Free Ms. Etta's Fast House by Victor McGlothin Page A

in her face. “Dinah, we both know your mind ought to be good and changed by now.”
    Slovenly Belle slapped her hand down on the table in protest. “And what’s wrong with fine upstanding ladies like us?” she solicited, followed by a jolting hiccup.
    â€œNo disrespect. I have a great affection for fine, upstanding ladies such as yourselves, but I’m in the market for a woman who can keep up.”
    â€œDinah isn’t going anywhere with you,” Ruth Anne cackled. “She already said she’s opposed to joining up with harems. And another thing—”
    â€œDon’t you mind her,” Dinah protested in her own stead. “I was starting to think you’d gone and changed your mind about me.” She stood up to leave as Baltimore covered her shoulders with her mink stole.
    â€œMeet me by the door, would you? I’ve got an itch I feel compelled to scratch,” he whispered, against the back of Dinah’s neck. She cooed agreeably as Baltimore slipped out the back door. He glanced up the alley then down to the other end. When he saw Seersucker crawling around on his hands and knees, he reached for his palm-sized twenty-two caliber pistol from inside the alligator-skin case. Pop! Pop! Seersucker’s body fell over against the cruddy pavement.
    â€œI told you how it’d be if I saw you again and I told Lucinda’s people I was sorry but they sent you anyway. Well, I’m all out of apologies now.” He had too many irons in the fire to be peeping over his shoulder due to some girl’s family seeking retribution. That night at Ms. Etta’s Fast House, Baltimore was fortunate. Next time around, it would walk right up and grab him by his throat.

7
    A LL T HAT G LITTERS
    M onday morning, while waiting on the streetcar, Delbert shook off the stale memories of his Sunday lunch date with Belle. She’d fallen asleep on him the night he walked her home from Etta’s. She ate twice as much as he expected and almost more than he could afford. Delbert was actually looking forward to moving into the residence quarters at the hospital, considering that his pockets were as flat as day old beer.
    M.K. read the sports page in the St. Louis Comet , the city’s black newspaper and the only source that documented the existence of colored people’s society events and other noteworthy stories. The white-owned dailies neglected to include events involving blacks unless they were disparaging or riddled with details stemming from crimes.
    â€œHey, M.K., why surgery?” Delbert asked, as if there was another part of the question he’d purposely left out.
    Without taking his eyes off the morning paper, M.K. smiled softly. “You mean why subject myself to three years of blood and guts when I could take up another discipline and start a private practice in one?” He knew what Delbert was driving at because he’d asked himself the same question many times before. “I’m in it for the rush I get, same as you.” He glanced at Delbert to note his reaction. When Delbert frowned, M.K. folded the newspaper over his knee. “That is why you’ve come all this way, to train at Homer Gee, I mean?”
    â€œSometimes I don’t really know,” Delbert admitted. “Seemed like the right thing to do. Book learning always came easy to me. I was too small for sports and my daddy had all of this mapped out by the time I was twelve years old.” Traces of a smile played around Delbert’s lips. “‘You gon’ be a doctor,’ he’d say. ‘Not only that, a surgeon. That’s the smartest kind of doctor. They got this hospital up there in Saint Louey where they train colored mens on surgery.’”
    M.K. slapped Delbert on the back. “Well, looks like you made it, ’cause there’s lots of surgery to be done around here. Once you’ve heard ole Hiram Knight’s speech, you’ll