“What you talkin’ ’bout?”
“To lose two good men at once.”
“Boy, you done gone crazy?”
“No. I was jes’ thinkin’—”
“Oh. Thass different.”
“—I’m go’n’ have to kill you sooner or later—only way to git along with y’. And that gal is jes’ ’bout ru’nt Shine—he ain’ never go’n’ be no mo’ good.”
“Shuh!” scoffed the other. “She might scratch ’im a little, but ain’ no gal go’n’ put no deep dents in that jasper. He ain’t got no place soft enough.”
“The hell he ain’t. Know where I seen ’im goi’n’ tonight, dressed up like a monkey-back?”
“Where?”
“Seen ’im goin’ in ’at ’Piscopal church.”
Bubber stared a moment, then proceeded disgustedly with his sighting. “What d’hell you ’spect a man to believe?” he commented.
“Swear I did. Not d’ main door. You know that side door—’nuther buildin’ it is, where they have dances and basketball and ev’ything else they scared to do in d’ church itself. Call it d’ immunity-house or sump’m like that.”
“Yea?” Bubber dropped his stick. So long as Shine hadn’t entered the main door of the church, the matter was credible enough to be startling.
“I sho did.”
Bubber slowly shook his head. “Bye-bye, blackbird.” Then, still somewhat suspicious, “Where was you when you saw ’im?”
“Followin’ ’im. Thought he might need some help if he was out sheikin’.”
“Well, kiss my Aunt Annie’s preserves!” Bubber pondered the imponderable a moment, slowly recovering his stick and most of his incredulity. “Aw, don’ be no fool. That jigaboo’s jes’ jivin’.”
“Maybe. But, same time, ain’ nuthin’ to hinder her from jivin’, too. And when two folks gits to jivin’ each other, first thing y’ know sump’m happens.”
“Sump’m go’n’ happen awright, but ’tain’ go’n’ happen to him.” Bubber resumed his survey of the balls scattered widely by Jinx’s miss. “Bet I’m go’n’ run off all the res’,” he wagered.
Jinx, however, had become philosophical. “Jes’ goes to show y’, see? There’s a guy what’s so big and hard he can’t be had. Mos’ these gals ’round hyeh tries they damnedest to make him—but he jes’ don’ fall. No mo’n he fell that time Spider Webb cut at him and missed and nearly got broke in two. So hard. So hard his spit bounces. Says to me—say, ‘Jinx you speckled-hide awstrich you, women ain’ no different from men—only worse. You gotta be tough and tight, boy. Once they see you slippin’, it’s yo’ hiney from then on—they’ll put d’ locks on you and throw d’ key away. But if you be hard with ’em, they ain’ no trouble ’tall.’ Yea. And then this one come along. She’s diff’runt, see? Act all dickty ’n ev’ything. High-hats ’im. K.M. awright—but not jes’ ordinary K.M.—Dickty K.M., see? That jes’ ’bout gits ’im. He gives up without a struggle.”
“How do you know he’s give’ up?” Bubber’s doubt persisted.
“Went in d’ damn church after ’er, didn’ he?”
“That ain’t nothin’. I’ve seen women I’d go in worse places ’n that after.”
“Yea?”
“No lie. And they wasn’t near as easy to gaze on as that sister, either. Dickty—shuh—that ain’t got nothin’ to do with it. It’s that ball-bearin’ movement, thass what.”
“Damn if it makes him run any smoother. One day he’s good natured as a puppy-dawg, ’nother he’s evil as a black cat. Never seen a man change so. She done put it on ’im all right.”
“Bet he go’n’ put sump’m on her, too.”
“Damn ’f I believe it. She’ll have ’im goin’ in d’ main door nex’. This is serious.”
“So’s this,” said Bubber, who had meanwhile run off seven balls, unnoticed. Thereupon, mimicking perfectly, he duplicated the shot which Jinx had made earlier with such exaggerated vehemence. The ball was the last on the table, and it sped to an already full pocket eagerly, greeting its fellows with a cheerful clack!
Bubber looked at his victim with a grin. Jinx frowned unbelievingly at the clean green table top and, as Bubber broke into his customary guffaw, stood scowling malevolence at him, as if undecided whether to dispose of him at once or let him live a little time longer.
XIV
“Baby—” began Shine.
“Don’t call me baby!” exploded Linda.
“ ’Smatter? Don’t you like children?”
“It sounds so—common.”
“I couldn’ mean it that way—you know that.”
“How do I know what you could mean?”
“Couldn’ ever say nothin’ common ’bout you. Couldn’ even think it. ‘Baby’s’ a nice name.”
“Think so? Well, save it for your sweetheart.”
“I did,” he grinned.
“Wrong number,” she said, but she smiled.
“That was my lucky day,” he mused. “What did Pat say to you that night? Why wouldn’t you ever tell me?”
Thus, while Bubber and Jinx discussed them over a pool table, Shine and Linda strolled slowly along the west walk of Riverside Drive. A few blocks east lay Harlem, black and sullen, too uncomfortable by far for dancing this hot August night, even the distant and circumspect dancing permitted in a parish hall. Nearer was Court Avenue, whither the present roundabout walk led.
Here on the Drive it was cool. Occasional meandering couples passed arm in arm, and on the long benches that rimmed the walk, facing the Hudson, still others made love, oblivious and unashamed.
“Huh?” insisted Shine.
“Nothing to tell,” murmured Linda.
“Must be. Saw enough myself to know that.”
“What’d you see?”
“Well, I’m lookin’ for Pat myself, see? He’s jes’ pulled a crooked deal on me a minute before, and I’m askin’ for ’im. Well, you know the crowd—only people you can find is them y’ ain’t lookin’ for. I’m standin’ at the foot o’ the stairs lookin’ for that gray suit. Finally I sees it ’way across the floor—and damn if the sleeves ain’t ’round your waist.”
“Stop swearing—”
“That sort o’ cramps my style, see? Don’ want to mix you up in anything. But I got to have some o’ Patmore. So I’m standin’ there wonderin’ what the top card is and lookin’ at you. Then I see you don’ look so good—kinda like a kitten some rough kid won’t turn loose. Turnin’ y’ head this way and d’ other way and sorter pullin’ ’way from this bird even though y’
