The Two-Bear Mambo Read online

  “That’s right,” Leonard said. “But when it comes out of your mouth, it stinks. My name’s Leonard. Leonard Pine.”

  “What you want … Leonard … is me to respect you because you’re black,” Cantuck said. “Not because you’re worth a shit. You want me to be polite and sweet when all you’ve done, the both of you, from the first moment I’ve seen you, is come on with an attitude. An attitude that says: We’re better than you. We’re smarter than you. We’re a couple of hip-hop guys … I believe that’s a term they use, isn’t it?”

  “Close enough,” Leonard said. “But not around my house.”

  “Not once,” Cantuck said, “have you treated me with the respect deserving of any human being, or someone of authority.Yet, you expect me to be all sugar and syrup and suck your dick.”

  “You did sort of threaten us,” I said. “You even pulled your gun on me. That seems to have faded from your memory.”

  “I don’t deny it. But you fucked with me, treated me stupid, then wanted me to give you a hand job and smile. I don’t think your mamas would be proud of the way you two have conducted yourselves.”

  To tell the truth, neither did I.

  “There was that talk about the fire department and being burned up with white trash and a nigger,” I said. “Remember that?”

  “I wanted you scared, out of here, before somethin’ happened we’d both be sorry for. You two being sorry while it was happening, and me after I heard about it—for about five or ten minutes, anyway. You see, it’s not bad enough I got you two pencil dicks, I got the Texas Rangers now.”

  “Texas Rangers?” I said, and thought I looked pretty innocent. Charlie damn sure wasn’t fucking around. He’d gotten on the horn the minute I hung up.

  “This nig hung himself here,” Cantuck said. “Word’s got around it ain’t no suicide. Maybe that was your gal, Florida did that, got ’em stirred. Maybe it was you. But about five minutes ago I got the call. They’re sending in some Ranger dick to look things over. Show our not-so-smart three-person police force how the horse ate the apple. I don’t like it. I don’t like you. I wish you were both home. I wish your daddies had pulled out right before comin’. That way, the two of you wouldn’t be nothing to me or nobody else.”

  We sat for a moment. I said, “Can we fill out the missing person report now?”

  “When you do, why don’t you head back to where you come from. Find someone else to insult and make fun of. I can’t help my balls, boys, and I can’t help that I believe the Bible insists that blacks and whites not intermingle, outside of work and a few laughs together.”

  “Shit,” Leonard said, “you and me ain’t been laughing none at all.”

  “Bottom line is,” Cantuck said, “when I’m not worked up, I’m not so bad. And I can do my job. You leave, I won’t be worked up. She’s around here, I’ll find her. She’s gone somewhere, I might find that out. Black and white ain’t gonna have anything to do with that.”

  We sat in silence for a moment. Cantuck reached down behind his desk, came up with a stained coffee can. He spat a stream of tobacco into it, put the can back. Some of the juice ran over his bottom lip and down his chin. He wiped it away with his sleeve. He looked at his sleeve. “Bad habit,” he said. “Wife hates it. My boy used to call it slime. Let’s get a report for you to fill out. And Smartest Nigger?”

  “Yassuh, Massa, Chief,” Leonard said.

  “Stay away from Officer Reynolds. He’s not a nice man like me. And don’t forget your hat.”

  Cantuck stood up and we stood up with him. Cantuck said, “Before you boys go, would you mind dropping a coin or so in these charities? I try to support them, get others to do likewise.”

  We were blank for a moment, then slowly Leonard opened his wallet, took out a dollar bill and rolled it tight and pushed it through the slot of the MD container.

  I did the same.

  We went into the office where the secretary once again sat behind her desk. The Chief followed us out. Reynolds wasn’t there. Cantuck had Charlene give us a missing person’s report. I filled it out and gave it back.

  Cantuck picked it up the moment I laid it down. “All right … Mr. Hap Collins,” he said, reading my name off the report. “Me and this investigation are open for business.”

  He went back to his office and closed the door.

  Charlene looked at the closed door, looked at Leonard.

  “Like the hair,” Leonard told her.

