Ms. Etta's Fast House (10 page)

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Authors: Victor McGlothin

BOOK: Ms. Etta's Fast House
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“I don't want to get in trouble over this,” Delbert objected cautiously.
“Man, what's gotten into you? You belong here, there's good grub, so dig in.” When Delbert's hunger won out, he stacked his plate so high that M.K. laughed. “Now, that's more like it.”
“You tell him, M.K.,” seconded Dr. Hiram Knight, entering the room. “Keeping your strength up is as important as keeping your spirits up.” Delbert felt like a sinner listening to a preacher pitching a sermon directly at him. “You did a fine job in there,” Knight congratulated M.K. “We might have lost the patient's hand if it hadn't been for your battlefield training. You could learn a lot from him, Delbert, a whole lot.” Dr. Knight nibbled on a piece of toasted bread before someone came in to call on him for another case. “Glad to have you back, M.K.,” he offered on his way out.
“Thank you, sir, glad to be back.” M.K. felt eyes plastered on him, so he stared back at Delbert. “What!” he shouted.
“What? How dare you ask me
what
when I've been up to my elbows in expectant mothers, old battleaxes and wayward women all this time while you're upstairs with the chief performing your first miracle?”
“Any of those wayward women happen to be good looking?” was M.K.'s anxious reply.
“One of them was pretty stacked, enough to get me worked up,” Delbert answered nonchalantly.
“Ha-ha, the boy is growing up fast. Did you get her private exchange?”
“Yeah, I did, but I didn't have no use for her phone number. She was lying there with the evidence oozing out to prove it,” he rattled off quickly. “I'm trying to hear all about you saving a man's hand and you're going on about a patient with a nasty irritation.”
M.K. eyed Delbert curiously. “You say she was a looker and stacked to boot. And, you treated her right?” He frowned as Delbert contended that he was right on all counts. “Then somebody needs to sit you down a spell. What am I gonna do with you, Tex? You got all the way to third base and then she opened her legs wider, giving you the signal to slide in for home. Instead you went in standing up. Pitiful.”
Delbert replayed the way things went down. He shook his head disappointedly. “I guess I could use some coaching on women.”
“Give it some time. You need to walk before you can run. Maybe I ought to drop you by the high school to practice before your next time at bat. You think about it while I head out back for some fresh air and a cigarette. Got another miracle scheduled in an hour. A man got a hammer stuck in his rectum and now he expects us to go up in there and get it out.” Delbert clenched his buttock cheeks when calculating the unrivaled pain associated with getting it lodged up there in the first place.
“Damn, M.K., a real hammer?”
“Yep, the end with the nail claw on it.”
11
T
HE
M
ORE
T
HINGS
C
HANGE
J
ust outside of the courthouse a large angry crowd swelled.
Tensions soared when more than an hour crawled past and the city's deputy mayor hadn't addressed the crowd's concerns after he'd promised to return with full disclosure of passing test results. Opposing parties on both sides grew increasingly more vocal with their comments and unfounded suspicions of the other. Suddenly, two paddy wagons rolled into the town square, parting the rising sea of animosity. As if on cue, the Metro Police Mobile Units idled at the base of the courthouse steps to deter onlookers when the department chief escorted an intimidated city leader out of the front entrance. Despite the fact that he had a platoon of officers in riot gear flanking them on either side to prevent an onset of violence, his eyes darted back and forth as he surveyed the horde.
Henry Taylor had completed the exam over an hour ago and he also had the foresight to utilize the rear exit, avoiding the risk of being recognized by the mob in the event that things got out of hand. He managed to convince three others to do the same but some of them couldn't pass on being showered with thunderous ovations upon emerging through the front doors after completing the lengthy civil service examination. Pretending to be curious but indifferent bystanders, Henry and those friends of his with level heads loitered on the broad sidewalk behind the massive gathering. While watching the situation simmer to a slow boil, each of them wanted cooler heads to prevail, although it seemed highly unlikely.
“All right, that'll be enough of that!” the police chief yelled into the narrow end of a large cardboard megaphone, when several people continually voiced their opinions regarding the city's stand to open the force to blacks. For a man in his mid-fifties with graying hair, Chief Riley appeared to be in decent shape, considering he was as lazy as they came and only appointed to his post after digging up dirt on the last mayor before he was ousted by a front-page sex scandal involving a colored woman. “We all know why we're here and I won't stand for any civil disobedience despite how you might feel over the outcome,” the chief threatened, in his finely polished blue uniform. “That means we won't hesitate to haul the lot of you off to jail if your actions demand it.” Once the gathering quieted down to his satisfaction, the top cop took one calculated step backward to yield the floor.
