IBO by Brian R. Lundin (best books for 20 year olds .txt) 📖

had decided that she was not going to move the broken down, roach infested furniture to her new place. With the welfare and disability checks, the food stamps, and the money she had left from Tom's death and her salary and tips from Theresa's Lounge where she worked as a barmaid, the family was doing all right. She was going to buy all new furniture.
Moms and the twin boys were the first to reach the door of the apartment. Fatmama and the other children were downstairs with the moving men waiting for the elevator. Lill and the twins had bounced up the ten flights of stairs to their apartment 1002. They could smell the freshness of painted walls in the stairwells. They reached the apartment and slightly pushed on the door, it opened. A surprised plumber who was working under the kitchen sink saw the children.
Lill took the twins hands and started to explore the new apartment. All of the walls and floors were concrete and clean. The front door opened into the kitchen that contained a four-burner stove with an oven four brown and shiny cabinets were over the stove and next to the stove was a small refrigerator. There was a long hallway with two bedrooms to the right; one bedroom at the end of the hallway and another bedroom and a toilet was to the left. Lill led her little brothers into each room, amazed at the clean white walls and white shade covering the only window. They walked into the bathroom, the face bowl and sink was spotless, and the faucets were sparkling. She turned the faucet with an “H” on top and hot water came out, she tried the faucet with a "C" on it and cold water poured out of it. She flushed the toilet and it worked, she looked in the tub and saw two faucets with the same markings, but there was a chromed lever on top of one of the faucets and when she raised it up and turned on the cold water faucet, all of a sudden she was sprayed on her head and shoulders with a rush of cold water from overhead, it scared her and she screamed.
The plumber heard her scream and rushed into the bathroom.
“What's the matter?” he said.
“What is that, Moms asked pointing to the showerhead?”
The plumber smiling, said, “That’s a shower honey, you point the lever up for the shower and down for the tub”.
“Oooh, it scared me,” Mom said she said, smiling.
Fatmama and the moving men and the other children came into the apartment.
“Girl what happened to you, how did you get all wet?” Fatmama asked smiling.
The plumber seeing Moms embarrassment said, “It was my fault ma'am, I forgot to turn the shower lever down. I'm sorry.
”Fatmama smiled and wiped Moms face.
“Ok, ma'am you should be all set, any problems let me know, I’ll be working in the building for the next week,” the plumber said packing up his tools.
Fatmama thanked the plumber and as he was leaving he winked at Lill. The Jackson family was proud of their new home. Fatmama had a bedroom, the twin boys shared a bedroom, Lill had her bedroom, and the two younger girls shared a bedroom.
Fatmama bought a bed for herself and Lill, and bunk beds for the twins and the girls from a second hand store; She also bought a black and white television set and before Fatmama went to work, they would sit around the television and eat snacks. Occasionally Fatmama boy friend, Roy Woods would come home with her after she got off work at 2:30 am and spend the night, but he had to be gone before the kids got up at 7:00 am.”
“How did Fatmama die?” Malik asked.
“Moms told me that Theresa's Lounge was located in the basement of a three-storied building that Theresa Walls owned and most of her customers were hustlers, street people and police officers from the 2nd Police District which was located at 4800 South Wabash a few blocks away. It was a large basement lounge with ten tables and chairs that surrounded the bandstand. It was a cozy and intimate bar that served good whisky at a fair price and because so many police officers were regular customers, the considered it a safe place to relax and have a drink. Beer was a $1.00 and shots were $2.00 except on the nights when there was live entertainment, than the prices went up $.50. On Wednesday and Thursday nights, the lounge featured local blues band, which included the Second Church of Deliverance band, which gave them an outlet for their music.
Two young shapely servers served the tables and like most neighborhood taverns, there was a big turnover in barmaids and waitresses. Some of them quit because of jealous boyfriends, some quit because of the hassle of being around drunks and Theresa fired some for stealing or over-pouring. In addition, the rumors said that Theresa fired many of the attractive servers because they would not let her suck their pussy. Theresa had hired two new waitresses. Janice was twenty-three, had large brown oval-shaped eyes, high cheekbones and full lips. Jackie was a little older maybe twenty-five. She was a big woman. She stood five feet eight and weighed 155 pounds. She had deep brown bedroom eyes and shoulder length black hair that appeared to be her own. All the waitresses were required to wear black hot pants, thigh length boots and low cut white blouses. Theresa believed that the success of any bar depended on good whisky at a fair price and attractive bar maids and waitresses. A long bar was on the back wall where Fatmama was the barmaid. The patrons liked Naomi and often teased her about her southern accent. She seemed always in a good mood and had a smile for everyone. Tuesday was a slow night at most of the South Side bars, so in order to bring in customers Fatmama had started serving soul food.
