A Rage in Harlem by Chester Himes Page B

beginning at her feet. “Bring us some steaks, girlie, and be sure they’re not as tough as you are, and take the lip away.”
    “Two steak dinners,” she said angrily, switching away.
    “Lean this way,” Gus said to Jackson, and drew a sheaf of stock certificates decorated with gold seals and Latin scripts from hisinside coat pocket. He spread them out beneath the edge of the table for Jackson to get a better view.
    “You see these, Jackson? They’re shares in a Mexican gold mine. They’re going to make me rich.”
    Jackson stretched his eyes as wide as possible. “A gold mine, you say?”
    “A real eighteen-carat gold mine, Jackson. And the richest mine in this half of the world. A colored man discovered it, and a colored man has formed a corporation to operate it, and they’re selling stock just to us colored people like you and me. It’s a closed corporation. You can’t beat that.”
    The waitress brought the steak dinners, but Jackson couldn’t eat very much. He had eaten not long before, but Gus thought it was due to excitement.
    “Don’t get so excited you can’t eat, Jackson. You can’t enjoy your money if you’re dead.”
    “I know that’s true, but I was just thinking. I sure would like to invest my money in some of those shares, Mr. Parsons.”
    “Just call me Gus, Jackson,” Gus said. “You don’t have to shine up to me. I can’t sell you any shares. You have to see Mr. Morgan, the financier who’s organizing the corporation. He’s the man who sells the stock. All I can do is recommend you. If they don’t think you’re worthy to own stock in the corporation, he won’t sell you any. You can bet on that. He only wants respectable people to own shares in his corporation.”
    “Will you recommend me, Gus? If you have any doubts about me, I can get a letter from my minister.”
    “That won’t be necessary, Jackson. I can tell that you are an honest upright citizen. I pride myself on being a good judge of character. A man in my business – the real-estate business – has got to be a good judge of character or he won’t be in business long. How much do you want to invest, Jackson?”
    “All of it,” Jackson said. “The whole ten thousand.”
    “In that case I’ll take you to see Mr. Morgan right now. They’ll be working all night tonight, clearing up business here so tomorrow they can go on to Philadelphia and let a few good citizens there buy shares too. They want to give worthy colored people from all over the country a chance to share in the profits that will come from this mine.”
    “I can understand that,” Jackson said.
    When they left the Palm Café the same Sister of Mercy who hadaccosted them before was shuffling past, and turned to give them a saintly smile.
    “Give to the Lawd. Give to the poor. Pave your way to heaven with charitable coins. Think of the unfortunate.”
    Gus fished out another half-dollar. “I got it, Jackson.”
    “Sister Gabriel blesses you, brother. ‘And the Lord of the spirits of the prophets sent his angel to show unto his servants the things which must shortly come to pass. And behold, we come quickly. Blessed is he that keepeth the word of the prophecy.’ ”
    Gus turned away impatiently.
    Goldy winked at Jackson and formed words with his lips. “You dig me, Bruzz?”
    “Amen,” Jackson said.
    “I’m suspicious about those nuns,” Gus said as he led Jackson toward his car. “Has it ever occurred to you that they might be working a racket?”
    “How can you think that about Sisters of Mercy?” Jackson protested quickly. He didn’t want Gus to start suspecting Goldy before the trap was sprung. “They’re the most holy people in Harlem.”
    Gus laughed apologetically. “In my business – the real-estate business – so many people try crooked dealings a man gets to be suspicious. Then I’m naturally a skeptic to begin with. I don’t believe in anything until I know it’s for sure. That’s the way I felt about this gold