Across the way, p.8
Across the Way, page 8
He looked up at me and snickered. “Aw, shuck it. You ain’t never got to worry about her getting on your case about me. She ain’t the jealous type, and she knows she’s the only woman for me.” The only time I ever heard him speak in such a mushy tone and act so cheerful was when he was talking about Sweet Sue.
Even though Odell and I had the perfect relationship, I didn’t like to judge other folks who weren’t as blessed as we were. But I felt sorry for Willie Frank. Something had to be wrong with him. What white man in his right mind would fall in love with a colored prostitute? “What about all the men she’s with at Aunt Mattie’s house?”
Willie Frank waved his hand and rolled his eyes. “Oh, that’s just business. It ain’t easy to find work nowhere these days. Folks have to take whatever they can get.” He didn’t seem so cheerful now. “The thing is, I’d still love that gal to death even if she robbed banks for a living.” He stopped talking and glanced toward the back of the room where Sweet Sue, decked out in a skimpy green dress, was hugging a man with each arm. “And she loves me. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost her.”
“I know exactly what you mean. I feel the same way about Odell. We are more in love than we were when we got married. My life would be empty if I lost him.”
“Well, you’d still have your ma and pa.”
“God willing.” I sighed.
“Plus, you ain’t no swamp frog. You’d get another man eventually.”
“Yeah, but nobody could replace Odell.”
“Cheer up. You’d still have Yvonne and Milton and me, too. I know a busy lady like you got a mess of other friends to socialize with. You won’t be lonely. The bottom line is, you’d still have a heap to be thankful for—with or without Odell.”
“Thank you for those kind words, Willie Frank.”
I didn’t want to leave early, but I had to in case Mama and Daddy did stop by my house on their way home from the restaurant. I left right after the second slow dance with Willie Frank ended. Another reason I left was because I didn’t want him to keep trying to convince me I’d be all right if something happened to Odell.
My parents were entering my front gate when I got there. Daddy owned a Ford Model T. It was only a few years old and he loved to drive it. But since they didn’t like to park close to “them bootleggers” one house over from me, they had taken the car home and walked. Even though they lived only a few minutes away, I didn’t think it was such a good idea for them to be roaming around on foot at night. Especially after those thugs attacked Milton last Tuesday. On top of our nice, quiet neighborhood no longer being safe, Daddy’s arthritis was so bad, he had to walk with two canes. Mama dragged along with gouty feet and stiff knees, and she complained about a few ailments I’d never heard of. I worried about them as much as they worried about me.
“I see you didn’t waste no time falling back in with them bootleggers,” Daddy griped in his booming voice. He had lost every strand of his hair years ago, but he still waxed his head with pomade every day. I had inherited his small black eyes, narrow face, and height. Mama’s best features were her pearly white teeth and big brown eyes. Even though they were at least seventy pounds overweight each, they were still attractive for elderly people.
“Oh, Daddy, don’t start up on that again,” I scolded. “Y’all come on in and have some elderberry wine.”
“Buttermilk would suit us better. We drunk enough wine at supper with Sister and Brother Blake,” Mama said with a grimace and a mighty burp.
When we got inside, Daddy started looking around. “Girl, don’t you get lonesome spending weekends by yourself?” he asked, dropping down into the wing chair facing the couch. His massive weight made the chair legs squeak and wobble.
“You’ve asked me that a thousand times before,” I complained.
“So, now it’s a thousand and one times,” he snapped, wagging one of his canes at me.
“I’m used to Odell spending the weekends with his daddy. When I do get lonesome, I visit my neighbors.”
“Joyce, why don’t you get a cat or a dog to keep you company?” Mama suggested. She plopped down on the arm of the chair Daddy occupied and it squeaked and wobbled some more. She snorted and added, “Then you won’t have to spend too much time with them bootleggers.”
“Mama, Daddy, how many times do I have to tell y’all that they are two of our closest friends? They just got out of jail. I had to go over and let them know I was concerned about them. If Odell and I were the ones arrested, I’m sure they would have done the same thing for us.”