  15

  When we left Cantuck’s office, we saw Officer Reynolds standing in the hallway near the exit, adjusting a plastic rain cover on his straw hat. He turned and looked at us. He carefully withdrew a Tootsie Roll Pop from his shirt pocket, unwrapped it, and tossed the wrapper on the floor. He stuck the pop in his mouth, winked at us, went out into the rain.

  I said, “Think you could take him, you had to?”

  “I don’t know,” Leonard said. “I don’t know the both of us with clubs could take him. But the trick is, we don’t let him know we think that.”

  “Frankly, I don’t think it matters what we think.”

  “Know what? I sorta think he’s cute.”

  “Oh, shit.”

  “I’m not kidding, Hap. I like the way he sucks that Tootsie Roll.”

  “He’s a thug.”

  “I didn’t say I liked him. I just wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating crackers. Tootsie Roll Pops either.”

  “Jesus, Leonard. He wouldn’t get in bed with you unless it was to tie you to it and set it on fire.”

  “Wow. Really think so?”

  Leonard chuckled. I picked up the Tootsie Roll wrapper and put it in the trash container by the door. Leonard put on his hat and we went outside.

  We got drenched going out to the car. Leonard cranked the engine, turned on the heater.

  “I feel kinda bad about Cantuck,” I said. “I wanted us to push him, see if he knew more than he was letting on, but I feel kinda mean-spirited.”

  “Hell,” Leonard said. “I did all the pushing.”

  “Making fun of a man’s balls is pretty low, you know?”

  “I admit I feel a little bit like a horse’s ass myself. All those pictures of his kid, weird shit with the charities. I feel sorry for him. What did you tell me the boy died of?”

  “Muscular dystrophy.”

  “Yeah, well, just because he loved his son and likes charities, doesn’t mean he isn’t a worthless dick.”

  I could feel my wet jacket sticking to Leonard’s upholstery. The heater was slow to work. My stomach grumbled from hunger and need of coffee.

  I said, “I hate to sound like you, but just because he’s a dick doesn’t mean he’s a real villain.”

  “Jesus,” Leonard said, “you’re right. I’m starting to sound like a knee-jerk liberal asshole. I been around you too long.”

  “When I was growing up, Leonard—”

  “Oh, Christ, another parable.”

  “Listen. My dad had the worst rhetoric you ever heard. He could get so worked up over ‘the niggers,’ he would vibrate.”

  “I’ve known people in my family to be the same way about whites.”

  “Yeah, but you know, one time I went down to my dad’s garage, and there were a bunch of little black kids there, laughing, and my dad was giving them five-dollar bills. Apiece. It wasn’t like we had lots of money, and when the kids were gone, I said, ‘Dad, what are you doing?,’ and he said, ‘I was afraid they might be hungry.’

  “Dad hated the black race, but liked them as individuals. He hated some as individuals too, but you get my point.”

  “I do.”

  “I’m not defending his racism. I detest it. I think that’s one reason I hate it so much, my old man being that way, and otherwise being just the kind of man I wanted to be.”

  “Just because your old man was a good man, does that mean Cantuck is? It’s hard to believe he’d go out of his way to worry about some black girl that might have gotten killed.”

&
nbsp; “You knew my daddy, it would be hard to believe he would give five dollars apiece to a handful of black kids too.”

  “We’re not dealing with your daddy, though. This Cantuck, we know nothing about him. Say he wouldn’t do anything to hurt Florida, he’s still convinced she’s out shacking up. Blacks are all a bunch of animals to him. He figures all we want to do is eat and fuck.”

  “That’s all I want to do.”

  “Maybe that’s all anyone wants to do. As for the Chief, he might not swerve to hit an animal, but he still knows he’s dodging one. And when it comes to blacks, well, he might not go out of his way to do one harm, but he wouldn’t expect anything of them but the most basic of animal behavior. Like being shacked up somewhere.”

  “So, we don’t know any more than we knew when we went in.”

  “We know he’s got an officer that isn’t a nice person. Even Cantuck says so. And I know this. I’m one hungry sonofabitch. I say we go over to the cafe and get breakfast.”

  “You know how that’ll go.”

