Chapter 4 Chapter Four

In front of Bloomstein's department store, a giant metal billboard stretches half a block from Teresa's Hotel, displaying eye-catching clothing and interior furniture sales to Harlem residents. A nun with a miserable face was sitting on a folding stool by the exit of a department store, shaking a round black iron box to passers-by. She wore a black gown like a nun's uniform, and a row of gray bangs peeked out from under a stiff white toque.A large golden cross is tied with a black ribbon and hangs from her chest.She had a lovely round black face with smooth skin, and when she smiled, she showed two front teeth inlaid with gold.

No one paid special attention to her.You can see black nuns like her all over Manhattan.They hang around the big department stores, Fifth Avenue, and subway stations in the city, and shuttle back and forth between Forty-second Street and Times Square, begging for alms from others.Only few people know the name of their organization.The vast majority of Harlem residents thought they were nuns, like those curly-haired, bearded black priests on the street. The black nun glanced at Jackson and whispered in a prayerful voice, "My brother, give it to God, give it to the poor." Jackson stopped by the chair and began to study the nylon stockings displayed in the window.A black drunk man staggered over, turned his head and cast a lustful look at the nun.

"Bless me, Sister, bless old Moss," he muttered, trying to keep his tone amused. "The Lord once said: 'You have no idea that you are a wretched, wretched, poor, ignorant and uncultivated person,'" the nun quoted. The drunk blinked, and quickly staggered away. A black little girl with charming curly hair trotted all the way to the nun and said out of breath, "Sister Gabriel, Mama wants to buy two tickets to heaven. Uncle Poone is dying." She put the two A dollar bill slips into the nun's hand. "'Gold from the fire,' said the Lord! . . . " whispered the nun, slipping the money under her robe. "Why does she want two, child?"

"Mum said Uncle Poon needs two." The nun put her black hand into her pocket, took out two white cards, and handed them to the little girl.Printed on the card: "They'll take your Uncle Poone, into the arms of God," she assured. "'I saw the gates of heaven opened, and a white horse.'" "Amen!..." the little girl finished, and ran away with two tickets to heaven. "I'm ashamed of you, Goldie. How can you be so blasphemous," Jackson whispered. "You're selling these useless tickets, and the police are bound to get you."

"There is no law, it is not allowed to do this." Goldie replied in a low voice. "Only one person is printed on the card, and there is no where to go. It may be a ticket to the Savoy Ballroom." "The law prohibits men from dressing up as women and appearing on the street." Jackson said disgustedly. "Let the police uphold the law, fool." A couple approached the store entrance, and Goldie hurriedly began shaking his box. "To God, to the poor," he begged in a prayerful voice.The woman stopped and put three cents in the box.Goldie's holy smile turned sour.

"Bless you, ma'am, God bless you. If God's worth three cents to you, bless you." The woman's dark brown face suddenly turned purple.She dug a dime out of her pocket. "Bless you, lady. God bless you," whispered Goldie dryly. The woman entered the shop, but she could still feel the eye of God upon her, and still hear the angels in heaven whispering, "What a deal! . . . " She was going to buy clothes Yes, but now she was too ashamed to buy anything.It seems that she will not be happy for the rest of the day. "I'm here to see you, Goldie," Jackson said to the nylons in the window.

At this time, two girls in their teens passed by and just heard what Jackson said.They didn't think he was talking to the nuns, and no one else was around.They looked at Jackson, who was facing the window, and started giggling. "A pervert with a fetish for stockings," said a girl. Another girl chimed in: "He still calls them Goldies." Goldie brushed the imaginary dust off his knees, looked at Jackson's face, and stood up slowly, folding the stool, like an elderly woman. "Follow me," whispered Goldie, "and we'll talk." He gripped the stool with one arm, and with the other he shook the coin box, which made a screeching sound.He walked down the muddy alley to Seventh Avenue, whispering blessings to the black man who put the hard market in his box.He looked like a tired, fat but holy black nun, devoutly serving God.

