Dancing Aztecs by Donald E. Westlake Read Free Book Online

by the tinkling of a spoon rapped against the side of a teacup. A tall and muscularly built black man had got to his feet at the center of the table, and was calling for quiet.
    This was Oscar Russell Green, leader of this group of sixteen and Bobbi’s latest alleged lover. With his bushy mustache, modest Afro, and easygoing smile he looked much younger than his forty-three years, and he’d been active in politics and Civil Rights activities for nearly a quarter of a century. He was also no stranger to public speaking, and now he stood in silence, smiling at his audience, until he was sure he had the attention of everyone in the room. Then, with a nod and a grin, he suddenly said, “Well, we did it.” And in an abrupt loud voice, fist punching the air, “We made the system function!”
    And the audience burst into cheers of delight, yelling and clapping their hands and grinning huge grins at one another. Even Bobbi gave off her feud with Chuck, and smiled happily around the table.
    Oscar Russell Green nodded and smiled, and when the reaction had tapered off he said, quietly, “They didn’t take us seriously, gang. Crazies and weirdos, that’s what they thought we were. And they thought we couldn’t work together for the common good. White and black, men and women, they thought we’d spend all our time fighting one another and no time at all fighting City Hall. Well, they were wrong!”
    More cheering, more applause.
    But now Oscar Russell Green became serious. “I think we can be very proud of ourselves,” he said. “And I think we all learned and grew and became richer, better human beings as a result of this experience. We learned that we can work together. We can make the system work—for us .”
    Applause again. Her hands beating together, Bobbi became aware of Chuck’s indulgent smile, and she immediately stopped clapping. Then, outraged that he should keep her from joining a general applause by his hypocrisy, she started fiercely clapping again just as everybody else stopped. She yanked her hands down under the table, and began muttering into her throat.
    â€œWell,” Oscar Russell Green was saying, “We’ve had a delicious lunch here today, and I might say we well deserved it. And at the end we got our fortune cookies, and I looked at mine, and it seemed somehow very appropriate, and I’d like to read it to you all.” He opened the little twist of paper and read, “He who hesitates is second.”
    The audience laughed at that, nodding and making joking remarks at one another.
    (In fact, Oscar Russell Green was not telling the truth. The fortune in his fortune cookie actually read, “He who keeps mouth open sure to catch flies.” Last night, however, in preparing today’s speech, Green had decided what his fortune cookie fortune would read, and if the real-world fortune cookie of today failed to deliver as specified that was certainly not his fault. And what message was there anyway in, “He who keeps mouth open sure to catch flies”?)
    Green went on, “Well, I guess we’ve all learned that much through this experience, haven’t we? Not to hesitate, not to allow ourselves to be second. Not ever .”
    Green put the twist of paper down. “Like the Lone Ranger, our work is finished here now, and we can all ride off into the sunset. But we’re leaving behind us a tangible reminder of what we have done. Last Monday construction began, and within a year the Stokely Carmichael Memorial Squash Court and Snack Bar will be complete and open and functioning in Morningside Park, bringing the availability of the healthful and upwardly mobile sport of squash to the residents of Harlem of all races.”
    Which produced a standing ovation. This was what these people had in common. Young and old, rich and poor, yin and yang, they came together eight years ago, ignited by the purpose of bringing