'So am I,' I said; I didn't want any argument either, but I couldn't help but add, 'Not a Southern one, however.'
'There's some mighty good coloured boys frum the South,' Elsie went on through a mouthful of food. She washed it down with coffee. 'I declare, the coffee they make…' She grimaced. 'Now me and Madge are from Texas-Breckenridge, Texas. We went to Houston when the war broke out, then we got an itching to come to California.'
'I hear there're shipyards in Houston,' I began, but she didn't give anybody a chance to talk.
'Course it's different in Texas. The coloured folks there like to be by themselves, so we just let 'em go ahead and don't bother with 'em. Don't have no trouble and everybody is happy. I used to tell my husband-that's Madge's brother, he was killed in an automobile accident in Amarillo-I used to tell Henry that if everybody understood coloured folks like we do in the South there wouldn't be all this trouble.' She gave them a bright, toothy smile. 'Now tell the truth, you'd rather be with your own folks any day, wouldn't you?'
I got salty. 'If you're trying to tell me in a nice way you don't want my company-'
She threw up her hands and cut me off. 'I declare, you coloured folks frum California is so sensitive. Coloured boys in Texas know better'n to sit beside a white woman. Not that I mind if Madge don't. It's just that most coloured folks like to stay to themselves. That's why we ain't never had no trouble in Texas. All these riots in Detroit and New York and Chicago-it come from all this mixing up. I always say it ain't because white people is all that much better'n coloured folks-there's some mighty good coloured folks and some white people ain't worth their salt. And it ain't because white people hate coloured folks neither. We love coloured folks in Texas, and I bet you a silver dollar coloured folks love us too. I even know coloured folks what's educated. There's a coloured doctor in Amarillo went to school and graduated. It's just that white people is white. We're different frum coloured people. The Lord God above made us white and made you folks coloured. If He'da wanted to, He coulda made you folks white and us people coloured. But he made us white 'cause he wanted us the same colour as Him. "I will make thee in My Image," He said, and that's what He done. And the sooner you coloured folks learn that, the sooner you understand that God made you coloured 'cause he wanted to, 'cause when He made us in His Image He had to make somebody else to fill up the world, so He made you. Not that I say coloured folks should have to serve white people, but you know yo'self God got dark angels in heaven what serve the white ones-that's in the Bible plain enough for anybody to see. And the sooner you coloured folks learn that, then the better off you'll be.'
'Don't pay no 'tention to Elsie,' Madge said to me as soon as she caught an opening. 'She just homesick, that's all.'
'Yes, I'm homesick, I'll tell anybody,' Elsie confessed. 'Too many Jews and Mexicans in this city for me, and if there's any folks I hate it's-'
'Your husband Elsie's brother?' I asked Madge, cutting Elsie off.
Madge gave me a startled, sidewise glance, then laughed. 'No, Elsie married my brother. My husband's in the service in-'
'Tell the truth!' Elsie broke in. 'You know well as you sitting there George is in Arkansas with another woman. He's too old for the service anyhow.'
Madge didn't like that. 'I heered he joined up. Lem told me-'
'Lem ain't told you no such thing,' Elsie snapped. 'I declare-'
I had to break it up again. 'You and Elsie live together?' I asked.
'No, Elsie lives with-' Madge began, but Elsie hunched her. 'Don't go telling your business to ev'ybody come along,' she said, then turned to me. 'I declare, boy, you ain't et a thing, and lunchtime is almost-' The whistled stopped her that time.
'Just like a clock,' I said.
'Now you got to slip off and eat on the job when you oughta be working,' she said.
'I'm not hungry anyway,' I said.
Elsie closed her lunch pail and got up, but Madge took a moment to gather up the scrap paper. When Elsie turned away I leaned over and whispered to Madge, 'I'm coming up to see you tonight.'
'You better not,' she threatened, looking panicky for an instant, then she giggled. 'You don't know where I live anyway.'
Elsie heard us whispering and turned back. 'Come on,' she said peevishly. 'I do declare, I don't know what's come over you since you come to California.'
Madge moved slightly, blocking Elsie from view, and I formed the words with my lips: 'Look for me around eight.'
