Read Ms. Etta's Fast House Online
Authors: Victor McGlothin
Ms. Etta's Fast House (8 page)
“I'm thinking the same thing, Willie B.” That was Henry, fingering the edges of the newspaper.
Silent up to then, Baltimore finally reacted. “What else you thinking, Henry? I trust you're thinking about us as friends, 'cause if you pass that test, things gonna change between you and me.”
“This is where I get off,” Willie B. decided, “if I want to kick my daddy in the ass by joining the Metro. Baltimo', thanks for the drinks. Ms. Etta, Gussy.” He tipped his hat to Penny, acknowledging her as an adult before leaving for home to sleep off the party that ended on a staccato beat.
Henry reached into his pocket, resisting Baltimore's hospitality, to settle his own account. Just about broke, he couldn't see his way clear to telling Roberta that her husband was a bust with no lines on putting in for the overdue bills, so his assessment of the situation was clear.
As Henry turned toward the door, Etta heard someone's voice yelling his name before she realized it was hers. “Henry, wait! Does having a steady job mean so much to your wife that you'd quit on Baltimo'? Good friends mean more than that.”
Without thinking, Henry answered out of desperation. “I'm starting to believe friendship is overrated,” he answered coldly. “Besides, I ain't got nothing better to do than work on feeding my family. âNight, Jo Etta. Y'all.”
One by one, the men filed out of the Fast House to contemplate their own giant steps toward progress. Feeling as if he'd witnessed a tragic funeral procession, Baltimore played a collection of depressing songs on the piano and indulged himself way past seeing straight. Penny nuzzled up next to him on the bench seat, wanting to share in his pain. He kissed her on the forehead and sighed before gently suggesting that she send for Etta so he could discuss the likelihood of Henry jumping the fence to the other side of the law after all they'd been through together. There was also something else to mull over, the likelihood that either or both Baltimore and Henry would get killed as a result of it. But, before traveling down that bumpy road, Etta looked on from a distance as Baltimore poured out a measure of his soul into sorrowful rhythmic measures.
Penny stood beside Etta, while choking back on her tears. “Ms. Etta, what's that ailing him so?” the girl asked sadly. “I ain't known him to drink like that.”
Etta exhaled and placed her arm around Penny's shoulder to comfort her. “I've never seen him pick up a drink in all the years I've known him. But then again, I've never seen him get his heart broken either.” Etta couldn't believe she'd witnessed it first hand and wished she hadn't. The storm brewing between Henry and Baltimore had her trapped in the middle of it.
In the meanwhile, Etta avoided the imminent conversation with Baltimore regarding Henry as long as humanly possible. She took the path of least resistance when joining him at the piano. With an eager smile, she asked him why he'd taken such a liking to Penny. He let his fingers dance over the keys in a light effortless manner while running her question through his troubled mind. “Penny's pure at heart,” he answered. “She's likely the purest thing I've had close to me since I left home years ago. My younger sis, she's probably grown with her own children now, used to look at me with those big doe eyes like Penny ... like I could do no wrong, you know. I miss her but my old papa, he'd die before allowing me to check in on her. Don't much blame him though, after all I did.”
Baltimore's father was a minister, strict as any, although Baltimore was fully aware of the good pastor's reputation with the ladies and his numerous illegitimate children peppered throughout the congregation. He caught wind of Baltimore's gambling, hustling and running women for profit before the age of eighteen. Without hesitation, the minister was prepared to hand him over to the police to save face. Baltimore was so distraught over his father's resolution to turn him in that he pulled a gun, cocked it then labored over committing murder. Since that day, Baltimore had been on the run. From what, he didn't understand, although he was confident of one thing, that he sure was tired of running. And as for his best friend Henry, he was the closest thing there was to family left in the world. It hurt deep down in his heart to think of losing him too.
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fter lying awake for most of the night, Henry cursed silently when the sun peeked through his window. He tossed an envious leer at Roberta as she jerked the covers over her head to drown out his rustling. Henry hadn't done anything but think since leaving the Fast House with both Etta and Baltimore stunned and salty. He'd thought about picking up the phone to call in his apology but that just didn't seem right. He'd even deliberated over scrapping the whole idea of joining the police force. Henry's mind was going in several directions all at once. It was all of that thinking that cheated him out of a good night's sleep. The only thing he didn't bother to waste any mental energy on was telling his wife what he'd planned on doing for the good of his family. He feared that she'd suggest how ill-prepared he was to take the civil exam and how he'd have a better chance using his back as opposed to his brains down at the shipyard. More than that, he feared that she might have been right.
fter lying awake for most of the night, Henry cursed silently when the sun peeked through his window. He tossed an envious leer at Roberta as she jerked the covers over her head to drown out his rustling. Henry hadn't done anything but think since leaving the Fast House with both Etta and Baltimore stunned and salty. He'd thought about picking up the phone to call in his apology but that just didn't seem right. He'd even deliberated over scrapping the whole idea of joining the police force. Henry's mind was going in several directions all at once. It was all of that thinking that cheated him out of a good night's sleep. The only thing he didn't bother to waste any mental energy on was telling his wife what he'd planned on doing for the good of his family. He feared that she'd suggest how ill-prepared he was to take the civil exam and how he'd have a better chance using his back as opposed to his brains down at the shipyard. More than that, he feared that she might have been right.
