in particular as he appeared to be slipping into an emotional dark space. He rubbed his arms indicating he was in need of a heroin fix. Queenie wiped a tear from her eye. “My man, Samuel, still has the magic touch. Thank you, ‘ol man. It’s time to eat. Everybody find a seat at the table in the dining room,” She said.
Wrangler showed up on time with a bottle of wine and sat next to me at the makeshift dining table. He put his arm around me pulling me close, and whispered, “I saw the red paint on your index finger in the kitchen. You’re “Mr. X”! Leave this old house be so these people can be left to live the small family life they made for themselves. This neighborhood is known to swallow people alive. Strangers come in and never leave if you know what I mean.” I knew it was a veiled threat but Wrangler didn’t know that during my secret inspection of the house, I was able to determine that it qualified as a “Historical Preservation Home” and with a simple check of the box on my inspection form; the mansion would be entered into the city database of “Historic Homes” which couldn’t be demolished.
Queenie and Roxie returned from the kitchen with the Christmas dinner, carefully placing the ham, mashed potatoes, vegetables and pies on the table. It was a magnificent feast, everybody was happy and ravenous. Roxie stood up and helped Queenie sit at the table., “Everybody take a moment and say a silent prayer of thanks.” Queenie said. I looked around the room and everybody, including Wrangler, bowed their heads and mumbled a prayer. Queenie was the last to finish her prayer, and gleefully exclaimed, “It’s time to eat, brothers and sisters. Pass the food around family style.” For a moment, it didn’t look like we were dining in a boarded up deserted mansion. The food was bountiful and delicious, and the table setting, albeit picnic style, was beautiful.
, “I met an interesting trick last night. He didn’t want to go to the room but paid me to have dinner with him. He’s a big shot talent agent in Hollywood who scouts rappers and R & B talent.” Roxie, who sat across Queenie, next to Rascal, said.She pulled out a business card, handing it to Queenie, who handed it to Samuel and said, “Go on girl. Keep talkin’. Roxie continued, “I told him about Samuel and the dude lit up saying, Sam is still alive! The man is a living legend. Can I meet him?” Samuel wasn’t flattered. Instead he said, “Man, I don’t want to waste no time recounting my past with nobody! I’m retired!” Roxie was persistent, “He said he can line you up with steady, studio work!” Rascal was elated, “That’s fantastic, Samuel. You got to meet this dude!” Roxie continued, “That ain’t all. I mentioned you, too, Rascal. He said he can hook you up as a roadie, and, if you want to learn to drive a truck, he’ll get you into the Teamsters Union as a truck driver with full benefits and great union pay!”
Rascal and Samuel were dumbfounded. They had both lived lives of false promises and rejection but this felt real to them. They needed to ponder on the reality that their lives could change if they had the motivation to get sober. Queenie was interested in the trick’s motivation and asked, “You think this man is sweet on you, baby girl?” Roxie was embarrassed but replied, “Yeah, we kinda have a thing brewin.” Queenie lit up, “Well good for you, girl! You hooked a big fish. Reel him in slow, the traditional, romantic way. Got it, girlfriend?” Roxie had an expression on her face like it was the first time she might be in love. “I got it, Ms. Queenie. He wants to have dinner with me, Samuel, and Rascal the day after Christmas,” she replied.
Roxie had made good money on Christmas Eve and she was generous with her gifts. She gifted a pair of orthopaedic shoes for Queenie and a set of cashmere gloves with the finger tips removed permitting Samuel to play the sax more comfortably in the cold weather. She bought Rascal a new hoodie and pair of trendy sneakers.
During Christmas dinner, Rascal descended deeper into depression, as thoughts of missing his family weighed heavily upon him. I saw a fresh needle mark on his arm and knew he shot up before dinner. He was even struggling to stay awake. “If you’re tired baby boy, go take a rest. It’s ok.” Queenie said to Rascal. His eyes rolled back into his head, his mouth began to foam, and his face fell into his plate. Wrangler shouted, “Get him off the chair and flat on the floor.” Rascal’s lips were blue and his breathing was barely noticeable. Wrangler made for his briefcase and opened it hurriedly. It contained a kit of drugs. Samuel shouted, “Shoot him with the Narcan, quick.”
Wrangler reached into his briefcase and produced two packs of Narcan nose spray, tearing one dispenser from the package, and pumping the contents into Rascal’s nose. Rascal didn’t respond. Wrangler yelled, “He’s not helping. He doesn’t want to come back. I’ve seen it before. Wake up, Rascal!” Queenie was besides herself with fear but she was impressed by Wrangler’s fervent efforts to revive Rascal. She placed her arm around Wrangler and whispered, “So, you have a heart after all!” “He reminds me of myself when I was young.” Wrangler replied. He tilted Rascal’s head up, put the second plastic syringe into his nostril and released the spray with a forceful pump. Rascal opened his eyes slowly. Roxie cried tears of joy watching her “brother” of sorts regain consciousness. In all the commotion, nobody noticed Samuel was slumped against the wall, holding his chest and gasping for air. Queenie screamed, “Don’t you die old man! I can’t run this household by myself. Please, dear God, let him live!”
