by Vicky Jones
Chapter 14
With a jolt, Shona woke, then froze. The familiar dread of those footsteps coming down the stairs and entering the poorly lit, cold basement where she had been forced to sleep was overwhelming. Her heart thumped.
They seemed to take forever, as if prolonging the torture. There were no windows and no exits apart from the door that was about to be opened. The doorknob groaned. Shona instinctively curled into a ball.
A shard of light stabbed through the darkness as the door creaked open. Shona squinted. Launching at her, the men took advantage of her temporary blindness. They were rough as always.
"Noooooo … Get off me, please–"
"Shona … SHONA! Wake up!" Tom's shadow loomed over her, his strong hands gripping her trembling shoulders. Shona blinked open her tear-filled eyes and sat bolt upright.
"What? … I was just dreamin'," she mumbled, her head pounding.
"Dreamin'? Sounded like a goddamn nightmare," he replied, his own eyes laced with concern.
"I … I'm sorry!"
Tom reached out to try and comfort her. Without meaning to, she shrank away from him and pulled the blanket up around her shoulders. She lay back down, her gaze not shifting from the thin halo of moonlight that ran around the edges of the barn door.
He sighed as he sat down on the edge of her bed. Silently, he watched over her for the next hour until Shona, slowly but surely, felt safe enough to fall back to sleep.
Chapter 15
"Larry, you seen this?"
Kyle Chambers held out the tabloid to Bruce who was gazing out of his window early on Monday morning, a week later.
"Seen what?" Bruce turned, half listening.
"Damn colored college burned down,” said Kyle. “For the best, I say. I mean, you can't teach' 'em nothin' so what’s the point in trying?"
Bruce took the newspaper and started reading the story.
"Trouble is–" he began, leaning back into his expensive chair. "They're gettin' everywhere! You got do-gooders representin' 'em. You wait until people start getting their damn money stolen, their sons murdered and their daughters raped. Then come back and tell me it's good to give 'em a voice."
"Why does Ellis do what he does, then?" Kyle asked, leaning back in his own chair.
"Long story, goin' way back. He's a damn fool." Bruce clicked his silver lighter and held his cigar to the flame. "Thing is, Kyle, that new colored, Cuban or whatever the fuck his name is, is getting way too comfortable here. He and that broad have been here a week now and still no sign of them quittin' yet. I can't afford for him to think he's the same as us. My daughter's here now. Is she safe? I don't like it, but whatever I get Paul to give to both of 'em, they just keep comin' back for more!"
"What you want me to do, Larry?" Kyle leaned forward.
"Just make life a little more unwelcoming. If they both leave of their own accord, it's nice and tidy."
The canteen was its usual hive of activity at the 10 o'clock break time that Monday—mostly abusive comments hurled at anyone who was deemed weak. Cuban entered the melee and, as usual, it was the same greeting.
"You know where you need to be."
Cuban knew his place: the back of the queue. Even when he reached the front, men would play tricks on him after they'd eaten and keep going up for seconds. On a few occasions the buzzer sounded before Cuban could get any food at all.
"Could I have some of that, please?" Cuban asked as he finally reached the counter. He thought better than to make eye contact with head chef Lou who chewed slowly, looking Cuban up and down and screwing his face up.
"Gimme your plate." Lou forced his rough face into a fake smile.
Cuban handed Lou his plate, then turned around to see Shona eating on her own at the end of a long bench, with six men at the other end making no attempt to talk to her. While his head was turned, Lou poured dark slop onto his plate from a height so it splashed everywhere, including over Cuban. He looked back to see Lou grinning at him.
"Here's some bread. You need to keep your strength up."
Lou gripped a slice of bread in each of his grubby hands and rubbed them up and down his chef jacket, smudging the grayish, pitted bread into congealed meat juices, tea and sweat stains. Smirking, he spat on one slice, then squashed it into the other to make a sandwich which he dropped on top of Cuban's plate of slop.
"Lemme help you there! Coffee?" Deputy Paul appeared over Cuban's shoulder and tipped his half-empty mug over his bread-topped plate, making it an even soggier mess. He lifted the tray off the counter, then dropped it.
