by Vicky Jones
"Hey," Shona smiled.
"Boss man's givin' out the wages. We need to go." He cocked his head to the door for them to follow him.
The workers were gathered in the usual place underneath the balcony in the canteen. Each worker's name was called out for them to collect their envelopes from Deputy Paul.
"Elbie!" Deputy Paul hollered. Elbie took his envelope from him, emptying the contents into his hand.
"Jackson!" Shona collected her envelope.
"Nigger!" Head down, Cuban made his way over.
"There you go, everybody back to work," Deputy Paul ordered.
"I haven't been paid right, you?" Shona kept checking. She looked at Cuban who seemed equally dismayed.
"No, I've come up short too." He didn't sound surprised.
"Me too, those thievin' son’bitches," Elbie screwed his envelope up.
"I'll go see Deputy Paul. I'm not having this!" Shona marched over to try and catch him before he headed back up the winding steps to the management offices.
"Excuse me? EXCUSE ME! Deputy Paul!"
"What?" he snapped his head back.
"We haven't been paid right. We're all coming up short!"
"That's what they're payin' you."
"But I got people relying on me to help them!" Shona's face radiated fury.
"Not my problem." Deputy Paul turned his back and continued up the steps.
"You know this ain't fair. We've done nothin' wrong. We work damn hard, goddammit!" Shona yelled in vain at the back of Deputy Paul's sweaty shirt.
"Well, go see the boss! I'll let Mr. Bruce know you'd like to complain … or leave."
She stood glaring at him as he reached the top, hearing the clump of his footsteps walk around the balcony and into an office. She knew it was futile trying to reason with him. She made her way back to the tool room, punching one of the cleaning cupboard doors on her way past.
That afternoon, Shona was ordered to clean the kitchen until she could see her reflection in every pot and pan.
"Jackson! Get your ass over here."
Shona folded her cleaning cloth, put it on the side and made her way towards the booming voice. She found Deputy Paul at the bottom of the balcony steps, his cold eyes fixed on her. He led her up the steps, stopping right outside Larry Bruce's office. Turning to face her, he flashed a sly smile as he knocked on the door.
"Yeah," a voice bellowed from the other side.
The deputy entered and shut the door behind him. He was gone for about thirty seconds then reappeared.
"In you go," he smirked.
"Mr. Bruce, sir?" She spoke as confidently as she could muster as she entered his office.
"Get in here, Jackson!" Bruce was sitting down. On his desk there were photographs of him taken with the most influential people in town. He looked up from the papers strewn out in front of him and shot a look of disgust at her.
"You wanna work here, don't you?" He raised an eyebrow as he spoke.
"Yessir."
"Then why the fuck you talkin' back to your superior?"
"I just asked about our wages, sir. They're not the same as everyone else's." Shona lowered her eyes from his angry red face.
"That's because you're not the same. Do you hear me? All three of you rejects. You're lucky you all still have a job."
He rose out of his chair and stood directly in front of Shona, close enough for her to smell the liquor on his breath.
It was a familiar smell to her.
His mustached mouth curled as he circled her. Shona froze, feeling his breath on her neck as he lingered behind her.
"The thing that’s been playin' on my mind since you had the audacity to walk into my company was why? Why would a pretty girl like you wanna work here? Now, I got my suspicions. She either wants to drive the men wild and get some business for herself in the evening or something ain't quite right with her!" He looked her up and down, wrinkling his nose as his eyes drifted over her shapeless, baggy overalls and heavy work boots. "Tell me, Jackson, why did you choose here?" Menace dripped from each word he uttered.
"I needed a job."
Shona stared at the wall behind Bruce's desk.
"Hmm," he whispered in her ear. "The guys tell me they think you're cute but they can't work you out." Shona felt her blood run cold. "Hell, maybe you could be some use to the men here after all. Work some tension out of 'em."
He began tracing his forefinger down Shona's back, her body flinching with repulsion as he did so.
