“What’s eating you, boy?”
Ellis looked up from his untouched beer to see Father James sliding into the seat next to him at the bar. Sammy’s was empty at this time of day, and he was surprised to see the priest here.
At his look, Father James chuckled.
“Don’t worry, I’m not turning into a lush. Came by to drop off a letter for Lincoln. Plain to see something’s troublin’ you. Want to talk about it? It’s kind of what I do for a livin’. ”
Something was troubling him. He’d been mulling it over ever since the fur job, worrying on it like a dog with a thick bone, and he’d finally come to a decision.
He wanted out. He wanted to be free of the Black Mob, free to live a normal life, one that didn’t revolve around guns and heists and fast girls and faster cars. He wanted what the Average Joe had and thought wasn’t enough.
Above all, he wanted Vanessa.
And he had no idea how to tell Sammy.
“Have you ever made a decision you knew your folks wouldn’t be happy about, even though you knew it was the right path for you?”
Father James laughed.
“I’ve had troubles of my own, with the law and otherwise, Ellis. Yes, I’ve got a pretty good idea what that’s like.”
“How did you tell them?”
Father James grew serious.
“Just what is it you’re wantin’ to tell Sammy, Ellis?”
“I think I want out of the family business,” Ellis said. It was the first time he had vocalized it, and it sounded stupid to him even as he said it. Give up everything he had, for a girl?
Not just any girl, he reminded himself. Vanessa.
“Oh,” the priest replied. But then Ellis’s words seemed to sink in. “Oh,” he said again, more gravely this time.
“Exactly.”
“I can’t say as that’s something I’d ever expected to hear coming from you,” Father James said. “What’s prompting it? Did something happen?”
“No, not really. Nothing like that.” Ellis took a deep breath. “There’s this girl.”
“Ah.”
“No, you don’t understand. She comes from a good family, one that makes their money straight. And she’s really involved in the movement, and she’s gotten me turned on to it, too. And I’m starting to see there’s ways to make things happen that don’t involve puttin’ the beatdown on somebody, or threatening to. And maybe that’s a better way to live, you know?”
“There’s not a lot of money in that way of life for most people. Most folks are just scraping by, paycheck to paycheck. It can be a hard life, Ellis. Much harder than you’re used to.”
Ellis blinked. “Are you trying to talk me out of it? You’re the one person I figured would be all for me going straight!”
“I am all for you giving up the life of a criminal, Ellis. But you mentioned a young lady, and I imagine your plans involve her, no? So you have to be realistic. You have to know you have the means to support yourself and her—legitimate means. What skills do you have that don’t involve running numbers and shaking people down for money? You need to think about that. There are a lot of jobs out there for unskilled laborers, but they don’t pay much and it’s hard work. You have to know what you’re getting into, and be prepared for it. Otherwise you’ll be back here in a week, begging Sammy to take you back.”
Ellis hadn’t thought about that, but he realized the priest was right. He had more to consider before he had a sit-down with Sammy. He needed to have a plan in place, or the old man would shoot him out of the water, just as Father James had done.
“You’re right, Father. You’ve given me a lot to think about. Thank you.” And he got up from the bar and headed out to find the nearest newspaper, leaving the priest staring after him, bemused.
• • •
“And why are you dressed in your Sunday best, drinking my ’shine at three o’clock in the afternoon?” Sammy asked as he walked into the bar to find Ellis bellied up to the counter with a glass in his hand, a folded-up “want ads” section under his arm.
“Just got back from an interview,” Ellis said proudly.
“From a what now?”
“An interview. For a job.” Clerking over at the K&B. Not a job that was going to make him rich by any means, but an honest one, and there was potential to move up into management.
“And why on God’s green Earth would you be needing to do that?”
Now that the moment had finally arrived, Ellis wasn’t as nervous as he thought he would be. Maybe it was because his interview had gone so well. Maybe it was because he had a plan in place that he knew Sammy couldn’t find fault with. Maybe it was because he knew deep down he was on the right path at last. Whatever it was, he faced his father with a calm exterior and an interior that mostly matched it.
“Because I’m getting out of the business. I’m going straight.”
Sammy burst out laughing.
“Well, if that ain’t the damned funniest thing I’ve ever heard. Ellis, you want a job, you should take that act on the road. You’ll have ’em all in stitches!”
“Laugh if you want, old man. I’m serious. I want out.”
Sammy’s smile faded.
“You want out, you say. To do what? Wait tables? Wash cars? Lay pipe? Dig ditches? What sort of work is that for a son of mine, eh?”
“It’s honest work,” Ellis replied.
“Honest?” Sammy echoed. “It’s cheap. It will get you none of the things you want, none of the luxuries to which you are accustomed. You will live hand to mouth, just as your grandparents did. Why do you think I have worked so hard to rise to this position, if not to keep you from that sort of life, huh? And now you want to turn your back on all I have offered you? And for what?” His eyes narrowed. “This is because of that girl, n’est-ce pas?”
“What’s so wrong with wanting to live a life free of violence? Free of crime? We could do that! With your connections, we could make legitimate money, give up the numbers running, all the rest. Go straight with the bar and the nightclub and whatever else—maybe a restaurant. Grand-mére had the best recipes—”
“That’s enough,” Sammy said. “Look around you, Ellis. We are only a few generations removed from slavery, segregation is still rampant, the Southern Union still runs the wealthiest part of this city. The only freedom to be had for the black man is in cold, hard cash, and the only way to make that money is under the table, by violent means. We may not want it to be that way, Ellis, but that’s the simple truth of the world right now, and none of your marches or Freedom Rides or ‘I Have a Dream’ speeches can change that fact.
“No, Ellis. Having money is the closest we can get to having freedom. Maybe things will be different for your children or your children’s children, but for you and me, that’s the way it is. You want to consign those future children to more years of virtual slavery to white masters, you go ahead and leave. That’s not what I want for you or for them—I want you to be free—but I can’t stop you. You’re a man now and you make your own decisions. Just stop and think hard about what you’re giving up when you walk out the door before you go. And that it’s not just yourself you’re making that choice for but for every Robinson who comes after you.”
Sammy had come over to stand beside Ellis while he spoke; now, he clapped his son on the shoulder once, twice, then turned on his heel and left the room, leaving Ellis as unsure about what he should do as he had ever been.
He’d never thought about it from Sammy’s perspective before, but the old man made a lot of sense. Money was freedom in New Bordeaux, especially if you were black. And he’d never make enough of it as a drugstore clerk—or even a manager—to have the kind of life Sammy was talking about. The kind of freedom he dreamed about sharing with Vanessa.
Damn it! Why did everything always have to be so complicated? He downed the rest of his ’shine and poured himself another glass, wondering if he’d find the answer to that question at the bottom of the bottle, or maybe just a respite from having to think about it. Determined to find that much, at least, he set about getting good and drunk, and it wasn’t long before he wasn’t thinking about anything at all.