Read Little Girl Lost 6: The Return of Johnnie Wise Online
Authors: Keith Lee Johnson
Masterson faced the two bikers still standing. He waited until the first one came forward. When the biker swung, he stepped to the side and hit him with a left hook that landed on his chin. He was out cold before he hit the floor. The remaining biker screamed, “I’m gonna kill you, man.” He ran at him full speed, pushing him across the room and up against a wall. The biker swung. Masterson ducked and brought his knee into his stomach. Then, he hit him with an uppercut that sent him reeling backward. Masterson pursued the biker and hit him with several more uppercuts, knocking him out. He looked at the three bikers. All of them were out cold. He went back to the booth where Johnnie was waiting and sat down.
Hatcher closed the phone booth, called New Orleans, and told Earl Shamus everything he’d seen.
“Find out everything there is to know about him,” Earl said. “Everything.”
“Mr. Shamus, that’s going to cost a lot more money and I’m going to need more people on this.”
“Whatever it takes, Hatcher.”
“Then, I can expect a significant increase in pay when I go to Western Union tomorrow?”
“Don’t worry. The money will be there. And it’ll be more than enough to cover all your expenses and the expenses of your people. Now . . . when can I expect a report on the man she’s with?”
“A few days. Maybe a week or so.”
“Fine. If anything else happens tonight, don’t hesitate to call.”
“Yes, sir.”
Chapter 35
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Yeah, but you’re glad I did, right?”
P
aul Masterson slid back into the booth across from Johnnie and looked into her sparkling eyes. He had never seen a woman more beautiful than she. A waitress brought out a piping hot bowl of chili, a grilled cheese sandwich, and six ribs with thick meat on the bones, soaked in zesty, mild barbecue sauce. She placed a glass of cold lemonade with a straw on the table and said, “Enjoy.” Then, she winked at Masterson and said, “I get off in a half hour, Preacher. You’re welcome to come home with me, if you like.”
Masterson acted as if he didn’t hear the waitress. He didn’t even bother looking at her, nor did he acknowledge her invitation. Instead, he smiled at Johnnie until the waitress walked away. Then, he said, “Now . . . where were we?”
Johnnie said, “Why didn’t you accept her invitation, Preacher?”
“The invitation didn’t come from her, Johnnie.”
Frowning, Johnnie said, “I heard her offer. Didn’t you?”
“Yes, but the offer came from the devil. I doubt the woman had any idea she was being used by invisible spiritual forces. Again, where were we?”
“You were telling me that you’re a traveling evangelist,” Johnnie said and started working on her ribs. “But that can’t be so.”
“Why not?”
“Preachers don’t go around starting fistfights, sir.” She took another bite of her ribs. “And even if they did, they wouldn’t enjoy it as much as you seem to.”
“How are those ribs, Johnnie?”
She finished cleaning the bone, smacked a few times, and said, “All I can say is, I’ll sure miss you when you leave town, sir.”
“Call me, Paul, Johnnie. That’s what I prefer.”
She took a deep swig of her lemonade and said, “Okay.”
“Now . . . why will you miss me when I leave town?”
“As long as you’re here, I’ll be able to come to this restaurant and be treated like any other human being. Quiet as it’s kept, we Negroes are actual humans. We’re not animals, and so we actually have feelings, same as white folk. It’s unfair that I can’t come here and eat when I have money to pay like everybody else. I could see if I were like you, coming in here, starting trouble. Yet you can come in here again and again. I’ve done nothing, and I cannot do that. So, as long as you’re here, I plan to take advantage of whatever hospitality I can get.”
“So, you think I started trouble, huh, Johnnie?”
“Yes, sir. You know the rules, yet you insist on breaking them.”
“What if the rules are wrong, Johnnie? What then?”
“What do you mean,
if
, Paul? You, Scotty, the waitress, the bikers, and everybody else in here know the rules are wrong.”
“And if I try to change the rules, I’m wrong for at least trying to change them? Is that what you’re saying?”
She picked up another bone and started working on it while she thought about what her new friend had said. “Is that what you were doing, Paul . . . changing the rules?”
“What else would I be doing?”
She washed down the barbecue with some more lemonade. “You could have been trying to impress me.”
He smiled and said, “Why can’t I do both, Johnnie?”
She picked up her spoon and dug into the chili. She put the spoon in her mouth, shook her head and smiled as it went down. “Oh, my God, this is delicious.”
“Next time, take a bite of your grilled cheese, and then put the chili in behind it. It’s even better that way.”
She tried it the way Masterson suggested and groaned, “Um, um, um. This is so good. It’s a shame I won’t be able to come back after you leave.”
“Nothing I can do about that.”
“Sure you could, Paul.”
“What could I do more than what I just did?”
“You know other preachers, don’t you?”
“Yeah, so?”
“White preachers have to tell their white congregations to help us get the same freedoms they have. Otherwise, nothing will change, Paul. Don’t you know that? The white church is the main problem.”