The clatter ensured all eyes were on the situation now.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Cuban, how clumsy am I?" Deputy Paul mashed up the food with his boots, then grabbed a large serving spoon and scooped up the rancid gloop onto another plate. "Thing is, I'm told that when you clean floors you can eat your dinner off 'em. So, eat!" Deputy Paul picked up a dirty spoon from someone else's leftovers and dipped it in Cuban's lunch. "Come on, boy. You must be hungry!" he snarled.
The canteen ground to a halt. Workers began shouting their encouragements to Cuban, who stared in disgust at the spoon hovering in front of him.
"Come on, Cuban, you can't go back to work on an empty stomach! Lou here assures me that this food is full of highly nutritious goodness!" He smirked at Lou who sniggered back.
Thoughts raced through Cuban's brain. He needed this job. The money would go towards his ticket to New York, a place he’d dreamed of going to all his life. They were more tolerant there. His dream was to play in the jazz clubs and make a life for himself. But that didn't come cheap. It had to work this time. It wouldn't have to be long, just until he could afford his ticket.
Cuban knew he had no choice. He took his first bite.
"More. More. More. More." The chanting resonated louder. Snarling men banged their knives and forks on the table, enjoying every second of Cuban's humiliation. His retching made it even more fun to watch.
Shona couldn't bear it any longer. She pushed her way through the crowd as bits of food were thrown at Cuban who didn't dare retaliate.
"Get outta my way … MOVE!" Shona yelled, but another female voice eclipsed her own and instantly hushed the baying mob.
"Stop! What on earth's going on here?" Eyes shifted up from Cuban's plight to the balcony. Shona looked too, her gaze passing up over the smart black heels, business skirt and scarlet red jacket.
Shona stared in silence. Gripping the handrail, Chloe Bruce descended the steps leading onto the canteen floor, looking disgusted.
"You say anything, boy, and you won't be able to take a shit for a month, y'hear?" Deputy Paul whispered to Cuban before disappearing in the opposite direction to where Chloe was approaching from. The hustle and bustle resumed as the crowd nonchalantly returned to their food and conversations. Trying hard to control his shaking hands, Cuban bent down to clean up the mess.
"You OK, Cuban?" Elbie appeared holding a mop.
"I'm fine," he lied.
"What the fuck? This is some messed up shit," Shona snarled as she watched the workers finish their food. She put her hand down on Cuban's shoulder. He shrugged it off in frustration.
"You can have some of my food if you like?" she offered, kneeling to help clean the mess up with some paper towels.
"Are you OK?" A voice sounded behind them. Elbie, Shona and Cuban looked up.
"Yessum," Cuban replied.
"What happened here? I heard a lot of noise," Chloe asked, concern lacing her soft voice. Cuban and Elbie stood but Shona continued to scrub the floor.
"Just guys being guys, ma'am," Cuban replied half smiling. Elbie looked down at the now-shiny floor and shook his head in disgust.
"All done. I'm goin' back to work," Shona jumped up and left.
"Who was that?" Chloe asked, staring at the back of the departing worker.
"Who, that? That's Shona," Elbie replied as he watched her stride away.
Chapter 16
"You heard about me letting th
at colored know where he stands earlier?"
Deputy Paul hovered over Kyle who was busy writing at his desk. He paused to look up and flashed a lopsided grin at Cuban's tormentor.
"I did. Chloe came in saying she thought the guys were being mean. I pretended to care."
Deputy Paul snorted. "Not sure what it'll take to show him he ain't welcome, boss. The men are goin' nuts that he's still here thinking he can hide under Ellis's fuckin' protection wing!"
Kyle fiddled with his silver cartridge pen. "Leave it with me, Paul. Get him to work even later tonight."
"You got it, boss!" Deputy Paul replied, a glint of menace in his cold eyes.
"I thought you were a little rude towards Miss Chloe before, Shona," Elbie said as he emptied out his bucket of dirty, soapy water onto the dry dust of the garage forecourt. Shona was cleaning the outside of one of the trucks.
