Wednesday, December 25, 2013
because her sister wasn’t supposed to see me and like it. Dogs ran by.
There were little lamps illuminating the little rat alleys. I could hear
Bea and her sister arguing in the soft warm night. I was ready for
anything. Bea came out and led me by the hand to Central Avenue, which
is the colored main drag of L.A. And what a wild place it is, with
chicken shacks barely big enough to house a jukebox and the jukebox
blowing nothing but blues, bop and jump. We went up dirty tenement
stairs and came to the room of Bea’s friend, Margarina, a colored girl,
who owed Bea a skirt and a pair of shoes. Margarina was a lovely
mulatoo; her husband was black as spades and kindly. He went right out
and bought a pint of whisky to host me proper. I tried to pay part of it
but he said no. They had two little children. The kids bounced on the
bed; it was their play-place. They put their arms around me and looked
at me with wonder. The wild humming night of Central Avenue---the nights
of Hamp’ Central Avenue Breakdown---howled and boomed along outside. I
thought it was wonderful, every bit of it. They were singing in the
halls, singing from their windows, just hell be damned and look out. Bea
got her clothes and we said goodbye. We went down to a chickens hack and
played records on the jukebox. A couple of negro characters whispered in
my ear about tea. One buck. I said okay. The connection came in and
motioned me to the cellar piss house, where I stood dumbly as he said
“Pick up, man, pick up.” “Pick up what?” I said. He had my dollar
already. He was afraid to point at the floor. I looked everywhere; he
motioned with his head at the floor. It was no floor, just basement.
There lay something that looked like a little brown turd. He was
absurdly cautious. “Got to look out for myself, things ain’t cool this
past week.” I picked up the turd, which was a brown-paper cigarette, and
went back to Bea and off we went to the hotel room to get high. Nothing
happened. It was Bull Durham tobacco. I wished I was wiser with my
money. Bea and I had to decide absolutely and once and for all what to
do: we decided to hitch to New York with our remaining monies. She
picked up five dollars from her sister that night. We had about thirteen
or less. So before the daily room rent was due again we packed up and
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