“I want to thank you in advance for keeping it down while we get on with the business at hand. Remember that we stand for the city of St. Louis and hope that you accept this class of Metro Police cadets with a measure of respect and dignity. Nothing short of that will be tolerated.” After the deputy mayor lowered the boom, a hushed murmur spread throughout the audience. There was no use in getting arrested before hearing the verdict. “Good, we understand one another then,” he said, in a tone more resolute than before. “First let me be very candid in telling you that out of sixty-one applicants, our highest number to sit for the exam, we have selected twelve deserving
and qualified
men for the next three-month training class.”
“Well, that rules out any niggers getting in!” smarted off a redneck close to the front of the crowd.
The police chief chuckled until he felt his boss's glare burning a hole in him. “Okay, keep it down!” he fired back, with a hint of laughter riding just beneath it. “Deputy Mayor,” said the chief, giving a slight nod to get the show moving again.
“As I was saying, I will read off the twelve names. These men will be expected to report for orientation on Wednesday morning at the Police Training Facility, nine o'clock sharp.” Jimmy Maxwell's was the first name he read aloud. When no one seemed to object or applaud, the politician continued until there were six names left. He hesitated briefly to brace himself before going on. “The other six cadets will be as follows—James Dodd, Trace Wiggins, Willie B. Bernard, Charles Tennyson, Patton Jones and Henry Taylor.” As cheers erupted on one side of the fence, twice as many jeers resounded from the other. Shoving and bickering quickly escalated into inflammatory insults hurled back and forth. Then out of nowhere, someone threw a full soda bottle into the riotous group.
The deputy mayor shuddered. He panicked when angry fists flew wildly. “Do something about this, chief!” he instructed hastily before darting back inside the building to elude danger.
After receiving the go-ahead, police officers stormed the audience to stifle the melée. They wielded night sticks violently, cracking heads without regard. Flashbulbs popped as newspaper cameramen captured the city's ugliest incident in years.
Charles “Smiley” Tennyson, having been near the last one named on the list, gulped hard as he observed the mad brawl. “Is that what we got to look forward to?”
“Nah, not unless you plan on trying your luck with some of that
civil disobedience
,” Trace said.
“But Willie B's over there putting his up against those nightsticks. This is bad, real bad. Let's mix in and grab him up.”
“Hell, naw, just sit still. Willie B. done made his bed. He'll figure a way out of this jam. Besides, it's way too many white ladies over there to make arrests stick.”
Trace couldn't believe his eyes. He removed his bifocals, folded and tucked them away. “Man, the way they breaking heads, I can barely stand to watch.”
“You ain't seen the half of it yet,” Henry informed him. “It'll get a lot worse before things iron out. Trust me.” He tried to turn his eyes away once he recognized several people he'd grown up with being dragged from the bloody sidewalks and hoisted into paddywagons like career criminals. Surprisingly, it was just as difficult watching the same happen to battered and bruised white folk he'd never met. The enormity of what he signed up to do smacked him like the wooden baton he'd soon be asked to carry, when all he set out to do was earn an honest wage and feed his family. Igniting a brutal incident on the shores of the Mississippi was the farthest thing from his mind then.
Now, he could think of nothing else, knowing that the others would not have gone forward without him. Henry felt as if every drop of blood spilled on the city sidewalk was on his hands. What's more, he knew it was only the beginning. “Come on, y'all!” he barked when the men began drifting toward the fight. “I said, hightail it outta here before you get sucked in, hired and fired all in the same day.” Begrudgingly, the four men chose the road less traveled, with dubious feeling. It wasn't every day that colored men got the chance to rumble on the courthouse steps against white men who had openly engaged in hatred and bigotry to their faces. Each one of them went home feeling as though they had missed out on a one in a million chance.
 
It was late afternoon when Etta finally got Baltimore to return her calls and he was wearing an icepack for a hat when he did. He asked if anything had happened during his novice attempt at drowning sorrows. In addition, he was willing to apologize for misbehaving if it turned out to be the case. Etta laughed. She told him there wasn't anything to be sorry about. On the other hand, she would need him to help square an issue with Penny. Alarmed, Baltimore sat up on his bed and then snatched the melting ice away. Etta had to calm him down before he allowed her to explain that he had done nothing wrong to bring about Penny's situation. Finally relieved, Baltimore listened attentively to all that Etta had to say. He agreed wholeheartedly and then thanked her for including him. Penny's welfare meant a lot and before long Etta's would too, just as much.
When Baltimore found Jinx toiling in some white man's yard in the far end of town, he shook his head disapprovingly. He parked the car next to the curb, not lending much to what the man's neighbors might report to him when he came home from work. It was still a free country, on paper mostly, and he felt free to park his car wherever he got good and ready. “Uh-huh,” yelled Baltimore from the driver's seat. He frowned at the patches of grass Jinx had ripped from the lawn. “Etta told me I'd find you around these parts on your knees and such.”