"I don't trust any of 'em, Elbie. All the same, all assholes," she replied, scrubbing hard enough to rip the paint from the hood.
"Not Miss Chloe, she's genuine enough. Didn't you notice how she was with Cuban? Real nice!" Elbie reasoned.
"So?" Shona threw her sponge into her soapy water and rested her hand on the hood. "Deserves a medal, does she? She’s probably a spy, finding out about us. Like I said, I don't trust any of 'em."
Shona's tirade was interrupted as Cuban trudged by.
"Hey."
"You OK?" she asked, standing up straight.
"Deputy Paul told me I have to work late. He wants everywhere spotless." Cuban looked deflated. Shona's heart went out to him, but at the moment it was all about survival.
For both of them.
It was nine thirty, three hours after Cuban should have gone home, and he was exhausted. A small group of men were in Deputy Paul's office drinking, smoking and playing cards, judging from the muffled conversation and joviality emanating from inside. He put the mop away in the cleaning cupboard after leaving the canteen spotless and ready for inspection.
"What an amazing job you've done," Deputy Paul said sarcastically as he walked around the canteen admiring the shiny pots and pans.
"Thank you, sir," Cuban replied.
"Well now, I think you should run along home and get some rest." Deputy Paul looked Cuban dead in his eyes.
"Thanks. I will." Cuban grabbed his satchel and left.
Three men from Deputy Paul's office emerged just as Cuban closed the door to the canteen on his way out. Poised, they awaited their instructions.
"Get to work, boys!" he drawled as the men began to trash the perfectly cleaned kitchen.
Chapter 17
"GET ME THAT FUCKING NIGGER!"
Chef Lou hurled to the floor what remained intact of the canteen's crockery. He'd arrived at work on Tuesday morning to find his precious kitchen turned over: dishes smashed, food splashed everywhere and cooking pots strewn indiscriminately all over the counters.
"Wait, Lou, calm down. Think! You go and beat him in front of everybody and you'll have Ellis on your back saying you're being unkind to one of his protected little birds. You gotta be smarter."
Deputy Paul held Lou back.
"I'm gon' take a shit and make him eat it. He's wrecked my kitchen, Paul. I swear I wanna kill him."
Lou spat as he spoke.
"He'll pay, Lou. I'll see to it," Deputy Paul assured.
"You know, I can't wait to see the West Coast. To feel free, go to the beach. That's what I'm saving for, you?" Shona asked Elbie as they were painstakingly cleaning old oil and grease from inside the rivets of engine parts.
"Me? I wanna see my daughter and granddaughter in Tennessee before I get too old to travel. I retire in a few months so as soon as I get my pension I'm gon' go visit them! It's been three years now."
"Wow, you write them?" Shona asked.
"Yeah, but you know how life is. My daughter's busy so she doesn't write that much. I just feel bad I can't be there for her but she moved away and started a family. I couldn't leave the house I lived in with my wife all those years. It's where I feel closest to her. Couldn't stand living in a busy town where my girl lives either. I'm an old country boy at heart," Elbie smiled, tipping his cap.
"How about you?" Shona gestured to Cuban as he walked in and sat down next to them.
"I jus' wan' make it to New York to see some of my friends who’ve made it there already," he sighed.
"Cuban, you're wanted. Now." Deputy Paul's flat, emotionless voice bounced off the concrete walls as he strolled into the tool room.
Cuban put down his cleaning cloth and took in a calming breath. He followed Deputy Paul through the corridor, with Shona and Elbie walking behind.
The entire workforce was present, staring at him as he entered the canteen. Not a single plate, cup or any item of cutlery was present on the tables.
It was deathly silent.
Cuban was led over to the serving hatch. Chef Lou was already standing there, his face blotchy with anger.
"What's goin' on?" Cuban asked, his dry mouth barely able to frame the words.
"You did this!" Lou pointed at the mess.
Cuban frowned. "Me?"
"You're fucking lyin'! I don't believe a single word that comes out of that dirty black mouth of yours." Lou clenched his teeth.
