Snow Blind - Lori G. Armstrong [22]
“Why? Think he’d do some Indian voodoo shit to you? Make you wear feathers in your hair? Do the Sun Dance and pierce your man titties? Force you to call him chief and smoke the peace pipe?”
“Fuck you. I ain’t afraid of no fuckin’ red-skinned hoop. Weirdo never looked me in the eye. Just mumbled and shuffled his moccasins if I asked him something. Always stunk like booze and that stupid incense shit he burned in his room, too. I’m just fuckin’
glad he’s gone to the happy hunting grounds.”
They both laughed. “Another one bites the dust.”
A slap of hands in a high five. “Maybe we’ll get someone in there now who isn’t a fat fuckin’ welfare case and they’ll tip us for all the shit we do.”
I made myself visible in the doorway. I hoped I looked as pissed off as I felt. “Good acoustics in the hallway. Which means I just heard every disrespectful, stupid, racist piece of garbage that fell out of your big, stupid mouths.”
Surprise, followed by defiant looks.
“What in the hell is the matter with you two? It’s not enough a man is dead? You have to rip him and his heritage to shreds? In public? Why? To make yourselves look like big men rather than whiny-assed babies?”
“Who the fuck are you?”
73
“Someone who will go out of her way to make
sure your boss knows every inappropriate word you’ve spewed and how unprofessional you’ve acted.”
Another round of laughter. “Right. Like anyone cares what we said about another dead fuckin’ Indian.”
“You think you’re above him? You’re a janitor, smart-ass. That man paid your goddamn salary and he deserved your respect, not your scorn.”
“Ooh, Damon, looky here. We got a prairie nigger lover who’s gonna rat us out. We’re shakin’ in our boots. You ain’t got no power over us, so get the fuck out of here.”
“She doesn’t have power over you, but I do.”
I turned and their gazes snapped to Luella.
Absolute silence.
The red-haired kid actually looked mortified. The other young man, a runt with long, greasy hair that didn’t mask the zits covering his face, still appeared defiant.
“You ain’t got no power over us”—he sneered—
“and you know you can’t fire us ’cause you’d be fucked. No one wants this shitty job anyway.”
Another awkward moment.
“Besides, everyone knows you hoops stick together, no matter what, so ain’t no one gonna believe what you say.”
“Break is over. Get out of my sight or I’ll scalp you, eh?”
Hiking boots hit the linoleum floor and Mr. Big 74
Mouth and his companion strode out.
Luella didn’t look at me. “I’m sorry you had to hear that. Not exactly the family image we want to project to potential customers, is it?”
“Unfortunately, it’s typical of just about everyone’s attitudes around these parts, not just here.” It’d probably rile me worse, but I had to ask. “Do you get that attitude a lot? Since you’re Indian?”
“The mind-set that the only reason an Indian woman has attained a job at this level is because of racial profiling?”
“That, too. But I’m wondering about the attitudes of residents you’re caring for?”
“Shee. Some residents doan want me in dere apartments because dey tink I’m gonna steal from dem, hey. Dey tink ’cause I’m Sioux dat I doan got no education and de only ting I know ’bout business is how to apply for subsidies, hey.” Her sorrowful brown eyes finally met mine. “Yes. I hear that quite frequently. It never gets any easier hearing that garbage.”
“People suck. And it really sucks you get that from co-workers.”
“They don’t care. Kids these days don’t respect anybody. But thanks for calling them on their comments. Most folks would’ve walked away.”
“I’m a rebel with a conscience, not an agenda.”
Well, except for the one involving Vernon Sloane. Luella cocked her head. “I see that, and I’ll admit I’m confused by it because you don’t look Indian.”
75
“I’m not. My half brother from White Plain was. I watched him struggle with stereotypes his whole life and I hated it.” I slumped against the wall. “He’s dead and I still hate it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” I signed and buttoned up my coat.
“Sorry if you’ve