We went through the doors, crossed the lobby and got in the elevator. The elevator operator was a young, well-groomed Negro, who tipped his hat and said, "Evenin', Miss Cross."
She smiled at him and said, "Hello, Rodney."
We rode to her floor in silence.
Once we got to her apartment she unlocked the door and motioned for me to go in first. She flipped on the light.
It was a nice, well furnished apartment. She was living quite a good life for someone that was a standby singer in a mediocre nightclub.
What else was going on here?
Christopher about 4 years ago
I made this comment in one of the other Jake stories, but I hope no one takes offense to the word "Negro." In 1949 that was the accepted term for black people. Just trying to be as authentic as possible.
Frenchie about 4 years ago
It is what I thought. :-)
Drew Martyn about 4 years ago
No problem for me, a story (or any art form, for that matter) shouldn't try to rewrite history :)