Little Girl Lost 6: The Return of Johnnie Wise (22 page)
Read Little Girl Lost 6: The Return of Johnnie Wise Online
Authors: Keith Lee Johnson
“Lynchburg!” Cornsilk shouted.
“Yes, sir!”
“Front and center . . . both of you!” Cornsilk shouted.
Sergeants Davis and Miller brought their pinup posters and handed them to Cornsilk, and then they went back to where the other sergeants were standing at parade rest. He handed one to Lucas and the other to John. He looked at Lucas and said, “I want you to tape this to your locker.” Then, he looked at John and told him the same thing.
“New Orleans!” Cornsilk shouted.
“Yes, sir!”
“Show your brothers in arms who you’ll be protecting.”
Lucas unrolled the poster. He smiled and showed everyone Elizabeth Taylor’s bikini pinup. A loud groan swept through the barracks as the white recruits felt the sting of Taylor hanging on Lucas’ locker.
“Pipe down, you horny bastards,” Cornsilk shouted. He looked at John and said, “Show the boys yours, Lynchburg.”
He unrolled his and showed the recruits a picture of Dorothy Dandridge. Another loud groan swept through the barracks. This time it came from black recruits.
“What about Rita Moreno?” a recruit called out.
“Yeah, and what about Marilyn Monroe?” another recruit called out.
“Who said that?”
No one responded. Cornsilk walked up to Sergeant Williams and Sergeant Garcia and took the pinups of Monroe and Moreno out of their hands. Then, he walked over to one of the recruits and said, “Where you from, son?”
“Spanish Harlem, by way of Puerto Rico, sir!”
“Uh-huh. You don’t say. Here . . . you get Marilyn Monroe.”
Another groan from the white recruits bounced off the walls.
Cornsilk doubled over, laughing. When he regained control, he said, “I know you pale-faced sons of bitches don’t like it, but that’s too damned bad. The founding fathers thought of the United States as a melting pot, an amalgamation of people—E pluribus Unum. That’s Latin for ‘Out of many, one.’ So, you might as well get used to it. This is our future. New Orleans!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Since you were the only one with enough guts to disagree with Lynchburg earlier, you’re the barrack’s chief. You’re in charge when I’m not here. That means you’re responsible for everything that goes wrong and everything that goes right. If a man’s shoes aren’t shined properly, I’m gonna blame you. If a man fails an inspection, and I don’t care if it’s a surprise inspection, I’m gonna blame you. If a man doesn’t know his left from his right when we’re in formation, I’m gonna blame you. Understand?”
“Yes, sir!”
“When you’ve heard Taps, and its time to hit the rack, I expect you to lead the others in one of the songs I mentioned. You will call the men to attention, put your hand over your heart, and you will sing loud enough to be heard at the front gate. Understand?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Lynchburg!”
“Yes, sir.”
“You are second in command when I’m not here. You will remind New Orleans of his responsibilities, and you will back him up. If there’s even one racial incident, I’m going to blame you. If I have to demote New Orleans for any reason, I’m going to blame you. If one white recruit refuses to obey his orders, I’m going to blame you. Understand?”
“Yes, sir!”
“What do you think’ll happen if I blame you, Lynchburg?”
“I’ll lose my position as second in command, and I’ll end up in traction, sir!”
“Outstanding.” Cornsilk looked around the barracks and said, “Did everyone hear my orders?”
“Yes, sir!”
“If you have a problem, you will not speak to me about it. You will first take it to Lynchburg. Lynchburg will take your problem to New Orleans. New Orleans will determine if I need to know about it or not. And gentlemen, if any, and I mean any bullshit gets to me, God help you. Understand?”
“Yes, sir!”
“I’ve just given you what we call the chain of command. You never ever violate the chain of command. Understand?”
“Yes, sir!”
“New Orleans!”
“Yes, sir!”
“You and Lynchburg are squad leaders. Pick two others.” Cornsilk looked at the recruits and said, “If you are picked to be a squad leader, the men under you will report any problems to you. You will then take them to Lynchburg and so on. Understand?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Alright. That’s it for now. After New Orleans selects the squad leaders, hit your racks and get some sleep. You’re gonna need it.”
“New Orleans!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Just because you answered the question right don’t mean that you’ve got it made. This ain’t high school football, son. This is the Army, and I’m gonna ride you into the ground. I’m gonna ride you until you become everything Colonel Strong thinks you can be. If you’re not officer material, I’m gonna find that out. Understand?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Outstanding. Take over.”
“Yes, sir! May I ask a question, sir?”
“What is it, New Orleans?”
“What about Rita Moreno, sir? Who’s girl will she be, sir?”
Cornsilk looked at the pinup for a quick second. Shaking his head wantonly, he said, “Um, um, um. I forgot I was holding her. She’s my favorite of the four. Must be a psychological thing.” Still looking at the poster, he shook his head wantonly again and offered it to Lucas. “Here, you decide who gets her.”
“Yes, sir!” Lucas shouted.
Chapter 41
“
I would be honored, sir.”
L
ucas waited until all the sergeants left the open bay. When he heard the barracks door close he said, “All right you simpleminded muthafuckas! You heard ’em! If I lose my job as barracks chief . . . if I have to fire Lynchburg . . . if I have to fire one of my squad leaders, I will personally see to it that you end up in the infirmary! If any of you muthafuckas doubt that shit, step up now, and I will beat the living shit outta you! You heard the sergeant. I was with the New Orleans Syndicate. I had to kick ass on a daily basis. My mentor was a Negro named Bubbles. We used to collect debts. And when a muthafucka couldn’t pay, we took it outta his ass. We used to beat muthafuckas to within an inch of their lives. I loved that shit! That means that not only will I beat the shit outta every man in here, but I’ll enjoy doing it. Understand?”
