Death Wish by Iceberg Slim Page B

woman.”
    Blake said, “You had to know. Well, a week after she copped the Miss Black Chicago beauty title, Dandy Ike taught her hoss is boss. He turned her out on the ‘boost.’ They say she was like a magician stealing furs and C-note dresses from Marshall Fields and other ritzy Loop stores. They say she got busted, and the judge sent her to Lex Hospital to kick the thing.”
    T. couldn’t sleep for days. Until his release he murdered Dandy Ike dozens of way in bloody day fantasies and night dreams. They released him with a bus ticket to the Windy, a sawbuck, and a roughly cut suit that hollered, “Penitentiary!”
    He got off the Greyhound in Chicago’s Loop and went to the street. He blinked in the sunlight. He was shaken by the exploding bomb of traffic and the insane stampede of well-dressed people with white blank faces. T. felt filthy, inferior, and lost. A shabby alien covered with jail rot.
    He rode streetcars to Rachel’s house. As he approached the house, he darted a glance at the horror house where Sarge and his mother had died.
    Oh, Mama! My sweet mama!
    He saw the name “Waters” was still on Rachel’s mailbox. He rang the doorbell twice, and the peep slot opened.
    Rachel’s mother said, “What is it?”
    He said, “Mrs. Waters, it’s me, Jessie Taylor. I lived with you once . . . My mama Pearl was wasted next door.”
    There was a long silence before she swung open the door. He stepped into the living room. On a large table he saw a mountain of ironed laundry she took in for a living.
    She looked up at him and said, “My stars, you’re twice bigger than when I made you hit the road. Pearl woulda looked at you twice before knowing you.”
    He sat on the sofa. She put her hands on her hips and gave him a level look. She said, “Jessie, you just here out of the pen?”
    He nodded.
    She said, “You can’t light here and eat me into the poorhouse.”
    He said, “Mrs. Waters, I heard what Ike did to Rachel and all, and I only wanta see her.”
    She wearily dropped down beside him and said, “Poor thing is still in the dope hospital down in Kentucky.”
    He asked, “When she coming home?”
    â€œI fixed her a big peach cobbler and homemade ice cream two weeks ago and got disappointed. She called this morning and promised me she’s coming two weeks from this Sunday coming for certain. But I ain’t fixing a crumb ‘til she walks through that door.”
    He asked, “You seen Ike riding and sporting in the neighborhood lately?”
    Her heavily veined hands made fists in her lap. “No, indeed, and neither the police. They come by here every now and then asking about him. They want him about crippling a girl.”
    T. stood and said, “I’ll see you, Mrs. Waters.” He walked to the door and opened it.
    She followed him and said, “Jessie, you hungry?”
    He replied, “No, thanks, I just ate.”
    He went to the sidewalk and heard her footsteps behind him. He stopped and faced her. For the first time in months, he smiled and he felt good. He didn’t feel lost and puffed with tension anymore. She put her hand on his arm.
    A little out of breath, she said, “Jessie, you got a room?”
    He said, “Yes, ma’am, and a job on the Southside.”
    She squeezed his arm and beamed. “Jessie, you get back over here Sunday after next. I’m taking you and Rachel to join church.”
    He said, “We’ll see, Mrs. Waters,” then he started to turn away.
    She said, “You both need the Lord. Ain’t nothing or nobody as powerful as him.”
    He said, “No, ma’am.” As he walked away, he said under his breath, “He is, if he’s up there, Mrs. Waters. If he’s up there.”
    He walked to Lake Street and took an El train for the Southside and exchanged winks with Easy Pockets, one of the