“You don’t think I’ve done that? You don’t think I’ve begged these guys to stand up for what’s right?”
“Well, why aren’t they standing up, Paul? Aren’t they men of God? Don’t they have a holy obligation to do what’s right in God’s eyes?”
“Most are too weak to get involved, but a few think that only the Gospel’s message can change the hearts of men and women. And that’s an argument that’s hard to deny.”
“But it’s the white Christians that are killing coloreds, Paul. Don’t you know that?”
“I know they’re saying their Christians, but that don’t mean they are.”
She finished her chili and grilled cheese, and then started working on the remaining three bones, thinking about the church she used to attend before being sold to Earl Shamus, wondering how she would measure up if Paul knew who she was and all she had done over the course of two years.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
The three bikers were still groggy as they staggered past Masterson and Johnnie’s table. Masterson said, “Excuse me, gentlemen. I still can’t allow you to leave without an apology to my friend here.”
The bikers looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders, and staggered over to their table. The leader said, “Preacher, you’re one tough son of a bitch.” He looked at Johnnie and said, “We’re sorry for ruinin’ your dinner, ma’am. Goodnight.”
The leader looked at Masterson and waited for his approval. Masterson looked at Johnnie. She looked at the biker leader and said, “Apology accepted.” The biker leader looked at Masterson again, hoping that would be the end of it, having lost several of his front teeth, which he had retrieved. Masterson nodded and the bikers left quietly.
“Well, it’s getting pretty late, Johnnie,” Masterson said. “Is there someplace I can drop you?”
“Yes. I’m staying at the Clementine Hotel. It’s right up the road.”
“What a coincidence. I’m staying at the Clementine, too.”
“Really?”
He nodded.
“Perhaps we’ll get to know each other while you’re in town, Paul. I’m thinking we should have dinner again tomorrow, right here in The Flamingo Den. What do you think?”
“I think that’s a splendid idea, but it would have to be before the tent meeting.”
“The tent meeting?”
“Yeah. I’m a guest preacher for the revival.”
“So, you’re a real preacher then?”
“I am.”
She shook her head. “You’re not like any minister I’ve ever met.”
“Well, thank you, I think.”
“So, why do you go around starting fistfights? Doesn’t that go against the Bible, Paul? Aren’t you supposed to turn the other cheek? Aren’t you supposed to be humble and self-effacing?”
Chapter 36
“
I thought we could be friends.”
S
elf-effacing, huh? That’s a mighty big word, little lady. But to answer your question, didn’t you see me take two blows before I defended myself?”
“I did.”
“Then, there you have it.”
“So, you think its okay to fight?”
“I most certainly do, and so does the Lord. He’s been havin’ a perpetual war with the devil for thousands of years, has he not? And if He fights for what’s right, what’s holy, and what’s good, should I be any different? Should I not whip the devil’s children when they have every intention of raping a defenseless woman? People always ask, “Where’s God when you need him? I say He’s right here, among us, but most of us won’t lift a finger to help each other, but we expect God to do everything. I have two arms and two legs, and I’ll use them to help anybody I can, anytime they need it. If people wanna criticize me for that, that’s criticism I’ll take.”
“You mean white Christians won’t help black Christians when they have the means to do so? You mean white Christians will send ten thousand missionaries over to Africa, but they won’t so much as smile at a black Christian, let alone help him? Let me ask you something, Paul. How many Christians do you think are in this restaurant right now?”
Masterson looked around the room and said, “Well . . . the United States is a Christian nation, so I’d have to say ninety percent of the people in here probably have at least an affiliation with the church.”
“Yet, not one of them said anything to the bikers that wanted to rape me. Christians had the bikers outnumbered about twenty to one, and they just sat there on their hands, watching it all. Why should colored people take you seriously? Why are there no good Samaritans in your flock, Paul?”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong, Johnnie. One did help you. Namely me.”
Johnnie laughed. “You helped me, Paul?”
“Yeah.”
“As I recall, you were the one who dragged me in here against my will.”
“Yeah, but you’re glad that I did, right?”
She nodded and smiled, “I am glad.”
“If you’re ready, I’ll take you on back to the Clementine.”
“Okay, let’s go. And thanks for making it possible to eat here.”
About ten minutes later, Paul and Johnnie were making their way up the stairs and to her hotel room. When they reached her door, she expected him to kiss her, which she wasn’t against because the region beneath her waist had been seriously stimulated since she watched the preacher pummel her would-be rapists. She finally realized that she had a thing for roughneck men, no matter what color skin they were in. While she would not let him into her room, she would let him kiss her because she wanted to kiss him. As he drove her back to the Clementine in his hunter green Ford pickup truck, she wondered what his lips and tongue tasted like. She wondered what it would be like to be held by his strong arms, and so she waited for the inevitable. However, Paul didn’t try to kiss her. He waited until she opened the door, and then he turned to leave. That intrigued her all the more because he was a white man, and white men always wanted to kiss her and any other thing she allowed them to do.