One House Over Page 2

  “I didn’t hear you,” I mumbled, sitting up on my bed.

  “You going to the evening church service with us? We’ll be leaving in a few minutes.”

  “Not this time, Daddy. My head is still aching, so I think I just need to lie here and take it easy.” I rubbed the side of my head.

  “And it’s going to keep on hurting if you don’t take some pills.”

  “I’ll take some before I go to sleep.”

  Daddy turned to leave, and then he snapped his fingers. “I forgot the real reason I came in here. Mother’s going to Mobile tomorrow morning with Maxine Fisher to do some shopping and she’ll be gone most of the day. If you ain’t got no plans for lunch tomorrow and that headache is gone, I’ll swing by the school around noon to pick you up and we can go to Mosella’s. Monday is the only day peach cobbler is on the menu, and I been dying for some.”

  “You don’t have to drive all the way from the store to pick me up. That’s out of your way. One of the other aides has an appointment with her doctor in the same block, so I can ride with her and have her drop me off at the store. I need to pick up a few items anyway.”

  “That’ll work,” Daddy said, rubbing his chest. “I’ll see you around noon then?”

  “Okay, Daddy.”

  It was still light outside, but I went to bed anyway. Each day I slept more than I needed and wished I could sleep even more. At least then I wouldn’t have to talk to people and walk around with a fake smile on my face.

  Chapter 2

  Odell

  I WAS SO ANXIOUS TO GET BACK TO WORK, I COULDN’T WAIT FOR TOMORROW to come. I’d only been on my new job at MacPherson’s for a week. It was a dyed-in-the-wool country convenience store with benches inside for people to sit on when they needed to take a break from their shopping. Regular customers could expect a complimentary pig foot or some lip-smacking pork rinds on certain days. I could already tell that this was the best job I ever had. It was a nice family-friendly business, and I was really looking forward to the experience, especially since I’d be working for colored folks. Mr. MacPherson didn’t pay me that much to start, but as long as it covered my rent I didn’t care. I was a born hustler, so I knew I’d find ways to cover my other expenses once I got a toehold on my new situation. Stocking shelves was much better than dragging along on farms and other odd jobs I’d done all my life. The small building where MacPherson’s was located sat on a corner next to a bait shop. There was a sign printed in all capital letters in the front window that said: WE SELL EVERYTHING FROM APRONS TO MENS’ PINSTRIPE SUITS. But they never had more than six or seven of each item in stock at a time. When inventory got low, the MacPhersons immediately replenished everything and gave their customers discounts when they had to wait on a certain item. The customers were happy because this kind of service kept them from having to make the eight-mile trip to nearby Butler where there was a Piggly Wiggly market and much bigger department stores.

  People kept complaining about the Great Depression we was going through, but it didn’t even faze me. Like almost every other colored person, I couldn’t tell the difference because we’d been going through a “depression” all our lives. Some of the white folks who used to have enough money to shop at the better stores started shopping at MacPherson’s. On my first day, me and Mr. MacPherson had to help a nervous blond woman haul a box of canned goods, some cleaning products, produce, toys, and even a few clothes to her car. The whole time she’d belly-ached to him about what a disgrace it was to her family that they had to shop where all the colored people shopped, something she’d never done before. In the next breath, she complimented him on how “happy-go-lucky” he was for a colored man, and because of that he was “a credit to his race.”

  One of the things I noticed right away was how loosey-goosey the MacPhersons ran their business. Like a lot of folks, they didn’t trust banks, especially since so many people had lost every cent and all the property they owned when the banks failed. One of the richest white families I used to pick cotton for had ended up flat broke and had to move to a tent city campground with other displaced families.

  Preston “Mac” MacPherson and his wife, Millie, only kept enough in their checking account to cover their employees’ checks and to pay their business expenses. I’d found that out from Buddy Armstrong, the tubby, fish-eyed head cashier and the nosiest, grumpiest, and biggest blabbermouth elderly man I’d ever met. The other cashier, a pint-sized, plain-featured, widowed great-grandmother named Sadie Mae Glutz was almost as bad as Buddy.