'You go 'head!' Madge snapped at Elsie, wanting her to get away so we could have a last moment together. 'You know we can't leave no paper laying around.' Then she leaned over me to pick up a scrap of newspaper and I could see her breasts hanging loose inside her waist. She gave me plenty time to get my gaper's bit, then fluttered her eyelashes, straightened up, and went off with Elsie, pitching her hips. I sat there and watched them shake, too weak to move.
After a moment Ben, Peaches, and Conway came by on their way back to the dock. 'What you doing, taking your vacation?' Ben asked.
I picked up the stew, pie, and coffee, dumped them into a trash container, then joined the three of them.
'He's dreaming 'bout his white chicks,' Peaches said slyly.
I gave her a sharp look, wondering if she had seen me talking to Madge. Then I laughed and leaned over toward her. 'If you Negro women would give a man a break now and then we wouldn't have to-'
But she cut me off. 'That's what you all say. You niggers make me sick.' It must have been her pet peeve. 'If a coloured girl asks one of you niggers to take her to the show you start grumbling 'bout money-liable even ask her to pay the way. And then the raggedest-looking old beat-up white tramp can come by and get your whole pay check. You dump like a dumping truck.'
Ben saw that she was half-way serious and started teasing her. 'That's just what's wrong with you Negro women-always fighting and fussing. A man takes his life in his hands just to live with you. Always got your mouth stuck out and mad about something. Now take a white woman-all she wants you to do is love her.'
'I like big fat white women,' Conway started, ' 'cause there's so much of 'em that's white. An' I like old white women 'cause they been white so long. An' I like young white women 'cause they got so long to be white. An' I like skinny white women 'cause-'
A couple of white fellows passed and glanced at Conway, and Peaches snapped scornfully, 'Oh, shut up, Conway. You'll be up there begging me for some all afternoon.'
Ben gave a loud guffaw and Conway looked embarrassed. We started talking about the work and Ben got on Tebbel. Conway looked like he wanted to say something about me but thought better of it. When we came to the landing stairs Madge was standing at the fountain. I half turned towards her and winked, but she must have thought I was going to say something to her, for she gave me one glance and went into her frightened act again. I gritted my teeth. That's okay, baby, I thought; you don't scare me now.
'What the hell's matter with that woman?' Ben asked. 'Is she-' He broke off and looked at me. 'That the cracker you had the trouble with?'
I nodded.
'What the hell is she trying to do, make as if she's scared of Negroes?'
'If she knew what I know 'bout you three she better be scared,' Peaches cracked.
'Bob don't want no stuff 'bout the woman,' Conway growled. Then he asked me, 'Hear any more 'bout it yet?'
'Not yet,' I said.
They didn't ask any more questions.
CHAPTER XVI
On the way home I stopped at a cafe and had a couple of fried pork chops, some French fries, and baked beans. I was sitting at the counter with a bunch of other workers and all of a sudden I thought of Madge and had to laugh. The people turned and looked at me like I was nuts. But I couldn't stop laughing; every now and then I'd break out again. I really didn't know whether I was laughing at Madge or myself; we were both very funny people.
I got through, got up, paid the girl, and went out. The chops were heavy in my stomach but they gave me drive. I knew what
I was going to do; I was going down to the hotel and see the dame. But I didn't want to think about it; I didn't want to get mixed up with a lot of crazy thoughts. So I kept looking at the people on the street as I drove home. I pulled up in front of the house and cut the motor before I realized I was there. I gave a little laugh and went inside.
I took so long bathing and getting dressed, Ella Mae said, 'So you got another heavy on tonight.'
'I'm just a playboy at heart,' I laughed, trying on another sport shirt.
I was wearing my beige gabardine pumps, grey flannel slacks, camel's-hair jacket, but I couldn't find a shirt that satisfied. I wanted to look sharp but I wanted to feel comfortable too. I could wear an outfit over on the Avenue and feel strictly fine, but if I went downtown in it I felt gaudy. Now I was trying to get a combination I'd feel all right in if I had to take the dame out somewhere. I finally decided on an aqua gabardine shirt. Then I stepped into the kitchen to let her gape me.
'See what I mean?' I said.
