Chapter 2 Chapter two

As soon as the black policeman drove away, Jackson immediately started running wildly. He knew that the first thing Mr. Clay would do when he woke up was count his money.He didn't suspect that someone would steal his money - there was always someone on duty, it was just a habit.Mr. Clay counted the money before he went to bed and after he woke up, when he opened and closed the safe.If he is not busy, he counts money fifteen to twenty times a day. Jackson knew that when Mr. Clay found out that five hundred dollars was missing, he would immediately suspect himself; but even if he was sure that someone had stolen his money, he would not call the police because Mr. Clay believed in ghosts.He knew very well that if the ghost started taking back the money he had cheated from his relatives, he would be the poorest man in the ghetto.

Jackson knew better: Mr. Clay would go to his residence to find him. He was nervous, but not flustered.If God gave him enough time to find Hank and turn the three hundred dollars into three thousand, he'd be able to put the money back in the safe before Mr. Clay started to suspect him. But first, he had to exchange all the twenty-dollar bills on his body into ten-dollar bills. Hank had no way to replace the twenty-dollar bills, because there were no bills with a denomination of two hundred dollars. Jackson ran along Seventh Avenue to the Persian Cat Bar.Marcus recognized him, and he didn't want Marcus to see him changing money.So he came out the other door and ran down the street to the Red Rooster store.However, there were only sixteen ten-dollar bills in their cash register.Jackson took the money and was about to go out when a customer stopped him and took the rest of the money.

Jackson came out of Seventh Avenue and ran home along 142nd Street.He slipped on the wet, cold sidewalk, not knowing where to go before he found Hank.Imabella met Jordy in the Bronx, at her sister's apartment. ①Bronx, the northernmost district of New York City. Imabella's sister, Maggie, once told Imabella that Jodi knew someone who could exchange money.Imabella brought Jordi to interview Jackson, and when Jackson said he needed to witness it, it was Jordi who contacted Hank. Jackson was sure: Imabella didn't know where to find Hank, but he should know where to find Jody!However, he doesn't know where Imabella is now.

He stopped to cross the street and looked up to see if the kitchen light was on.The lights are dark.He tried hard to recall whether it was he or the police who turned off the lights.There is nothing wrong.If the landlady had gone back, she would have seen what the kitchen had become, a fifteen million dollar hell. Jackson circled the front of the apartment and climbed up the fourth floor.He listened at the door.There was no sound from inside.He opened the door and tiptoed in without hearing anyone moving.He tiptoed into his room and shut the door behind him.Imabella has not returned yet.He wasn't worried about Imabella.She will take care of herself.But time is running out.While he was hesitating whether to wait here or go out to find her, he heard the front door open.

Someone walked into the front hallway, closed the door and locked it.Footsteps approached.A door was opened. "Claude!..." A woman's impatient voice sounded.No reply.Footsteps sounded across the corridor, and the opposite door opened. "Mr. Cainfield," the landlady kept calling. "God made such a devilish woman," Jackson muttered, "What a mistake." The footsteps were getting closer.Jackson, in his coat and hat, quickly crawled under the bed.He had just hidden himself when he heard the door open. "Jackson." Jackson felt she was searching the house.He heard her trying to open Imabella's large suitcase.

"They always lock the boxes! . . . " grumbled the landlady to herself, "he and that woman are living in sin. He considers himself a Christian, and if Christ knew he was in Harlem , there is such a believer who will definitely climb to the cross and find the dead again." Jackson heard her walking toward the kitchen.Immediately got out from under the bed, and stood up. "Good God! . . . " he heard her cry, "someone blew up my new stove." Immediately Jackson rushed out of the room's open door, sprinted down the hallway, and slipped through the front door before she saw him.Instead of going down, he ran upstairs, climbing two steps at a time.He heard the landlady rushing out of the corridor, chasing him, and he ran for the stairs without turning almost.

"Who, son of a bitch! . . . " she cried, "is it you, Jackson, or Claude? . . . blew up my electric stove! . . . " Jackson ran up to the roof in one breath, jumped to the roof of the building next door, walked around a pigeon coop, and found an unlocked door.He hopped down the stairs like a bouncing ball, and ran until he reached the street-facing door, stopping to take a look. The landlady was looking at her from the door of the building she was in.Before she could see him, Jackson pulled back quickly and looked the other way down the sidewalk. He saw Mr. Clay's Cadillac round the corner and pulled over.The driver, Smitty, opened the door, and Mr. Clay got out of the car and entered the house.

Jackson knew they were looking for him.He re-entered the building and exited through the back door. It's a small concrete yard filled with empty cans and garbage.The fence was very high, and Jackson climbed up the garbage piled up against the wall, climbed over the top of the wall, but was ripped off the middle button of his coat.He ran into the back of the yard, facing the buildings on 142nd Street, and eventually toward Seventh Avenue. A taxi was parked on the side of the road.He greets it.Taking a taxi meant he had to break a ten-dollar bill, which would cost him a hundred dollars, but now he had no choice.Just be quick now.