  On my first day, they’d started running off at the mouth before the first morning break, telling me all kinds of personal things about people I had never met. Buddy and Sadie was good entertainment, so I pretended to be interested in their gossip and even egged them on. The MacPhersons were their favorite target. Even though it was supposed to be a company “secret,” they wasted no time telling me that Mr. MacPherson kept most of his money locked up in his house. At the end of each day he’d pluck all the cash out of the two cash registers and stuff it into a brown paper bag.

  “I hope that information don’t get to the wrong person. I’d hate to hear about some joker busting into that house robbing such a nice elderly couple,” I said.

  “You ain’t got to worry about nothing like that. Mac keeps a shotgun in the house,” Buddy assured me.

  “I hope he never has to use it,” I chuckled.

  “He done already done that,” Sadie added. Before I could ask when and why, she continued. “A couple of years ago, some fool tried to steal Mac’s car out of his driveway. Mac ran out just in time to stop that jackass.”

  “Did he kill him?” I asked, looking from Sadie to Buddy.

  “Naw. He shot at him, but he missed,” Buddy answered. “And that sucker took off in such a hurry, he ran clean out of his shoes. Then he had the nerve to try to steal another man’s car in the same neighborhood. He wasn’t so lucky that time. I was one of the pallbearers at his funeral.”

  “I’m glad Mr. MacPherson didn’t kill that thief. He is such a nice man, I’d hate for him to get involved with the law,” I stated.

  “Thank you. Him and Millie got enough problems already. Especially trying to marry off that gal of theirs.” Sadie shook her head and clucked her thick tongue. “She grown and still living at home. And she look like the kind of woman no man in his right mind would tangle with. She a whole head taller than me and probably twice as strong. If I seen her fighting a bear, I’d help the bear. Wouldn’t you do the same thing, Buddy?”

  “Sure enough.” Buddy chuckled for a few seconds, and then he started yip-yapping about Joyce some more. “And she got the nerve to flirt with me almost every time I see her, with her mugly self.”

  “‘Mugly’? What’s that?” I asked.

  “Oh, that’s just a nicer way of calling somebody ugly. Anyway, she been messing with me ever since I started working here last September, grinning and sashaying in front of me like a shake dancer. But I would never get involved with a woman with feet bigger than mine. First time I make her mad, she’d stomp a hole in me.”

  This was the first time I’d heard about Joyce, and it wouldn’t be the last. Every time things got slow on my first day, Buddy and Sadie would wander over to where I was stacking or reorganizing merchandise and start conversating and laughing about the MacPhersons’ pitiful daughter.

  “Y’all got me so curious now, I can’t wait to meet this beast,” I admitted, laughing along with them.

  “You’ll see exactly what we mean when you do meet her,” Sadie told me.

  “Why don’t y’all like her? Is she mean-spirited, too?”

  Buddy and Sadie gasped at the same time. “No, she ain’t no mean person at all, and we do like her,” Sadie claimed. “We talk about all the folks we know like this. But Joyce is such an oddball; we talk about her a little more than we do everybody else.”

  “I hope you’ll like her too,” Buddy threw in. “She ain’t got many friends, so she need all the
ones she can get.”

  By the end of the day, I had heard so many unflattering things about the MacPhersons’ big-boned “old maid” daughter, it seemed like I’d known her for years. I felt so sorry for her. The next day when Mr. MacPherson bragged about how smart and nice and caring his only child was and how much he loved her, I told him I couldn’t wait to meet her. I’d only said it to make him feel good, because I wanted to make sure I did everything possible for him to keep me on the payroll. I had heard that the stock boys before me had never lasted more than a few weeks. A couple had just up and quit, but the MacPhersons had fired all the others. I hoped that I’d get to stay a lot longer, or at least until I found a better job.

  I had just enough money to last until I got my first paycheck. Mr. MacPherson had promised that if he was pleased with my work and I got to work on time, he’d eventually give me more responsibilities and more money. He really liked me and even told me I reminded him of himself when he was my age. I told him that if I looked half as good as he did when I got to be his age, I’d be happy. That made him blush and grin, and it made me realize that complimenting a man like him could win me a lot of points. It was true that I had a lot going for me in the looks department. But I never took it for granted. People had been telling me I was cute since I was a baby. My curly black hair, smooth Brazil nut brown skin, slanted black eyes, and juicy lips got me a lot of attention. One of the main things the women liked about me and complimented me on all the time was my height, which was six feet four.

