Ms. Etta's Fast House (5 page)

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Authors: Victor McGlothin

BOOK: Ms. Etta's Fast House
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The thought of giving it to Barker's wife stayed with Baltimore as he drove to the other end of town to meet with a very powerful mobster. Schmitty Rosenberg, a dangerous man if not handled correctly, had his hands in every illegal industry in St. Louis. Baltimore had asked for a meeting with the aging mobster to pitch a partnership. Rosenberg wasn't likely to refuse, although he was known as a ruthless greedy gangster, who avoided doing business in “The Ville” despite extending his reach into every other black community in the city. It was rumored that shady enterprises within the neighborhood ran smoothly and unmolested as long as the police received their cut on the back end. Shakedowns were common place for protection from outside racketeers. Baltimore was tired of living on crumbs, so he set out to carve up his own piece of the pie.
As soon as he reached the main gate, fashioned with wrought iron and barbed wire, his car was thoroughly searched. When he received the go ahead to pull forward, he was searched from head to toe at the front door, then physically detained by two of Schmitty's thugs until another brutish looking man, wearing an expensive dark blue all-weather wool suit, stepped into the small room off the kitchen.
“The Boss wants to see you now,” he mumbled, staring through Baltimore instead of at him.
“About time,” Baltimore thought aloud, returning the same disrespectful look he'd received. “He ain't the only one got things to do.”
The square-shouldered henchman showed Baltimore into an impressive den decorated with fine antique furniture and brass fixtures. Baltimore stared at a collection of stuffed animals and foreign warrior masks until a short round man entered from the far end of the room. He took a seat behind a mammoth rosewood desk, picked a white handkerchief from inside his pin-striped suit and wiped moisture from his severely pitted skin. Then, he brushed back what was left of his thinning gray hair. “Sit down, Mr. Floyd,” he commanded.
Not please have a seat or please make yourself comfortable, but sit down.
Baltimore made note of it but put the crude salutation aside for the sake of gaining the man's allegiance.
“So, what makes you think I'm interested in doing business with niggers from ‘The Ville'?” the gangster asked, while puffing on a Cuban cigar.
“Mr. Rosenberg, I'm gonna overlook your unflattering remark.” Baltimore paused to glance over his shoulder at the wool-wearing brute. His boss hadn't told him to react so he didn't. “But what I will do is explain why you should be in business with me.” He acknowledged the police had the community under wraps and explained how he planned to put together a crew to handle things from the inside without them getting wise until it was too late to do anything about it.
Within five minutes, Mr. Rosenberg was intrigued. After another five he'd heard enough. He rose from the desk, circled around it and shook Baltimore's hand. The other details were to be fleshed out when the time came, to guarantee there wouldn't be a threat of a double-cross squeezing Baltimore in the middle. Rosenberg respected that part of the proposition most of all. It revealed a fair amount of cunning and forethought. There was room in his shady enterprises for Baltimore, Rosenberg had decided, for the time being at least. The very least was all the time Baltimore expected to get. Time enough to work his magic in the streets then hit the road with more cash than he could have hustled in twenty years by himself. In parting, Baltimore grinned sheepishly. “Oh, yeah,” he said in parting, “I'ma need a big truck.”
5
E
VENING AT
M
S.
E
TTA'S
B
altimore backed his convertible into a parking space between a brand new Chrysler Imperial and a late model Studebaker. He figured that those car owners valued their expensive automobiles as much as he did, and after previously paying to repair a dented door, the thought of shelling out another seventy dollars to have it done all over again didn't appeal to him. “Lock that back door for me,” Baltimore instructed Delbert, while M.K. assisted him with fastening the rag top.
A group of women, all dressed to the nines, entered what appeared to be a three-story fire station on the other side of the busy boulevard. “Man, it's going to be a hot time in the ole town tonight,” M.K. predicted, with his mind set on having the hottest time possible.
“Yeah, I'm in the mood for some devilment myself,” Baltimore admitted. He stroked his curly hair back with his fingertips then checked to see if he'd remembered packing his charmer. The revolver often came in handy when a drunk or jealous boyfriend needed a little persuading to back down. Saturday nights in St. Louis offered plenty of both.
“That's it?” Delbert asked, stepping onto the curb in front of Ms. Etta's. He squinted at the mushroom-colored brick building. “Looks like a firehouse to me.”
“Used to be one, now it's a fast house,” Baltimore answered, casting a broad smile over Delbert's obvious disappointment. Always the dresser, Baltimore popped the lapels on his tan plaid blazer, adjusted the white linen pocket kerchief and leather suspenders. “You boys ready?”
After observing Baltimore's primping ritual, Delbert and M.K. did likewise to spruce up their attire. The off-white cotton suit Delbert sported was his favorite of the three he owned and M.K. felt like a movie star when a young lady gawked at him while he buttoned his double-breasted houndstooth jacket and straightened the silk tie he'd won in a friendly dice game.
“Would you look at that? M.K.'s already got 'em going and we haven't even broke in yet,” said Baltimore. “If you can't get lucky tonight, man, you ain't trying.”
