Miss Carmelia Faye Lafayette (2 page)

The Hankering provided a release for the locals, but it wasn’t immune to one particular effect of the patrons’ overindulgences: a knockdown, drag out, drunken brawl.  Usually, one patron would test his limits, knocking back as much liquor as his week’s wages would allow, and wanting something or someone to vent his frustrations on, he’d seek out anyone whom he believed crossed him, the often unsuspecting offender assailed upon.  The bouncers earned their night’s keep, pulling the two combatants apart and discharging them outside where often they’d continue their altercation, or more than likely, sober up a bit and squash the issue, often unsure of what led to the dispute in the first place.

Fights happened on a regular basis at the Hankering, but a colored man fought only if he had something against someone.  The men rarely fought for the sake of fighting.  If someone got his ass whipped, it was a deserved ass whipping.  Showing interest in a woman already taken led to an ass whipping.  Calling a man a liar warranted an ass whipping.  However, cheating a man at gambling set off an ass whipping that could last for days.  A man could dismiss a play for his woman or being called out of his name, but he couldn’t allow another man to cheat him, his very existence marred by a racist and corrupt system that cheated him on a daily basis, pervading every aspect of his life from his wages to his self-respect and even to his freedom. 

Buford Tee and his hanging buddy Ton Stone made their way to the Hankering, located in Wayne County.  Buford Tee had never been there before, but Ton Stone had.  They entered the smoked-filled sweatbox already alive with bumping piano playing, energetic and uninhibited dancing, and more liquor than the law allowed, the floors covered with the intense, fiery potion.

The minute Buford Tee sat down, he spotted a young, strikingly beautiful, Creole woman, her face the color of the sun and her hair, the texture of finely woven silk. 

Buford Tee nudged Ton Stone, “Hey, man, check her out.”

Ton Stone knew the woman.  And he knew her husband.  Her ex-husband, but still her man in every sense of the word.

“You don’t want to mess with that,” Ton Stone warned.

“Why, what’s up with her?” Buford Tee asked.  “You and her got—.”

“Naw, man.  I just know she come with a lot of baggage.  Baggage no man want to carry,” Ton Stone replied.

“What you mean?” Buford Tee asked, still mesmerized by her beauty.

“She taken,” Ton Stone said.  “And any man that look at her….”

Buford Tee had temporarily tuned out Ton Stone who realized he was looking at trouble.

“The way you looking at her now.  Something that fine, ain’t nothing but trouble,” Ton Stone added.

“Man, you make too much out of rumors.  I don’t see no man ‘round her,” Buford Tee said, preparing to make his move her way.

“Look, you crazy if you step to her.  Her man crazy.  The kind of crazy that’ll kill you and think nothing of it,” Ton Stone cautioned.

“Where he at?” Buford Tee asked.

Ton Stone looked around but didn’t see him anywhere.

“I don’t see him, but you can best believe he got his eyes watching her,” Ton Stone said, pointing toward the bouncer standing at the front of the joint.

“Well, ain’t no harm in saying hello,” Buford Tee said, standing up and heading her way.

 He walked over to Miss Carmelia, who was working behind the counter serving whiskey, beer, and wine to the patrons. 

“How do?” Buford Tee said, smiling.

Miss Carmelia looked up at him and nodded and resumed her duties, washing shot glasses and cleaning off the bar countertop, a pine wood structure that seated four people.  Buford Tee sat on the bar stool and watched her work.

“Can I get a shot of whiskey?” Buford Tee asked.

Miss Carmelia poured a shot and slid it over to him, all without giving him a glance.

“Fifty cents,” she said, continuing to clean the shot glasses.

Buford Tee gulped it down and shook his head.  The brew was more potent than what his grandfather made, and harsher. 

“Another, please,” he said, the fiery liquid easing down his insides.

She slid him another shot, Buford Tee ingesting it with the same fervor as the first. 

“You from ‘round here?” he asked.

Miss Carmelia said nothing.

“Uh…I said, you from ‘round here?” he repeated.

“I heard you the first time,” she said, her pungent voice like butter to Buford Tee’s ears. 

He waited for a reply.

“You trying to pick me up?” she asked with directness. 

“Well, uh, I…,” he fumbled.

“Mister, I’m gone tell you like it is,” Miss Carmelia said bluntly, leaning forward and pointing toward the entrance of the joint.  “See that fella over there.  That big, black, husky nigger over there?  He been trained to tell my ex-husband about every man that grin in my face.  And my ex-husband.  He crazy. He’ll make it his business to hunt down that man and blow his brains out.  So I suggest you order what you want to drink and take it back to your friend over there, whose looking like he gone have a conniption because you trying to test some waters that done ran dry.”

Buford Tee didn’t know what to say.  He ordered another shot of whiskey, paid for all he had drunk, and took his drink back to his seat.

“What happened?” Ton Stone asked, looking worriedly at the bouncer who was staring at Buford Tee.  “What?  What?”

“She said to come back later when old bulldog over there won’t be around,” Buford Tee said, gulping down the whiskey to mask his bruised pride.

Miss Carmelia’s ex-husband, Hawk, entered the joint, his black skin engulfing him.  The bouncer whispered something in his ear.  He looked over at Buford Tee and, with swiftness, headed to the bar where Miss Carmelia was waiting.  Buford Tee and Ton Stone watched his every move.