  Some women believed that old wives’ tale that tall men had long sticks between their legs. I couldn’t speak for other tall men, but I had enough manly meat between my thighs to keep the women I went to bed with sure enough happy. I wasn’t just tall; I had a body like a prizefighter. Years of backbreaking farm labor had rewarded me with some muscles that wouldn’t quit. Women couldn’t keep their hands off me. When I was younger, I used to have to sneak out back doors in bars just to throw them off my trail. I was thirty-one now, so I still had a few good years left to find a wife and have children before my jism got too weak. I was between ladies now, and because my last two breakups had been so bad, I was in no hurry to get involved with another woman anytime soon. I changed my tune Monday afternoon when I met Mr. MacPherson’s daughter.

  Chapter 3

  Odell

  I HAD JUST FINISHED STACKING THE CANNED GOODS SHELVES IN THE grocery section aisle when I noticed Mr. MacPherson and a tall young woman walking toward me. She resembled Mac and was almost as tall as he was. He was leading her by her hand. I could tell by the way she was blinking and smiling that she was shy. That was probably the only detail about her that Buddy and Sadie hadn’t told me. I liked shy women. They were easy to control.

  “Odell, I want you to meet my baby,” Mr. MacPherson said, grinning from ear to ear. When they got in front of me, he let go of Joyce’s hand. I noticed how she sighed with relief and moved a couple of steps away from her daddy. My guess was that this poor creature let her parents control every move she made.

  “This is your daughter?” I said, smiling so hard my jaws ached. I was impressed because Joyce was nothing like I expected. From the way Buddy and Sadie had described her, I had pictured a mule-faced giraffe in my mind. Shoot! She didn’t look nothing like that! She wasn’t even close to being as “mugly” as they’d made her out to be. Joyce was no beauty queen, but she was attractive in her own way. She had a cute narrow face and nice black eyes with long thick lashes. I preferred women with real long hair. Joyce’s only came just below her ears, but it looked good on her.

  If I had met her in a jook joint or on the street, I would never have approached her because she wasn’t my type. But then I got to thinking about one of the things Buddy and Sadie had told me about her. According to them two busybodies, Mr. MacPherson and his wife were desperate for Joyce to get married and have a few children. That piece of information had really got my attention and even more so now that I was meeting her in person. And since she didn’t have no brothers or sisters, she’d inherit everything when Mama and Daddy kicked the bucket. If that wasn’t enough incentive for her to be my type now, I didn’t know what was. I couldn’t think of nothing better than me stumbling into an unmarried woman that had so much to offer a man who’d been down on his luck as long as I had. All I had to worry about was getting her to like me.

  “Joyce, this is Odell,” Mr. MacPherson introduced. He was beaming like a lighthouse. “What’s your last name again, Odell?”

  “It’s Watson, Mr. MacPherson,” I answered real quick.

  “Boy, didn’t I tell you to call me Mac and my wife Millie?” Mr. MacPherson said in a gruff tone. “We like to be real informal around here,” he added.

  “Okay, Mac,” I said, grinning. I looked at Joyce again and gave her the biggest smile I could manage. “I’ve heard so much about you, I couldn’t wait to meet you,” I told her, extending my hand. She had such a tight smile on her face, I didn’t know what to make of it. I hoped my good looks didn’t intimidate her. One ordinary-looking woman that I’d tried to get my hands on last month told me—with the same kind of tight smile on her face that was on Joyce’s—that she didn’t want to get involved with a man that was prettier than her. Was the itty-bitty smile on Joyce’s face a sign that she felt the same way? I hoped it wouldn’t take long to find out.

  “Hello, Odell. I’m glad to meet you. Daddy just mentioned you to me yesterday,” she muttered. I could tell by the way her hand was trembling when I shook it that she was nervous. She seemed so sweet and ladylike, I actually liked her already!

