“Wednesday I had a house full uv folks. The round-house bunch got paid off, an I sent for Blue. We gambled all night, on into the next mornin. Both uv us wuz so damn tired when the game wuz over, we cum in here an jes fell out ‘cross the bed an went to sleep. I woke up bout ‘leven o’clock, eased off the bed an went in the kitchen.
“I wuz almost thru cookin by the time he got up an made it back to the crap room. He looked so priddy wit his clothes all rumpled up … an needin a shave. We knocked out all the Old Grand Dad the night befo so all I had for a eye opener wuz a fifth uv vodka. I got him a glass an put the bottle on the table. We killed it in bout a hour. I dished us up a plate an we set at the crap table eatin an talkin.
“We made up our minds we wuz goin back together. When he said thas whut he wanted to do, I couldn’ keep my hands off him. My mouth wuz greasy, but I kissed him anyhow, got grease all on his silk shirt. He didn’ give a damn, I hadn’ seen Blue that happy in a long time. He said it wuzn’ no use to keep puttin it off, soon as we got thru eatin he wuz goin home to git his clothes.
“We walked an hugged up to the door. When the taxi cum, he kissed me an said, ‘I be back afta while.’ Afta he left, you could hear me singin frum here to the courthouse. Pat wuz next door playin wit Betty Carol an I didn’ know whut to do wit myself. I wuz goin crazy waitin.
“I filled up my washtubs an started washin clothes. That Pat keeps me washin all the time, but she’s sho a big help. I bet I made a dozen trips lookin out the door to see if he wuz comin. I thought he must be havin hell gittin away frum his old lady.
“I wuz out on the back porch washin an thought I heard somethin, but wuzn’ sho. All uv a sudden I had a real funny feelin, lak spiders crawlin all over me. I cum thru the house runnin. When I got to the screen an seen him layin on his side I thought he wuz takin a nap.
“I walked on the porch an knelt down ‘side ‘em, ‘Blue! Blue! Whut’s the matter baby? C’mon, wake up, Blue. Let Emma help you in the house.’ Bless his sweet heart, he wuz holdin his priddy clothes in his arms. I turnt him over on his back an saw my baby’s face … my heart … seem lak it jes shut down … lak it wuzn’ gon beat no mo. I set down an lifted his head up an put it in my lap. I … didn’ know … whut else to do.” Her head drooped with each agonized word. The rush of tears splattered off the near-empty bottle cradled in her lap.
With a deep sigh, “I don’t know how long I set there rockin an holdin him befo the ambulance cum. Don’t even know who called ‘em.”
“Whut killed ‘em?” I asked dumbfounded.
“The doctor said afta he dun one uv them thangs on ‘em … au …”
“Autopsy?”
“Yeah, he say that vodka jes recooked them cabbage an ham hocks in his stomach. That acid spread thru ‘em so fast it made ‘em deathly sick an helpless. The doctor say it wuz ‘a cute indigestion.’ I tole him I drunk an et the same thang Blue did, an that I drunk mosta that vodka myself. He tole me everbody’s system ain’t the same. He say Blue would prob’ly be alive today if he jes stuck his finger down his throat. But it cum over him too quick. Bless his heart he wuz jes too sick to do it. Damn,” she said wiping her tears and reaching for the bottle. After a big gulp, “Whut time you got, baby?”
Looking at the Bulova I’d won in the barracks latrine, “Ten after fo.”
“Shit! I didn’ know it wuz that late. I wuz spose to be at the undertakers at three,” she said and stood up.
“Who got the body?”
“Nobody but the best, Swifty.”
“When’s the funeral?”
“Well, I don’t know right now. They got in touch wit his sister in California an I’m waitin on her to git here.”
“You think she comin?”
“Aw yeah, she’ll be here. You wanna go down there to see ‘em wit me?”
“Have they got ‘em laid out?”
“Naw, he ain’ dressed yet. Swifty’s got ‘em back in the cold room,” she said looking in the mirror and patting her hair, which was cut in a boyish bob.
“I’ll wait til he gits some clothes on. ‘Sides, I wanna spend some time with Pat.”
“Suit yoself baby, I gotta go.” Leaving out the front door, “Why don’tcha git us anutha bottle while I’m gone?”
