I felt so much better when Willie Frank drove us home from jail this afternoon. He’d stayed with us for a little while and then he drove over to Cunningham’s Grill, a popular roadhouse on the outskirts of town, to let Mr. Cunningham know we’d be back tomorrow. I worked there as the head cook and Yvonne waited tables. Willie Frank was also going to spread the word among some of our regular guests that we was back in business selling liquor at our house.

He’d said he’d come back to our house tomorrow, but he returned half a hour later with more unpleasant news. “I hate to tell y’all, but Lyla Bullard and her cousin Emmalou told me they done got too skittish to come back over here. They was at the grill when I got there and told me as soon as I walked in the door.” Me and Willie Frank occupied the living-room couch. Yvonne was slumped in a chair facing us, staring off into space one minute, sighing and fidgeting like a worm on a hook the next minute.

“I’m sorry to hear that we lost their business. A lot of colored men came to drink with us because of them,” I replied. Lyla and Emmalou was two middle-aged white women who had come to the house on a regular basis. They had been present on the night of the arrest. I was going to miss them. Maybe it was for the best. Some of our colored female guests didn’t like all the attention they got. For all we knew, it could have been one of them black-ass heifers that made the call to Sheriff Potts! If that turned out to be true, when me and Yvonne found out who they was, we was going to chastise them just as hard as we would a man. I gave Willie Frank a weary look and held my breath for a few seconds as I stroked the two-day-old bristle on my chin. I hadn’t shaved or took a bath since Tuesday morning. I couldn’t wait to get in the bathroom and freshen up. But I wasn’t going to leave the room while Willie Frank was on the premises. His company was so important to me, I wanted to spend as much time around him as I could. Especially after all he had done for us this week. “I hope nobody else decides to stop drinking at our house. If you was to cut us off . . .” The thought of losing Willie Frank was so distressing, I couldn’t even finish my sentence.

He gasped and looked at me like I was crazy. “Hush up! I can’t believe you said that! You ain’t got to worry about me deserting y’all!” he blasted as he wagged his finger in my face.