She tried to look scornful. 'You just think you look cute. You'll stumble in here 'bout four o'clock all messed up and wanna kill everybody.'
I grinned. 'I'm going out with my white chick tonight. She takes good care of me.'
'You're saying it for a joke,' she said derisively, 'but I believe you, you're just the type.'
'You know I like my white women, baby,' I teased. 'Couldn't get along without 'em.'
'You just like all the other niggers,' she came back. 'Get a white woman and go from Cadillacs to cotton sacks.' Then she added offhandedly, 'Alice called while you were in the tub,' and gave me a sharp look, catching me off guard. 'Oh, so, it's like that now. Just last week you were bragging 'bout how you were gonna marry her.'
I got my face under control again and said, 'Now you know I'm waiting for Henry to die so I can marry you, baby. What do you say we bump him off?'
She went on washing the baby's diapers, ignoring me. I stepped into the front room and called Alice. She answered the phone.
'Hello, baby. Bob,' I said.
'Bob, I've been trying to get you.' Her voice sounded as though it was under wraps; it was still low, controlled, but it wasn't mellow.
'I stopped and ate on the way home,' I said.
For a time she didn't say anything, then she asked, 'Bob, did you do what I asked you to?'
I knew what she meant but I said anyway, 'What did you ask me to do?'
'Let's don't play games with each other, Bob,' she said. 'You know what I asked you to do.' There was strain in her voice.
'I didn't do it,' I said.
She waited for me again and when she saw I wasn't coming, she asked, 'Are you going to?'
'No,' I said.
There was another blank and when her voice came now it was a little desperate. 'Do you love me, Bob?'
'Yes,' I said. I was fighting against her, trying to keep her from touching me. I didn't want to get all mixed up, mad or remorseful or even sensible; I wanted to go see Madge and to hell with everybody.
'You have a funny way of showing it,' she said.
'I told you, baby,' I said. My voice was getting heavy.
She was silent again for a time, then she asked, 'Am I going to see you tonight?'
'What for, so we can have another argument?'
'I want you to take me out to Hollywood. Lawson's going to lecture,' she said. 'Afterward we can have a snack and go to a night club if you like.'
Now it was my turn to hesitate. I tried to think of some way to let her down light but couldn't think of anything she wouldn't know was a lie. Finally I said, 'Not tonight, baby.'
'I want to talk to you, darling,' she said. I could tell she didn't want to let me go.
But I wanted her to hang up; it was getting inside of me, touching me. 'Not tonight, baby,' I said gruffly. 'I've got something to do tonight. I'll see you tomorrow night.'
I could hear her sighing over the phone. 'Tomorrow night might be too late, darling.'
I didn't say anything at all.
Finally she asked, 'Is this goodbye, Bob?'
'Look baby,' I said. 'I'm not in the mood to listen to your all this and heaven too.'
She hung up. 'Goddamnit!' I said. Now I was beat. I didn't even feel like going to see Madge any more, but I knew I had to.
I went out, drove down to Forty-ninth Street, and turned over to Broadway. I stopped at a Thrifty's drugstore and bought a bottle of brandy-'27 Years Old,' it said on the label. Then I got on Figueroa and kept straight down to the Hotel Mohave near Third Street.
It was a narrow four-storey building with a dry-cleaning joint on the first floor. The hotel entrance was to one side, a narrow stairway leading to the second floor with a round white dirty globe over the doorway. The neighbourhood was spotted with vacant lots and cheap hotels, a stagnant part of town between the downtown section to the east and the residential district to the west.
I drew up across the street and tried to spot Madge's room. Don had said it was a second-floor front but I didn't know which side. There were double windows on each side with drawn venetian blinds and a bare centre hallway window. Both front rooms were dark.
I knew these joints; if I walked in there dressed as I was, everybody who saw me would be hostile and curious; and the chances were somebody would call the police and have me arrested on general principles.
So I drove down the street until I came to a beer joint with a telephone sign outside. It was one of those dingy, dirty joints, but the moment I stepped inside everybody in the joint got on their muscle.
I stifled an impulse to say, 'Don't worry, folks, I don't want to be served,' said quickly in the direction of the bar, 'Just wanna use the phone,' kept on back to the booth. I found the Mohave's number and dialled.
