'You're supposed to meet him? You can't even remember his name.'
I took a deep breath and said, very softly, 'I am supposed to meet Mr. DeWitt Albright tonight, any time after seven.'
'You're supposed to meet him at seven? It's eight-thirty now. He's probably gone.'
'He told me
He held out his hand to me again. 'Did he give you a note saying you're to come in here after hours?'
I shook my head at him. I would have liked to rip the skin from his face like I'd done once to another white boy.
'Well, how am I to know that you aren't just a thief? You can't even remember his name and you want me to take you somewhere in there. Why you could have a partner waiting for me to let you in …'
I was disgusted. 'Forget it man,' I said. 'You just tell him, when you see him, that Mr. Rawlins was here. You tell him that the next time he better give me a note because you cain't be lettin' no street niggahs comin' in yo' place wit' no notes!'
I was ready to leave. That little white man had convinced me that I was in the wrong place. I was ready to go back home. I could find my money another way.
'Hold on,' he said. 'You wait right there and I'll be back in a minute.' He sidled through one of the cream- colored doors, shutting it as he went. I heard the lock snap into place a moment later.
After a few minutes he opened the door a crack and waved at me to follow him. He looked from side to side as he let me through the door; looking for my accomplices I suppose.
The doorway led to an open courtyard that was paved with dark red brick and landscaped with three large palm trees that reached out beyond the roof of the three-story building. The inner doorways on the upper two floors were enclosed by trellises that had vines of white and yellow sweetheart roses cascading down. The sky was still light at that time of year but I could see a crescent moon peeking over the inner roof.
The little man opened another door at the other side of the courtyard. It led down an ugly metal staircase into the bowels of the building. We went through a dusty boiler room to an empty corridor that was painted drab green and draped with gray cobwebs.
At the end of the hall there was a door of the same color that was chipped and dusty.
'That's what you want,' the little man said.
I said thank you and he walked away from me. I never saw him again. I often think of how so many people have walked into my life for just a few minutes and kicked up some dust, then they're gone away. My father was like that; my mother wasn't much better.
I knocked on the ugly door. I expected to see Albright, but instead the door opened into a small room that held two strange-looking men.
The man who held the door was tall and slight with curly brown hair, dark skin like an India Indian, and brown eyes so light they were almost golden. His friend, who stood against a door at the far wall, was short and looked a little like he was Chinese around the eyes, but when I looked at him again I wasn't so sure of his race.
The dark man smiled and put out his hand. I thought he wanted to shake but then he started slapping my side.
'Hey, man! What's wrong with you?' I said, pushing him away. The maybe-Chinese man slipped a hand in his pocket.
'Mr. Rawlins,' the dark man said in an accent I didn't know.
He was still smiling. 'Put your hands up a little from your sides, please. I'm just checking.' The smile widened into a grin.
'You could just keep your hands to yourself, man. I don't let nobody feel on me like that.'
The little man pulled something, I couldn't tell what, halfway out of his pocket. Then he took a step toward us. The grinner tried to put his hand against my chest but I grabbed him by the wrist.
The dark man's eyes glittered, he smiled at me for a moment, and then said to his partner, 'Don't worry, Manny. He's okay.'
'You sure, Shariff?'
'Yeah. He's alright, just a little shaky.' Shariff's teeth glinted between his dusky lips. I still had his wrist.
Shariff said, 'Let him know, Manny.'
Manny put his hand back in his pocket and then took it out again to knock on the door behind.
DeWitt Albright opened the door after a minute.
'Easy,' he smiled.
'He doesn't want us to touch him,' Shariff said as I let him go.
'Leave it,' Albright answered. 'I just wanted to make sure he was solo.'
'You're the boss.' Shariff sounded very sure of himself; even a little arrogant.
'You and Manny can go now,' Albright smiled. 'Easy and I have some business to talk over.'
Mr. Albright went behind a big blond desk and put his bone shoes up next to a half-full bottle of Wild Turkey. There was a paper calendar hanging on the wall behind him with a picture of a basket of blackberries as a design. There was nothing else on the wall. The floor was bare too: plain yellow linoleum with flecks of color scattered through it.
