booth.
I didn't need any intuition. And I had no gun. A cigarette case was the only thing in my pocket. I
started easing my hand down into my pocket, to try bluffing... and one of them snatched open
the door. They were dark olive, swarthy-featured Italians. I had my hand down into my pocket.
"Come on outside, we'll hold court," one said.
At that moment, a cop walked through the front door. The two thugs slipped out. I never in my life
have been so glad to see a cop.
I was still shaking when I got to the apartment of my friend, Sammy the Pimp, He told me that not
long before, West Indian Archie had been there looking for me.
Sometimes, recalling all of this, I don't know, to tell the truth, how I am alive to tell it today. They
say God takes care of fools and babies. I've so often thought that Allah was watching over me.
Through all of this time of my life, I really was dead-mentally dead. I just didn't know that I was.
Anyway, to kill time, Sammy and I sniffed some of his cocaine, until the time came to pick up Jean
Parks, to go down and hear Lady Day. Sammy's having told me about West Indian Archie looking
for me didn't mean a thing... not right then.
CHAPTER EIGHT
TRAPPED
There was the knocking at the door. Sammy, lying on his bed in pajamas and a bathrobe, called
"Who?"
When West Indian Archie answered, Sammy slid the round, two-sided shaving mirror under the
bed, with what little of the cocaine powder-or crystals, actually-was left, and I opened the door.
"Red-I want my money!"
A .32-20 is a funny kind of gun. It's bigger than a .32. But it's not as big as a .38. I had faced down
some dangerous Negroes. But no one who wasn't ready to die messed with West Indian Archie.
I couldn't believe it. He truly scared me. I was so incredulous at what was happening that it was
hard to form words with my brain and my mouth.
"Man-what's the beef?"
West Indian Archie said he'd thought I was trying something when I'd told him I'd hit, but he'd paid
me the three hundred dollars until he could double-check his written betting slips; and, as he'd
thought, I hadn't combinated the number I'd claimed, but another.
"Man, you're crazy!" I talked fast; I'd seen out of the corner of my eye Sammy's hand easing
under his pillow where he kept his Army .45. "Archie, smart a man as you're supposed to be,
you'd pay somebody who hadn't hit?"
The .32-20 moved, and Sammy froze. West Indian Archie told him, "I ought to shoot you through
the ear." And he looked back at me. "You don't have my money?"
I must have shaken my head. "I'll give you until twelve o'clock tomorrow." And he put his hand
behind him and pulled open the door. He backed out, and slammed it.