I looked out the window and saw Pat on the porch by herself. I went out and sat down on the steps. She came over and sat beside me. “Thas kinda weird bout Allen, ain’t it?”
“Yeah, sho wuz. I wuz over to Betty Carol’s house when it happen. Mama be down to that undertaker parlor fo or five times, jes lookin at ‘em. Tried to git me to go down there wit her. I said NO WAY. I’m scaid uv dead peoples. You scaid uv ‘em, Bubba?”
“Naw, but I don’t wanna see none buck naked. How long do she generally stay down there?”
“No tellin. Sumtimes a priddy long time.”
“Say, whut all do you do roun the house?”
“Aw, I help wit the cleanin up an cookin, watch for the police, run errands, stuff lak that.”
“You do go to school, don’tcha?”
“Sho, Bubba. I’m in the sixth grade, least I will be when it starts again.”
“Do you lak it?”
“I hate it.”
“I felt the same way when I wuz goin. But you need some so you kin git a job when you grown.”
“Aw, I know Bubba, but I still hate it. I wisht I didn’ hafta go at all. I heard bout whutcha dun to that teacher.”
“Do the kids pick on you?”
“Naw, they know I’ll tell my big brother on ‘em if they do,” she kidded.
“Do you ever hear anything frum George?”
“Not since Christmas when he sent me them two old, funny-lookin sweaters. Look lak he bought ‘em for sumbody’s grandma ‘stead a me.”
“Where’s he at?”
“California, sumwhere. Bubba where all you been? I mean, befo you got in the Army.”
“Lotsa places. New York, Baltimore, Philadelphia, just about all the Midwest states, California, Little Rock, you name it.”
“How’d you git to all them places?”
“Hobo’d. Lemme ask you somethin, do you git many whuppins?”
“Nawww, Mama ain’ never whupped me. She cuss me out sumtimes, but thas bout all.”
“Well, if she ever tries to, you run.”
“Don’t worry, I will. I know how she is when she gits to drankin. Thas when I stay outta her way.”
“None a them old crap nigguhs don’t mess with you, do they?”
“Nawww, if Mama wuz to ketch one uv ‘em meddlin me she’d run his ass ‘way frum here.”
“Don’t make no difference. Jes keep yo head where yo ass is. You a big girl now. So watch yo step, know whut I mean?”
“I know whut you mean, Bubba. I am.”
The taxi pulled up; Emma was back. “Les talk some mo later, okay?”
“Okay, Bubba.”
Handing her a ten, “Go buy you somethin.” She took off running to get Betty Carol to go with her.
Emma stopped in the yard, “You been in the game yet?”
“Naw, I wuz waitin on you to cum back.”
“Well, I’m back an jesta bout ready. Whut you an Pat been doin?”
“Just sittin out here talkin.”
“Didja go down to the liquor store?”
“Not yet.”
Walking down the street, “Where in the world you been all this time?”
“All over.”
“How?”
“Hoboin mosta the time, ‘cept when I wuz travelin with a carnival.”
“A carnival? Whut on earth …?”
“Aw, I used to stick my head through a hole an let ‘em chunk balls at me.”
“How’d you end up in the Army?”
“I got in some shit in Tyler. The judge give me a choice, this or a long stretch in jail. I knew I couldn’ make no money in jail so I picked the Army.”
“I’m glad I didn’ raise no fool.”
“Where�
�s Daddum Lee? He wuzn’t standin in his corner.”
“He died a couple years ago wit the TB.”
“Damn, I didn’ think anything could kill him,” and kept walking.
Since I was buying, I thought about it a few seconds and decided I didn’t want to be running back and forth to the liquor store all night. “Mr. Milton, why don’tcha let us have two.”
“That’ll be twelve sixty, and let’s see, half of that would come to six thirty. Emma, yours is on the house, and I want to tell you again how sorry I am to hear about Blue.” Shaking his head, “Too bad.”
“Thank you, Mr. Milton,” she said.
“Think nothin of it. Hell, Blue was all right.”
“Yeah, he sho wuz. Thanks again for the bottle. C’mon baby, we betta git on back befo Jake pockets all my Gotdam money.”
“Y’all hurry back now.”
“Awww, I’ll BE back,” Emma emphasized, “an if anybody cum by here lookin for somethin, be sho an tell ‘em where Big Emma’s at.”
“I’ll suuure do it.”
