It became clear that the white judge had some sort of personal grudge against Claude, a vendetta against him for reasons he knew not. It scared him a ...ittle knowing that one white man was out to get him, an institutional form of lynching that not only lost him the slam but also frustrated him to the point of stepping off the stage and confronting the judge face-to-face. When he did so, the crowd cheered, because it had all the trappings of a Friday night fistfight. The judge didn’t seem too. How's it going?"Rob was standing there with his eyes closed, leaning on the frame we had cut out of the front wall. His eyes snapped open when he heard me."Oh! Hi! Hi George. Um, yeah, things are great!" He had this huge, shit-eating grin on his face."Well, you seem to be in a rather chipper mood today." Yeah, well, from where I'm standing, it's, uh, kinda hard to complain." He winked at me.I walked up to the booth and leaned through the window, crossing my arms on the counter. Rob looked at. More

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