With a hearty sigh, Henry flung his long, muscular legs over the side of the bed. He washed his face and cleaned up in record time because he'd begun to lose his nerve. If he gave his chances of passing any real consideration, he'd crawl back into bed and catch up on the rest he didn't get. However, the line he'd crossed in his mind wouldn't allow for self-pity, self-doubt or selfishness. He wasn't willing to face Roberta, and continue dodging the outfitter without a prayer of satisfying his account, nor was he ready to admit that he'd passed up an opportunity to make her proud of him. That's what fueled his ambition as he spit shined his church shoes and later wrestled on the secondhand suit he'd bought off a mortician to get married in. Several months had passed since he laid down five dollars and hightailed it to the wedding chapel after Roberta promised him she would start looking for another man to spend the best days of her life with if he didn't. Getting the jacket to fit decently took some doing. It was quite a bit snugger than Henry remembered but that didn't stand in his way. He sucked in his stomach and held his breath until the jacket fastened.
As soon as Henry stepped out onto the porch, he saw two things that he wouldn't have deemed possible. Baltimore was sitting on the front fender of his convertible, wearing the same clothes from the night before, obviously hung over and disgusted at the sight of him. The second vision was several times more unexpected. A line of cars stretching three blocks idled in the street, each one full of anxious colored men waiting for Henry to come out and lead the convoy to the courthouse, where the exam was to be administered within the hour.
Baltimore scowled as he held firm to the steering wheel, blocking Henry's rusty old Buick in the driveway. “If you want to take that police test, you gonna have to walk,” Baltimore huffed at him. “That car there done went and popped a clutch.” A closer look revealed Henry's clutch was wrapped in newspaper on Baltimore's front passenger seat. “You want to do likewise and blow a fuse, go head on,” he threatened, feeling sicker by the minute. “I'll ... match you blow for blow,” he added before hanging his head over the side of his car to vomit.
“Henry, we's gonna be late,” Smiley hollered insistently from the first car, his usual jovial countenance nowhere to be seen. “Stop fooling around with Baltimo' and come on.”
“You heard the man,” Roberta seconded from inside the screen door, wearing a floral printed housecoat and wooden pin curlers in her hair. She stood vigilantly, watching with a spiteful expression as Baltimore heaved and sputtered helplessly. “Don't let him drag you down any further than he has already. Stand up for yourself and for your family. Don't matter the outcome. It's the right thing to do.”
Although Henry didn't know how his wife had learned of his decision, he knew that she was right. That still didn't make it any easier walking past Baltimore in his time of need. “I'll be back later on, 'Berta,” Henry declared without facing her. “Don't mind him. He'll be gone before you know it.” Henry was focused on a brighter tomorrow and a steady paycheck when he eased into the car along with three other ex-teammates. “Hi ya, boys. Let's get down there and see what gives. It can't be no harder than what I've had to put myself through already this morning.”
Trace put the car into gear and lurched forward. “Maybe not, but it appears Baltimore caught the worst of it.” Fighting the urge to sneak a look back and see how his old friend was making out, Henry unbuttoned his jacket and contemplated his own fate instead.
Two hours later, it seemed that all of St. Louis was out and about. The buzz around town pushed everybody in the same direction. Countless herds of interested colored and white folk gathered near the courthouse to witness the city relax its hiring policies, grow up and usher in a multitude of growing pains at the same time. Not too far away, Roberta strolled along the sidewalk hand-in-hand with her little boy. It didn't matter that she was only window shopping, the two white women who approached from the other direction stared her down until she acquiesced and stood aside to let them pass. Roberta thought her heart would rupture for sure when she found her child's eyes peering up at hers. He was too young to comprehend what had transpired on that sidewalk and how the social climate dictated what was seen as appropriate, but he sensed that it left his mother wounded. With a tug on her dress, he signaled that he was ready for a change of pace. Roberta squeezed his tiny fingers, thinking how she was way past being ready for the same thing.
On the other side of town, Penny blushed and waved gleefully as a car horn honked when passing her outside of the hat shop. Etta exited the upscale store just in time to observe how a man's crude interest moved her young protégée. “My, my,” Etta teased. “If you ain't the cat's meow, I'll eat this hat I just dropped a knot on.”
