South Central Noir

Paying customers. Money. The only things that could grab Dave’s attention. “I sent Delilah and Sarah home early and Mae’s finishin’ these last five. They almost ready. Come on, Melvin, let’s go sell ’em ’fore the people change they minds.”

Dave pushed past Melvin and out the swinging door: White man in front, colored man bringing up the rear. Melvin shot Mae a worried look, then followed. Mae ladled all the chicken out of the skillets, not caring whether it was fully cooked. She wouldn’t be in the kitchen when Dave returned, and she knew he’d take his time enjoying the fact that he was the only white man with a business on this part of Central Avenue in the Black part of Los Angeles, and that he sold the best fried chicken. All the help were colored, as were all the customers, but there were no tables and chairs for them to sit and eat the best fried chicken on this part of Central Avenue.

Mae folded her apron and put it on the shelf in the storage closet, grabbed her purse, and was about to flee when she noticed Dave’s money box sitting open on the shelf. She hesitated only briefly before scooping it up, piling the three folded aprons in its place, and running into the alley, going the wrong way so she wouldn’t have to pass in front of the Chicken Coop — that’s what Dave called the place.

She walked four blocks out of her way before she could catch a bus that would take her home. She stopped in a liquor store and got a big paper bag so she didn’t look so awkward carrying the money box — the heavy money box.

Samuel heard her coming up the stairs and met her, taking the big bag, and he was about to hug her until he took a close look at her face. He pulled her into their rented room and quickly closed the door. “What’s the matter, Mae?”

She sighed deeply and they stood in the middle of the floor squeezing each other for a long moment. Finally Mae spoke: “Dave Hebert, the bastard.”

He held her at arm’s length. “What happened, Mae? You call him a bastard and quit?”

“Worse than that, Samuel.”

His eyes widened. “Did you hit him with something, knock him out?” Then his expression changed. “Did he do something to you, Mae? Did he put his hands on you?”

“No, Samuel. No, I promise you.”

“What then, Mae? What could you do that’s so bad you had to run?”

“I stole his money, Samuel. All of it.”

He looked confused so Mae pointed to the liquor store bag, which heightened his confusion. He released her and opened the bag that he’d placed on the dining table. He lifted the metal box, then opened it.

“Great God Almighty! How much money is in here, Mae?”

“I don’t know how much but it’s all he’s got. He don’t trust banks.”

Samuel looked all around the room, as if he expected Dave Hebert to materialize. He rushed over to the door and opened it, looked out, then slammed it shut and locked it. “Does he know where you live?”

Mae scoffed, “He’d have to give a damn about me to know where I live, which he doesn’t, so no, he doesn’t.”

“What about the other cooks — what’s their names? — Delilah and what’s the other one’s name?”

“Sarah, and she knows where I live ’cause she lives on Normandie and we usually ride the bus home together—”

“Did she see you take this box?”

Mae was shaking her head, then quickly explained the events that led to her becoming a thief. She explained that Melvin Gibson was the only one there with Dave, and that he would leave when the last piece of chicken was sold. Dave would lock the front door and turn out the lights, then he’d come into the kitchen to add the cash from the final sales to his box. “Then he’ll tear up the kitchen looking for it even though he’ll know it’s gone—”

“Then he’ll come looking for you. We gotta clear outta here right now, Mae.”

“And go where, Samuel?”

“I don’t know, but pack your things — NO! Leave all this old, wore-out stuff. I’ll take my work boots and clothes and you just take your personal things—”

“I got to wash the grease stink off me first, Samuel, and outta my hair. I can’t go nowhere smellin’ like this.”

“All right, but hurry up, Mae!”

She ran into the tiny bathroom that wasn’t really a bathroom but just a corner of a room with pipes from the floor below delivering water with barely any pressure. Maybe wherever they were going would have a real bathroom.

Samuel had changed into his one nice suit of clothes and shined shoes when she came out of the shower, and he had her one nice dress laid out on the bed, along with the underwear, stockings, and shoes she wore with the dress. She brought their deodorant, toothbrushes, toothpaste, and shampoo from the bathroom and Samuel tossed it all into a plastic bag, which he put into their one suitcase, where he’d packed his work clothes and boots, and hurried to the door with it. Mae had never dressed so quickly.

“We look like we’re going someplace special, Samuel,” she said, a bit of excitement creeping into her voice to join the dread.

“Maybe we are, Mae, but for sure it’s the first time we went somewhere with more than eight or nine dollars in our pockets.”