Music poured out of the nightclub when M.K. opened the entrance door. Charles Brown tickled the ivories while his band laid down some California blues. The dance floor was hopping. Couples boogied heartily to exorcise their work week demons as others swayed to the soulful rhythms, everyone celebrating the birth of spring at the hottest joint this side of Chicago.
Delbert put his money away when Baltimore offered to spring for the libations. “Y'alls' with me, so ain't no need for patting your pockets tonight,” he told the other two. “I'm a head over and whisper a few hellos while y'all rustle up a table.”
Delbert's heart pounded in his narrow chest, thinking it was possible to fall in love with just about every woman he saw. Ten dollar hairstyles, glad rags, drugstore makeup and painted on lips were very appealing, especially to a young man who had committed himself to examining lacerations and injured appendages over the past three years. When Delbert realized what he'd been missing, he was determined to make up for lost time. “M.K., look at all these grown women,” he marveled.
“Yeah, man, I see 'em,” he answered, licking his chops. “I see 'em.”
Delbert's mouth watered as his eyes bounced from skirt to skirt. “I've died and gone to heaven.”
“Naw, this ain't heaven but it's the closest I'll ever get. Delbert, see that one wrapped up in all that green, she's easy on the eyes and built for speed. Two things a man needs.”
“She's high class all right.” Delbert helped himself to a second glance when M.K. searched in the other direction. “Well, I hope she's got a friend.”
“Two friends, don't go forgetting about our sponsor. Baltimore can close any deal. You'll see.”
M.K. recognized a woman he'd seen the day before. When he noticed she was accompanied by two female associates, he abandoned the woman in green for a friendly face. He took Delbert along and waited until Baltimore returned, completing a cozy six-pack. “Come on, the train is pulling into the station,” M.K. said, with his horns showing.
They approached the table near the back staircase, where it was understood that lovers could pay extra to get better acquainted in one of the bedrooms on the second level, previously used as firemen quarters. Although it had been several years since the fire house was utilized in its initial capacity, the upper rooms more than compensated for the decreased activity. On the second floor, a man with some money in his pocket and a smooth line on his lips could get all the activity he wanted. That's what Delbert had in mind when he studied the woman sitting on the right, wearing a cinnamon complexion as well as she did her black and white off-the-shoulder dress. She grinned brightly when the two men stood by. Her hair was done up in a crisscrossed bun with short bangs dangling in her face. M.K. had met her at the hospital when he and Ollie went out on their scouting expedition.
“Dr. M.K. Phipps,” the woman greeted loudly, “you said you were gonna call me. My phone hasn't rung once.”
“Hey, Ruth Anne, I've been meaning to call you. Ladies, pleased to meet you.”
“I'm Belle and I'd be more pleased if you ordered some cocktails ... doctor,” the middle one sang sweetly. M.K. was beginning to think the arrangement just might work out. He'd take Ruth Anne upstairs. Delbert could try his luck with Belle, because her complexion was fairer than most and Delbert seemed to fancy that. However for Delbert, she was a bit thicker than he was accustomed to, but seeing as how it was his first night at Ms. Etta's he wasn't in any position to be all that particular. Delbert had already caught himself imagining how easy Belle's wine-colored strapless gown would be to unzip and toss in the corner of a dimly lit room.
“Why, sure, let me get a couple of seats, then we can have a ball,” M.K. answered cautiously when the third member in the trio didn't make any efforts at introducing herself. Once he'd returned with additional chairs and taken a seat between Delbert and Ruth Anne, he fired a questioning leer at the attractive mystery woman. Bearing a close resemblance to Dorothy Dandridge and decked out in a fashionable violet-colored dress with matching high heels and hat shaped like a Christmas bow, she was a looker, but didn't appear to be all that eager to be admired.
M.K. leaned in closer to Ruth Anne. “What's her story?”
“Oh that's just Dinah, being Dinah. She's high-strung like that, but she'll loosen up when a reason to happens by.” Before she went on to elaborate, Belle flicked M.K.'s muscular arm with the back of her hand.
“So, who's the pup you brung with you?” she said, inspecting Delbert peculiarly. “He sure ain't much for words.”
“Oh, this here is
Dr.
Delbert Gales from Texas,” M.K. told her, emphasizing his profession.
“
Doctor?
” Belle laughed, taking in his youthful appearance. Her voluptuous breasts heaved every time she took a breath to speak. Delbert couldn't hear anything above his heart beating so loudly. “Kinda frail from where I sit, but some say big things come in small packages.”
“Yeah, yeah,” M.K. agreed for his friend's sake. “They also say, everything is bigger in Texas.”
“That might be true but he's in Missouri now and this is the ‘Show Me State',” quipped Ruth Anne.
“I don't know, Ruth Anne, he's kinda cute though.” Belle thought the doctor part of Delbert was his most appealing attribute. “Delbert, you one of them
cat
doctors?” she purred seductively.