The driver was a black boy.Jackson gave him the address of Imabella's sister in the Bronx.The black boy let the car, reverse the turn on the icy street, he seemed to like to coast, driving like a madman. "I'm in a hurry," Jackson said. "I'm in a hurry too, aren't I?" the black boy said, waving his arms. "However, I'm not in a hurry to go to heaven." "That's what I'm afraid of too." Black boys didn't think about Jackson.The speed made him look as powerful as Joe Louis.His long arms wrapped around the steering wheel, his big foot on the gas pedal, his mind thinking about how to steer this nasty little taxi off the fucking earth.

① Joe Louis (May 13, 1914-April 12, 1981), born in Alabama, USA, formerly known as Joseph Louis Barrow.American professional boxer with a record of 69 wins and 3 losses, including 55 knockouts.Joe Louis, a heavyweight boxing champion, dominated for as long as any heavyweight champion; after his retirement, many sports writers described him as a great contribution to his race. A person who has contributed; he has made greater efforts and contributions than anyone else to lift the blockade of racial discrimination on sports. Under his influence, black people have now broken through the boundaries of race and extended to professional baseball, American football and basketball, He has an advantage in boxing and other sports; he ranks first among the 10 best heavyweight boxers in boxing history in the eyes of Floyd Patterson, the famous boxer who won the heavyweight title twice; he ranks first; He is an out-and-out black hero, and his punches are unrivaled in the world.

