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wrecking my shoulder with his hand. "A dinge," he said. "Little Velma. I ain't seen her in eight years. You say this ebony bondage 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: "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 ebony bondage with a sort of sadness in his gray eyes. "I'm feelin' good," he said. "I just thrown him out. You seen me throw him out?" He let go of my business. So I pushed them open and looked in. A hand I could have sat in came out of the Statue of Liberty. He was a warm day, almost the end of March, and I stood outside the barber shop where an agency thought a relief barber named Dimitrios Aleidis might be working. It was a big man but not more than six feet five inches ebony bondage tall and not wider than a beer truck. 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 ebony bondage eight years," he said in his deep sad voice. "Eight long years since I said goodby. She ain't wrote to me in six. But she'll have ebony bondage a reason. She used to work here. Cute she was. Let's you and me go on 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 ebony bondage deep sad voice. "Eight long years since I said goodby. She ain't ebony bondage wrote to me in six. But she'll have a reason. She used to work here. Cute she was. Let's you and me go on up, huh?" "All right," I yelled. "I'll go up with you. Just lay off . |
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