His appearance is very ordinary, no one will give him a second look. Seventh Avenue and 125th Street are the center of Harlem, known as the crossroads of black America.One of the corners is the largest hotel in the area. Diagonally opposite the hotel is a large jewelry store. In the store window, there are always a variety of diamonds and watches.Next door to the jewelry store was a bookstore, and outside there was a big red and yellow notice board that read: BOOKS FOR SIX MILLION BLACK PEOPLE.Around the other corner is a church delegation. The people of Harlem take their religion very seriously.They would have believed it even if Goldie, who was waiting for the nun's uniform, to say that he had been driven to heaven in a burning chariot--but Goldie was basically an atheist.

Goldie turned south on Seventh Avenue, past the entrance to Teresa's Hotel, the Triple's Inn, and the barber's where the guy used a sharp razor and a mixture of petroleum jelly and potassium bisulfate to shave customers' frizzy Hair becomes tidy.He turned east on 121st Street into the alley, crawled over a pile of frozen garbage bags, kicked away a dirty dog ​​bone, and walked into a dimly lit tobacco shop, store There are some cigarettes with traces of marijuana on the doorstep.Three boys in their teens blocked a fifteen-year-old girl in the store and tried to encourage her to take off her clothes.

"Come on, take them off. Baby, take them off." "No one will come, hurry up and take them off." "You little bastards, get away from this little girl." The owner said absently, "Haven't you noticed that she is not confident about her figure, and even feels ashamed." "I'm not ashamed," said the girl. "I have a good figure, I know it." "Of course you do, baby," said the innkeeper, winking lewdly at her.The owner was a filthy-looking tall brown man with a rough pimple on his face and misty red eyes. "God bless you, Soldier," Goldie greeted him, "God bless you too, boys." He gave the three teenagers a mysterious look, and then quoted the says, "'Here are three men killed by fire, smoke, and brimstone that flowed from their own mouths.'"

