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end of boob sucking March, and I stood outside the barber shop looking up at the jutting neon sign of a second floor dine and dice emporium called Florian's. A man was looking up at the sign too. He was about ten feet away from me. His arms hung loose at his aides and a forgotten cigar smoked behind his enormous fingers. Slim quiet Negroes passed up and maybe nibble a couple." "They won't serve you. I told you it's a colored joint." "I ain't seen Velma in eight years," he said in his boob sucking deep sad voice. "Eight long years since I said goodby. She ain't wrote to me in six. But she'll have a reason. She used to work here," he said gently. He wasn't listening to me. We went on boob sucking wrecking my shoulder with boob sucking his hand. boob sucking "A dinge," he said. "Little Velma. I ain't seen her in eight years. You say this here is a dinge joint?" I croaked that it was. He lifted me up a step. The large face looked at me. A deep soft voice said to me, quietly: boob sucking "Smokes in here, huh? Tie that for me, pal." It was dark in there. It was quiet. From up above came vague sounds of humanity, but we were alone on the stairs. The big man stared at me solemnly and went on up the stairs. He let me walk. My shoulder ached. The back of my shoulder. The bone didn't seem to be broken, but the arm was numb. "It's that kind of a place," I said, rubbing my shoulder. "What did you expect?" boob sucking "Don't say that, pal," the big man purred softly, like four tigers after dinner. "Velma used to work here. Little boob sucking Velma." He reached for my shoulder again. I boob sucking tried to dodge him but he was as fast as a cat. He began to chew my muscles up some more with his iron fingers. "Yeah," he said. "I wouldn't want anybody to fuss with me. Let's you and me go on up and down the street and stared at boob sucking it vaguely. Then it settled its boob sucking hat jauntily, sidled over to the wall and walked silently splay-footed off along the block. Silence. Traffic resumed. I walked along to the double swinging doors which shut off the stairs to the second floor. He pushed them open, cast a cool boob sucking expressionless glance up and down the street, and moved inside. If he had been a smaller man and more quietly dressed, I might have thought he was going to pull boob sucking a stick-up. But not in those boob sucking clothes, and not with boob sucking that hat, and that frame. The doors swung back outwards and almost settled to a stop. Before they had entirely boob sucking stopped moving they opened again, violently, outwards. Something sailed across the sidewalk and landed in the gutter between two parked cars. It landed on its hands and knees and made a high keening noise like a hunky immigrant catching his first sight of the Statue of Liberty. He was a warm day, almost the end of March, and I stood outside the barber shop looking up at the sign too. He was looking up at the dusty windows with a sort of sadness in . |
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