"Now, get the fuck out of my office." Bruce growled.
Chapter 23
"You're too slow, old man!"
That sweltering Thursday morning, Elbie’s first job was to move some heavy, steel tire rims out of the path of a tractor waiting to reverse into the fields. As he passed him, Kyle callously pushed Elbie into the pile he’d made. The old man squealed in pain as a sharp edge of steel ripped a hole in his work pants. A halo of dark red blood seeped through the ragged tear.
"You OK?" Cuban ran over and slid his strong arm underneath Elbie’s shoulder. He smiled his gratitude and glanced at the half dozen men around him who could have stepped in to help him up.
"Come on, friend, let's get you patched up," Cuban said as he smiled back.
Cuban managed to get a bowl of lukewarm soup and some bread from the serving counter at lunch time, then made his way, through the usual taunts and insults, to the table at the back of the canteen where Shona was eating alone.
"Hey, how you doin'?" she asked.
"Fine. You?"
"I'm certainly finding out about that Mr. Chambers. Telling me how I belonged in the kitchen scrubbing floors. Yeah, me and him don't see eye-to-eye."
Shona slurped soup hungrily off her spoon. Just at that moment, Elbie also sat down with his equally sparsely laden tray.
"He seems like another damn idiot if you ask me. Corrupt as the rest of 'em. Although Miss Chloe's not," Elbie added.
"Keep your guard up with her, though. She still sits in the management office, remember?" Shona snapped back coldly.
"What's going on over there?" Cuban's attention was diverted to a couple of tables away. Randy, one of the mechanics, was surrounded by three hulking brutes who were throwing his hat around. Very quickly it became a circus of whoops and cheers, with Randy being the main attraction.
"Come on, big boy, come get it!" The tallest man tempted Randy, who huffed and puffed as he tried to force his huge bulk into a half-jump, his belly wobbling every time he rose and fell. His sweaty, red face was contorted into a pathetic scowl as he squealed his displeasure, which only served to egg his tormentors on more.
"Greg, it ain't funny no more!" Randy pleaded.
"I got his keys!" another member of the pack cheered.
"They're unbelievable," Shona said. "Even the damn bosses ain’t doin’ nothing!"
Elbie looked up to the balcony where Kyle and Deputy Paul were watching.
"So, d'you want the hat that Mrs. Randy got you or your keys that are kinda important for your job? Come on, fat boy, choose!" Greg reveled in his power. He tossed the hat and keys between his fellow tormentors. "Randy, just see it as me helping you lose a few pounds!"
By now, a three-person-deep circle had formed around Randy, waving their arms in the air and jeering.
"I've had enough of this." Shona jumped up.
"What's she doin'?" Cuban exclaimed.
Barging her way into the center of the crowd, Shona grabbed Randy's hat out of one man's hand.
"Give him the keys, Greg! Or you gon' hit a woman?" She fronted up to him, a defiant look on her beautiful face.
The crowd hushed, their eyes fixed on Shona.
"I'm gon' hold out my hand and you gon' place the keys down! Y'all had your fun now," Shona said. The tension in the room was palpable.
"Who are you, his mother?" Greg laughed in her face.
"No. Keys." Shona held out her palm.
All eyes were now on Greg.
Hearing the
commotion downstairs, Chloe emerged out of her office and looked over the balcony. "What's goin' on?"
"Nothing, just the guys lettin' off some steam," Kyle replied.
Back on the ground floor, Greg pressed his nose into Shona, his sweat dripping down onto her cheekbone.
"You need to be careful who you make a friend in here and who you choose to make an enemy, darlin'," he sneered in her ear.
"Keys." Shona stared at him, her blue eyes calm.
Shocked, he looked up to the balcony for advice. Following his eyeline, Shona spotted Chloe standing next to Kyle who nodded his decision.
Greg huffed and slapped the keys down hard into Shona's palm.
