Chapter 10 chapter Ten

Braddock's Bar is on the corner of 126th Street and Eighth Avenue, with a black-owned mortgage insurance company and the Harlem Weekly newspaper on the left and right. The front of the pub looks imposing, with small English windows in the shape of diamonds.It used to be a decent place, and the white and black people who worked next to it often came to take care of the business, and the customers were all decent people.However, when the brothels, casinos, and drug dens that opened on 125th Street gradually spread to 126th Street, the surrounding air became more and more polluted, and the reputation of the bar was also bad.

Jackson arrived at the bar at seven o'clock in the evening and said to himself: "This bar has changed from candy to shit." It was a snowy night in February, and the cold weather got the drinking started early. Jackson managed to find a seat in front of the long bar. He ordered a small glass of barley wine and looked nervously at the people beside him. The bar was filled with the lowest of Harlem, scowling low-level crooks, thieves, pickpockets, robbers, narcotics pushers, and gruff working men in overalls and leather jackets.Everyone looks like a dangerous person with a bad temper.

Three burly barmen, on the damp floor behind the bar, paced up and down, quietly pouring drinks or taking money. The jukebox in front blared, and a disembodied voice sang, "Rock with me, baby, one-eighth beat. Rock with me, baby, move your body fast." Goldie had told Jackson to show the wad of money in his pocket on purpose as soon as he ordered his first drink, but Jackson didn't have the guts.He felt like everyone was watching him.He ordered a second glass of wine, only to realize that everyone here was actually observing other people, as if the people next to them were either terrorists or police informants.

"Everyone here seems to be looking for something, isn't it?" said a man next to him. Jackson asked back, "Looking for something?" "Look at the whores looking for a little trick to get their way. Look at the bandits at the door looking for money to buy drinks. And those queer clowns waiting for someone who can Get them money." "I think I've met you before," Jackson said. "Is your name Gus Parsons?" The man looked at Jackson suspiciously, intending to leave. "Why do you want to know my name?" the man asked with a smile.

"I just thought I knew you," Jackson said.He fumbled furtively with his fingers at the roll of money in his pocket, trying to muster up the courage to take it out. A sudden fight broke the siege for Jackson. Two menacing looking guys jumped between the tables and chairs, beat each other up and tried to stab each other with switchblades.The customers in the bar turned their heads to watch, but no one moved, not even taking their hands off their glasses.Whores rolled their eyes, looking bored. One guy chopped off another guy's arm, and the guy's skinny jacket got a big, lip-shaped slit, but no flesh, just the old clothes inside—two sweaters, three A shirt and a winter underwear.The stabbed fellow hit back violently, slashing the front of his enemy's canvas jacket.What leaked out of it this time was all expired newspapers with dried ink, and this guy actually used them to keep warm.

The two continued to stab each other like two scruffy dolls performing a violent bullfight.It's just that instead of blood, it's shabby clothes and last week's newspaper that splatter.Customers start laughing. "How do these two fools decide who wins?" commented one. "It's like two rag bags fighting." "They must have lied to the Salvation Army." ①The Salvation Army was founded in London, England in 1865 by William and Catherine.It is an international religious and charitable organization based on the military structure and administrative policy, and Christianity as its belief. It is famous for its street evangelism, charity activities and social services.Its members hope to spread Christianity to the poor, understand the material and spiritual needs of the poor, and help them.Its international headquarters is located in London, England, and there are thousands of branches in 117 countries. The organization includes members of different age groups, about two million people.

"They didn't really try to cut each other, man. They knew each other, they just wanted to scare each other." - A bartender brought a sawed-off baseball bat from outside and slammed it on the head of one of the brawlers.The unlucky man fell to the ground immediately, and the other man bent down immediately, trying to stab him, and the bartender knocked the man on the head as well. Two white police officers were lazily patrolling, and happened to come across a live brawl scene, and immediately took the two brawlers away. Jackson thought: It should be the safest to pay at this time.He took out the counterfeit money, carefully pulled out a ten-dollar bill, and threw it on the bar.

