The Sporting House Killing by G. Powell (best non fiction books to read .TXT) 📕

“Oh no, ma’am, we’re in college,” Cicero answered.

“Oh?” Miss Jessie asked. “Which one?”

“Baylor.”

“How nice. Are you from Waco, Mr. Cicero?”

“No, ma’am. I’m from Washington County.”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever been there,” she said.

“You don’t sound like you’re from around here.”

“I moved here from St. Tammany.”

He grinned big. “Oh. You know, I thought maybe you were French.”

As Cicero talked on and on, something he was practiced at, Jasper took in the parlor closer. It was all new with clean, bright-colored flowery wallpaper and shiny wood edges. A big statue stood on a black stone slab next to him. It was solid gold, and it was a lady. One hand held up a lamp, which wasn’t lit, and the other one dangled in the air like she’d just turned loose a butterfly. The plain truth about her: She was downright naked. On the wall to each side of the mirror was photographs of other ladies with their backs turned. They was naked too. It didn’t much look like any saloon he’d ever seen, though he hadn’t been in many at all, to be honest.

He wiped sweat from his forehead.

“Take off your coats and get comfortable,” Miss Jessie said.

“Oh, we’s fixing to leave after we has a drink, ma’am,” he said, but Cicero pulled off his coat and tossed it on the sofa.

Big Joe returned with a small crate of beer bottles and put it on the end table. Cicero took one and guzzled it, wiping his mouth on his shirtsleeve. Jasper got one too but didn’t open it.

“Gents, would you care to dance?” Miss Georgia asked.

Jasper was struck dumb, but Cicero wasn’t. “I sure would, ma’am.” He hopped up like a toad off a pad, then hoisted his beer and took a big swig.

“Just put a quarter in the piano,” Miss Jessie said.

“Oh yes, ma’am, I will.”

He dug deep in his pocket, found a coin, and put it in the coin slot. The piano roll commenced to spinning around, and them keys punched themselves like some invisible piano player was on that red stool. Land o’ Goshen, that was really something.

Miss Georgia pulled Cicero to the center of the room, and they whirled around to the music. At first Cicero put his right hand gentle-like on her low back, but before long he pressed her real close.

Jasper glanced at Miss Sadie, who winked back. He quickly looked back at the dancers.

Miss Georgia whispered something in Cicero’s ear. As they turned, Cicero got his beer from the table. He drunk a gulp and danced and laughed until the music stopped.

“Jasper, put a quarter in,” he said, not letting loose of Miss Georgia.

He did. Two songs and another beer later, Cicero and Miss Georgia danced toward the hallway, and she grabbed his hand and led him along. He took the box of beer, and they went out the parlor and up them stairs.

They was gone sudden-like, and Jasper found hisself all alone with them other two ladies. The music stopped, and they looked at him like he was supposed to do something. He sure hoped they wasn’t thinking he was going upstairs with Miss Sadie to get acquainted.

“Would you care to dance with Miss Sadie?”

He sat there, gripping his knees. There just wasn’t no words.

“Jasper, darling, how about a dance?” Miss Sadie repeated.

He jumped to his feet. “I’m feeling a might peaked. I best get on back to the dorm.”

“Oh, please don’t rush off.” She got up real quick and put her hand behind his neck.

He flinched. Without a word, he took off for the front door, but Big Joe stood in the doorway, arms crossed, and he remembered the beer. He reached into his pocket and grabbed all his coins. He shoved them at Joe without counting, dropping both his silver dollars on the floor, and bolted out the front door past a bald man coming in.

In the middle of the street, he paused for a deep breath. The air was easier outside. He looked back. A light was on in the room above the front door. He didn’t know exactly how long it would take Cicero to finish getting acquainted with Miss Georgia, but he figured it couldn’t be long. He’d wait outside.

There was a telephone pole across the street. He plopped down next to it on the curb. It was dark and still and quiet, nobody else out. A horse snuffled to his left. A hack was parked on his side of the street, no driver anywhere. The light upstairs in Miss Jessie’s house went out. He tried to listen, but there wasn’t nothing to hear.

His mind drifted back to that red parlor. For the first time, it occurred to him it’d had a smell—sweet, maybe, like when Momma dressed for a social, except this sweet smell was downright different. He could still smell it. And he could still see some things stuck in his mind. That preacher had talked about places like that. That must’ve been what give Cicero the idea, ’cause that’s when he’d asked Jasper if he had any money.

Well fiddle-dee if he’d think about that no more. Jasper settled back against the pole, took a deep breath, and shuddered. He might be in a big city leaning against a telephone pole beside a fancy gravel street, but he still felt easier under the open night sky than inside that house. At that very minute, the moon was shining over his family’s farm too. Everybody was long since sleeping. In fact, the roosters’d start up pretty soon. He pushed the red and the smell and the ladies out of his mind. Slow-like, his tensificity settled. He let his breath out again. After a spell, he dozed off.

No telling how much later, something woke him up. He shot straight up. It sounded like it was from the house. Was that a lady hollering?

“No, stop!” a lady screamed from the house. “Get out!”

The room upstairs was still dark. That was where the scream come