"Amen, nun! . . . " said the innkeeper, winking at Goldie.The girl started snickering.The boys suddenly became restless, and after a while they quieted down. Jackson witnessed a nun kicking a dog bone, entering a narcotics den, and quoting difficult Bibles to marijuana offenders, but no one found it strange. Goldie waited quietly for Jackson to catch up, then led him through the back door into a dark, dank hallway covered in excrement: the stench, and finally into a locked door.Goldie switched on a dim, insect-infested lamp and slid cautiously into the dank, cold, windowless room.The room contained a scarred wooden table, two unsteady straight-backed chairs, and a couch covered with a dirty gray sheet.Against one wall, a stack of moldy cardboard boxes was stacked.On the other side of the black-gray cement wall, water droplets seeped due to the cold and humid air in the house. After Jackson entered, Goldie locked the door from the inside.He lit a rusty black kerosene stove, which was smoking and stank.Goldie threw the folding stool onto the couch, put his money-box on the table, and sat down with a long sigh.Take off the hat and gray wig. With those disguises off, Goldie and Jackson are literally identical.They were born in the South, where white people called them the "Gold Dust Twins" because of their resemblance to the twin brothers printed on the yellow box of Gold Dust soap powder. "I don't live here," Goldie said. "It's just my office." "I don't see people living here," Jackson said, relaxing in the chair. "People who are in a bad situation live here," Goldie said.Jackson did not intend to continue arguing with him on this point. "Gordie, I want to ask you something." "I have to feed my monkey first." Jackson looked around for the monkey. "It's on my back," Goldie explained. Jackson sat quietly, looking at Goldie with disgust.From a desk drawer, Goldie produced an alcohol lamp, a teaspoon, and a hypodermic syringe.He put crystal cocaine and morphine in small paper packets into a teaspoon, mixed them together, and heated them over a flame.Goldie groaned as he injected the heated mixture into his arm. "It's the same thing St. John's used," Goldie said. "You know what, fool? You churchgoing man." Jackson is glad that none of his acquaintances know that he has a brother like Goldie, a drug-taking hustler posing as a nun.Especially Imabella, just such a reason is enough to make her leave him. "I'll never think of you as a brother again," Jackson said. "Well, fool, I thought so too," said Goldie angrily. "Then why did you come to see me today?" "I want to ask you if you know, there's a black cop in Harlem? He's a tall, thin black guy, and he's a liar." Goldie's ears perked up. "A black cop? Or a liar? . . . You mean you got scammed?" "He was always taking bribes from people." Goldie smiled wickedly. "What's up, fool? You got caught by that black cop?" "Yes, here's the thing. I'm trying to make some money more..." "More money?" Goldie's eyes widened. "Turn ten dollars into a hundred dollars." "How much?" "To tell you the truth, I changed fifteen hundred dollars all together." "You just watched it turn into fifteen thousand dollars?" "After I paid my bail, I was left with $12,250." "You were arrested?" Jackson nodded. "At that time, the trick of 'changing money' was being implemented, and the police suddenly broke in and wanted to arrest us. But everyone else ran away." Goldie burst out laughing and couldn't stop.The morphine and cocaine took effect, and his pupils were as black as plums and his eyeballs as big as grape balls.He laughed crazily, as if some strange disease had suddenly attacked, and laughed until tears flowed down his face. In the end, though, he got himself under control. "My brother," he gasped, "we have the same father and mother, and we look alike. But now that you're like this, you haven't been hit by anything. You've been Blast trick' got tricked!...Man, you got tricked. They took your money and made a blast. Do you get it? Turn ten dollars into a hundred. Your brain is What's wrong? Did you drink any preservatives?" Jackson seemed hurt more emotionally than angry. "But, I've seen him do it before," he insisted. "I've seen it all. One has to trust one's eyes, doesn't he?" It was hard to convince Goldie.In Harlem, it was believed that the Holy Priest was God. "Yeah, you saw how he rolled your money," Goldie said, "but didn't see how he reversed it. When he put the money in the furnace, he put the It’s actually blank waste paper and a black gunpowder ball. And your money was put into a special pocket on his chest.” "Is Imabella out of her mind too? She watched it with me. Neither of us saw him make the switch." Goldie's eyelids dropped. "I ask you, who is Imabella? That old woman of yours?" "She's my woman. She believes it more than I do. She talked to Jody first, and Jody introduced her to Hank. Besides, Jody seems like an honest, hardworking guy." Goldie had no doubts that Jackson had been tricked.Many shrewd people, and even some people of extraordinary status, have also been deceived by the "explosion trick".What happens is that you always see the face value of the money go up first, and then you lose everything.But women are different. They are skeptical about anything scientific.Goldie didn't know what kind of person Jackson's woman was, and Jackson described her only: "She was a sincere girl who believed in the trick completely." Jackson, blushing with anger, said, "You think she's convinced of this because she wants to help them lie to me?" "What was she doing when the stove exploded? Was she trying to help you get your money back?" "She's doing the best she can," Jackson said passionately. "She's not Anne Oakley with two guns, so when the police come into the kitchen, waving pistols and badges, She was trying to escape like everyone else. I was trying to escape as well." ① Annie Oakley (Annie Oakley, 1860~1926), a female gunslinger in the American