'Jackson,' I said.
'Lenny over there, Blue,' Ernest warned.
I glanced over at Lenny. He was a fat man, on his knees in a gardener's suit and a white painter's cap. He was biting a cigar butt and squinting at Jackson Blue.
'You tell that skinny bastard t'get away from here, Ernie. I kill the mothahfuckah. I ain't foolin',' Lenny warned.
'He ain't messin' wit' you, Lenny. Get back to your game or get outta my shop.'
One nice thing about barbers is that they have a dozen straight razors that they will use to keep order in their shops.
'What's wrong with Lenny?' I asked.
'Just a fool,' Ernest said. 'Thas all. Jackson here is too.'
'What happened?'
Jackson was a small man and very dark. He was so black that his skin glinted blue in the full sun. He cowered and shone his big eyes at the door.
'Lenny's girlfriend, you know Elba, left him again,' Ernest said.
'Yeah?' I was wondering how to turn the conversation to Frank Green.
'And she come purrin' 'round Jackson just t'get Lenny riled.'
Jackson was looking at the floor. He wore a loose, striped blue suit and small-brimmed brown felt hat.
'She did?'
'Yeah, Easy. And you know Jackson stick his business in a meat grinder if it winked at him.'
'I'idn't mess wit' her. She jus' tole'im that.' Jackson was pouting.
'I guess my stepbrother be lyin' too?' Lenny was right there with us. It was like a comic scene in the movies because Jackson looked scared, like a cornered dog, and Lenny, with his fat gut hanging down, was like a bully dog bearing down on him.
'Back off!' Ernest shouted, putting himself between the two men. 'Any man can come in here wit'out fightin' if he wants.'
'This skinny lil booze hound gonna have to answer on Elba, Ernie.'
'He ain't gonna do it here. I swear you gonna have t'come through me t'get Jackson and you know he ain't worth that kinda pain.'
I remembered then how Jackson sometimes made his money.
Lenny reached out at Jackson but the little man got behind Ernest and Ernest stood there, like a rock. He said, 'Go back to your game while the blood still in your veins, man,' then he pulled a straight razor from the pocket of his blue smock.
'You ain't got no cause to threaten me, Ernie. I ain't shit on no man's doorstep.' He was moving his head back and forth trying to see Jackson behind the barber's back.
I started to get nervous sitting there between them and took off the bib. I used it to wipe the lather from my neck.
'See that, Lenny. You botherin' my customer, brother.' Ernest pointed a finger thick as a railroad tie at Lenny's belly. 'Either you get back in the back or I'm'a skin ya. No lie.'
Anybody who knew Ernest knew that that was his last warning. You had to be tough to be a barber because your place was the center of business for a certain element in the community. Gamblers, numbers runners, and all sorts of other private businessmen met in the barbershop. The barbershop was like a social club. And any social club had to have order to run smoothly.
Lenny tucked in his chin and shifted his shoulders this way and that, then he shuffled backwards a few steps.
I got out of the chair and slapped six bits down on the counter. 'There you go, Ernie,' I said.
Ernie nodded in my direction but he was too busy staring Lenny down to look at me.
'Why don't we split,' I said to the cowering Jackson. Whenever Jackson was nervous he'd have to touch his thing; he was holding on to it right then.
'Sure, Easy, I think Ernie got it covered here.'
We turned down the first corner we came to and then down an alley, half a block away. If Lenny was to come after us he'd have to want us bad enough to hunt.
He didn't find us, but as we were walking down Merriweather Lane someone shouted, 'Blue!'
It was Zeppo. He hobbled after us like a man on invisible crutches. At every step he teetered on the edge of falling over but then he'd take another step, saving himself, just barely.
'Hey, Zep,' Jackson said. He was looking over Zeppo's shoulder to see if Lenny was coming.
'J-Jackson.'
'What you want, Zeppo?' I wanted something from Jackson myself and I didn't need an audience.
Zeppo craned his head back further than I thought was possible, then he brought his wrists to his shoulder. He looked like a bird in agony. His smile was like death itself. 'L-L-Lenny show i-is m-m-m-m-ad.' Then he started coughing, which for Zeppo was a laugh. 'Y-y-you-ou s-sellin', B-Blue?'
