“I got that already,” I said, taking a small fold of cash from my pocket.
The man eyed my money and actually licked his lips.
“What you need, then?”
“You seen her in the last week or so?”
“Naw.”
“You know where she work at?”
“Naw.” He bit his lip, seeing the possibility of a tip fade.
“What about anybody she’s tight wit’ other than Useless?
Maybe some white dude?”
“I seen her with some white men but not with anyone more than a couple’a times. But she used to know this one guy, an’ it seemed like they stayed friends.”
“Who?”
“Guy name’a Tommy Hoag.”
“You wouldn’t have a number for ’im?” I asked.
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“Don’t need it,” the leather man said. “Tommy is the only Negro agent for the Schuyler Real Estate office on Hooper.”
Andrew Jackson leaped happily from my hand, and just as happily the nameless leather man jogged away from my table.
I saw Loretta approach from across the room. The men all gave her glances. The women looked to make sure that she kept on going.
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L o r e t t a k i s s e d m e when we stopped in front of her parents’ home. It was a long, juicy kiss.
17 I was working with her, but she was definitely the captain of that boat. She licked my throat and nipped my ears, caressed the side of my neck in a way no mother had ever done a child’s. Two of her fingers found their way into a small opening between the buttons of my shirt. When she pressed against my nipple, I jumped a little.
“I’m not finished yet,” she whispered, just in case my flinch-ing meant that I was ready to walk her to the door.
There was no hurry to Loretta’s passion, but my heart was thumping like a lonely puppy’s heart does when his master returns after leaving him tied up for hours.
When we finally separated, I felt as if I had spent a lifetime with her.
“I understood what you were saying,” Loretta whispered.
“I do love Milo, but we aren’t like that. And you know, Paris, I need a man to make me whole.”
I had nothing to say but I opened my mouth anyway.
Loretta put two fingers to my lips and said, “Let’s go.”
Before we got to her front porch, the door flew open. Loretta’s 106
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parents were huddled there — a two-headed warden. Loretta kissed me again and then was enveloped in the frightened arms of their love.
I went to my trunk and brought out the whiskey and soda. I sat there smoldering cigarettes and imbibing alcohol until the fervor abated and the swelling went down.
I didn’t make it home until after four.
S o m e t i m e i n t h e e a r l y a f t e r n o o n I headed out looking for Tommy Hoag. Schuyler Real Estate was a small office wedged in between a hardware store and a barber’s shop on Hooper. The office was red of color and less than six feet in width. There were three desks along the crimson aisle. The first was at the window on the right, the second was just behind that on the left, and the third was against the back wall, removed from the other two by at least seven feet.
For years Schuyler’s had had three white agents sitting in that crooked line. The head man was always the one at the back of the room. You had to get past the first two barriers to reach him. These first two agents dealt with colored people wanting apartments and storefronts, churches, and small garages. The last agent always dealt with white businesspeople coming down to open big businesses like supermarkets and lumberyards.
Knowing the system, I was surprised to see the one colored face manning the hindmost desk.
It was one fifteen and I was dressed in my blue suit. Where I had been feeling cursed and oppressed for the past few days, I now was blessed with thoughts of Loretta and her amazing understanding of my heart. I kept moving forward because 107
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that was all I could do. But she was at the back of my mind, kissing my neck and making sounds of whoopee.
“Yes, sir?” the half-bald white man in the green jacket and black trousers asked. He had risen either to greet or to expel me.
“Mr. Hoag, please,” I said.
“Do you have an appointment?” the middle-aged roadblock asked, an apology already etched around his
