Maximillion Slaughter

Twilight; that time that is neither day nor night, when decisions are made more from doubt than lack of vision, when truth is hardest to see, when choice is often the result of subconscious memory; it was at that very time that Max stopped, and just stood there in the middle of Seventh Street, as if he was alone on the street, alone in all the world, alone and not just lonely. It was July 15, 1944; Maximillion Slaughter, like so many Black people, had come from the South, but unlike those who came out for the wartime jobs at the shipyards, he sought to make Oakland, California, his “Harlem of the West”; and the Avalon the center of his universe. Max, a good looking buckskinned man in his early thirties, stood a little over six feet. He wore a grey hat, which perfectly matched his New York pin striped suit in color and style. His coat was buttoned and draped down from his strong broad shoulders. His tie, a solid red, demanded attention even though it was tucked neatly inside his coat. He wore Stacy Adams black Bostonian shoes, with a shine so brilliant they reflected any light that came their way. The drivers of most of the cars moving up and down Seventh Street couldn’t decide whether or not they should have their head lights on, but the conductor of the "Red Car", the local street train, with its huge yellow cow catcher, turned on his big single bright headlight, as it charged down the middle of Seventh Street. For a moment, the light blinded both Max and his friend, Samuel “Poppa” Johnson, who miss judged the speed of the Red Car and stepped into harm's way, but before the Red Car could claim him, Max yanked him back and into the oncoming traffic. Both men froze at the sight of the stunning black nineteen-forty-two Cadillac fastback coupe, which abruptly skidded to a stop in front of them. The driver, Red Manning, a freckled red haired sporting-man of forty, reached across to restrain his attractive young female companion, Lucy "Tee-baby" Lawson. Unshaken, Max squared his hat and approached Red's car. He leaned down and looked in through the open window at the driver. Red glared at him, "If I'd known it was you, Max Slaughter, I would’a run you down!" Max grinned, showing his pearly whites, "It's like that, Red?" he replied. Max looked just past Red to his passenger. His smile, which was usually welcomed by even the most unavailable women, had no effect on Tee-baby. She looked straight ahead. Max moved forward to see her better. "Tee-baby, is that you?" he asked. Red frowned, "You know damn well that's her!" Max removed his hat and tried another pearl white glow, but this one was for naught too. Tee-baby continued to stare straight ahead without a response. "I ain't forgot about how you stole Fatha Hines from my club last month, Maximillion Slaughter!" spat Red. Max grinned and offered, "But that was just business, Red." Max tried in vain to get Tee-baby to look his way, but she ignored him. Red moved the car forward, just enough so that he could look dead into Max's face, and then flashed his gold teeth, "And this here's just pleasure!" said Red. As quickly as he could, Red revved his engine, and dropped the gear shift into first. The Caddy's tires squealed and smoked. Max snapped his head back before the car shot away. Max and Poppa watched the black Caddy's bright brake lights flash as it slowed in front of Walker’s drugstore; and then they dashed across the street to the safety of the sidewalk. Tee-baby opened her own door and extended her shapely brown legs. She got out of the car and stepped up onto the curb. She watched as the Caddy backed away and pulled off. Behind her, on both sides of the drugstore's front doors, were two large signs posted on the windows that read, "Uncle Sam Needs You!" Two other signs next to each of those, and even larger in size, read, "Now Hiring – McCabe & Morriston Shipyard." Standing in front of Uncle Gus' barbershop, they looked down the street toward Walker's drugstore. Poppa stood just behind Max and spoke in his deep grainy voice, "Maybe you should’ve kept that one?" Max slowly turned his head from side to side, as though his mind and body were in conflict, "You know I couldn't give her what she wanted," he finally said. "Don't give me that line man, you could've married her.” Before Tee-baby opened the door to Walker’s drugstore she threw a gentle glance in Max's direction. Max smiled and touched the brim of his hat with his fingers. At that same moment, Max was bumped from behind; he turned, and said, "Excuse me." It was Miss Lola, the fortune teller, standing just in front of him now. She stared at him for a long moment. "You alright Miss Lola?" he asked, as he briefly touched her forearm. Miss Lola grabbed Max's hand as he returned his arm to his side. Her face was pale and her eyes dark as a country night, "Your heart will be touched by death again,” she paused, her eyes glared deep into his, “and start you on a dangerous journey," she revealed. Before Max could respond, she pulled her hand back and hurried away. Max watched her cross the street and ascend the side stairs to her place of business, just above the Walker’s drugstore. "What do you make of that?" asked Poppa. "I don't believe in that fortune telling jive," Max replied glibly, but while he spoke with confidence; he pondered her words as if they were gospel. When Max and Poppa left the barbershop, the sun had set and stars could be seen behind the buildings across the street. Lights on the big center building illuminated the large black and white sign on it, which read, "THE AVALON." Seventh Street was now like the calm before a Pacific storm. Few cars passed along the street. The tail lights of the last street train twinkled in the distance. Max stroked his hand back across the top of his head. Poppa studied him, "Is the cut too close?" he asked. Max shook his head no, grinned, and donned his hat. Poppa watched Max gaze, across the street at the Avalon, like a man infatuated with a woman. A few early birds hovered around the front doors. "She's beautiful, ain't she Poppa," Max finally said with deep affection. "Come'on Max, it's just a bunch of old bricks and wood," replied Poppa. "You know damn well that the Avalon is much more than that. She’s got music for blood, and when she’s really jumpin’ there’s smoke comin’ out of her mouth." "There you go with that crazy talk again,” Poppa paused and then added, “Well, it ain’t got no heart." “Of course she does; she’s got mine,” Max held. “Don’t give me that jive,” said Poppa. "This ain't no foolishness, Poppa. I’ve given her my soul and my heart; in fact, I love the Avalon more than any woman I've ever been with," replied Max with a sparkle in his eyes. Poppa looked at Max and spoke like the good friend that he was, "Well, it don’t warm your bed at night; what you need is a good woman, Maximillion Slaughter, and that for sure ain't no jive!"