I searched, wondering who would know me at O’Hare. At a table halfway across the lounge, I saw a hand waving at full mast. Although the lighting was low, I could tell it was Warren from the bushy profile. He motioned for me to join him.
“I see you’re stuck here too,” I said as I sat down at his table.
“Yeah. And I really need to get back to the Motor City tonight. I’m sorry I didn’t take the train.”
A waiter came by to take my order. “I’ll have a Harvey Wallbanger.”
“Another Cutty on the rocks for me,” Warren said.
After we were served our drinks, Warren started filling me in on WIPE without my asking. He’d worked there for a little more than four years before taking the public relations job in Detroit. Before joining Hep magazine, he had worked at the Amsterdam News in Harlem for five years. “WIPE is a great place to work. You’re going to love it,” he said, checking his watch.
I swirled the straw around in my glass and then took another sip of my drink through it. I wasn’t sure I was interested in the job and I didn’t feel comfortable running through the pros and cons with someone I’d just met.“The rehabbed mansion is beautiful. The old man put a lot of money into the place. And they keep getting more and more beautiful women working around there too.”
“I noticed. There seemed to be a nice number,” I said, my interest in the conversation rising.
“A young man like you will have a great time around there. You can play as hard as they make you work. Just be careful not to hit on any of Mr. W. Jr.’s women.”
My right eye twitched. Who were Mr. Wilson Jr.’s women and how did Warren know they were interested in me at Raven?
“The job is yours for the taking,” he said.
“This was the strangest job interview I’ve ever had,” I said, opening up. “I spent the first 15 minutes of the interview badmouthing the joint and then I’m offered a job out of the blue.”
Warren laughed. “It’s the way you’re dressed.”
“What?” I asked.
“I chatted briefly with David while you were still in the interview with Samuele and Maceo. That was the first thing he said to me.”
“He whispered to me, ‘You should see the size of the bulge in those tight knit pants he’s wearing.’”
My eyes went straight to my crotch. There was a big bulge.“David is homosexual,” Warren said.
I didn’t know what to say. So that’s what was going on. “How many of the women there are Mr. Wilson Jr.’s and how do I find out who they are?” I asked.
“There are usually no more than a handful. You’ll figure out who’s who. Just go slow.”
“Oh,” Warren said as if it had just occurred to him, “if she’s high yellow, has huge breasts and a big butt, she’s more than likely one of his. If she has all those qualities and a gap between her front teeth, she is one of his.”
I motioned to the waiter to bring us another round.
“Don’t worry. David’s a pro. He doesn’t let his pleasure come before business.”That made me feel better. At the time.