We rarely had problems with our guests, but every now and then somebody got too rowdy. A cute, plump woman wearing a red wig-hat, got upset when she seen the man she’d come with paying too much attention to Sweet Sue. When she went up to Sweet Sue and slapped her, I jumped in between them. Sweet Sue was one of them backwoods, roughneck women you didn’t mess with unless you wanted to get your face sliced with the straight razor she carried in her brassiere. I gently pushed her to the side and told her to tell Willie Frank to give her a drink on the house. Then I grabbed the other woman by the arm and ushered her into the kitchen. She was so stunned, she stumbled, and her wig-hat turned sideways. “Look-a-here, woman; me and Milton is the only ones in this house allowed to hit somebody,” I told her, shaking my fist in her face. “If you misbehave again tonight, I’m going to beat you like you stole something, and ban you from coming here!”

“I’m sorry, Yvonne. I didn’t mean no harm. But me and Pete just got engaged. He promised me he would never look at another woman,” she said with a pout and a sniffle while she adjusted her fake hair. “I won’t slap nobody else.” She sounded sincere. When she gave me a hug and a smile, I let her off with just that warning.

Even with all the commotion taking place in the living room, Milton had got real quiet and grim-faced, almost immediately after Joyce left a hour and a half ago. She was the last person I had seen him talking to. I wondered if she had hurt his feelings again with one of her insensitive comments. She had done it so often it never seemed to bother him that much no more. But something was bothering him now. Every night, he was the life of the party. He had stopped drinking and when I put on some of his favorite records, he didn’t dance or sing along the way he usually done. His dark mood and silence was making me worry.

While I was conversating with a couple of guests, Milton abruptly left the living room and shuffled into the kitchen. I couldn’t wait no longer to ask him what was going on. A few minutes later, I followed him. My heart skipped a beat when I seen him staring out the side window at Joyce and Odell’s house, mumbling cuss words under his breath. “Milton, what’s the matter with you tonight?”

He took his time turning around. When he did, there was a woeful expression on his face. “There ain’t nothing wrong with me,” he claimed, barely moving his lips.