Chapter 13

The hard steel of the rod stuck into my back must have shown on my face. Marks smiled and looked smug, like he had won on all of his bangtail wagers. His voice was as gravelly as ever as he said, "Thank you for stopping by. It was good to see you, especially for the last time. It's been fun especially the whippings and the fire, but you have to blow now. My colleagues will escort you out."

I noticed that the punks were both blackies. I wondered if they knew who they were working for. I said," Hey guys, can't we talk about ... I was interrupted by a particularly vicious jab in the spine and was told 'Jeff, Shut your trap'! I was going to tell him that my name was Stan not Jeff, but I didn't think that now was the time.

We were led across the dance floor to a door in the back. Once the door was closed behind us, the room got very quiet. "Lose those heaters." said the punk jammin' his rod into me. The other one told Sarah, "You too barbeque. Eyes nose ya got one. Or do ya want me to find it in thems fine rags youse wearin'? Sarah lifted up her left arm, unclipped the small pistol and dropped it into the punk's open hand. "This one sharp heater, Eyes agonna sneeze this."

They herded us to a door in the back. I could feel the cold breeze from under the door. The first punk said, "Go on out snatcher, Mister Blue wants ta jaw atcha." They led us out into an alley. The wind pierced me through to my soul. The wind brought a feeling of doom. Boy, the things having a roscoe stuck in your back will do. I needed to get a hold of myself.

Our journey now took us out of the bitter wind and into another building. We were led down some corridors and up some stairs. Finally we were dumped into a room and forced on our hands and knees. A disembodied voice came out of the shadows from above us. "I hear that you have been putting the screws on Mr. Marks. He is a very good customer of mine and has asked me to do a little favor for him. I am gonna rub you both out for him. Let's call it a bonus for a heavy customer." Then he laughed in a low, booming, menacing tone that echoed through the room.

Sarah let out a low moan when she heard of the future planned for us. What followed was a furtive, whispered argument. Finally an oil lamp was brought to illuminate us captives. The light seemed to shine on Sarah more than me. Not that I blamed them, she was a real looker. "Mr. Marks and my boys have failed to tell me what a fine dinner you are Miss Goldman. It would be a shame to nix out a fine ofay queen like you. If you come onto the tab and thrill me, you don't have to join your Mr. Charlie. It's not like he's your main on the hitch. Don't go V-8 on me."

Sarah just shook her pretty head and replied, "Thanks, but no thanks. I think I'll stick with my man. I may not live as long, but I'll be happier."

"The lady has spoken. Bring their ride and take them just north of sugar hill. You know the rest. And to us he said, "Glad to have met you, sorry it worked out sad. See you in Beluthahatchie." We were then hustled out to my tin can. They put Sarah in the back between them and told me to drive. The first punk said, "Jeff, you just don't get foxy on me or I'll whip it to the red. Just drive where I tell you."

Sarah was trying to get over on them, because she snuggled in between them and said, "Don't you worry, Jeff will be a good boy. Won't you Jeff? I just growled as I put the car in gear, turned the radio on and drove north.

I knew Sarah was just trying to catch them off-guard, but letting them paw her was making me whacky. Looking at the action in the rear view mirror was apparently affecting my driving and the two punks were busy with Sarah. I had just left Harlem, headed North on Lenox Avenue. I saw a flashing blue light and heard a siren. I looked in the mirror at the head punk. He told me to pull over and keep the chin clean. Don't call copper."