There was a jukebox against one of the walls that contained only blues and old jazz recordings. Monday’s were Blue Monday Night, all drinks were $1.50, beer was seventy-five cent, and the customers fed the jukebox, which played only blues and jazz. Tuesdays were Fatmama’s soul food night. Some Tuesday’s the menu would be red beans and rice, the next Tuesday it might be collard greens and cornbread and some Tuesday’s it was a surprise. The promotion worked and it generated business for the lounge and good tips for Fatmama. Many nights her tips were more than her twenty-five dollar a night salary and on Tuesday sometimes her tips were over a hundred dollars, she would run the bar, buying drinks for everybody. On Wednesday and Thursday nights, the lounge featured local blues bands and on Friday and Saturday nights the house band, Lefty Bates and the Boys played.
The music on the jukebox and the music played by the bands kept the young people out who Theresa said was nothing but trouble. They would order a beer, milk it all night, and hassle the female customers. They would go outside and smoke a joint to get high and they very seldom if ever tipped.
Theresa Walls was the same age as Fatmama, thirty-seven. She was born and raised on the South Side of Chicago and in her younger days worked as a barmaid at most of the more popular bars on the South Side and was known as one of the best barmaids in the city. Theresa had long black straight hair, which extended to the middle of her back; she was five feet seven and had shapely legs, a big behind and a small waist.
She was unique in that her female customers as well her male customers liked her. Many of the sporting men had tried to date her but none ever succeeded and none could ever say they had made love to her, and after a while they all just became her friends, or as some would say “her crowd,” and when Theresa moved on to another bar “her crowd” followed.
While working at Peyton’s Lounge underneath the CTA elevator at 47th and Calumet Avenue, she met Howard Louis, a policy wheel owner. Howard was different than most of the other hustlers who frequented Peyton’s. He was only a few years older than Theresa was and he was very handsome and somewhat shy. He was not overbearing or conceited like some of the other policy men and for reasons that even she could not explain she became attracted to him, although she knew he was married and had twin daughters, but she still liked him. They began dating and Howard showed her a different kind of life. On her days off instead of hanging in the bars, he would take her to an opera or a concert. She did not understand the music or the opera but he would take the time to explain to her what was happening. He took her to nice and expensive downtown restaurants and she was surprised at how well known and respected he was by white people and he always treated her like a woman. After dating for about three years, he bought her the building and the lounge. The following year he died of a heart attack.
It happened at 11:30 pm on New Year’s Eve, in 1968. Lefty Bates and his blues band were playing and the patrons were dancing, drinking, and waiting for the New Year. Two older men were sitting at the end of the bar debating who was the best fighter, Joe Louis or Rocky Marciano. One of the men known only as Tweet got up and demonstrated how Joe Louis had punished Max Smealing in their second fight. In The center of the bar in full view of everyone a young man had ran his hand up the front of the dress of a young woman and was rubbing something as she swooned and let out light moans of pleasure. Fatmama was behind the bar serving drinks when suddenly there was a loud explosion, a shotgun blast. The blast put a big hole in the ceiling of the lounge, and dust and debris covered some of the patrons. The people stopped dancing and the band stopped playing. Everyone looked in the direction of the shot. Two men wearing black ski masks were standing in the middle of the lounge, they both had shotgun. One was a tall wiry man with a long neck, his head turned on his long neck with a jerking motion that reminded Fatmama of a snake she had seen in Mississippi, getting ready to pounce on a young frog. The other gunman was short and fat and nervously waived his shotgun around the room. At first, no one said anything, finally, one of the men announced.
“This is a stickup.”
The short masked man let in another masked man with a handgun and they locked the door.
“Nobody moves or make a sound, I'll blow your fucking head off,” the man with the handgun said.
A faint whimper came from one of the women; the tall gunman turned to her, pointed his handgun at her head, and said,
“Shut up bitch, everybody be cool and nobody get hurt. All the men get on this side of the room and the ladies on the other side.”