“Oh, that wasn't nobody but Joe Simpkins. He's been coming over to the fast house, joking around mostly,” answered Penny. “He don't mean no harm.”
“There're a couple of things you need to know about men, chile. For one, just cause they hoot and holler don't mean you have to encourage it by flashing your pearly whites every time they do. You should also take into account that not too many men mean you harm when they set out chasing. The harm generally comes later, after they done caught you a few times.” Etta tossed a sly wink at Penny to inquire whether she'd been caught yet.
“Oh-oh, naw, Ms. Etta,” she stammered. “I've been walking around all my life with a bag over my head until Halstead met his maker. I wouldn't know the first thing to do with a boy.”
Upon entering Watkins Emporium, Etta leaned in closer to Penny, so as not to be overheard by other shoppers. “It ain't what you don't know to do that worries me,” she whispered. “It's those grown up boys and what they'd like to teach you.” Penny's mouth flew wide open but she'd learned to restrain her laughter in calmer settings. Etta tutored her every chance she got and Penny was happy to pick up each tidbit of etiquette thrown her way. On the other hand, being a woman sometimes required straying from the blueprint mapped out for her. It began when Chozelle Watkins sneered at Penny in her new red dress that caused things to stumble off course.
“Morning, Ms. Etta,” Chozelle mumbled, while flirting openly with a male customer. “Cool your heels, honey,” she said to the man standing only a few naughty inches away from her, which was extremely inappropriate for the circumstances. “I'll be back before you forget what we's getting at.” Chozelle left him with a sensual smirk to hold his attention in the meanwhile. She followed Penny around the store with her eyes until she felt the undeniable urge to draw nearer. “That sure is a nice dress, Penny,” she said finally. “It'll look a might better still, when you fill it out some.”
Etta saw that Chozelle was simply baiting Penny into a war of words because the younger woman's stock was soaring. Penny had also won Baltimore's affection and happened to be wearing the hell out of that red dress, which Chozelle wanted but couldn't maneuver over her curvy hips. Against her better judgment, Etta determined that it was time for Penny to spar as best she could before jumping in to save her from the embarrassment of being out done by the likes of a much craftier adversary.
“Oh, thank you, Chozelle,” Penny replied, choosing her words carefully. “I declare menfolk will do just about anything to get a peek at what's shaping this fabric from underneath. When the larger sizes roll off the truck, why don't you have at one of 'em and see what I mean?” Etta's eyes widened when she heard Penny stand her ground like a budding lightweight.
Chozelle jutted her chin forward and cocked a bow in her back. “You might want to be more respectful where you go to flapping those big feet of yours before somebody's pulling them out of your mouth.”
“Uh-huh, right after I pull 'em out your fat behind,” Penny spat back, her tight clenched fist posed close to Chozelle's face. Etta thought it as good a place as any to step in, and save Chozelle.
“All right, girls, the bell done sounded for a break,” Etta joked. “Both fighters need to head on back to their corners and settle down.”
“Naw, I ain't hardly finished yet,” Chozelle hissed, her voice rising heatedly. “This little bony-kneed scrap off the moonshine truck isn't going to floss her new look in my store like she owns it. She probably don't have more than a few nickels to rub together anyhow. Halstead might've given her a couple of dimes but that don't amount to a dollar.”
“Halstead ain't got nothing to do with this,” argued Penny, foolishly buying into what information the catty vixen wanted to gather in the first place.
“Just wait 'til I see him. I'll get to the bottom of why he's letting you run around on a long leash.”
“Then you'll be waiting 'til hell freeze over!” shouted Penny, much to her mentor's dismay. She quickly bunched herself between both the young ladies and cast a hard glaring expression to illustrate she really meant business.
Subsequently, as soon as Chozelle stomped off to the backroom in a royal tizzy, Etta doted on Penny like a county-fair-blue-ribbon heifer. The measure of approval painted across her face was nothing short of prideful adoration. “Hold your tongue, Penny,” Etta suggested calmly. “You sure told her where to get off, but you almost said too much.” What Penny nearly confessed to while exposing Halstead's lack of involvement during her shining hour could have easily closed the lid on her. Although it came too close for comfort, the skirmish gave Etta an idea and a remedy against future potentially incriminating outbursts. The time had come to save Penny from herself.
Etta didn't ask the girl what she thought about having a proper burial for Halstead. He'd been covered over in an unmarked grave for a few days so a couple of more wouldn't make that much difference at far as Etta was concerned. Penny was liable to get flustered again and go to shooting her mouth off like she'd just done with Chozelle. Etta was not going to let that happen. If a “preacher-fied” funeral is what it took to remove the temptation from Penny's lips, Etta was prepared to stage a decent sendoff as an ends to a means. In Penny's vexed comprehension, Halstead was dead but he wasn't gone, yet.
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