Native Son - Richard Wright [23]
“Take it easy, boys,” Doc said, looking up from behind his counter, and then bending over again.
“What you kick me for?” Gus asked.
“’Cause I wanted to,” Bigger said.
Gus looked at Bigger with lowered eyes. G.H. and Jack leaned on their cue sticks and watched silently.
“I’m going to fix you one of these days,” Gus threatened.
“Say that again,” Bigger said.
Doc laughed, straightening and looking at Bigger.
“Lay off the boy, Bigger.”
Gus turned and walked toward the rear tables. Bigger, with an amazing bound, grabbed him in the back of his collar.
“I asked you to say that again!”
“Quit, Bigger!” Gus spluttered, choking, sinking to his knees.
“Don’t tell me to quit!”
The muscles of his body gave a tightening lunge and he saw his fist come down on the side of Gus’s head; he had struck him really before he was conscious of doing so.
“Don’t hurt ’im,” Jack said.
“I’ll kill ’im,” Bigger said through shut teeth, tightening his hold on Gus’s collar, choking him harder.
“T-turn m-m-m-me l-l-loose,” Gus gurgled, struggling.
“Make me!” Bigger said, drawing his fingers tighter.
Gus was very still, resting on his knees. Then, like a taut bow finding release, he sprang to his feet, shaking loose from Bigger and turning to get away. Bigger staggered back against the wall, breath less for a moment. Bigger’s hand moved so swiftly that nobody saw it; a gleaming blade flashed. He made a long step, as graceful as an animal leaping, threw out his left foot and tripped Gus to the floor. Gus turned over to rise, but Bigger was on top of him, with the knife open and ready.
“Get up! Get up and I’ll slice your tonsils!”
Gus lay still.
“That’s all right, Bigger,” Gus said in surrender. “Lemme up.”
“You trying to make a fool out of me, ain’t you?”
“Naw,” Gus said, his lips scarcely moving.
“You Goddamn right you ain’t,” Bigger said.
His face softened a bit and the hard glint in his bloodshot eyes died. But he still knelt with the open knife. Then he stood.
“Get up!” he said.
“Please, Bigger!”
“You want me to slice you?”
He stooped again and placed the knife at Gus’s throat. Gus did not move and his large black eyes looked pleadingly. Bigger was not satisfied; he felt his muscles tightening again.
“Get up! I ain’t going to ask you no more!”
Slowly, Gus stood. Bigger held the open blade an inch from Gus’s lips.
“Lick it,” Bigger said, his body tingling with elation.
Gus’s eyes filled with tears.
“Lick it, I said! You think I’m playing?”
Gus looked round the room without moving his head, just rolling his eyes in a mute appeal for help. But no one moved. Bigger’s left fist was slowly lifting to strike. Gus’s lips moved toward the knife; he stuck out his tongue and touched the blade. Gus’s lips quivered and tears streamed down his cheeks.
“Hahahaha!” Doc laughed.
“Aw, leave ’im alone,” Jack called.
Bigger watched Gus with lips twisted in a crooked smile.
“Say, Bigger, ain’t you scared ’im enough?” Doc asked.
Bigger did not answer. His eyes gleamed hard again, pregnant with another idea.
“Put your hands up, way up!” he said.
Gus swallowed and stretched his hands high along the wall.
“Leave ’im alone, Bigger,” G.H. called weakly.
“I’m doing this,” Bigger said.
He put the tip of the blade into Gus’s shirt and then made an arc with his arm, as though cutting a circle.
“How would you like me to cut your belly button out?”
Gus did not answer. Sweat trickled down his temples. His lips hung wide, loose.
“Shut them liver lips of yours!”
Gus did not move a muscle. Bigger pushed the knife harder into Gus’s stomach.
“Bigger!” Gus said in a tense whisper.
“Shut