“You and Odell ain’t crazy enough to be bootlegging or doing nothing else to get arrested!” Daddy yelled. This time he wagged both of his canes at me. “My Lord. Them going to jail for letting a bunch of fools rape a white girl in their house should have spooked you enough to keep you home.”
“That whole rape thing was a lie. That’s why they got out of jail,” I pointed out.
“Humph. They might not be so lucky the next time,” Daddy said. “Do they have any idea who called the law on them?”
“No. But I’m sure that whoever it is, they won’t be coming around again. So there is nothing to worry about,” I predicted.
“How do you know that? You ain’t no prophet!” Mama barked.
“Odell thinks the same thing. And he’s always right,” I defended.
“Oh well. You a grown woman and we can’t keep telling you how to live your life,” Daddy admitted.
“Then I wish y’all would stop trying to do that,” I grumbled.
Mama gave me a dismissive wave and snickered. “Girl, quit whining and go get us that buttermilk. And turn on some heat before we all catch pneumonia.”
When my parents ran out of things to fuss about, which took almost an hour, they left. I immediately went to bed. There was so much on my mind, I couldn’t go right to sleep. I kept claiming I wasn’t lonesome when Odell was gone, but I was. Not enough to accompany him to his daddy’s house more often, though. I preferred Yvonne and Milton’s company.
If it hadn’t been so late, I would have got up and gone back over there.
CHAPTER 13
YVONNE
OUR HOUSE WAS JUMPING. I HAD JUST BRUNG OUT THE FOURTH serving of hush puppies and deep-fried pork skins. Several folks had a drink in each hand. It tickled me to death to see them get sloppy drunk on our booze, which was probably only half as potent as it was when Willie Frank delivered it. The reason for that was, every night we poured leftover drinks back into the jug they came out of. Throwing away booze was the same as throwing away money and we wasn’t that stupid. We sold some of the same recycled stuff two or three times and nobody never knew the difference.
A man who used to perform a tap-dance routine at a popular speakeasy in Birmingham, had recently moved to Branson. He had everybody clapping and egging him on when he put on a show for us.
We rarely had problems with our guests, but every now and then somebody got too rowdy. A cute, plump woman wearing a red wig-hat, got upset when she seen the man she’d come with paying too much attention to Sweet Sue. When she went up to Sweet Sue and slapped her, I jumped in between them. Sweet Sue was one of them backwoods, roughneck women you didn’t mess with unless you wanted to get your face sliced with the straight razor she carried in her brassiere. I gently pushed her to the side and told her to tell Willie Frank to give her a drink on the house. Then I grabbed the other woman by the arm and ushered her into the kitchen. She was so stunned, she stumbled, and her wig-hat turned sideways. “Look-a-here, woman; me and Milton is the only ones in this house allowed to hit somebody,” I told her, shaking my fist in her face. “If you misbehave again tonight, I’m going to beat you like you stole something, and ban you from coming here!”
“I’m sorry, Yvonne. I didn’t mean no harm. But me and Pete just got engaged. He promised me he would never look at another woman,” she said with a pout and a sniffle while she adjusted her fake hair. “I won’t slap nobody else.” She sounded sincere. When she gave me a hug and a smile, I let her off with just that warning.
Even with all the commotion taking place in the living room, Milton had got real quiet and grim-faced, almost immediately after Joyce left a hour and a half ago. She was the last person I had seen him talking to. I wondered if she had hurt his feelings again with one of her insensitive comments. She had done it so often it never seemed to bother him that much no more. But something was bothering him now. Every night, he was the life of the party. He had stopped drinking and when I put on some of his favorite records, he didn’t dance or sing along the way he usually done. His dark mood and silence was making me worry.
While I was conversating with a couple of guests, Milton abruptly left the living room and shuffled into the kitchen. I couldn’t wait no longer to ask him what was going on. A few minutes later, I followed him. My heart skipped a beat when I seen him staring out the side window at Joyce and Odell’s house, mumbling cuss words under his breath. “Milton, what’s the matter with you tonight?”