"Come on, everybody, show's over," Deputy Paul barked, his eyes fixed on Shona as she handed a grateful Randy back his possessions, then returned to the table to finish her lunch.
Chapter 24
The following morning, Randy called out to Shona as he made his way over to her outside the mechanics' yard.
"Yeah?" Shona stood up straight, holding her broom.
"I just wanted to say thanks for standing up to those guys in the canteen yesterday. You didn't have to."
Shona felt sorry for him. He was short and round with thinning messy hair, eroded away from constantly wearing his tatty cap. He always seemed to have on the same dirty overalls day after day, the same shoulder strap always hanging loose.
"No problem. That happen a lot?" Shona squinted in the sunlight.
"Yeah, but who do you complain to, right?" he shrugged.
"How long's it been going on for?"
"Since Mr. Bruce took over. But he told me that nobody else in Daynes would give me a job and that I was lucky that Mr. Ellis did so I should be grateful."
The 10 o'clock buzzer sounded.
"You coming in?" she asked him.
"Nah. M'wife made me sandwiches. I like the quiet out here in the fields anyway. Best twenny minutes of the day for me!" Randy half-smiled.
"OK, well, I'll see you in a while."
Shona made her way to the canteen, got her food and sat down in her usual seat, scoffing down her breakfast. Ten minutes before the return-to-work buzzer was due to sound, an exhausted-looking Cuban walked into the canteen and headed up to collect his food. He held out his plate and braced himself for the typically inaccurate aim Chef Lou had when serving him. This time, Lou went one better, holding his ladle to the far left of Cuban's plate and slopping his portion onto the canteen floor.
"That's y'lot, move along."
"Could I just have some bread?" Cuban asked calmly.
"When you gon' realize you ain't welcome 'round here?"
"Can I just have some bread. Please," Cuban repeated. He was starving.
"When you've cleared up that mess." Lou looked over his counter at the brown greasy sludge on the floor.
Picking up some paper towels, Cuban got down on his hands and knees.
"Where he belongs. Go on, scrub!" Lou mocked. Workers in the canteen started to join in.
Bits of bread flew over at him, hitting Cuban as he tried to duck. When he was finished cleaning, he stood up and faced Lou.
"Can I have my bread now, please, Chef?" Cuban fixed his blazing eyes on the wall behind Lou, trying to contain his fury.
"Of course." Picking up a small bread roll, Lou took a huge bite, leaving remnants of his saliva on it, then gave it to Cuban. "Now, what do you say?"
"Thank you," Cuban replied through gritted teeth.
"Good boy."
Cuban joined Elbie and Shona at the table. Seeing that all he had was a tiny half-eaten bread roll, Elbie pushed his plate towards him, offering him the last of his eggs and refusing to take no for an answer.
"I'm gon' put all this in my diary, y'hear? They'll pay for it one day, I goddamn swear it!" Elbie was furious.
"Diary? With all due respect, sir, what's that gon' do?" Cuban was raging inside. He knew it was wrong to take it out on Elbie but he couldn't control his feelings of humiliation.
"When I get out of here, I'm gon' give it to somebody and maybe they can help when they see what's really going on here. I won't have anything to lose then," Elbie said as he tried to calm his friend down.
Cuban ate the few spoonfuls of food that Elbie had offered him. They sat there in silence for the remaining few minutes of break.
Chapter 25
That Friday afternoon, Shona approached Elbie who was sweeping up outside the mechanics' garage. She bent down to pick up a dustpan and held it on the ground for him.
"Elbie, I got a question." She looked up at him as the last of the debris was collected safely in the pan.
"What's that?"
"Why is Mr. Ellis so OK with colored folk?"
"Because he owes 'em," he replied simply.
"Owes 'em?"
"You see, Ellis's father ran a successful transport company about an hour from here. It was in the middle of nowhere. He built it up from what his father had started and little Jeffrey used to play around the yard most days after school getting into mischief. Ellis senior used to employ coloreds and pay 'em next to nothing to do all the dirty jobs other workers refused to do. He couldn't stand 'em."