“Hey, Baltimo'!” the younger man hollered back. Jinx climbed to his feet and dusted off his brown work pants. He always respected Baltimore and admired him for his brash way of doing things, although it made Jinx nervous as hell the way he carried himself around white people. It was more dangerous than it was crazy, he thought, but admired it nonetheless.
“What you doing up in that man's yard?” Baltimore teased.
Jinx raised his hand to shield his face from the sun. “Don't rightly know yet. Landscapin', I guess.”
“Land
scraping
is more like it. That fella's gonna get you for plucking up his grounds. Somebody needs to fetch you away from here before he catches you.” Of course Baltimore knew the young man was scratching out a living the best way he could on short notice, but that didn't stop him from poking fun before time came to unload some difficult news. “All right. Don't mind me, Jinx. I'm ribbing is all.”
“I ain't stud'n you, Baltimo'. I know you's just around to have a good time with me,” Jinx replied, as his smile melted slightly. “Unless they's something else on your mind.”
“Well, now that you mention it, there is this one thing I need you to help me with,” Baltimore said, looking past him as another thing caught his eye. There was a woman, a white woman, strutting around in the backyard in a two-piece bathing suit. She knew that colored men were watching when she seductively began applying tanning oil on her arms and legs. Although Baltimore tried to ignore her midday sunbath, there was no way to shake it off. There was something strangely familiar about her, but he couldn't place her.
“Okay, shoot. I ain't got much, but whatever it is, I'm willing to lend a hand,” answered Jinx. He was facing Baltimore and itching to hear what the man traveled across town to ask him. “Well, what is it?”
“First, let me thank you for helping me put Penny's old papa in the ground. But see, here's the thing I was getting at. Etta wants to have a ceremony. You know, for Penny. She's having a tough time moving on and saying farewell because she didn't have the chance to before ...”
“Yeah, yeah, anything for Penny,” he answered, sort of perplexed about what was going on behind him. When he couldn't shake the distinct feeling gnawing at him to turn around and get a look at what kept drawing Baltimore's attention away, Jinx peeped over his shoulder. “Ah, naw, naw,” he uttered, trying to keep his voice low. “Uh-uh, Baltimo', I see it and I don't like it. That look in your eyes and what you's thinking on doing is gonna get you killed.”
Baltimore grinned when he remembered where he'd seen that lady before. “Calm down, Jinx, it'll be all right after a while.”
“You done gone crazy? That's a white lady. She respectable and she married,” he argued. “And ... and she white!”
“I can see that, Jinx, but ain't neither of 'em got nothing to do with me,” Baltimore said coolly, not taking his eyes of the woman's pasty skin turning redder by the moment. “She's married, I'll grant you that, but I'm a have to get back with you on the respectable part.” He motioned forward to get closer to the skimpy swimsuit but Jinx grabbed his arm.
“Come on, let's skin out and take care of that thing you came to fetch me for.”
“Huh?” was Baltimore's faint response.
“Halstead, remember?”
“I can't do nothing for Halstead. He's already dead.”
“I know and we got to bury him right, for Penny,” Jinx said, hoping to save someone the trouble of throwing dirt over Baltimore. “Baltimo', for Penny?” he insisted quietly.
“All right, Jinx, let's be getting on then. You're a good man. Penny's lucky to have a friend like you.”
“I'm a good pal of yours, too,” Jinx sighed wearily, while settling into the passenger seat. “If you was to know what I do about that woman's husband, you'd be thanking me for holding you off.”
“And if you was to know anything about women in general, you wouldn't be so quick to go patting yourself on the back. Me and her, we got the same idea in mind,” he added with a sly wink. “We both share a fondness for intrigue and a broad dislike for her husband, Barker Sinclair.” Once the car pulled onto the residential street, Jinx felt like sliding down in the seat to hide his identity. For even thinking about going after Dixie, wife of the meanest white man he'd ever seen, Jinx assumed Baltimore had to be crazy, and stupid.
Two blocks from the hospital, Baltimore noticed several groups milling around on the sidewalks, most of them crying and cursing. He didn't know what to make of it as police cars and ambulances raced past with sirens blaring. “What the hell?” he muttered to himself when discovering that the hospital parking entrance was blocked by a squadron of patrol cars. After a large corn-fed cop waved a baton, telling him to move along, he made a swift U-turn in the middle of the avenue. “Stay here, Jinx,” he murmured sternly. “I knew this would happen, just didn't think they'd get into it this fast.”

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