Wildly Inappropriate (19 page)

Respecting Lila's silent tears, she made her way down North Church, and turned left onto Magnolia Street just past Daniel Morgan Square. She still felt a bit uncomfortable driving Daniel's huge truck, but was proud he trusted her with his keys.

"Stop!" Lila cried when she was only three blocks from the old hotel. Cynda jammed on the brakes.

"Wait!" Where are you going?" she cried when Lila opened to door to the truck.

"I'm going right there." Lila pointed to the circle of people on the grass in front of the courthouse.

Cynda stared in disbelief at the handful of Ku Klux Klan members dressed in full white regalia. South Carolina boasted three covens, more than any state. Two were right here in the county. These fools marched about once every few years. Cynda looked across the street. As expected, a handful of older folks, not all black, stood in silent protest. The hate group had dwindled dramatically since its heyday decades before, but the sight of their white hoods and robes didn't make Cynda happy.

Lila's confrontation with one of the men in white sheets made her less happy. It seemed to Cynda that giving them any attention was sending the wrong message. They didn't terrorize folks anymore, just preached their white separatist mantra and walked around on the courthouse lawn every now and then like cone-headed ducks. Lila seemed to be yelling at one while pointing to another of the marchers. Cynda realized that one she pointed to was either very short or very young.

A loud honk reminded her she was blocking traffic. Circling the block, she found a parking space on the north side of the courthouse and took a quarter for the meter from Daniel's change-filled ashtray. Undecided, she watched Lila. The debate seemed more heated now. Cynda opened her door. Thinking they were irrelevant was one thing. Walking into the middle of all those sheets to drag Lila away was another. She tried to figure out what Daniel would want her to do. She could drive to the hotel and get Colton to deal with this. Leaving Lila standing here while she fetched the men didn't seem to be the answer, but she hoped fiercely Colton spanked Lila's ass for her thoughtlessness. Unhappily, she slid out of the truck, careful to lock the door. Tucking his keys into her pocket and gathering her courage, she strode across the grass toward Lila, eyeing the police car that braked to a stop right in the road. Lila might take the police presence as a comfort, but Cynda feared the men in blue more than the ones wearing white.

On the other side of the street, people, both black and white, had begun to clap and whistle. This could go bad in a hurry.

"I know those shoes," Lila was saying. "I just spent about an hour staring at them, John Carpenter. You called Dan for me. Hasn't anyone told you they sell higher thread count sheets? This hundred and sixty thread count balls up when you put it in the dryer."

As if that were the point,
Cynda thought angrily, grabbing for Lila's arm.

"You be careful, woman." The voice sounded menacing coming from behind the draped mask that was the visual representation for racial hatred. Cynda shivered. "And you get your nigger friend here outta my way."

To Cynda's horror, Lila shook off her hand.

"Or what?" she demanded. "You'll burn a cross on my lawn? You come to my house, John Carpenter, and you'll find out what a good shot I am. My god, I thought your… your
organization
had died out. Twenty-two years ago I stood across the street with my husband watching you fools march around. I thought then you'd already been left behind by time. I guess as long as there's ignorance, there's gonna be hate. But there's no excuse for draggin' a child into this. Let your hate die with you."

"Your husband done died, so you might want to watch that smart mouth you got, with no man to look out for you."

When she felt the rough hand around her arm, Cynda hoped for a single moment it was Daniel's. The old hotel was only a few blocks down the street. She turned and looked into a pair of mirrored sunglasses.

"I need to see your ID," the burly male cop demanded. The wide brim of his hat shaded light hair and his frown scared Cynda far more than the irrelevant old man under that sheet. Her mouth dried from fear. Was she under arrest?

"It's in that truck." Cynda pointed, her heart pounding.

"That's your truck?" the cop said in disbelief, looking in the direction she pointed.

"N-no, it belongs to a friend."

"Uh huh. I think I know this truck. And I don't think he'd let your black ass drive it, either."

"You can't say that to her," Lila spat, whirling to glare at the policeman.