Maggie lives in an apartment on Franklin Avenue.Under normal circumstances, it would take 30 minutes to drive there, but the black boy arrived within 18 minutes. Jackson was so nervous that he bit his nails along the way. Maggie's husband isn't off work yet.She looks a lot like Imabella, but is more polite than her sister.When Jackson arrived at her house, she was straightening her hair, which was a tacky brown that looked messed up by her and gave off a burnt smell. "Is Imabella here?" Jackson asked, wiping the sweat from his brow before bending over and rolling up his trouser legs. "No, she's not here. Why didn't you call me first?" "I didn't know you had a phone. When was it installed?" "yesterday." "I didn't see you yesterday." "No, you saw it, didn't you?" Maggie turned to the kitchen, the hair iron still on the fire.Jackson followed her with his coat. "Do you know where she might be?" "I know who might be where?" "Imabella." "Oh, her? . . . If you don't know, how do I know? You've been with her all this time." "So, do you know where you can find Jody?" "Jordy? Who's Jody?" "I don't know his last name. He told you and Imabella that he knew a man for money." "What are you doing in exchange for money?" Jackson was going crazy. "Hell, change money to spend, of course, that's all. Can change a dollar bill to ten dollars, and ten dollars to a hundred dollars." Maggie turned from the fire and looked at Jackson. "Are you drunk? If you're drunk, I think you'll have to get out and come in when you're sober." "I'm not drunk. You sound more drunk than I am. She's in your house, the man she met!  …" "In my house? A man who can change ten dollars into a hundred dollars?..." Maggie shook her head in surprise. "You're either drunk or crazy. If I meet that person, then He's definitely still here now, like a donkey chained to the ground, working every day." "I'm not in the mood for a joke." "You think I'm joking?" "I mean the other guy—Jordy. He knows a guy can change money." Maggie took the straight iron and began to iron her reddish curly hair.Smoke rises from the clip, hissing like a spring clip. "Damn it, you burned my hair!" she growled. "I'm sorry, but it doesn't matter." "You mean my hair doesn't matter?" "No, that's not what I meant. I have to find her." Maggie swung the hot iron like a baseball bat. "Jackson, can you get out of here and leave me alone?" Maggie said excitedly. She's lying. If you don't know by now that she's a lying bitch, you're an idiot." ①Ima is the nickname of Ima Bella. "Don't talk about your sister like that, I don't like to hear it at all." Jackson frowned. "So, which bastard is it that asked you to bother me?" Maggie called out. Jackson put on his hat and stormed off.He was beginning to feel cornered.He had until morning to get the money or go to jail.However, he did not know where else it might be possible to find Imabella. He met Imabella a year ago at the annual ball held in the Savoy Ballroom.She serves white people in urban areas all day long and has no regular boyfriend.He started taking her out to live, but that was very expensive, and eventually she started living with him. They don't have any close friends.She has nowhere to hide.She doesn't like to get too close to others, and she doesn't want anyone to know her too much.Jackson himself knew almost nothing about her.Just know that she is from somewhere in the South. But Jackson bets: She's serious about him.Imabella was just terrified of something unclear, and that was what he was worried about.She may be scared by the police for two or three days.He could call tomorrow, to her white friends, to see if she was working.But then it will be too late.He needed her to contact Hank immediately and exchange money with him, otherwise, both of them would be in trouble. Jackson stopped at a grocery store and called his landlady.Cover your mouth with a handkerchief to disguise your voice. "Is Imabella or Jackson there, ma'am?" "I know who you are, Jackson. You can't fool me," his landlady yelled into the phone. "I don't want to lie to you, ma'am. I just wanted to ask you if Imabella was there." "No, she's not here, Jackson. If she were now, I'd send her to the jail you're going to, and the cops will catch you. Broke my new stove, made a mess of my house, And stole the reserve fund your boss put away for burying the dead. God knows everything.” The old landlady yelled angrily, “You call me and pretend your voice is someone else so I can’t hear it , you think if you do this, next week, I won't ask you for compensation. You have to bring that brown woman to my house and give me a good stove that you broke, as good as I used to be as given to you." "I'm not trying to disguise my voice. I'm just a little trouble, that's all." "Don't lie to me!...Your trouble is much bigger than you know." "I'll pay for your stove," Jackson said. "If you don't pay, I'll send you to hell." "You don't have to worry. The first thing I will do tomorrow is to compensate you for your broken stove." "I'm going to work tomorrow." "After I get off work tomorrow, the first thing I will do is to compensate you." "If you weren't living in prison at that time. What did you steal from Mr. Clay?" "I didn't steal anything from anyone. What I want to say is: If Imabella comes home, please tell her and ask her to contact Hank." "If she comes back here tonight, she or you, don't forget to bring a hundred and fifty-seven dollars and ninety-five cents to pay for my stove. Otherwise, she won't have a chance to contact anyone, because tomorrow morning, she will adjudicated." "You claim to be a Christian," Jackson said angrily. "We're in trouble! . . . " "There is no worse Christian than you! . . . " cried the landlady, "a thief and a liar! . I don't know, let me tell you!..." The other party dropped the microphone with a "bang", and there was a loud noise, which hurt Jackson's ears.He left the grocery store, wiping the sweat off his shiny round face. "And calls herself a Christian," he muttered to himself. "If she had two more horns on her head, she'd be quite the devil." He took off his hat, stood in the corner, and cleared his mind.Now there is only prayer.He hailed a cab and sat in front of the pastor's house on 139th Street. Reverend Gaines is a tall black man with a dignified voice and a strong sense of religion.He believed in a hell of fire and brimstone, with no compassion for sinners who did not convert to God.If they don't want to change their ways, accept God, join the Christian church, and live religiously, they will be tortured in hell.Besides there is no second way. A man who can't be a Christian on Sunday and do things against the law on the other six days is taking God for a fool. When Jackson arrived, he was writing an admonition.But he didn't let it go, this devout believer. "Welcome, Brother Jackson. What wind brought you to the door of God's Shepherd?" "I'm in trouble, priest." Reverend Gaines stroked the speckled lapel of his flannel coat, the diamond ring on his ring finger, gleaming in the light. "Is it a woman?" he asked immediately. "No, sir. My woman is serious. As soon as she gets divorced, we're ready to get married." "Don't wait too long, brother. Adultery is immoral." "I can't do anything unless she finds out where her husband is." "money?" "Yes, sir." "You stole the money, Brother Jackson?" "Not exactly. I just need some money, but it looks like I stole it." "Ah, yes, I see," Reverend Gaines said. "Let's pray, Jackson." "Yes, sir, that's exactly what I want to do." They knelt side by side on the carpeted floor.Reverend Gaines prayed. "God, help this brother through this." "Amen," Jackson read. "Help him get the money he wants through honest means." "Amen." "Helping his woman find her husband so she can divorce and live righteously." "Amen." "Bless all the poor sinners in Harlem who have trouble with women and money." "Amen." At this time, Reverend Gaines' butler knocked on the door and poked his head in. "Supper is ready, Reverend! . . . " she said. "Mrs. Gaines is seated." Reverend Gaines said, "Amen." All Jackson could do was chime in: "Amen." "God helps those who help themselves, Brother Jackson," Reverend Gaines said, and hurried to dinner. Jackson felt a little better.The panic passed, and now he was thinking with his head, not his feet.What matters is that God is on his side, and God has forgiven him. Jackson left the pastor's house, hailed a cab on Seventh Avenue, walked down 125th Street, and turned onto the corner of Eighth Avenue, next to a shoe shine and record store called "Old World." He traded ninety-dollar chips for five dollars a game.He played "Lucky Lady," "Happy Life," "True Love," "The Sun Will Rise," "Gold," "Silver," "Diamonds," "Dollars," and "Whiskey."He also played "Prison", "Death Line", "The Lady Comes Back", "Two Cowardly Women", "A Pile of Stones", "Dark Days" and "Trouble".He took every chance he could get. While he put the numbers behind enlarged pictures of Bach and Beethoven, the chip girl was doing a swing dance at the behest of her customers, and the bootshine boys were tapping out rhythms with their bootcloths.Jackson paused, stepping to the beat, though he didn't know why he did it. Jackson suddenly felt lucky.He gave up looking for Hank, and he stopped worrying about Imabella.He thought to himself: Just spend four hours queuing up to shine shoes. "Dude, you know what, I feel fine," he said to the shoe-shine boy. "Oh, baby, it feels like a harbinger of death." Jackson forgot his religion and went to the craps casino in the corner building on 126th Street.