  “We came here to be maggots in the shit. Squirm around, see if we can find what we want. What better way to stir the shit than to jump right in.”

  “I like the more casual approach. One where I don’t have to get doo-doo on me.”

  “You sit here and be casual. I’m hungry, I’m wet, and I’m cold. The cafe is bound to be warm, and they’ve got coffee. I’ll bring you some.”

  “We really ought to go over to the black section of town. Ask around there.”

  “We will.”

  “What’s wrong with now?”

  “You’re stalling, Hap.”

  “Just as long as I can.”

  Leonard cut the engine, put his hand on the door handle, turned and looked at me.

  “Oh, all right,” I said. “What’s a few stitches among friends?”

  16

  Leonard was right. The cafe was warm. It was also crowded. The brothers who I had warned about the ants were there, and their mother, of course. There were also a lot of burly types, and old men. The blue-haired woman I had seen at Tim’s filling station was also there. She was sitting with an elderly man who, from the look on his face, appeared to be dealing with some sort of digestion problem.

  I could see a gray-haired black cook through the order window at the back. He had on a white cook’s hat, a stained white shirt, and lots of sweat. He hadn’t been working Christmas Day when I was here. He didn’t wave as we came in. Neither did anyone else. The mother of the sweet boys who I had spoken with on Christmas smiled at me, the sort you give someone you know probably has a short time to live. Or maybe she just loved me and my little friend.

  The cook looked at Leonard, shook his head, went to furiously scraping at something out of our sight.

  We went over to a couple of stools at the end of the counter, sat down in front of a rack holding salt and pepper shakers, a bottle of ketchup and a bottle of Tabasco sauce.

  There was a plump middle-aged man sitting next to Leonard. He was smoking a cigar. He blew out smoke, rolled up the newspaper he was reading, put it under his arm, picked up his coffee cup, found a seat beside another man in a booth at the back.

  “Did I fart?” Leonard said.

  The smiling woman came over. She looked nervous. “Would you gentlemen like something to go?”

  This, of course, was the better idea, and I’ll be honest, I was scared, all those fuckers looking at us, licking their chops, but I’d seen too many cowboy movies, and a cowboy doesn’t run.

  Of course, a movie cowboy usually has a stand-in.

  “No,” I said. “We’d like something to stay. I want flapjacks and eggs and biscuits and coffee. My buddy here will have the same.”

  “I will?” Leonard asked.

  “You will,” I said.

  Leonard tipped his hat at the lady. “I will,” he said.

  The woman looked at us sadly and went away.

  The brothers came over and stood by me, one on either side. The one with the bad mustache smiled, said, “There ain’t no Christmas ants, are there?”

  “No, son, guess there aren’t,” I said.

  “You lied to us?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “That was a good one,” Bad Mustache said. He grinned at me, then he and his brother moved to the rear of the cafe and took a booth together.

  The door opened, let in the cold wind. We turned toward a voice saying: “You boys passing through?”

  The voice belonged to a man in a gray waterproof topcoat and an expensive gray cowboy hat over which was attached a clear plastic rain cover. He eased off the topcoat, shook the rain from it onto the floor, hung it on a peg by the door, put his hat on another peg.

  He looked to be in his sixties. He was the only man in the place wearing a suit. It was a nice, dark gray suit, expensive in a J.C. Penney’s best sort of way. He had gray hair, perfectly combed, not mussed by his hat. It was held in place with enough hair spray to make an evangelist proud. He wore a bright red tie. It was tacked with a gold horseshoe to a crisp white shirt. He had on gray lizard-skin cowboy boots. He had a muscular build, with a slight paunch. His skin was very pale. He looked very proud of himself.

  On one side of Gray Suit was a rather sizable gentleman who looked as if he could snap a baseball bat over his knee. I affectionately thought of him as Bear.

  On the other side of Gray Suit was an even larger gentleman with enormous shoulders, a big belly, and a very wide ass. He looked as if he’d enjoy jerking a knot in a gorilla’s dick on his worst day. I affectionately dubbed him Elephant.

  “What’d you say?” Leonard asked Gray Suit.

