something to him. He loved to press his foot against a pedal and sail along, watching others stand still, seeing the asphalt road unwind under him. The lights flashed from red to green and he nosed the car forward.
“Bigger!”
“Yessum.”
“Turn at this corner and pull up on a side street.”
“Here, mam?”
“Yes; here.”
Now, what on earth did this mean? He pulled the car off Cottage Grove Avenue and drew to a curb. He turned to look at her and was startled to see that she was sitting on the sheer edge of the back seat, her face some six inches from his.
“I scare you?” she asked softly, smiling.
“Oh, no’m,” he mumbled, bewildered.
He watched her through the mirror. Her tiny white hands dangled over the back of the front seat and her eyes looked out vacantly.
“I don’t know how to say what I’m going to say,” she said.
He said nothing. There was a long silence. What in all hell did this girl want? A street car rumbled by. Behind him, reflected in the rear mirror, he saw the traffic lights flash from green to red, and back again. Well, whatever she was going to say, he wished she would say it and get it over. This girl was strange. She did the unexpected every minute. He waited for her to speak. She took her hands from the back of the front seat and fumbled in her purse.
“Gotta match?”
“Yessum.”
He dug a match from his vest pocket.
“Strike it,” she said.
He blinked. He struck the match and held the flame for her. She smoked awhile in silence.
“You’re not a tattle-tale, are you?” she asked with a smile.
He opened his mouth to reply, but no words came. What she had asked and the tone of voice in which she had asked it made him feel that he ought to have answered in some way; but what?
“I’m not going to the University,” she said at last. “But you can forget that. I want you to drive me to the Loop. But if anyone should ask you, then I went to the University, see, Bigger?”
“Yessum; it’s all right with me,” he mumbled.
“I think I can trust you.”
“Yessum.”
“After all, I’m on your side.”
Now, what did that mean? She was on his side. What side was he on? Did she mean that she liked colored people? Well, he had heard that about her whole family. Was she really crazy? How much did her folks know of how she acted? But if she were really crazy, why did Mr. Dalton let him drive her out?
“I’m going to meet a friend of mine who’s also a friend of yours,” she said.
“Friend of mine!” he could not help exclaiming.
“Oh, you don’t know him yet,” she said, laughing.
“Oh.”
“Go to the Outer Drive and then to 16 Lake Street.”
“Yessum.”
Maybe she was talking about the Reds? That was it! But none of his friends were Reds. What was all this? If Mr. Dalton should ask him if he had taken her to the University, he would have to say yes and depend upon her to back him up. But suppose Mr. Dalton had someone watching, someone who would tell where he had really taken her? He had heard that many rich people had detectives, working for them. If only he knew what this was all about he would feel much better. And she had said that she was going to meet someone who was a friend of his. He didn’t want to meet any Communists. They didn’t have any money. He felt that it was all right for a man to go to jail for robbery, but to go to jail for fooling around with Reds was bunk. Well, he would drive her; that was what he had been hired for. But he was going to watch his step inthis business. The only thing he hoped was that she would not make him lose his job. He pulled the car off the Outer Drive at Seventh Street, drove north on Michigan Boulevard to Lake Street, then headed west for two blocks, looking for number 16.
“It’s right here, Bigger.”
“Yessum.”
He pulled to a stop in front of a dark building.
“Wait,” she said, getting out of the car.
He saw her smiling broadly at him, almost laughing. He felt that she knew
“Bigger!”
“Yessum.”
“Turn at this corner and pull up on a side street.”
“Here, mam?”
“Yes; here.”
Now, what on earth did this mean? He pulled the car off Cottage Grove Avenue and drew to a curb. He turned to look at her and was startled to see that she was sitting on the sheer edge of the back seat, her face some six inches from his.
“I scare you?” she asked softly, smiling.
“Oh, no’m,” he mumbled, bewildered.
He watched her through the mirror. Her tiny white hands dangled over the back of the front seat and her eyes looked out vacantly.
“I don’t know how to say what I’m going to say,” she said.
He said nothing. There was a long silence. What in all hell did this girl want? A street car rumbled by. Behind him, reflected in the rear mirror, he saw the traffic lights flash from green to red, and back again. Well, whatever she was going to say, he wished she would say it and get it over. This girl was strange. She did the unexpected every minute. He waited for her to speak. She took her hands from the back of the front seat and fumbled in her purse.
“Gotta match?”
“Yessum.”
He dug a match from his vest pocket.
“Strike it,” she said.
He blinked. He struck the match and held the flame for her. She smoked awhile in silence.
“You’re not a tattle-tale, are you?” she asked with a smile.
He opened his mouth to reply, but no words came. What she had asked and the tone of voice in which she had asked it made him feel that he ought to have answered in some way; but what?
“I’m not going to the University,” she said at last. “But you can forget that. I want you to drive me to the Loop. But if anyone should ask you, then I went to the University, see, Bigger?”
“Yessum; it’s all right with me,” he mumbled.
“I think I can trust you.”
“Yessum.”
“After all, I’m on your side.”
Now, what did that mean? She was on his side. What side was he on? Did she mean that she liked colored people? Well, he had heard that about her whole family. Was she really crazy? How much did her folks know of how she acted? But if she were really crazy, why did Mr. Dalton let him drive her out?
“I’m going to meet a friend of mine who’s also a friend of yours,” she said.
“Friend of mine!” he could not help exclaiming.
“Oh, you don’t know him yet,” she said, laughing.
“Oh.”
“Go to the Outer Drive and then to 16 Lake Street.”
“Yessum.”
Maybe she was talking about the Reds? That was it! But none of his friends were Reds. What was all this? If Mr. Dalton should ask him if he had taken her to the University, he would have to say yes and depend upon her to back him up. But suppose Mr. Dalton had someone watching, someone who would tell where he had really taken her? He had heard that many rich people had detectives, working for them. If only he knew what this was all about he would feel much better. And she had said that she was going to meet someone who was a friend of his. He didn’t want to meet any Communists. They didn’t have any money. He felt that it was all right for a man to go to jail for robbery, but to go to jail for fooling around with Reds was bunk. Well, he would drive her; that was what he had been hired for. But he was going to watch his step inthis business. The only thing he hoped was that she would not make him lose his job. He pulled the car off the Outer Drive at Seventh Street, drove north on Michigan Boulevard to Lake Street, then headed west for two blocks, looking for number 16.
“It’s right here, Bigger.”
“Yessum.”
He pulled to a stop in front of a dark building.
“Wait,” she said, getting out of the car.
He saw her smiling broadly at him, almost laughing. He felt that she knew
Similar Books