"Go on–" Shona prompted.
The old man paused, leaning on his broom.
"One day, little Jeffrey, only about nine or ten years old, goes off into the fields behind his father's plantation and slips down a ten foot hole. It was blazing hot and he twisted his ankle on the way down so he couldn't climb out. He would've been cooked alive right there under that sun if he'd have stayed out much longer."
"Then what happened?"
"He called for help but his father couldn't hear him." Shona's eyes widened. "A little while later, two heads appeared looking down at him. It was the black fellas who worked for Ellis senior. They were on their way home and heard his cries for help. Now, these men were being underpaid, beaten, starved and humiliated by Jeffrey's father–"
"So what did they do?"
"They could've got the ultimate revenge on Ellis senior. Jeffrey was his heir, his world. They could've left him in that hole, walked away and nobody would've known."
"And? Come on Elbie, what happened?" Shona said impatiently.
"They did exactly that. They walked away," Elbie said matter-of-factly.
Shona was dumbstruck. That was not the line she'd expected him to say.
"Wait, what? They walked away?"
"They walked away. But they came back a few minutes later with two of their buddies and a rope from the yard, hollering to Ellis senior to follow them. When he arrived, he saw those ‘evil’ black men pull his scared, dehydrated son to safety!" Elbie smiled.
"My God."
"Yep, from that day on, Ellis senior never treated 'em bad again, even gave 'em more money. Jeffrey hung out with their children and everything. He owes his life to those black fellas."
"Wow. How come y'know all this, Elbie?" Shona smiled.
"I worked for Ellis senior many years ago and I never forgot seeing little Jeffrey being brought back that day, cuts all down his legs from the fall. That's why he's got that limp. When Ellis senior passed on, Jeffrey always promised me a job no matter what. I seen him grow from boy to man and I'm proud of him," Elbie concluded.
"You got a lot of stories goin' on in there, ain't ya!" Shona pointed at Elbie's head – he smiled and nodded.
"Come on, I'll show you a picture of Ellis senior and all of us at the old site. The black fellas who saved Jeffrey are in it too."
They wandered back over to the tool room, deep in conversation, and leaned their brooms up against the wall as they went inside.
"What the–"
Elbie's horrified face froze. His eyes slowly panned across the scene, the wrinkles on his face more pronounced as he frowned in bewilderment. The place had been completely trashed, broken stools and benches lying all around the once immaculate room. Tools had been snapped, then thrown around indiscriminately.
Shona sighed and set ab
out picking up the remnants of broken tools and papers off the floor. Nuts and bolts were littered everywhere.
A terrifying thought pierced Elbie's mind, causing the color to drain from the old man's face as he ran towards his little workshop. Shona followed closely behind, hearing a strangled cry of relief as he realized the plank in the wooden floorboard had not been disturbed.
"GODDAMN this place!" Elbie clenched his fists.
Shona shut the door leading out to the corridor to give them their privacy and began sweeping up the broken glass on the floor inside. Looking up, it was now Shona's turn to be surprised.
"Elbie, look!"
"What the hell–"
They stared open mouthed at the two words gouged into the wooden door. NIGGER LOVER
Meanwhile, Kyle stalked around his office like a caged lion, running a frustrated hand over his neatly combed hair and loosening his tie. His desk was clutter free with just the bare minimum of office supplies any self-respecting executive should have – including the obligatory bottle of whiskey and glass in the desk drawer. The quiet calm of his surroundings belied his mood, however, as he paced around the desk on the phone to his mother in Pittsburgh.
"What are you talkin' 'bout?" He stopped dead.
"They came back, this time demanding money. What the hell you got yourself into down there, Kyle?" his mother shrilled over the phone.
"It's nothin'. I'll deal with it." He pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Nothing? Your father paid them off … this time. Said you owe money to other people too, that right?"
"’Course not. They're just foolin' around tryin’ to frighten you."