A dried-up querulous voice said, 'Hotel Mohave.'
'I'd like to speak to Madge Perkins in room 202,' I said.
'She's out,' the voice said impatiently.
I hesitated. 'Do you know when she'll be back?'
'Don't know,' the voice said, and hung up.
I went out, turned around, and drove down on the same side as the hotel, parked several doors up the street, and waited. That way I'd see her when she came in. I got a swing programme on the radio and puffed a cigarette. People passed, glanced at me, then turned to stare with hard hostility when they saw I was a Negro. It was a rebbish neighbourhood, poor white; I'd have felt much better parked in Beverly Hills.
After a while I became conscious of somebody watching me. I looked around, didn't see anyone. Then I noticed that I was parked in front of a rooming house. Someone inside, maybe the landlady, had noticed the car, and several faces were peering furtively around the corners of the curtains in the front room. It made me nervous. I knew if I stayed there for any length of time they'd call the police. Any Negro in the neighbourhood after dark was a 'suspicious person.' So I pulled up beyond the hotel and watched the entrance through the rear-view mirror.
It seemed as if I'd been there for hours. I glanced at my watch. It was only eight-thirty. I got out, walked across the street, and took another gander at the second-storey front. Both rooms were still dark. For a moment I debated whether to call again, decided against it. I knew there wasn't any use trying to get by the desk. If I went up there and told the guy who owned the voice I'd talked to over the phone that I wanted to see Madge Perkins in 202, he was liable to shoot me on sight or drop dead of heart failure.
Suddenly I decided to give it up, go over, and take Alice out to Lawson's lecture, and afterwards take her to the Down Beat. Madge wasn't worth the effort, I thought. The whole idea of going to bed with her to get even with Kelly and Mac and the other peckerwoods out at the yard seemed silly now. She wasn't nothing but trouble any way you looked at it, I told myself; and I'd always figured myself too smart to let the white folks catch me out there on their own hunting-grounds.
I mashed the starter and drove out Figueroa, thinking about what a fool I'd been to go down there looking for Madge
in the first place. Nobody but a pure and simple chump would skip a date with a chick like Alice for an off-chance shot at a tramp like Madge. I was feeling so good about it I'd forgotten all about the row I'd had with Alice the night before. My mind had jumped back to the good times we'd had together, and I felt relieved and kind of half-way clever, as if I'd gotten out of a trap the white folks had set for me.
Fifteen minutes later I pulled up behind a Pontiac coupe parked in front of the Harrisons' house and started to get out. Then I saw Alice coming down the walk from her house with Leighton. All thought and emotion just stopped, went blank. I got out slowly and waited for them.
'Why, it's Mr. Jones.' Leighton recognized me, sticking out his hand. He gave me a cordial, friendly smile. 'How are you tonight?'
I shook his hand. 'Fine,' I said. 'How are you?'
'Well…' He hesitated, then said, 'I'm fine too,' giving a friendly laugh.
Finally Alice said, 'Hello, Bob,' without asking any questions or showing any surprise.
I looked at her then. She was sharp in a hunter's-green suit and white, lacy-looking blouse. But her skin looked too white, as if she had powdered it with chalk. I got the evil thought that she was trying to make herself look as white as possible so people would think she and Leighton were a white couple.
' 'Lo, baby,' I said. I waited for a moment, thinking she might give an explanation, and when I saw she wasn't going to, I said, 'I know this is impolite and all that, but may I talk to you a moment.. ' I hesitated, then added, 'In private.'
'I'm sorry, darling,' she said, giving me her social worker's smile. 'We're going to the lecture and we're late now. Tom gave me a ring after you said you couldn't go.'
'Well…' I began, then stepped aside to let them pass. 'That's fine.' After a moment I added, 'Enjoy yourselves.'
Her expression softened, went tentative. 'Would you like to go with us?' she asked.
'By all means, come along,' he corroborated quickly. 'We'd be delighted.'
It was an embarrassing moment. I wasn't going to have him share my girl with me; but I didn't want to say anything rude. 'Well, I really can't,' I fumbled. 'I have an appointment.'
If he hollers let him go Page 15
