24.

Jackie lay on the bed with his shirt off, reading the Boston American.

“A black panther,” Burke said. “A beautiful black stallion.”

“Shut up,” Robinson said.

He continued to read the tabloid.

“That happen often?” Burke said.

He was still sipping Vat 69.

“You run into it,” Jackie said. “Or you hear about it.”

“Happen to you before?”

“Yes.”

Jackie turned a page.

“The black stallion thing?” Burke said.

“All of us are supposed to be hung,” Jackie said. “Some white women like that idea.”

Burke was silent for a moment. Then he took another small swallow of scotch.

“Got a lot of you killed,” Burke said.

Robinson put the paper down on his chest and looked at Burke.

“For looking at a white woman,” Robinson said. “For smiling. For brushing her arm in a doorway. It’s the big crime. Every Negro man knows it.”

“How about the white women?” Burke said.

“The ones want to crawl in bed with us? They got to know.”

“Maybe that’s part of the fun,” Burke said.

“ ’Course it is,” Robinson said. “They like the thrill, you know? They’re not just being bad, they’re being bad with a nigger.”

“And they can get the nigger killed,” Burke said. “How’s that for being bad.”

Robinson nodded.

“It’s a kind of a power, too,” he said. “White woman with a black man... all she got to do is say he raped her.”

“She could do that to a white man,” Burke said.

Robinson smiled and didn’t answer. Burke began to nod his head slowly.

“Not the same thing,” Burke said.

“Who’s the last white man,” Robinson said, “you can think of got lynched for rape?”

“Pretty sick,” Burke said.

“It is.”

“Easy way to set you up, too,” Burke said.

“I know. Why I was playing cards with two reputable white men when she came to my room.”

“I don’t think this was a setup,” Burke said. “I think Millicent was genuine.”

“She good-looking?” Robinson said.

“Yes.”

“Too bad. It’s easier when they’re not.”

Burke smiled a little.

“I offered on your behalf,” Burke said. “But she wasn’t interested.”

“The real thing or no thing,” Robinson said and picked up his newspaper again.

Burke was quiet sipping his scotch, looking out the window at Kenmore Square.

“Blackwell won another one,” Robinson said. “Three-hitter against the Pirates.”

“I could throw a three-hitter against the Pirates,” Burke said.

“No you couldn’t,” Robinson said.

They were quiet again. Robinson with the evening tabloid, Burke with his drink.

“It’s not just white girls and Negroes,” Burke said after a time.

“No?”

“No. There are girls who go for men because they are...”

“Forbidden?”

“Something like that. They want the sex to be, dirty or something like that.”

“Like it would be with a big bad black Negro?”

“Or a bad sick white guy.”

“Puts us in nice company,” Robinson said.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

Jackie smiled and lowered the paper enough so he could look at Burke over it.

“You got some personal experience?”

Burke was looking out the window, holding the water glass of scotch with both hands.

“Yeah,” he said. “I think so.”

Robinson kept looking at him with the paper lowered again to his chest, but Burke had nothing else to say and after a while Robinson returned to the newspaper.

Box Score 5
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