Corey lowered himself into a chair. He focused on the pleasant, wholesome, rugged face of Delbert Kingsley. Then he focused on Lita’s face. And then on Kingsley again. They didn’t look at him. They were fully intent upon each other. Kingsley had his hands on her bare back below the halter, his hands pressing lightly, moving around familiarly, as though his fingers knew every inch of her body.

They talked in low tones. Corey couldn’t make out what they were saying; it was just above a whisper. It went on like that for some moments; then Lita started toward the door. As she moved past Corey, she didn’t look at him. It’s like she don’t even know I’m here, he thought as he watched her walking from the room. “Where’s she goin’?” from the man who weighed two-thirty.

“The car,” Kingsley said. “She’s gonna move it.”

“What for?”

“It’s too close to the house,” Kingsley said.

“Where’s she gonna park it?”

“Next block.” Kingsley was still standing in the far corner of the room. He hadn’t looked at Corey Bradford yet. Now he squinted at the man who weighed two-thirty. “What’s all the questions for? What bothers you, Ernie?”

“The car,” Ernie said. He was five-seven and the excess poundage gave him the shape of a barrel. He was dripping sweat in the sticky heat of the room. Some of the sweat was from worry. He muttered, “The car oughta stay where it is. If something happens. I mean—I mean, if we gotta get to the car in a hurry—”

“You’ll run,” Kingsley smiled at him. “You got legs and you’ll run.”

“You kidding me?”

“It’ll do you good to run,” Kingsley said. “You’ll lose some of that weight.”

The colored man chuckled. Ernie looked at him with displeasure and the colored man chuckled louder. Ernie looked him up and down and then faced away saying, “Some people I’ll clown with. Other people, no. Not under any conditions.”

The chuckling stopped. The colored man said, “You signifyin’?”

“I’m telling it straight,” Ernie said. “I’m allergic to chocolate.”

The colored man stiffened. His eyes glittered. He started to say something, but Kingsley interrupted, “Forget it, Gene.”

Gene was breathing hard. His mouth quivered.

Kingsley went to him and patted him on the shoulder, saying softly, “Come on, get hold of yourself.”

“I’m all right,” Gene mumbled. He looked away from Ernie. And then he was concentrating on Corey again, and he pointed the gun at Corey’s head.

***

So now it’s all professional again, Corey thought. But for a few seconds, it was just some sand lot monkeyshines, and maybe you coulda tried something.