He took his time turning around. When he did, there was a woeful expression on his face. “There ain’t nothing wrong with me,” he claimed, barely moving his lips.
“Hogwash! Spit it out. I know when something is bothering you. You ain’t been this distressed-looking since we was in jail.” I massaged his shoulder and softened my tone. “Sugar, did Queen of Sheba say something to upset you?”
Milton blew out some air and gave me a weak nod. “You could say that.”
I folded my arms and squinted. “What did she say this time?”
He nodded toward the living room. “Let’s go in there and get Willie Frank. We all need to talk.”
“Well, he was fixing to leave, so we better go stop him.” We dashed back to the living room, but it was too late. Willie Frank had already left. I looked out the front window and seen him and Sweet Sue getting in his truck. “He’ll be back tomorrow. The three of us can conversate then. In the meantime, don’t you want to discuss it with me?”
“Naw,” he snarled. “Now leave me be.”
I straggled back into the crowd and practically had to force myself to act normal.
When our last guest left, Milton immediately went to bed. I didn’t want to deal with his bleak mood. I decided to lag behind and clean up some of the mess our guests had made. I took my time, hoping he’d be asleep when I got to the bedroom. When I got there half a hour later, he was laying on his back staring up at the ceiling.
I was so exasperated by now, I stomped across the floor and stopped by his side of the bed with my hands on my hips. “Milton, whatever Joyce said must have been pretty bad for you to be looking so miserable. Now I ain’t going to let you go to sleep until I know what she said.”
“Yvonne, put on your nightgown and get in this bed. I don’t want to talk about that yet. Besides, I could be wrong. If I am, I’d rather you didn’t know what she said.” Milton turned his face to the wall. When I got in the bed and snuggled up to him, he felt like a log.
“Sugar, remember what we talked about last night?” I said in the sexiest tone I could manage. I thought it would soften him up.
Me cooing like a dove didn’t work. When he responded, his voice was so harsh you would have thought he was talking to somebody who had swiped his wallet. “We talked about a mess of things.”
“I mean when we was in bed. You asked if we could make love tonight. I told you we could . . .”
“Not tonight, baby. Now let me get some sleep.”
When I woke up Saturday morning at seven, Milton was still snoozing. I was tempted to get dressed and go next door and feel Joyce out, hoping she’d tell me what she’d said to him last night that had him acting so odd. But she ran her mouth so much about subjects I didn’t care nothing about, I probably would have had to stay with her all morning to hear what I needed to hear. I put that notion out of my mind.
An hour later, I heard Willie Frank’s truck pull up outside while we was eating breakfast. He had his own key, but I ran to open the door for him anyway. “I’m so glad to see you,” I squealed, giving him a hug.
“Huh? Hell’s bells. You just seen me a few hours ago.” He snickered. I noticed he had on the same blue flannel shirt and black pants he’d wore last night. His eyes had dark circles and was red and puffy. I knew he hadn’t been home or got much sleep. “I can’t stay long. I was so anxious to get Sweet Sue back to her playpen last night, I forgot that plug of chewing tobacco I left on the windowsill.” He strolled over to the window to get his tobacco.
“Willie Frank, we need to talk,” Milton said in a gruff tone as he strode into the room, still in his pajamas. “I think we got another mess on our hands.”
“Oh? This involve a legal issue?” Willie Frank asked.
“Something like that. And I don’t like it one bit,” Milton griped. He was squinting so hard, it looked like his eyebrows had merged.
“Whatever the hell it is, I want to know before I go crazy,” I snapped as I stamped my foot and glared at Milton.
He stood in the middle of the floor tapping his foot, looking from Willie Frank to me and back. “Y’all ain’t going to like what I’m fixing to say,” he warned.
“Uh-oh. I better take a seat then.” Willie Frank shuffled over to the couch and eased down. Milton plopped down next to him, and I stood in front of him with my arms folded.
When Milton started talking again, he sounded even more serious. “Willie Frank, do you know where Sheriff Potts received that bogus telephone call at?”