“Uh-uh, I'm a people doctor,” he replied, completely unaware of her seedy insinuation.
“Ooh, and he's green too,” Belle hollered gleefully. “I got me a real live Texas greenhorn. Just wait 'til I get you alone, so I can teach you a thing or two about cats.”
“Yeah, he's a real quick study too,” M.K. chimed in, continuing to do Delbert's bidding because he was failing to hold his own.
Ruth Anne sneered at Belle, who seemed more intrigued by the moment. “As long as he ain't ... too quick,” Ruth Anne remarked rudely, just as Baltimore arrived with a platter-toting waitress.
“Hey, everybody. I've been noticing y'all cutting up over here and figured you'd be getting as thirsty as you are lovely.” Baltimore smiled at each woman, knowing that they'd already decided on who was going home with whom before the last how-do-you-do was done. “This young lady will get whatever tickles your fancies. Meanwhile, she brought an assortment of drinks to wet your whistles.”
Belle was ready to throw Delbert over at the drop of a hat for Baltimore's company but she never got the chance. Suddenly, the quiet one in the bunch snapped out of her calm sedation. “You figured correctly,” was her way of welcoming the newcomer into her midst.
“That there, ladies, is Baltimore, Baltimore Floyd,” M.K. announced, as if his friend was a well-known celebrity.
“I'm sure it'll be a change of pace getting chummy with you, considering tickled fancies, wetted whistles and whatnots?” Dinah was testing him to see how well he'd fare when her exam had begun. “I typically despise a man like you, Mr. Floyd. I don't truck with no sheiks because your harem is bound to keep getting in the way of a good night's sleep.”
Baltimore had taken the time to study Dinah from the bar before he made his way over to meet her. After having run across his share of dolled up headaches like Dinah in the past and always coming out on top, he was more than capable of maneuvering his way through dicey waters. She was well kept, high-yellow and seemed to be adequately flawed in the morality department. The jury was still out on whether she was a lady but there wasn't any doubt that she was all woman.
After Baltimore considered Dinah's opening bid, he upped the ante to get a peek at all of her cards. “Ma'am, you don't know me as well as you think,” he challenged, in his velvety lovemaking voice. “I'll come back around when you've changed your mind.” While Belle and Ruth Anne swooned over Baltimore's candor, Delbert turned to M.K.
“Hey, you ever see anything like that before?” he asked in utter amazement.
“Man, I ain't ever heard of anything like that before.”
“I'll drink to that.” said Delbert, sipping from his glass and desperately trying to gather exactly what had just transpired between Baltimore and Dinah.
Baltimore made his way to the main bar, just passing the time so that Dinah could mull things over while spinning her wheels. “Jo Etta, this is the kinda night that belongs in a picture frame. Charles Brown is a real crowd pleaser.”
“He's just getting started, but he's bound to leave a mark before he's done.”
“I see you got yourself a real nice billiards table,” Baltimore mentioned casually.
“Don't try that with me. I know you the one who sent that pool table,” Etta spat, her lips curling into a smile. “Had to give up half a sitting section to fit it in the back. Could you just for once ask me before you squander your bank roll on my account?”
Baltimore planted a sisterly kiss on her cheek. “Who said the pool table was for you?”
Before Etta got the notion to argue about it, he was on his way to discuss another gaming possibility. Madame Clarisse exited the business office with a stack of dollar bills fastened by a rubber band. “Here's the change you wanted, Etta. That was the same fella from the shop, huh?”
“Thanks, Clarisse. Yeah, that's him. None other than the sneak bearing gifts,” she answered, handing the strap of bills to Gussy, the overbearing bartender. “Gus, put these up, we'll be need'n them in about an hour.”
Clarisse couldn't take her eyes off of Baltimore even if she wanted to. His kind of man was made for staring. “Etta, why is it that you two haven't gotten together?” she wanted to know. “Appears he enjoys being pretty close to wherever you are, if you ask me.”
“Nah, it ain't that way at all. For one, I'm still sweet on his best friend. And two, Baltimore ain't nothing but lightning in a bottle. One day, somebody's gonna be foolish enough to break that bottle and lots of people are gonna get hurt behind it. I'd hate to be standing too close when that happens.” Clarisse was fanning herself, puffing on a cigarette and thinking how she wouldn't mind getting struck by his kind of lightning.
When Baltimore set his drink down on the corner of the pool table, the man who'd been hustling there all evening smacked his lips. His head was shaved clean, his eyebrows arched, and his skin was smooth and darker than a cool winter's night. When he smiled, the solid gold caps on his teeth glistened. “So you're looking to get embarrassed next, is that it?”
Baltimore ignored him initially. He nonchalantly made his way over to the shoeshine stand where the braggart sat like a king on a throne. Cheap cologne resonated from his spiffy clothing, a powder blue and white seersucker suit. Since men from the south favored the soft fabric enough to be caught dead wearing it, Baltimore thought he'd dig right in at the heart of the matter. “Only one gon' get embarrassed is the fool wearing that flimsy
cocksucker
suit.”

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