“Yes, sir!”
“UNDERSTAND?”
“YES, SIR.”
“Alright then. Lynchburg!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Pick two squad leaders, and if they fuck up, it’s yo’ ass!” Then Lucas walked over to the only Asian recruit in the platoon and said, “Where you from, son?”
“Chinatown! San Francisco, California, sir!”
“The girl I was gonna marry has a brother that lives in San Francisco. Perhaps you can tell me all about it someday. What’s your name?”
“Nicolas Lee.”
“Here you go, San Francisco. You get Rita Moreno. Protect her, son.”
“I will, sir! With my life.”
“Can you fight, San Francisco?”
“Yes, sir! I’m trained in Wing Chun Kung Fu, sir! I’ve been practicing for fourteen years.”
“You don’t say. You think you can take me, San Francisco?”
“I can do either, sir?”
“You can do either? What do you mean you can do either?”
“I mean I can take you, or I can protect you, sir. Your choice.”
Lucas looked into Lee’s eyes for a long minute, attempting to find fear in his heart. He didn’t see any fear, nor did he sense any. He knew then that the man from Chinatown could probably do exactly what he said he could. “How would you like to be a squad leader, San Francisco?”
“I would be honored, sir!”
Still looking into Lee’s eyes, Lucas shouted, “Lynchburg!”
“Yes, sir!” O’Reilly shouted.
“How many squad leaders have you chosen?”
“Two, sir!”
“Get rid of one ’em. Lee’s gonna be a squad leader. He understands loyalty. He doesn’t know the meaning of betrayal. I can see it in his eyes. So, we only need one now.”
“Yes, sir!”
Chapter 42
“
Not many people want them in this town.”
J
ohnnie’s alarm rang out with the ferocity of an alert klaxon at four the next morning. She hit the button, and the bells stopped ringing. Quiet filled the room. She hadn’t slept nearly as long as she wanted to. She wished she could go back to sleep and stay in that condition for another six hours or so, but now that she was broke, she no longer had the luxury of sleeping as long as she wanted. The lack of money demanded that she abandon any notions of sleep, so she could pursue gainful employment to ensure that she ate, paid her bills, and invested in her future. Nevertheless, lying in a comfortable bed and being in complete darkness was a sweet temptation to continue sleeping, and she almost fell into its trap.
She turned on the light, hoping its brightness would keep her from falling back to sleep. The last thing she wanted was to be late for work on her very first day. Still lying in bed, letting her eyes adjust to the light, she took a deep breath and exhaled as the memory of her house burning down washed over her. The smell of ashes suddenly filled her nose as the picture of charred remains filled her mind. It was still hard for her to accept her new position. Life had dealt her another unfair hand, she thought. She took another deep breath and told herself that it wasn’t too late to start all over.
She encouraged herself with a new picture—one that offered the promise of regaining the fortune she had lost. She used her imagination to conjure up a future she could believe in. She thought that if she could see it in her mind, she could have whatever she saw. She pictured herself having a bigger and better house, a bigger and better car, a whole new wardrobe, and a closet filled with nothing but shoes. What she saw in her mind’s eye seemed real because seeing those things made them believable, and therefore attainable. Suddenly, Gloria Schumacher came into focus.
It soon occurred to Johnnie that Gloria Schumacher and people like her who had disposable money could be the key to her success. The prospect of having white folks as potential clients would have seemed impossible a year ago, but now that she had lost everything and everyone that held her in New Orleans, she began to wonder if the old paradigm, the old way of thinking, that success belonged exclusively to whites, was true. At sixteen, she had already debunked that theory by amassing a quarter of a million dollars with her initial investments. Upon realizing this, a smile emerged, and nearly obliterated the memory of the wasteland that Ashland Estates had become. Where she once saw wreckage, misery, suffering, and regret, she now saw opportunity, possibility, hope, and good fortune.
Feeling good all of a sudden, Johnnie hurried into the bathroom and hopped into the shower. Having a real, almost tangible vision for a future that could be hers if she pursued it, gave her a burst of energy that she had never felt before. The vision put a smile on her face, gave her something to strive for, and it would keep her moving forward until the vision became an authentic reality. A half hour later, she was on Wilshire heading toward Blakeslee, briskly walking over to the restaurant, and hoping to get there before Lucille and her husband. She had a lot to prove to the people who had given her a job, and she had a lot to prove to herself.
When she reached Blakeslee, she was still a block or so away, but she could see the glow of light pouring out of the large picture windows and the glass door. Lucille and Hank were already in the restaurant. A little disappointed that she hadn’t beaten her employers to work, she walked faster, still hoping to make a good first impression. Having reached Lucille’s, she pushed the glass door, but it was still locked. She looked inside and saw Lucille and Hank talking. They looked angry, like they were having an argument. Lucille had her arms folded. Hank was shaking his head, and then he threw up his arms. She was about to knock on the window to let them know she was there bright and early and ready to earn her pay, but she hesitated, thinking she should just wait until five-thirty, which was when they were expecting her. She walked farther up the block, where she saw a white newspaperman setting up his shop, preparing, she assumed, to sell papers, magazines, and books. She smiled, thinking he might have a Wall Street Journal.
