Our Man in the Dark by Rashad Harrison Read Free Book Online Page B

remind you that I have been to jail before and it don’t bother me too much. The last time I was in jail I got some good sleep. I got my own cell. Last time I was in jail, I had a chance to get some writing done—and you know how well that turned out.” That received the biggest laugh of all. Martin patted Gant on the shoulder, “Take it easy brother,” he said again softly, as he and Abernathy walked out.
    People pretended to get back to work as their eyes danced between Gant and me. I kept my back turned to the rest of the room, punching away aimlessly on my adding machine.
    â€œFind those receipts,” said Gant. I didn’t have to. Later, he found them. He apologized to me, but only in passing and with no audience to witness it. I should have dealt with it then. There was no need for me to be so docile. This is not a man’s world; it’s a
real
man’s world. The men who avoid confrontation don’t survive.
    Thinking about my cowardice sends me into a rage. I toss papers around his office. I empty out his desk drawers and throw the contents around as well. I kick over his chair, and fall on the floor doing so.
    The view from down here is terrible. Fool. Look at this place. I need to get myself under control. I need to develop a new method. I need to clean up this office.
    It’s too late at night to drive home. I return to my own office and sit at my desk. Cleaning Gant’s office left me exhausted. Did I return it to its normal condition? Will he notice? He probably will. I’m too tired to think about it. I may be fired in the morning. Too tired to care.

I slept for a few hours at the office before driving home. When I awoke, still in a groggy state, I expected to see Martin lurking around the office. I was somewhat disappointed to learn that he wasn’t. It’s for the best. Breaking into Gant’s office would have been hard to explain.
    Now, I only have enough time for a shower and shave before heading right back to work.
    When I arrive, Gant wants to see me in his office.
    He tells me to shut the door behind me.
    I notice a sheet of paper on the floor beside his desk. Did I neglect it? Maybe it’s there because of his carelessness, not mine. I want to stop staring at it, but I can’t—until he says my name.
    â€œEstem, I wanted to talk with you about that account you closed the other day.”
    My heart throbs and sinks.
    â€œWhat about it?” I ask.
    â€œThe money that was in it . . .”
    There are probably police already waiting outside that door. I look for something to throw at him. Something to stun or daze him long enough to make my escape.
    â€œMoney?”
    â€œYes, Estem. The money that was in the account you closed a few days ago is
needed.
”
    He knows. He wants to entertain himself by watching me attempt to lie my way out of this situation. If he wants a lie, I’ll give him a lie. “Why?” is all I manage to utter.
    He rocks back and forth in his chair. Then he smiles.
    â€œBuses. We use that money to buy buses.”
    â€œBuses?”
    â€œFor the demonstrators, man. We’ll have our own transportation. We’ll save a
ton
on chartering fees.”
    â€œBrilliant,” I say.
    â€œIsn’t it? Jesus, I just thought of something else—we could loan out the buses to those fools at CORE and the N-double-A-C-P . . . for a modest fee, of course.”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œExcuse me, Mr. Gant,” Susan, his secretary comes in, and I breathe normally for the first time since I’ve been in here. “A man claiming to be your cousin is on the line.”
    The normal haughtiness disappears from Gant’s face as he just stares at the phone on his desk. “Thank you, Susan,” he says finally. He picks up the receiver, and just the sound of his breathing must have alerted his “cousin” that he is on the line, because he is silent for a while, his eyes