"For two whiskeys," he said. The bar fell into deathly silence for an instant.Every eye went to the roll of money in Jackson's hand, then to Jackson, then to the bartender. The bartender took the money to the light, looked carefully at the light, turned it over and shook it, listened for the sound, then put it in the cash register and threw the change on the bar. "What are you trying to do, want someone to slit your throat?" the bartender said angrily. "Then what should I do, leave without paying?" Jackson deliberately argued. "I just don't want to get in trouble," the bartender said, but it was too late.

Villains from various underground organizations began to approach Jackson from every corner of the bar.The prostitutes walked in the front, showing off their posture exaggeratedly to Jackson. He couldn't tell whether they were asking for or trying to sell their goods. The pickpockets squeezed forward with sharp heads; the robbers waited at the door.Everyone looked at him curiously and intently. "That's my money," yelled a whiskey-drinking, upturned-nosed man, pushing away from the crowd and pounced on Jackson, "fucking... he stole my purse!  … "Someone laughed out loud.

"Don't be afraid of that ugly one, baby," said one of the whores obsequiously. Another said: "This poor ragged rogue, by God, he never had a penny in his big pocket." "I don't want to cause trouble." The bartender warned again, grabbing the sawn-off bat. "I know it's my money." shouted the drunk with an upturned nose. "Tell me, how can I not recognize my own money?" "Is there any difference between your money and other people's money?" the bartender asked. The front door of the bar was slammed open, and a man of medium build and brown skin entered.Wearing a camel hair coat, a brown sea otter hat, a well-made brown and white striped suit under the coat, a pair of brown suede shoes on the feet, and a brown silk tie with a hand-woven yellow horse pattern, She has a diamond ring on her left ring finger and a gold signet ring on her right hand.