When we got to the house Emma stopped by her room, hid one of the quarts underneath her mattress, and we headed for the crap room. We waited at the table for the current shooter to “fall off” (finish his turn). When he did, “Jake, I’ll take it now.”
The disruption of moving the table to let Jake out and her in afforded a piss break for some of the crowd, and left their spaces up for grabs. I positioned myself at the table across from Emma. While she squared up the cut money with Jake, three more gamblers left the table and were on the prowl in the kitchen.
One of them came back to the door, “Big Emma?”
“Yeah, baby. Whut is it?”
“When you cook these beans an pig feets an stuff?”
“Yestiddy. It’s good. Find y’all some pots an warm up anythang y’all kin find. Help y’all’s self.” Talking low, pretending not to want those in the kitchen to hear, “I wuz thinkin bout grabbin me one uv them feet afta while, but I kin forgit it now. Them long-mouthed wolves’ll eat up ever last thang in there, ‘ceptin my pots an pans.”
The gamblers around the crap table began laughing at her and she really put on a show. “When these nigguhs git hongry, they even eats up all the lard out the bucket. They crawls roun under the kitchen table worse’n them roaches an finds the sack uv Irish potatoes, eats ‘em, skins an all.”
One of the kitcheneers overheard. “We hear you talkin bout us in there, Big Emma,” he said and laughed.
“Naw I wudn’, baby. Not me. You know Big Emma wouldn’ do a thang lak that. Don’t pay me no mind. Jes go right ahead an help y’all’s self.”
“You needn’ worry, we is.”
“Y’all know whut I did?” she asked, speaking low again. “I went down to Kerns Bakery an bought twenny-seven loafs uv day-old bread, cum back an cooked a big pot uv neck bones,” she paused to take a swig, “five pounds uv ‘em. An a fo pound sacka Navy beans. Alla y’all dun et my cookin an know I love hot pepper.”
The listeners nodded and she continued, “I don’t cook without it. I cut up at least a dozen fresh cayennes an crumbled a half-pack uv the dried ones. I said I’m jes gon see. Them fuckin beans an neck bones wuz so hot you couldn’ stand close to the pots. Did that stop ‘em? Why hell naw. I bleeve these nigguhs’ mouths is made outta iron. They’ll eat wood … anythang.” She could make a dog laugh when she started hurrahing.
Snickering at herself, she went on, “Some uv them nigguhs got broke, went to ramblin roun in the kitchen an found them beans an neck bones. Shit, they et the meat an chewed them bones up into sawdust. An jes turnt them beans up an drunk ‘em lak lemonade. An et up them twenny-seven loafs uv bread an come back in here wit sweat pourin off ‘em. I tole Ollie he sho bet not shit in them woods an start no fire!”
When the laughter subsided a wee bit, Percy said, “She ain’ lyin, I wuz one uv ‘em. Man, I tell you, them wuz the hottest muthafuckas I ever tried to eat. Only way we could halfway cool our moufs off wuz wit that bread. Shit man, I betcha I drunk up two buckets uv water, look lak steam wuz comin outta my ears.”
Emma interrupted the break in the action folly, “Hey, y’all in the kitchen, brang y’all’s plates on in here. We kin make room.” They came marching out, plates in hands. “Y’all move roun a lil’ bit baby, an let ‘em git in here. Jake, look out the back an see if them nigguhs is thru peein. Tell ‘em quit playin wit they selfs an git on back in here.
“You nigguhs eatin, keep y’all’s plates outta the way so the dice won’t hit ‘em. An baby, befo y’all shoot, don’t wipe y’all’s greasy hands on my blanket neitha. Use that dishrag hangin in the kitchen. Whose shot is it?” She still didn’t miss a beat.
It was Percy’s shot, three shooters ahead of me. My turn came, “Twenty, I shoot.”
Randall faded me, “Shoot ‘em.”
Emma watched closely as I picked them up. She saw me set the dice. I had never developed her famous Hudson shot but had my own style of concealing my setting motion. Locking the two aces in the middle “on the come out” (first roll) prevented me from rolling eleven (winner), but it eliminated the possibility, providing I controlled them, of rolling two, three, or twelve (craps). With the two aces in the middle, I provided myself the chance to roll four-trey seven and five-deuce seven, both winners. If that didn’t happen, I’d catch a point (four, five, six, eight, nine, or ten).
