Part 7 (2/2)
”Be careful, Doc, you're talking about Todd's clients,” cautioned Winston McKay, a real estate broker who had made his fortune buying below-market homes from whites fleeing integration, then selling them to his fellow blacks at exorbitant profits.
”No decent black attorney would represent them,” explained Thornton. He puffed on his Cuban cigar blowing smoke at Miller.
”That's 'cause you've got all the black lawyers in town handling your malpractice suits,” Miller struck back. He put two cards facedown on the table and dealt himself two more.
”Only malpractice claim ever brought against me was from a crack baby's mama, and that got thrown out of court. I only deliver 'em; I can't stop junkies from poisoning their children while they're still in the womb,” Thornton said with a deliberate drawl that helped accentuate his disgust.
”I say Matheson ought to be congratulated for what he's doing,” suggested Winston. ”This country always wants to sweep the dirt under the carpet. It's about time someone had the guts to look under the rug and prove the house is still dirty.”
”I suppose you're one of those fools who believe in reparations for slavery,” scolded Thornton.
”Government finds money for every other group. It's not like we haven't earned it.” Winston drank the remainder of his cognac.
”That's the problem with black folks,” said Thornton. ”Always looking to dredge up our suffering as if anybody gave a f.u.c.k. Spend all their time begging for reparations when they ought to be finding a way to get a pay raise at work. I'll take one card,” he said as an aside. ”And you can forget about our so-called leaders trying to solve any real problems. Show me a civil rights leader earning less than six figures annually and I'll show you a p.i.s.s-poor businessman. If you can't get rich pimping the poor, you better trade your M.B.A. for a divinity degree.” He relit his cigar. ”h.e.l.l, even an atheist can make a fortune if he pastors a church.”
”I'd forgotten how cynical this group was,” observed Miller.
”Not to mention racist,” added Reynolds.
”I'm not racist,” Thornton said defensively. ”I just don't like people who act like n.i.g.g.e.rs-don't care what color they are or how many degrees they've obtained.”
”Maybe Matheson put the wrong people on his list,” advised Miller. ”Might've been better off going after the enemy within.”
”I'll take two,” announced Winston.
Miller dealt him the cards, then drank the rest of his beer.
”Better get ready to see his own d.a.m.n name at the top of somebody's agenda. Must think he's teaching at one of those Ivy League schools in New England, where they like their faculty radical and their coeds naked and multicultural. He's lucky these redneck crackers haven't lynched his black a.s.s. No offense, Todd,” apologized Thornton, who puffed twice on his cigar.
”None taken,” a.s.sured Miller. ”Some of my closest relatives are redneck crackers and have never given it a second thought.”
”They're not the only ones don't use their minds,” continued Thornton. ”Black folk run around like a bunch of headless chickens.”
”Maybe that's because our leaders have been a.s.sa.s.sinated,” proposed Winston.
”Or bought off,” submitted Reynolds.
”And what happens when one of our leaders gets murdered? Instead of doing something constructive, every year we take off the whole month of February and listen to his relatives talk about him.” Thornton put out his cigar. ”When the Kennedys get a.s.sa.s.sinated, you see their children runnin' around giving don't-ask-what-your-country-can-do-for-you speeches? h.e.l.l, no. They act like they got some sense and move on with their lives.
”Now, you tell me, just 'cause a man's a plumber, does that mean when he dies I'm supposed to ask his son to finish fixing my pipes? If your daddy's a martyr, that doesn't give you the right to open up a franchise in his name and start charging fees for yourself. Lord, there's something terribly wrong with the way we market martyrdom and wallow publicly in our collective pain and struggle.” He moved some chips to the side. ”I'll buy Coretta a d.a.m.n red dress myself if she'd promise to smile more often and get out on the dance floor.” Thornton lit a new cigar.
”I think I've had too much to drink,” commented Miller. ”Thornton's starting to make sense; I know that can't be right.”
”None of you want to admit it, especially Todd over there,” pointed Thornton, ”but the trouble facing my people is mostly self-induced and group-inflicted.”
”What's this *my people' stuff?” Miller asked as he dealt Reynolds three cards. ”You've married more white women than I've dated.”
”And I've divorced every one of 'em,” clarified Thornton. ”I may stray, but I always come back home.” He studied his cards and held them close to his chest.
”Now, that's the Thornton I know,” said a relieved Reynolds. ”Doesn't make a lick of sense and is incredibly proud of it.”
”Go ahead and joke,” pouted Thornton.
Reynolds looked around the table at the others. ”Am I joking?” he asked with great sincerity.
Thornton tossed five blue chips and three red ones into the pot. ”Y'all can match that or do the smart thing and fold while you still got chump change in your wallets.”
”I think you're bluffing again.” Reynolds confidently threw his chips into the center of the table. ”I'll see that and raise you.” He picked up several green chips and individually dropped them. ”One, two, three, four, and five big green ones!”
”I'm out,” said Miller, who tossed his cards onto the table. ”I've learned the hard way a prosecutor doesn't take a risk unless he's got a winning hand.”
Winston placed his cards down. ”Too rich for my blood.”
Thornton studied Reynolds, then looked at Miller. ”Something tells me you two been working together all night, and I'm about to put an end to your unholy alliance.” He reached across the table and retrieved some additional poker chips from a wooden case. ”I'm gonna see those five green and raise you ten more.” He puffed away until his face disappeared behind a cloud of smoke.
Reynolds was tempted to pursue the matter, but after rechecking his cards he surrendered. ”If you need the money that much, go ahead and take it.”
”Don't ever try to fool a pediatrician, especially one who's been in practice for thirty years.” Thornton placed both hands around the pile of chips and pulled it toward himself with a grin partially blocked by the cigar that dangled from his mouth, dropping ashes onto the table. ”Been readin' faces since they first peeked out the uterus, and seen every expression known to man.”
Miller scratched the bottom of his foot. As usual, all the guests were forced to remove their shoes before entering the doctor's home, in a fruitless effort to keep the cream-colored Berber carpets clean. ”I think I'm allergic to your rug.”
”Don't worry, it's not an allergy,” a.s.sured Thornton. ”One of the dogs has fleas.”
”You let dogs roam around the house with fleas, but your friends have to take off their shoes?” asked Winston.
”I know where my dogs have been,” answered Thornton. ”You gentlemen want to get in another hand before the pizzas arrive? Winston will lend you some money.”
”Can't afford the interest he'd charge,” said Reynolds.
”You can take out a second mortgage-use it for collateral,” offered an accommodating Winston.
”Don't take this personal, Winston,” advised Reynolds, ”but I don't trust you.”
The men laughed. Thornton filled Winston's gla.s.s with more brandy. He handed a cold bottle of beer to Miller. Reynolds pa.s.sed on a refill of juice. ”Seriously, James,” said Thornton, ”this problem with Matheson must be making your life miserable.”
”Why's that?” Reynolds asked uneasily.
”'Cause he's making it difficult for every successful black man, and that has to be doubly true for someone in law enforcement, especially at a time when everyone's loyalties are questioned. h.e.l.l, I still get asked what I think about Islamic fundamentalists. I'm a d.a.m.n Baptist; what these crackers think I think?” He looked at Miller and raised his gla.s.s in an apologetic toast. ”Sorry, Todd.”
Miller raised his bottle. ”If you only knew what these crackers thought about me.” He swallowed some beer.
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