  “Mr.—oops, I mean, Mac, I been working for you since last week. You ought to be ashamed of yourself for hiding this beautiful girl from me all this time,” I teased. I was good at a lot of things. One was using the right words when I wanted to impress somebody. Suddenly there was a huge smile on Joyce’s face. Her eyes got kind of moist, and her body seemed to relax. I could tell that I’d just impressed the hell out of her.

  “Heh, heh, heh,” Mac laughed. “She ain’t been hiding. She got a full-time job, so she don’t get over to the store too often.” He paused and let out a loud sigh. “She don’t like to come here too often no more on account of we used to make her work the cash register after school when she was a teenager. And she came kicking and screaming.” Mac squeezed Joyce’s shoulder. I could see how much he loved his daughter. He looked at her like she was made out of gold. “She wanted to sit at home and read books instead. Now she don’t come up in here until she need a few items, or unless she coming to meet me or her mama for lunch.” He snorted and with a dry look on his face, he said, “Would you believe this gal ain’t been on a date since last year? October to be exact.”

  “Mac, I know you lying!” I accused. I folded my arms and blinked at Joyce.

  “No, I ain’t lying. Honest to God,” Mac insisted. “Ask her and she’ll tell you herself.”

  Poor Joyce. She looked like she wanted to crawl away and hide behind the racks where they hung the pinstripe suits a few feet from the shelves I’d just stacked. I felt even sorrier for her now and was willing to say anything that would make her feel better. I slapped my hands on my hips and said in the sternest tone I could push out of my mouth, “I’m going to do something about that, starting with supper at a nice restaurant this evening.”

  She gasped, and her eyes got as big as saucers. “M-me?” she stuttered in a voice so low I had to lean forward to hear her.

  “Yeah, you!” Mac snapped. “What’s wrong with you, girl? Me and you the only other folks standing here, and Odell sure ain’t talking about taking me out to supper.” Mac rolled his eyes and wiped sweat off his forehead. I was about to start sweating too, because I had no idea what I was getting myself into. If things worked out good between me and Joyce, that would be fine. If they didn’t, it could put me in an awkward position with her parents and jeopardize my job security. It would be bad enough for me to lose my job because Mac and Millie didn’t like my work
. But it’d be much worse if they let me go because things didn’t work out between me and their daughter. I was tempted to back off, but since I had already invited her to go out with me this evening, it was too late. “Odell, you can see that this girl ain’t too sharp when it come to conversating with men, which is probably why she ain’t got one. You’ll like her once you get to know her. She ain’t the best woman in the world, but she ain’t the worst.”

  “Daddy, you stop that!” Joyce ordered, gently tapping the side of Mac’s jowly face. I was glad to hear her using a firmer tone. Maybe she didn’t let her parents control every move she made after all. She cleared her throat and blinked at me some more. “What time do you want to go out, Odell?”

  “She’ll be ready at six o’clock sharp,” Mac blurted out. “You got a car?”

  “Not yet, sir. I plan to get one as soon as I can afford to.”

  “Hmmm. Then you know how to drive?”

  “Yes, sir. I been driving since I was sixteen,” I said proudly.

  “Then y’all can go out in my car.” Mac glanced at the big clock on the wall above the door and gulped. “Lord a’mighty! Look how late it is! Come on, girl. We better shake a leg if we going to lunch, so I can get you back to your work on time.”

  “It was nice meeting you, Odell. I’ll see you at six o’clock sharp,” Joyce cooed, walking behind her daddy like a faithful puppy all the way out the door.

  Buddy and Sadie gazed at me with their eyes so bugged out, you would have thought I’d just parted the Red Sea. I didn’t feel like hearing any more of their crude comments or answering any nosy questions. I ducked out the back door, so I could be by myself for a few minutes. I needed to think about what I was getting myself into with my employer’s daughter. It didn’t take long for me to convince myself that I’d made a wise move.

  Ten minutes later when I went back inside, Buddy and Sadie had several people to wait on, so I didn’t have to worry about them bothering me for a while. By three p.m. Mac hadn’t returned, so I figured he’d gone home early. With the big boss man no longer on the premises, and no customers in the store, Buddy slipped into his busybody mode again. He waltzed over to where I was straightening out the racks that held the women’s blouses.