Chapter 12
Tickets to Paradise
Copyright @ calibeachgirl
All rights reserved, 2011
With great thanks to Pepper Pace, Elliot and Reverend Joe for reading the rough drafts and support... and to Martine, the love of my life.
*
Late Thursday, March 3rd, 1932
The El Segundo house
Dinner was over. Roast pork with apples sauce, mashed potatoes with butter and peas... how she always knew what he liked, John didn't know but was grateful just the same.
Of course, after Bethany Rose talked with her sister, he only got his favorites every third day. The way Eliza cooked... every third day was enough.
James cleared the table with Eliza while Bethany Rose took the children upstairs to bed. He turned to his friend and asked, "You've arranged for the citrus to be shipped?"
"Yes, they'll get there about two months after we do so we've plenty of time to find the right piece of property. Two hundred, just like you wanted." He patted his stomach approvingly and then his pocket, looking for his pack.
"Oh, no, you don't, John. Go outside if you want to smoke. How many times do I have to tell you?"
"Liza, it's raining."
"I don't care, John. You should quit smoking, anyway. It's like kissing an ashtray, sometimes... and, John, I love you. I don't like the way you've been coughing."
"Damn," he laughed, "acting like a wife already. Man can't even get..."
"Out," Eliza said, throwing a dish towel at him. "Get out of here with those smelly things."
John went outside for his smoke, laughing. After lighting his cigarette, he leaned against the porch railing and inhaled, pulling the nicotine deep into his lungs.
The big dog at the next house over started barking.
"Shut up, you stupid dog! Damn, get some peace and quiet."
The rain had faded into just a light drizzle and combined with the darkness, gave the yard a strange quality to it.
As much as he loved Eliza, sometimes a man had to be alone, away from soon-to-be wife and her three children. A little peace and quiet, sometimes, just a little peace and quiet...
'After all,' he thought, 'smoking outside is worth it to have her sweet brown...'
The four men approached John from the misty shadows near the street, their presence given away by the barking of the neighbor's mastiff. He recognized two of them from long ago.
'...apple betty...' "Ah, shit." John looked at them. "Brought some friends, have you, Will? Where's your sheets? Forgot the cross, huh?"
The others looked around, nervously. They expected him to be afraid and he wasn't.
"There's some stuff we don't like about you and those nigger women you got in the house. That Ewart bastard, he seems mighty interested in that bookkeeper of his.
"Where is he, anyway?"
John dropped his cigarette and stepped away from the dark porch, silently cursing his decision to leave Jim's .45 in the house. He could probably take two of them... but, four?
"Been fuckin' them both, haven't you? Like that dark meat, do you?
"Well, I don't really care about that, fuck'em all you want; they got to be good for something. But, you've been seen drivin' them around town like they were proper white women and now some..."
"Shut your goddamn mouth and go home, Will, before I kick your fucking fat ass to the beach." Fists clenched, John moved closer, prepared to take a beating, still wishing he had the gun.
It started to rain, again, this time harder and thunder could be heard from the mountains.
"So, it's true, is it? You fuckin' traitor. You've been sleepin' with that nigger slut and now you're sweet on her, too?
"We don't like..."
John hit Will in the face, breaking his nose and knocking the larger man down onto the wet grass. The other three were unsure what to do, waiting for some direction like bleating sheep. Will was kneeling on the lawn, trying to stop the blood flowing onto the grass; the red liquid moving down his chin. John backed away to put some distance between them, holding his hand. He was sure he had broken a bone or two.
Pulling out a switchblade, Will lunged and cut John's arm before he was knocked down again.
The shotgun blast echoed through the night, startling the dog to howl again. Anyone hearing it would have thought it was another distant rumble of thunder rolling across the sky.
All five looked up to see Eliza holding the gun. "Looks like this nigger slut got the drop on your sorry white asses. You damn crackers got about ten seconds to get off our property before I blow your goddamn heads off."
"We'll get you for this, John; we'll get you and your whore for this. Just you wait and see."
The four backed away, warily looking around.
"Time's up, assholes." Eliza brought the gun to bear on them, causing them to turn and run down to the street.
John heard a loud clunk-clunk as she dropped it and fell back against the house, crying. He ran to her and holding her closely, kissed away her tears.
"Don't cry, please don't cry. We'll be out of here soon enough and all this will be behind us." He knew, though, that threats most times came true and this was probably no exception.
"John, I was so afraid they were going to..." She shuddered in his arms.
"Shh, baby," he said softly, all the while peering into the darkness and wondering if they were coming back, praying they wouldn't. Leaving Los Angeles couldn't come soon enough. 'City of the Angels'... who was kidding who?
John realized that his desired 'peace and quiet' was inside with Eliza and her children. Picking up Jim's shotgun and then going into the house, he threw his pack of cigarettes into the trash.
She took him into the kitchen where Bethany Rose looked carefully at the cut on his arm. "This is going to hurt a little, but you'll be all right after I'm done." She took soap and water and washed his arm while some water was boiling on the stove. While several handkerchiefs were soaking in the hot water, she put her thread and needle into a cup of Mexican tequila and began carefully sewing up the cut. "If you don't fool with it, it'll heal nicely without too much of a scar. Now, hold still while I bandage this up."
Putting his arm around Eliza, they went upstairs to bed. Their lovemaking was a gentle affair, more loving reassurance than physical sex.