Little Black Girl Lost by Keith Lee Johnson Page B

him.
    Myron took her politeness as an invitation to more conversation and followed her.
    â€œWhere you think you going, Myron?” Simmons asked. “You’re on the clock.”
    Myron stopped in his tracks and went back to the desk, frowning at Simmons. “You can get mad all you want,” Simmons said. “You’re gettin’ paid by the hour.”
    â€œThat’s bullshit,” Myron said. “You just want to get the first crack of that sculptured ass.”
    â€œThat’s right,” Simmons said and followed her. “I’ma have her climbin’ the walls.”
    When Simmons got to Trudy’s Café, he stood at the door and admired Johnnie’s beauty from a distance, wondering what his chances were. He and many of his friends shared the notion that colored women who dated white men wouldn’t date colored men. What the hell? What have I got to lose? All she can do is say no. He walked over to the table and asked courteously, “Is this chair taken?”
    He didn’t wait for an answer. He was sliding the chair back before he finished the question. Johnnie recognized him immediately. He was the man she had seen yesterday going into the house in Ashland Estates. Simmons was an average looking man, nothing at all like Lucas Matthews, Johnnie thought.
    â€œHi. I’m Robert Simmons, owner of this establishment. And you are?”
    â€œJohnnie Wise,” she said, extending her hand.
    â€œAnyone tell you you’re absolutely gorgeous?”
    â€œAll the time,” she said without sounding arrogant.
    Simmons was staring at her breasts. He could see her nipples through the sundress, and yearned to see more. Johnnie let him stare for a while; she was getting used to it. She noticed how when staring at her breasts, the expression on a man’s face seemed to reveal his true nature.
    â€œSomething I can do for you, Mr. Simmons?” she asked, awakening him out of his deep gaze.
    â€œYou can call me Robert,” he said, trying hard to keep looking her in the eye. “I just thought you might want some company now that your boyfriend is gone.”
    â€œYou’re rude, Mr. Simmons.” Johnnie frowned.
    â€œWhat do you mean, I’m rude?”
    â€œFor one, you invite yourself to my table and sit down without my sayin’ it’s okay.”
    The waitress came back with Johnnie’s fruit salad and placed it on the table. “Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asked.
    â€œNo, thank you,” Johnnie said.
    â€œHow ’bout you, Robert?”
    â€œNo thank you, Trudy.”
    â€œEnjoy your salad,” Trudy said, placing the bill on the table.
    â€œNow, as I was sayin’,” Johnnie began again. “You invite yourself to my table, you stare at my breasts like you’ve never seen breasts before, then you ask me personal questions as if we’re old friends or somethin’.”
    â€œWell, first, Ms. Wise, I invited myself because you were sitting here all by your lonesome and—”
    Johnnie looked up from her fruit salad and said, “So, you think anybody who sits alone wants company?”
    â€œWell no, but—”
    â€œSo, then it never occurred to you that I just might want to be alone, huh?”
    Feeling like he was being cross-examined, he said, “If you didn’t want me to sit down, why didn’t you just say so?”
    â€œYou sat down before I even had the chance to answer your question, Mr. Simmons.”
    â€œDo you want me to leave?”
    â€œIf I do, will you?”
    â€œI might.”
    â€œThen there’s no point in answering your question, is there?”
    â€œNot really.”
    Johnnie took a deep breath and let it out like she was exasperated, then resumed eating her fruit salad.
    â€œWhat do you want, Mr. Simmons?”
    â€œFor starters, I want you to call me Robert.”
    â€œThe way Trudy does?”
    â€œYes.