  Gray Suit grinned. He had a very precious deep dimple in his right cheek. I think he liked that dimple. I think he thought it got him lots of pussy. I wished I had a dimple. I wished I had all my hair. I wished the gray in my hair looked as cool as the gray in his hair. I wished I’d stayed home. I wouldn’t have minded some pussy either.

  Gray Suit kept right on smiling. “I said, are you two passing through?”

  Before we could answer, he went over to a booth, and the men sitting there got up casually, with their plates and coffee, and found another seat. Gray Suit slid in against the wall. Bear sat in the seat beside him. Elephant took a seat across the table from Bear. The rain outside came down hard and consistent. Good sleeping weather.

  Leonard said, “Naw, we ain’t passing through. Actually, we was sorta thinking of moving here.”

  “And for what reason?” Gray Suit said.

  “We were thinking of opening up a little Afro-American Cultural Center. That’s a black thing, see. Hap here would be working for me.”

  “I does right,” I said, “sometimes, Mr. Leonard, he lets me takes off a little early on Friday afternoon and he give me a fifty-cent tip.”

  Gray Suit smiled, said to the lady behind the counter, “Maude. I’d like some coffee. The boys here would like some too. Keep it coming.”

  Maude gave Gray Suit a look that could have raised tumors. Gray Suit acted as if he hadn’t noticed. He turned his attention back to Leonard, said: “You know, when I was a little boy, right here in Grovetown, we used to have traveling minstrel shows.” He paused and looked at Leonard. “You know what those are, boy?”

  “I ain’t wearing no knee pants,” Leonard said. “Don’t call me boy. Don’t call my friend here boy neither.”

  “All right,” Gray Suit said. “Man. Isn’t that what you people prefer? Man?”

  “Man’s nice,” Leonard said. “Man sound good to you, Hap?”

  “I like it,” I said. “Even if I’m not a ‘you people.’ ”

  “When I was a little boy,” Gray Suit started, then paused to poke a cigarette into his mouth. Bear whisked out a little box of kitchen matches, struck one on the bottom of his shoe, offered it to Gray Suit. Gray Suit held Bear’s hand, touched the match to his cigarette, puffed. Bear dropped the match on the floor.

  Maude said, “Pick that up.”


  No one picked up the match. No one seemed to notice she’d spoken.

  “What I remember fondly,” Gray Suit continued, “was white folks doing colored minstrel shows. They wore blackface. Shoe polish. Big white lips. They did some jokes. And they were real funny. You know,” he pointed the cigarette at Leonard, “you remind me of them minstrel folks, but you’re not in blackface. Least I don’t think so. And you know what? I think you’re real funny. That makes me nostalgic. I like that. I like having you here. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed being around funny niggers. And what I got here is not just some white man in blackface playing nigger, I got the real thing. I got me a genuine, born-of-black-hole nigger.”

  “Don’t talk like that,” Maude said, coming out from behind the counter with a pot of coffee. She put the pot on their table. “You’re in my place, don’t talk like that.”

  “It’s all right, Maude,” Gray Suit said. “It’s just men talkin’. Ain’t that right, nigger?”

  Leonard didn’t answer. He just tipped back his straw hat, sat there, patient.

  Gray Suit turned his coffee cup upright and poured coffee. Maude rubbed her hands together, clasped her fingers, pulled, let go and went back behind the counter. I could hear her breathing behind us. Nervous, short breaths; kind I’d have been breathing had I not been holding my breath.

  “I tell you, buck,” Gray Suit said, “you look to me like someone who was bred of good stock. You know, that’s why there’s so many of your people can play basketball and football well. We white folks bred you. Got the biggest dumbest nigger bucks we could find, put them with some big ole black mammy could take about a ten-inch dick big around as a man’s wrist, and that ole buck, well, he was the kind would mount a cow if our grandaddies told him to—and most likely if they didn’t—and he’d bang that black bitch till she couldn’t take no more. Then maybe our granddaddies would have a pony or a jackass do her, just to get a little spice in the stock. And through all that planning, down through generations of nigger kennelin’, we ended up with solid, strong-lookin’ niggers like yourself. And just as an added note, I got to tell you, I’ve always been partial to a nigger in a straw hat.”