Devil in a Blue Dress

whatever he wanted. But I had dreams that didn't have me running in the streets anymore; I was a man of property and I wanted to leave my wild days behind.

I drove down to the liquor store and bought a fifth of vodka and a gallon of grapefruit soda. I positioned myself in a chair at the front window and watched the day pass.

Looking out of the window is different in Los Angeles than it is in Houston. No matter where you live in a southern city (even a wild and violent place like Fifth Ward, Houston) you see almost everybody you know by just looking out your window. Every day is a parade of relatives and old friends and lovers you once had, and maybe you'd be lovers again one day.

That's why Sophie Anderson went back home I suppose. She liked the slower life of the South. When she looked out her window she wanted to see her friends and her family. And if she called out to one of them she wanted to know that they'd have the time to stop for a while and say hello.

Sophie was a real Southerner, so much so that she could never last in the workaday world of Los Angeles.

Because in L.A. people don't have time to stop; anywhere they have to go they go there in a car. The poorest man has a car in Los Angeles; he might not have a roof over his head but he has a car. And he knows where he's going too. In Houston and Galveston, and way down in Louisiana, life was a little more aimless. People worked a little job but they couldn't make any real money no matter what they did. But in Los Angeles you could make a hundred dollars in a week if you pushed. The promise of getting rich pushed people to work two jobs in the week and do a little plumbing on the weekend. There's no time to walk down the street or make a bar-b-q when somebody's going to pay you real money to haul refrigerators.

So I watched empty streets that day. Every once in a while I'd see a couple of children on bicycles or a group of young girls going to the store for candy and soda pop. I sipped vodka and napped and reread Mouse's letter until I knew that there was nothing I could do. I decided to ignore it and if he ever asked I'd just look simple and act like it never got delivered.

By the time the sun went down I was at peace with myself. I had a name, an address, a hundred dollars, and the next day I'd go ask for my old job back. I had a house and an empty bottle of vodka that had made me feel good.

The letter was postmarked two weeks earlier. If I was very lucky Etta had already taken Mouse back in.

When the telephone woke me it was black outside.

'Hello?'

'Mr. Rawlins, I've been expecting your call.'

That threw me. I said, 'What?'

'I hope you have some good news for me.'

'Mr. Albright, is that you?'

'Sure is, Easy. What's shaking?'

It took me another moment to compose myself. I had planned to call him in a few days so it would seem like I had worked for his money.

'I got what you want,' I said, in spite of my plans. 'She's with—'

'Hold on to that, Easy. I like to look a man in the face when we do business. Telephone's no place for business. Anyway, I can't give you your bonus on the phone.'

'I can come down to your office in the morning.'

'Why don't we get together now? You know where the merry-go-round is down at Santa Monica pier?'

'Well, yeah, but…'

'That's about halfway between us. Why don't we meet there?'

'But what time is it?'

'About nine. They close the ride in an hour so we can be alone.'

'I don't know … I just got up …'

'I am paying you.'

'Okay. I'll get down there soon as I can drive it.'

He hung up in my ear.

8

There was still a large stretch of farmland between Los Angeles and Santa Monica in those days. The Japanese farmers grew artichokes, lettuce, and strawberries along the sides of the road. That night the fields were dark under the slight moon and the air was chill but not cold.

I was unhappy about going to meet Mr. Albright because I wasn't used to going into white communities, like Santa Monica, to conduct business. The plant I worked at, Champion Aircraft, was in Santa Monica but I'd drive out there in the daytime, do my work, and go home. I never loitered anywhere except among my own people, in my own neighborhood.

But the idea that I'd give him the information he wanted, and that he'd give me enough money to pay the next month's mortgage, made me happy. I was dreaming about the day I'd be able to buy more houses, maybe even a duplex. I always wanted to own enough land that it would pay for itself out of the rent it generated.