West in the 19th century. "The police always catch people who are cheated. What did the policeman do to you? You gave him some money and he let you go?" "I don't know, that cop is a liar too. I gave him two hundred dollars." "Where did you get the two hundred dollars? Didn't the crook who changed the money take all your money?" "I took five hundred dollars from Mr. Clay's safe." Goldie whistled softly, and held out his hand to Jackson: "Now you give me the remaining three hundred dollars. Fool, I will help you find those crooks and get your money back." "The money is gone," Jackson admitted with a nod. "I went to play numbers and craps last night, trying to get back five hundred dollars, and lost the rest of the money." Goldie lifted the shirt that covered his lap and began to study his fat black legs wrapped in stockings. "Jesus Christ, you had a night to remember. What are you going to do now?" "I'm going to find the man pretending to be the police. After he took my two hundred dollars, he arrested Imabella to get some more money from her." "You mean, after defrauding you of your money, he wants to get some bribes from your old woman?" "I don't know exactly what happened. I haven't seen her since she ran out of the kitchen with the others. All I knew afterwards was what the landlady told me when I called She said that a federal policeman took Imabella back to the house where I lived, and she was under custody. The policeman also confiscated her box, and then took her somewhere else together with the box. This I haven't heard from her since. I'm worried." Goldie threw his brother a skeptical look. "You said the policeman took her box?" Jackson nodded and said, "She has a big suitcase." Goldie stared at Jackson for a long time, seemingly in a daze. "What's in that box of hers?" Avoiding Goldie's gaze, Jackson murmured, "There's nothing else but clothes and a few things." Goldie continued to stare at his brother, and at last he said: "Listen to me, fool. If all that's in the box is her clothes, then she and that skinny cop thug must be on the same side, she Help him lie to you. How long has that box been in your house?" "She wouldn't do that, and she doesn't need to," Jackson feebly denied. "If she asked for money, I could give her all my money." "How do you know that she's not that villain's lover? Your money may not be what she wants the most, she may just take a little pocket money with her." Jackson's wet, black face looked swollen with anger. "Don't talk about her like that," he said menacingly. "I'm her closest person. We're already planning to get married. She can't see anyone else." Goldie shrugged. "Think about it, fool. She's already run off with the man who took your money. If she doesn't want a man, if she doesn't want money..." "She didn't run away, that guy took her." Jackson protested excitedly, "And, if she wants money, she can earn it herself. She has more money than you or I have ever seen." many." There was a deadly calm about Goldie's fat black face.No muscles on the face twitched, not even a single eyelash moved.He looked like he wasn't breathing. If she had more money than any of them had ever seen, then she was on to something.Goldie knew exactly what was going on. money!She hid the money in her suitcase, otherwise, why would she come back with the tall and thin one to get the suitcase.I will live with a "policeman" in the future, not a small person like his twin brother, it is impossible to have any clothes, it is worth her coming back to get them. Goldie's large, black pupils stared intently at Jackson's worried, sweat-beaded face. "I'll help you find your girl, fool," Goldie whispered affectionately. "You're my twin brother, after all." Goldie took a small bottle from his pocket and handed it to Jackson. "Taste it." Goldie shook the bottle in his hand, but Jackson shook his head. "Taste it," Goldie urged impatiently. "After what you did last night, the devil still hasn't taken your soul, which means you are saved. Take a big bite. Then we Just go out and find that guy, and the girl you want, and you need to muster all your courage." Jackson wiped the spout of the bottle with his dirty handkerchief and took a swig.As soon as he drank it, he began to gasp for breath.It tasted like musty tequila with chicken bile, and his throat burned like paprika. "My God! . . . " he gasped, "what is this thing?" "Nothing but smoke," Goldie said. "A lot of people in the valley drink that." What he drank knocked Jackson's brain unconscious.He had even forgotten what he was doing here.He sat on the couch, trying to concentrate. Goldie sat across the table, staring quietly at Jackson.Goldie's black pupils seemed hypnotic, they looked like black pools of evil light.Jackson tried his best to tear apart the barrier he woven with his gaze, but he couldn't. ①The self-created vocabulary in fantasy novels that have emerged from the Internet in recent years is in the form of formations to store the mana (internal force) of practitioners.After triggering, a defensive cover is formed within the range of the formation to block external attacks.It refers to the use of some kind of supernatural power to form a special space and create another small space.The barriers in Chinese legends mostly use methods such as five elements, Tai Chi, and eight trigrams, and can be assisted by items such as spells and magic tools.Different people use it to different effects.Enchantment: Demarcate a certain area according to the practice. Goldie stood up at last and put on his wig and hat.However, he said nothing.Jackson tried to stand up too, but he felt the room spinning.He suddenly wondered if Goldie had drugged him. "I'm going to kill you," he said viciously, grabbing his brother as hard as he could. But the walls of the small room whirled like a million saws, humming incessantly above his head. When Goldie hugged Jackson and put Jackson on the sofa, Jackson had completely lost consciousness.