Invisible man - Ralph Ellison [197]
He turned, looking straight into my face now, challenging me. He was very game and I wanted to laugh.
"Oh, take it easy," I growled. "A man can ask a question, can't he?"
"You got your answer," he said, turning completely around on the stool. "So now I guess you ready to pull your knife."
"Knife?" I said, wanting to laugh. "Who said anything about a knife?"
"That's what you thinking about. Somebody say something you don't like and you kinda fellows pull your switch blades. So all right, go ahead and pull it. I'm as ready to die as I'm gon' ever be. Let's see you, go ahead!"
He reached for the sugar shaker now, and I stood there feeling suddenly that the old man before me was not Brother Maceo at all, but someone else disguised to confuse me. The glasses were working too well. He's a game old brother, I thought, but this'll never do.
I pointed toward his plate. "I asked you about the ribs," I said, "not your ribs. Who said anything about a knife?"
"Never mind that, just go on and pull it," he said.
"Let's see you. Or is you waiting for me to turn my back. All right, here it is, here's my back," he said, turning swiftly on the stool and around again, his arm set to throw the shaker.
Customers were turning to look, were moving clear.
"What's the matter, Maceo?" someone said.
"Nothing I caint handle; this confidencing sonofabitch come in here bluffing --"
"You take it easy, old man," I said. "Don't let your mouth get your head in trouble," thinking, Why am I talking like this?
"You don't have to worry about that, sonofabitch, pull your switch blade!"
"Give it to him, Maceo, coolcrack the motherfouler!"
I marked the position of the voice by ear now, turning so that I could see Maceo, the agitator, and the customers blocking the door. Even the juke box had stopped and I could feel the danger mounting so swiftly that I moved without thinking, bounding over quickly and sweeping up a beer bottle, my body trembling.
"All right," I said, "if that's the way you want it, all right! The next one who talks out of turn gets this!"
Maceo moved and I feinted with the bottle, seeing him dodge, his arm set to throw and held only because I was crowding him; a dark old man in overalls and a gray long-billed cloth cap, who looked dreamlike through the green glasses.
"Throw it," I said. "Go on," overcome with the madness of the thing. Here I'd set out to test a disguise on a friend and now I was ready to beat him to his knees -- not because I wanted to but because of place and circumstance. Okay, okay, it was absurd and yet real and dangerous and if he moved, I'd let him have it as brutally as possible. To protect myself I'd have to, or the drunks would gang me. Maceo was set, looking at me coldly, and suddenly I heard a voice boom out, "Ain't going to be no fighting in my joint!" It was Barrelhouse. "Put them things down y'all, they cost money."
"Hell, Barrelhouse, let 'em fight!"
"They can fight in the streets, not in here -- Hey, y'all," he called "look over here . . ."
I saw him now, leaning forward with a pistol in his huge fist, resting it steady upon the bar.
"Now put 'em down y'all," he said mournfully. "I done ask you to put my property down."
Brother Maceo looked from me to Barrelhouse.
"Put it down, old man," I said, thinking, Why am I acting from pride when this is not really me?
"You put yourn down," he said.
"Both of y'all put 'em down; and you, Rinehart," Barrelhouse said, gesturing at me with his pistol, "you get out of my joint and stay out. We don't need your money in here."
I started to protest, but he held up his palm.
"Now you all right with me, Rinehart, don't get me wrong. But I just can't stand trouble," Barrelhouse said.
Brother Maceo had replaced the shaker now and I put my bottle down and backed