"She's black, isn't she? You're under arrest, both of you," the cop stated, speaking into the square microphone fastened to his shoulder. "Civil disturbance. Pick up two."

* * * *

Dan looked impatiently at his watch, wondering where Lila and Cynda were. Colton should never have sent them for lunch. They were ready to drop the last two tubs into the back of his truck and get out of the dirty old place. From his vantage point on the third floor, he looked up and down Magnolia Street. No sign of his truck. Heaving a sigh, he wiped sweat from his brow with his forearm and grabbed the chain. He could hook this next-to-last tub to the winch, and hopefully, by the time he was done, Cynda would be back with his truck.

The sound of sirens made him lean far out, holding the chain. Squinting in the bright sunlight after being in the dim hotel interior, he thought he saw his truck, but figured it only looked like his, since it was parked along the side of the courthouse. Two county police cars flanked the black Chevrolet, lights flashing. As he stared, he saw men wearing white sheets, lining up beside the truck that looked an awful lot like his. There were lots of black Chevy trucks around town.

But how many tall blondes with their hair up in a braid, wearing bright pink T-shirts and cut-off jeans could there be? He watched Lila arguing with the sheriff's deputy and saw the flash as the cop reached behind him to pull his handcuffs out of the pouch on his service belt. "Colton!" he yelled. "Lila's getting' arrested right down the street."

"What the hell?" Colton raced him to the stairs.

"This time, I really am gonna spank her ass," Colton said as they pounded down the old staircase.

"If you don't, I will," Daniel promised grimly, leaping down the last few steps. His boots skidded across the debris in the lobby.

They hit the sidewalk, still running. It took less than a minute for him and his brother to reach the northeast corner of the courthouse. Dan elbowed people in the small crowd aside. He was able to make out the top of Lila's bright head. Sweat trickled down his neck, but he couldn't see Cynda anywhere. He tried looking for her little white sandals, but all he saw were polished boots. Another police car braked to a stop, siren wailing and blue lights flashing. He glanced across the street. People were shaking fists in the air and yelling at the police and the Klansmen.

Surely the two women hadn't walked into some demonstration against the Klan? All they had to do was to drive right on by. Traffic was still moving, although now a cop stood in the street, motioning angrily at the rubberneckers to drive past. The row of blue uniforms around Lila parted, giving him a glimpse of white beads on dark braids. Thankfully, he caught sight of Reese Davies. Halting beside his friend, Dan demanded, "What's going on, Reese? Why's Lila being arrested?"

"Hey, Daniel," Reese said coolly. "Did you give this black chick permission to drive your truck, or was it stolen?" He pointed.

Tears streaked Cynda's cheeks. Her eyes were wide and he could tell from her wince the cuffs restraining her wrists were too tight.

"Yes, I gave her permission to drive it, Reese. Let her go." He turned his head, watching the police car drive off. Lila sat in the back. She made a kissy-face to Colton, who stood frozen on the sidewalk, staring after the police car as it picked up speed.

"Why's my girlfriend in the back of that car?" Colton demanded.

"She's under arrest for civil disobedience." Reese was all business. "This one's going too." He pushed Cynda forward by grasping the chain between her cuffs. "Dan, you can bail them out Monday morning after they see the magistrate. He doesn't come in on Sundays. But they're both going to jail. I'm not in the mood for a riot."

"What the hell does that mean?" Dan demanded, trying to edge past Reese so he could at least… kiss her. Touch her. Give her money for snacks. Something.

Reese blocked his movement and pushed Cynda toward a second police car, putting his hand on the back of her head to shove her into the back. The sight of another man with his hands on Cynda for the second day in a row seemed to set something to smoldering in his chest. Her sobs were audible over the cacophony of boos coming from the crowd gathered across the street. Behind him, the Klansmen were yelling.

Before Dan could think of anything to say to her, Reese slammed the door. The car began to move. Dan pressed his hand against the glass as it passed by, seeing the fear in her eyes. He didn't have any confidence Lila could look after her. Angrily, he turned on Reese. "What, precisely, did they do to warrant being arrested?"