I gave the fake shake and rolled them across the blanket. Five for a point. “I bet I bar it for twenty.”
The fader Randall called, “Bet.”
Looking around the table for more, “Bar it on you Claude, for this twenty.”
Claude called the bet.
The “bar points” (four, five, nine, and ten) are cakewalks if you know the combinations and can roll the dice so they tumble in the same direction. As I placed my bets, I quickly surveyed the position of the dice on the table, anticipating the combination for five. I joined them together smoothly, placing the trey from one in the middle against the deuce from the other. This rules out missing five with the four-trey seven or five-deuce seven. (Both losers after you catch a point.)
The only seven left I could roll is six-ace, and if I miss five with the six-ace, that’s the bar. (You don’t win or lose the side bets—you “draw down.”) I lose the “fade” (what I shot originally) but I break even on the side bets. When shooting for any of the bar points, the six-ace seven is a key factor. If I miss a bar point, that’s the seven with which to do it.
But if I roll five again before I roll the six-ace seven, that’s a winner all around. With a trey and a deuce locked in the middle, two sevens are eliminated and the only one left is the bar. With the 3-2 combination in the middle, I have two ways to roll five, 4-1 and 3-2, two to one odds in my favor.
For the moment, I couldn’t think of any place on earth I’d rather be than across the crap table from Big Emma with five for a point. I loved to bet on it and shoot for it. Double checking around the table to make sure all my bets were covered, I started into motion.
Emma reached across the table and blocked my arm’s path. “Jes hold whutcha got, baby,” referring to the 3-2 combination I held locked in the middle, “an let Emma try to git a bet on. Thirty dollars he bar it. Bar five for thirty!”
Poised and waiting, I KNEW I was going to make five, never giving a thought to the six-ace seven. Somebody covered her bet, and I went into motion once more. I was going to show her just how fuckin good I really was. Blue taught her. She learned what he knew, but he was a standard gambler. There were more ways to do it (mathematical combinations). I could beat both of them, and I didn’t need the tacks in the blanket for yardsticks to do it.
Emma was right. I had developed a sensitive touch from all the years of practicing with my pee-wees. That’s the size I cut my eyeteeth on, nowadays the size most commonly used. I held the two small dice between my index and little fingers, cupping them against my palm with the two middle fingers, using my thumb for concealment
and added balance. This allowed the dice to be only slightly ajar when shaking.
My “fake shake” merely clucked them against each other. What’s in the middle stays in the middle. With a guiding follow-through with my thumb at the time of release, I let go. They took off across the blanket side by side like a pair of Dalmatians. At the crack of my “whip” (snapped my fingers), “Oh Fantail Fanny!” They stopped right in front of Emma on 4-1.
“Five!” she exclaimed. “He jumped it,” (making the point on the first roll).
That struck a chord. Randall wanted to fade again, “Whutcha shootin?”
“Shoot the forty,” I replied.
“I gotcha,” counting his money down on the table, “let ‘em take wings an fly.”
Emma bet “I do” again.
I rolled four-trey seven on the come out, a winner.
“Damn!” Randall said. After picking up the dice and blowing on them for good luck, “Let ‘em shoot again, I’ll fade anybody three times.” Knocking the dice over in my direction, “Shake up an brang ‘em on.”
I picked them up, locking the two aces in the middle, “I’m shakin ‘em,” holding the dice over to his ear. “I know you hear that, they sound like a nest uv rattlesnakes.” I sent them sailing again, caught eight for a point. Damn near all the gamblers at the table wanted to bet against me on eight.
When I finished covering all the side bets, I had close to two hundred dollars riding on eight. Emma had sixty dollars saying that I would make it. I made six rolls and hit it with two fours. I had their noses wide open.
Two or three different ones said, “Let ‘em shoot, I got ‘em.” All to no avail, Randall still had the choice since he’d been fading me from the beginning.
“Whutcha shootin now?” Randall asked.
“Forty.”
“I’m gon fade you one mo time, then the devil kin. Shoot ‘em.”
I caught six for a point and made it after a few rolls. Big Herman faded me for thirty dollars; I rolled another seven on the come out. Next roll, I caught four for a point and loaded up on bets again. Second roll, I made it with 3-1.
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