“That’s a odd thing for you to be concerned about. Why do you need to know?” Willie Frank asked with a confused look on his face. Then he glanced at me and shrugged. I shrugged, too.
“Just answer my question,” Milton ordered.
“They called Sheriff Potts at his house.”
“You sure they didn’t call him at his office?” Milton asked.
“Yeah, I’m sure. That’s what he told me and Uncle Lamar.”
“Do you think they mentioned it to somebody else?” Milton’s voice cracked, and that scared me.
I unfolded my arms and plonked down on the couch arm next to him. “Baby, what is it you trying to say?” I asked.
I could tell by the way Willie Frank was shifting in his seat that he was getting agitated. He didn’t give Milton time to answer my question. “Milton, who would they mention it to? And, before you ask, I didn’t mention it to nobody neither. And why is it important where the sheriff got the call at?” Willie Frank said.
“Because if Sheriff Potts, and you and your uncle, didn’t tell nobody else where that call came in at, only the person who made it would know. Am I right?” Milton dipped his head and gazed at Willie Frank so hard, he stood up.
“Look, the main thing is, y’all got off. That’s all we need to be concerned about,” Willie Frank pointed out. Then he got a faraway look in his eyes. He bit his bottom lip and suddenly looked real sympathetic. “What is it you ain’t telling me and Yvonne . . .”
“Joyce knows Sheriff Potts got the call at his house,” Milton blurted out through clenched teeth.
CHAPTER 14
YVONNE
THE ROOM GOT SO QUIET, YOU COULD HAVE HEARD A GNAT SNEEZE. My head started spinning and my tongue felt like it had blew up twice as big as normal. I didn’t know what to say. “Joyce?” me and Willie Frank hollered at the same time. If Milton had told us she had tried to shoot President Roosevelt, I couldn’t have been more shocked. She was a odd duck, but there was some things I never expected to hear her say, or even know.
I sat stock-still with my heart beating against my chest like a mallet. “Milton, what did you say?” I asked, slapping the side of my head as I gazed at him with my eyes bugged out.
“You ain’t deaf. You heard what I said,” he replied.
When my head stopped spinning and my tongue shrunk back to its normal size, I got up off the couch arm and went and stood next to Willie Frank. Me and him both stared at Milton with our eyes wide and our mouths hanging open. A split second later, my head started spinning again. I got so woozy, a baby bird could have blew me down. If Willie Frank hadn’t held me in place, I would have slid to the floor. “Baby, who told you that?” I asked.
Milton didn’t waste no time answering. “That big-mouth heifer said so herself while she was rattling on and on last night. I was so outraged, I wanted to slap somebody.”
Willie Frank waved his hands in the air and shook his head. “Milton, I’m in a tizzy. What I want to know is, who in the world told Joyce a detail like that?”
Milton took his time answering this time. He crossed his legs and leaned back in his seat. The suspense was killing me. “Didn’t you hear what Willie Frank asked you? You the one deaf now?” I hollered.
“I heard him,” Milton replied, speaking real calm. Then he blurted out in a loud, cold tone, “Odell told her!”
I was too shocked to do anything other than just stand there as stiff as a pine tree. Willie Frank gasped and done a double take. “Milton, you sure that’s what Joyce said?” he asked.
“I know what she said,” Milton shot back. He wobbled up off the couch and put his hands on Willie Frank’s shoulders. “Now think hard. I know your uncle and Sheriff Potts both shop at MacPherson’s. Odell is one of the few colored men they respect. Is there a chance one of them let that piece of information slip out while they was over there?”
Willie Frank looked puzzled. Then he shook his head. “Well, I don’t follow them around so I wouldn’t know. I do know that Uncle Lamar couldn’t have told him. Right after he left the jailhouse on Thursday, he drove to Huntsville to visit his girlfriend. That’s where he’s been ever since. And even if Sheriff Potts went in the store and got to talking to Odell, that don’t sound like a subject they’d discuss. I can ask him if you want me to. That way, we could clear this up. Odell is the last person I’d suspect of making such a deadly telephone call.”