His long-time friend slapped his keys into his hand. "I'll cancel the tow, since it's you." Dan curled his fingers around them, silently waiting. Reese's mirrored shades seemed to form a wall between the two old friends. Reese turned his back and Dan took deep breaths, trying to calm his anger before he did something stupid, like punch out a cop in full view of eight more. Striding to his vehicle, he waited in the hot interior, watching Reese stalk right past Colton. Cranking the big motor, Dan gunned the engine, flipping the air to high. Drumming his thumbs on the top of the steering wheel, he waited, trying to think what to do. He saw Eric rush up to his brother, following Colton's long strides toward Dan's truck.

Someone yanked open the passenger door. "What the
fuck
happened?" Colton demanded, sliding onto the bench seat.

"I'll meet you at the hotel," Eric said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "I'm gonna go ask questions across the street. Someone must've seen what went down." He snarled, pointing toward the men marching in a circle, their identities concealed under a garment that had once struck terror in the hearts and minds of every black person living in the South.
Do they still?
Dan had no idea. For that matter, it was news to him the Klan still existed. He stared at their white garb in disbelief. They strutted around in a circle. One of them was using a megaphone, but Dan didn't give a fuck about anything they might have to say.

"I wouldn't ask that white trash dancing around in bed sheets a motherfucking thing," Eric spat.

Dan looked at Colton. Eric slammed the door and dodged the light traffic to cross the street. He fit the key into the ignition and cranked the motor, easing the truck into gear. "Wow. There are times Eric really surprises me." He'd expected Eric to find this amusing and poke fun from the sidelines, not get involved.

Colton was too upset about Lila to comment on Eric. "Let's hurry up and grab those goddamned tubs. I want to go to the jail and ask when the magistrate will show up. I can't believe I can't get her out as soon as she's booked." Colton drove his fist against the door, turning to glare at Dan. "And what was the deal with Reese? I thought you and him went way back?"

Suddenly, Dan knew what the phrase Eric had used in his kitchen meant
. Once you go black, you can never go back.
It meant this small-minded town would never look at Dan again the same way for dating a black person. No. It meant certain white people in this town, some of whom were standing at the doors of the church every time they opened, would never look at him the same way again. Mostly the older ones, he decided. Those who could recall the time when the entire South had been segregated. Times he'd heard his grandfathers talk about. But the De Marcos had used migrant labor for decades and a lot of those had been black workers. His grandfathers had treated them all the same. The camp he'd repaired had been built to house them by his great-grandfather, so they had a decent place to live while they worked, not only in the family's orchards, but for the surrounding peach farmers too. His grandfather Chapman's diaries were full of horror stories about the conditions found in other migrant camps.
Man gives you the respect of turning in an honest day's work, he deserves to be treated with respect in turn
, Nance Chapman had written in his diary.

When Rafe opened the garage, the first person he hired had been Tim Mason. That memory reminded him of Georgia's shocking revelation and he did not want to think about that right now. It felt as though everything he thought he knew had either shattered or caved in on him in the last sixteen hours.

"I guess Reese is a closet racist." He waited for a break in the traffic crossing the train tracks before slamming the truck into reverse. Backing onto the sidewalk, he parked under the block and tackle.

Colton snorted. "He didn't look too damn closeted to me. From what I saw, he's out loud and proud about that."

"I called him the other day, asking about a problem Cynda's having with some guy. He told me it would be a 'low-priority crime'. The current sheriff doesn't care much when blacks take advantage of other blacks, according to Reese."

"You seem to care about Cynda."

Dan didn't know how to respond to that. "Yeah, I think I could." He studied his baby brother. "Sounds like it could cost us some business."

"We can always learn how to fucking grow peaches," Colton retorted heatedly. "Who needs customers who try to dictate who we sleep with? I'm fucked with that myself. Lila will hardly go to the mall with me anymore. Seems every time we do, someone's trying to judge her for getting past what happened to Pete." He clapped Dan on the shoulder. "You need backup when you go see about Cynda's problem, you let me know. I don't know if you realize it, but you've been smiling all day. You never smile for no reason."