He holds the glove in his left hand, and his right hand hangs naturally by his side, his movements are quick and agile. He approached them, stopped, looked at the upturned nose grabbing Jackson's arm, and warned in a threatening tone, "Give me my money back." He noticed two bartenders, slowly approaching the arguing party. Two people, ready to strike at any moment; the whore is slowly backing away.He made an immediate judgment call on the situation - he squeezed his way into the crowd, walked up to Upside Down, grabbed his arm, twisted him around, and kicked him hard in the groin. Startled, Chaotianbi quickly took a step closer to the man, and spat rudely.The man took a step back, and kicked Chao Tianbi's heart again. Chao Tianbi had difficulty breathing for a while, and his face swelled like a balloon.He was bent over, his head almost touching the floor.The man took another step back, kicking the back of his foot bent towards the face of the sky nose, just enough to kick an eye blind, but without hurting the bones, and the timing was also clever - the nose of the sky immediately landed on the chest instead of the face Land first. The man put the toes of his brown suede shoes under his upturned shoulders and gracefully turned him over on his side.Then his right hand slowly reached into the side pocket of the overcoat and took out a small .38 caliber police repeating revolver.Seeing this, the guests dispersed one after another, fleeing out of range in a hurry. "Son of a bitch, let you rob me last night!..." The man said to the upturned nose lying on the floor, already unconscious, "Now I have a chance to blow your guts out." He had a nice voice, a soft tone of voice, an elegant and soothing demeanor, and compared to the other customers in the store, he seemed like a well-bred man. "Sir, don't shoot him here," said a bartender.As soon as Chao Tianbi glanced at the gun, he immediately rolled his eyes and almost passed out.His tongue was stirring in his mouth, he kept swallowing his saliva, trying his best to make a sound. "It wasn't me, boss! . . . " he finally cried, "I swear to the cross, I didn't do it. It never occurred to me to rob you, boss." "Damn it, how could it not be you. I can recognize you when you turn into ashes. Just after twelve o'clock last night, on 129th Street, you robbed me." "I swear I didn't do it, boss. I was in this bar all last night. Joe the bartender can testify that I was here all night. Didn't leave for a second." "Yes," said the bartender, "he was here last night, and I saw him." Upturned Nose started rolling on the floor, from his eyes and moans, it felt like he was half dead, trying to win sympathy. The man put away the pistol and said calmly, "You son of a bitch, maybe I was wrong this time. But, you must have done a robbery, so you deserve it." Chaotianbi reluctantly stood up, deliberately keeping a certain distance from the man with the pistol. "I won't rob you, boss, no, it's not what you think." No one really thought that the line was funny, but, they all laughed. "It's not you, boss, not someone of your status." Upside Down smiled like a clown, "Anyone here can tell you that I've been empty for weeks." It seemed that he suddenly remembered , Just loudly complained that Jackson stole the money in his pocket, he immediately added, "Maybe it was the guy in the bar who robbed you, boss, he got a large roll of money from somewhere." The man looks at Jackson for the first time. "Listen, don't frame me," Jackson said. "This is my winning lottery money. I can prove it." The man turned and walked to the bar, stood beside Jackson, and ordered a drink. "Don't worry, friend, I know it wasn't you," he said in a friendly voice. "It must have been some ragged bastard, and I'll find him sooner or later." "How much money were you robbed?" "Seven hundred dollars," the man said, twiddling his wine glass between his fingers. "If this had happened a week ago, I would have sent that bastard to hell. Of course, I wouldn't let him go now. However, recently I've been lucky enough to have a good thing to do with gold. In eight or nine months, I'll even be able to pay a bastard that much money and tell him to get the hell out of here before I kill him." At the word "gold," Jackson glanced quickly at the mirror by the bar to see the reactions of the other men.Then he ordered another glass of wine, took out the roll of money, and paid the bill with the one on the surface. The man stared at the roll of money in Jackson's hand. "My friend, if I were you, I wouldn't take out the money at this juncture. That's asking for trouble." "I don't come here very often," Jackson said, playing silly. "Today, my woman is not at home." The man gave Jackson a blank look. He hired a few crooks to help him collect information at any time. Today, someone came to the news that there was a decent man in this bar with a large roll of money on him.But Jackson looked so decent that he worried that this was a smokescreen. Can't rush, he decided to take his time. "I guess so," the man responded vaguely. The whores began to lean towards Jackson again.The man waved to the bartender and shouted, "Give these whores something to drink so they can go away." The bartender placed a bottle of gin and a tray of short glasses on a nearby table.The whores with black asses left the bar very unhappy, since they were offered drinks, it was not easy to cause trouble. "You shouldn't talk to women like that." Jackson was a little dissatisfied.The man looked at Jackson strangely. "What do you think they should be called, pals?" "At least they are worthy of Jesus to save." Jackson said with a smile. The man grinned reassuringly.Jackson was his good boy. "You're right, friend. I'm a bit upset today, and I don't usually talk like that." He held out his hand. "My name is Gus Parsons, and I'm in the real estate business." Jackson shook Gus Parsons's hand contentedly, and he was also relieved. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Parsons. They call me Jackson." "What do you do, Jackson?" "I'm in the funeral business." Gus Parsons laughed loudly: "Man, from the roll of money in your hand, your business is doing well. Tell me, how much money have you made?" "I didn't earn the money from my job, I was just a funeral director. I won the lottery." "Yes, you just said that you won the lottery." "I bet twenty dollars on the number four one one and won ten thousand dollars." Gus Parsons whistled softly and suddenly became serious. "Take my advice, Jackson, put the money back in your pocket and go home. Harlem isn't safe for a man with that much money. Better let me stay with you until you see a cop Sending you off." He turned to the bartender and said, "How much should I pay you?" "Before we leave, let me buy you a drink," Jackson said. "If you really want to buy me a drink, we can go somewhere else, Jackson," said Gus, paying for his drink, and the bottle of gin, "somewhere clean and safe. Let's Get away from these rascals and robbers. Listen to me, let's go to Pullham's." "Okay." Jackson nodded.