Chapter 24
“Where did you get this?”
Johnnie walked into Sears, still angry about the inappropriate questions Simmons asked her. She thought the Savoy was the one place where she wouldn’t have to be concerned about people knowing her business. She began wondering if everybody at the hotel felt the same way.
If he feels that way, why does he allow it at his hotel? Seems to me that if it was such a big deal, he would put a stop to it. Seems to me that since he let it go on at his hotel, he must approve. He probably got some white woman stashed away in one of them rooms someplace. As a matter of fact, I oughta ask him about white women when I see him again. I wonder if he stares at their breasts the way he stares at mine. I bet he don’t. I bet he wouldn’t even think about starin’ at their breasts the way he stared at mine. Right out in public with no shame of what he was doin’. Humph, Mama just might be right about men. I wonder if Lucas is like that. Naw, Lucas would never do that to a woman. He would show a woman some respect.
“May I help you?” the store detective asked, flashing a badge.
“I’m just doin’ some shoppin’, sir,” she said, snapping out of it.
The detective was a tall man with wide, football shoulders. He was about six-five and intimidating. He wore a slight scowl on an otherwise friendly face.
“Shoppin’,” he said, mocking her.
“Yes, sir.”
“Let’s see some ID.”
Johnnie didn’t have identification with her. It had never been necessary before now. She had to at least pretend she had identification. Rummaging through her purse, she acted surprised that it wasn’t where she thought it would be.
“I’m sure I put my driver’s license in my purse this morning, sir. I can’t seem to find it.”
“That’s just what I thought,” he said, grabbing her arm. “Come with me.”
When Johnnie saw the other customers, most of whom were white, staring as she was being literally dragged through the store, the humiliation she felt overwhelmed her. She felt even more degraded when the few colored people in the store looked at her as though she was an embarrassment to them. She bowed her head and cried softly. The tears, one after another, rolled down her cheeks.
When they reached the detective’s office, the degradation continued. He opened her purse and emptied the contents onto his maplewood desk. A wad of money fell out of the purse. He picked it up and counted it. It was four hundred dollars in small bills.
“Where did you get this?” he asked, shaking the money in her face.
She just stood before the towering hulk of a man with her head bowed, tears still flowing. She knew she had to lie. But what lie do I tell? I can’t tell him my white lover pays me for sex, and I can’t tell him I have a job. What if he asks me where I work then calls to see if I actually work there?
“Well? Speak up!” he demanded.
“Sir, I don’t want no trouble,” she said, still looking at the floor. “I just came to do some shoppin’.”
“Did you steal this money?”
“No, sir.”
“Then where the hell did you get four hundred dollars? I think you stole it. Do you have any more?” He had made up his mind to take the money from her. Who could she tell? As far as he was concerned, the money, in all likelihood, was stolen.
“No, sir. That’s all I have.”
“I don’t believe you. Up against the wall and spread ’em!”
“Sir?”
“You heard me. I said spread ’em.”
When she just stood there frozen, he turned her around, pushed her up against the wall and began frisking her. As he patted her down, he squeezed her breasts and ass. Not finding anything, he said, “Where’s the rest of the money?”
“I don’t have no more, sir,” she pleaded.
“I think you do. Take off the dress. I think the money’s in your panties.”
Johnnie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He wasn’t looking for more money. He wanted sex. She could see it in his eyes.
“No, sir,” she said, looking into his eyes. “I will not take off my dress. You can have the money, but no, I will not do it.”
“Fine! You’re going to jail then,” he said and picked up the telephone.
“Okay, okay,” she said and sniffed as the tears ran down her cheeks again.
When she pulled the dress up over her head, exposing her naked breasts and panties, the door opened.
“Detective Little, what the hell is going on in here?” the store manager asked.
Johnnie pulled her dress down. Her humiliation was now complete.
“Sir, this woman looked suspicious, and when I asked her if she had identification, she told me no.”
“Little, you know what I’m talking about.” His voice was just a notch under shouting. “Why was she undressing?”
“I wanted to make sure she didn’t have any stolen items on her, sir. You know how these people steal. It’s the only thing they excel at. Left alone, they’ll rob you blind.”
Johnnie was enraged by what she was hearing. He knows I didn’t steal anything. I haven’t been in the store long enough. It was all probably a trick to get my clothes off.
“Look at this money, sir,” Little said, showing him the four hundred dollars. “I found this on her.”
“Is this your money?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s a lot of money for a colored woman. Where did you get it?”
“I saved it, sir,” Johnnie said, finally figuring out what story to tell. She knew most men thought she was much older than what she really was. “I’ve been savin’ for years—since I was fifteen. Decided to come and look for some new furniture. I just bought a house, sir.” She walked over to the desk where all of her belongings were and picked up a folded piece of paper. She handed it to the manager. “Here’s my deed, sir,” she continued. “See, I wasn’t gonna rob you, sir. Just doin’ some shoppin’, that’s all.”
The manager unfolded the deed then looked into her sad eyes and decided she was telling the truth. He handed the empty purse to her. Johnnie took the purse and collected her things. When she finished, she stood quietly, waiting to be officially released.
“Detective Little, what the hell did you think you were doing?” the manager yelled. “Did it ever occur to you that if she had four hundred dollars, she didn’t need to steal from the store?”
“Sir, I, uh—”
“You’re fired!”
“What kinda white man are you?” Little asked, shaking his head. “You’re taking the word of a nigger over a white man? I’ve seen it all now. This country is going to hell in a hand basket because of you fuckin’ nigger lovers.”
“Get out before I have you thrown out!” the manager yelled.
“I’ll be glad to leave. I feel sick to my stomach,” Little said, slamming the door.
“Are you okay, Ms. Wise?” the manager asked, handing her a handkerchief.
“Yes, sir,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Can I go now, sir?”
“Yes. I’m truly sorry for your inconvenience. I hope you’ll continue to shop at Sears.”
“Yes, sir,” she said then walked out of the office.