"Deputy Paul asked me to clean the kitchen so I did. He checked it and said I done a good job, then I went home. That's the truth."
"You blamin' me, boy?" Deputy Paul stepped forward.
"Just sayin' what happened is all."
"But that's not what happened, is it?" Deputy Paul raised his eyebrows at Cuban."You were the last to leave! Wasn't like this when I saw it," he lied.
"There were guys. I don't know how many. I heard 'em in your office," Cuban protested.
"Please tell me you're not accusing my guys of committing this atrocious act?"
Deputy Paul stepped towards Cuban.
"I didn't do it."
"So, you're happy to accuse others, are you?"
A new voice joined in from the far left. Larry Bruce had descended the metal staircase from his office, bodies parting to let him through.
"Am I right in thinking there was an incident in here yesterday?" he continued.
"Yessir," Cuban replied.
"Am I also right in thinking that maybe Chef Lou took things a little far?" Bruce almost appeared sympathetic as Cuban nodded again.
"So, Cuban, you'd be justifiably angry at what happened to you in here yesterday, wouldn't you?"
Tears began to well up in Cuban's eyes as he realized the trap that Bruce was setting for him.
"The best form of revenge is to hit somebody where it hurts, right?" Bruce nodded, looking at the faces in the crowd. "You were working late last night and everybody had gone home, is that correct?"
"Yessir." Cuban looked at his feet.
"And now Lou finds it in this state?"
"Yessir." He knew he was defeated.
"How’s that look to you?" Bruce squared up to Cuban.
"Like I did it." Cuban wiped his dripping nose on the back of his hand.
"Like? Like you did it?"
Cuban closed his eyes.
"He wouldn't have done this. He's been set up," Shona shouted, fighting her way through the crowd who then flipped their attention to her.
"Stay outta this," Deputy Paul barked at her.
"This ain't fair. Can nobody see? Why'd he make it so obvious if it was revenge?" Shona yelled.
"You'll sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up if you still wanna keep your job! I wonder what Mr. Ellis would say about you talkin' back to the boss?" Bruce screwed his face up.
Elbie shuffled next to Shona, resting a cautious hand on her shoulder.
"Now," said Bruce, "you'll apologize to all these men. They couldn't have any food this morning. Then you'll grovel to Lou to ask for forgiveness, y'hear me? And then you'll clean up the mess. Because if you don't, that's refusing work and Ellis will back me when I fire your ass. D'you understand me,
boy?"
Cuban nodded.
"Well, now's a good time," Bruce snarled.
Cuban scanned the angry faces in the crowd.
"Get on with it." Deputy Paul shoved Cuban.
"I'm–" He swallowed his tears back. "I'm real sorry for you goin' without food–"
"And what you did," Bruce interrupted.
Shona shook her head in disgust.
"And what I did."
The baying crowd shouted their rejections of his apology, their unforgiving mood not helped by their empty stomachs.
"Now apologize to Lou," Bruce taunted.
Cuban turned towards Lou, who came from behind the counter to face him.
"Say it. Fucking say it," Lou snapped.
"I apologize–"
"Kneel down. Fucking beg!" Lou interrupted.
Deputy Paul and Bruce glanced at each other and smirked.
Cuban dropped to his knees in front of the head chef. He cast his mind forward to the day he made it to New York and pictured himself standing in a jazz bar holding a Manhattan and tapping his foot to the beat. He'd imagined that scene every time. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he straightened his back and looked up at Lou.
"I beg for your forgiveness." Cuban felt the wetness on his face double as Lou spat in it.
"Fuck you!" Lou raged as he stormed out.
"Anything for me?" Chloe asked Bonnie on the front desk as she returned from her meeting in town.
"No, ma'am."
"Seems quiet?" she said, looking around her.
"They're all in the canteen, Miss Chloe."
Curious, she headed over there, confused when she saw Cuban on his knees and objects being thrown at him. Alarmed that nobody seemed to be doing anything about it, she made a beeline for her father.
"Daddy, what's going' on?"
"You're back early," Bruce replied, surprised to see her.