“Uh oh,” Ton Stone said.  “I think you done done it now.”

Hawk grabbed Miss Carmelia by the arm and shoved her out back of the barrelhouse.  Buford Tee stood to follow, but Ton Stone grabbed his arm and nodded toward the bouncer who was heading his way.  Buford Tee sat back down and waited.  Waited to see what her ex-husband needed with her out back.

“Man, you know how to find trouble, don’t you?” Ton Stone said nervously. 

“Ain’t much fun if I don’t go looking for it,” Buford Tee said, a little concerned about Miss Carmelia.

 It was a long while before her ex-husband came back inside.  Buford Tee wondered where Miss Carmelia was but didn’t dare go looking for her, especially with the black giant looming in the corner, prepared to stomp him down if he made a move toward her.

Moments later, the front door of the joint came crashing down, two burly, white officers rushing in with rifles pointed at all the patrons.  Within seconds of the invasion, the back door was caved in, two more white officers racing in with rifles and pistols aimed at the startled crowd.

“Oh, shit,” Ton Stone said.  “Just what we needed.”

“Everybody to the wall!” the lead officer shouted.  “Get your face to the wall, I said, dammit.  Right now!”

Intoxicated men and women jumped up and pressed their sweat-soaked, fully inebriated bodies against the wall, some using the wall as a respite from their intoxication, others, their highs blown by the invasion into the one place they felt was their own. 

Buford Tee and Ton Stone followed suit, not wanting any trouble, particularly Ton Stone, who was one day from leaving that hell hole called the South.

Hawk, who had been raided on a regular basis, had grown tired of the shake downs from the corrupt officers.  He had paid a pretty penny to keep them at bay, but it seemed only to fuel the fire, their demanding more money each time they raided his establishment exerting more control over him with each unwanted visit. 

“What the hell is this?” Hawk shouted.

“Now, Hawk, you know the drill,” the lead officer said.  “Cough it up, or your patrons going down to the jailhouse.”

Hawk shook his head, gritting his teeth and cursing the lead officer under his breath, and then he headed to the bar where he stashed the evening’s till, pulling out a wad of cash and giving it to the lead officer who didn’t even count it. 

“Two hundred.  Hum.  Good work, Hawk.  Next week, make it three,” he said, pointing to the newest officer.  “Got another one on the payroll, you know.”

The officers started backing out of the joint, their guns still pointed at the patrons, and particularly at Hawk.  The lead officer was the last to depart, eyeing Miss Carmelia who had just entered the joint, her face red and bruised on the left side.

“I see you can’t control that temper of yours, Hawk,” the lead officer said mockingly.

Hawk turned to see Miss Carmelia standing at the counter.

“Such a pretty face.  Too bad she’s a colored whore,” the lead officer sneered.

With that last comment, Hawk pulled a knife from his back pocket, flicked it open, and tossed it with magnified force at the lead officer who had simultaneously lifted his shotgun and fired, the bullet tearing into Hawk’s chest, the force of which propelled him backward into the bar, knocking it over and pinning Miss Carmelia under it.  The bouncer pulled his gun to shoot the lead officer, but it was unneeded, the knife slicing into his right eye, paralyzing his body which seemed to take a moment to collapse.  The other officers rushed back inside to see what happened, the bouncer throwing his gun under a table.

“What the hell happened here?” another officer yelled.

“Deputy Avery shot Hawk,” the bouncer said.  “And Hawk killed him dead.”

Like chickens with their heads wrung off, the deputies ran around the joint trying to act tough, harassing the patrons who repeatedly said the same phrase, “I ain’t seen nothing, sir.  My face was in the wall.”

Frustrated, the deputies left the colored patrons to tend to Hawk’s body. Two of the officers dragged Deputy Avery’s body out of the joint and placed it in the squad car.  The bouncer ran to Hawk to see if he was for sure dead.  He was.  Buford Tee and Ton Stone raced over to help Miss Carmelia, who was trapped under the collapsed bar.  They pulled the structure from atop her and helped her to her feet. 

“You alright?” Buford Tee asked.

“Yeah, I’m alright.  I can’t say the same for him,” she said coldly, looking down at Hawk, a large pool of blood forming under his body.

Miss Carmelia leaned down and checked Hawk’s pulse to see for herself if he was dead.  She held her position for a moment, almost as if giving a short prayer.  Then she stood abruptly.

“Get him up and put him in the wagon and take him to my house,” she said with no emotion in her voice.

The bouncer and another hired hand lifted Hawk’s body and hauled it outside to the wagon. 

“Alright, y’all.  Ain’t nothing else to see here, so go home,” Miss Carmelia said, heading to the back of the joint and returning with a pan of water.

“You okay?” Buford Tee asked.  “Is there anything I can do?”

“You can leave,” Miss Carmelia said frankly, squatting down and dousing the blood-stained floor with water, the crimson-colored blood turning a pale pink.

Respecting her wishes, Buford Tee and Ton Stone walked slowly out of the joint.

“She don’t need to be alone like this,” Buford Tee told Ton Stone when they got outside.

“Man, you don’t give up, do you?” Ton Stone said.  “Didn’t I tell you that woman’s trouble?”

“Well, ain’t her trouble gone now?” Buford Tee asked, watching from outside as she wiped up all traces of blood from the floor.