I should have finished this one. But then I wouldn't have anything to stall you guys with as I go out for a while, right?

Malcolm drained the last of the beer and said, "Yeah, last one." The bartender leaned forward and said, "What?" Marpessa, nearly shouting to be heard over the music, said, "He said yes. But make mine just plain orange juice this time." As the bartender headed for the tap she said to Malcolm, "You should chill a bit too."

"Chill, hell. The only reason this is my last round here is because I got some git-hi at home."

"Honestly, man, if it pisses you off that much, why are you still in it?"

"Because. That's why." Then, leaning back, "Sorry, babe."

"Hey, I understand. But you know you're not hurting those assholes by getting fucked up, right?'

"Yeah. I know." The bartender came back, set a pint of Samuel Adams Honey Brewed Ale and a small glass of orange juice on the bar and said, "This one's mine." Malcolm thanked her as he passed her his Visa card, and then turned back to Marpessa. "I know. It's just that I'm tired of their bullshit. Especially Frank's. If I hear him say "irrespective of merit" one more time, I might smack him."

"I think you're handling him well enough."

"But why should I have to handle him at all? l bet the idiot got his degree from a correspondence course. His secretary says he writes like a cretin. So of course he's the one that rides the "reverse discrimination" bullshit. Like any kind of discrimination would make him qualified for that job. Hell, if I could make it through all the forward discrimination, he shouldn't complain about a little of the reverse kind that's all in his mind anyway."

Marpessa sipped her juice. Malcolm looks so tense…She said, "I don't think he really believes all that."

"He might not. I think he does. Either way it's definitely a tactic on his part to make all this noise right now." Malcolm quietly stared at the foam sliding down the side of his pint glass for a moment. "I'd ignore him is he wasn't throwing that shit around in front of the young brothers. They got enough to deal with." He lifted the glass and took a long drink. "As much fun as it is to beat him down, it's getting me a rep as an activist. And you know how white folks feel about Black activists. It's like, he doesn't have to be better than me if he can make the bosses feel uncomfortable with me. I know he does that to all his competition, but if he makes them uncomfortable with me because I'm Black, then that's it. The glass ceiling." He took another deep draught from the glass in front of him.

"You can always handle it the way Gordon does," said Marpessa with an evil grin.

"Oh, right. Let's see, would he hand them some grease and bend over or go straight for the blow job?

Marpessa giggled. "Blow job, definitely."

Malcolm smiled. "Thought so." The bartender was back with the check. He signed the credit card slip and put the card back in his wallet. He stood up, emptied the glass of ale and said, "Let's go." Marpessa was already standing, so he grabbed his briefcase and headed for the door. He was pretty toasted and the cool night air outside the bar felt good. Marpessa asked, "You gonna get home okay? You don't normally drink that much."

"I'm taking a cab to the ferry."

"Good. You gonna be okay when you get there?"

Malcolm sighed. "I guess so. Thanks for hanging with me tonight, babe. I can't talk to anyone else about this stuff."

"Sure you can. There's a lot of us out here that understand."

"Yeah, but you're the one that's always here. I don't know why I haven't swept you off your feet and made you fall madly in love with me."

"You tried. But I wouldn't put up with the shit I saw you put other women through, remember."

"Oh. Yeah."

They continued chatting while the first three empty cabs sped by. The fourth cabbie was Black so he stopped for them. Marpessa kissed Malcolm lightly on the cheek and watched him get into the cab. Malcolm look back as the cabbie pulled off, watching as distance and darkness swallowed her.

The trip to the ferry was uneventful, mostly because the cabbie wasn't having any conversation. Malcolm had developed the practice of talking to Black folks he encountered at random. His parents were involved with the Black Panther Party during CoIntelPro days and they had seen the results of not talking-the ease with which the Panthers and the US were set at each other's throats, his father taught him, was the direct result of trusting their white "allies" more than other Blacks that shared their purpose but not their organization. "Talk to brothers and sisters that you meet so you have a source of information other than what the white man feeds you. Because he won't you anything that won't help his cause." Malcolm learned that was, indeed, the gospel truth. But he also learned it was no less true of Blacks, Latinos, Chinese, Jews and everyone else.