At Sepulveda Boulevard she turned south to Santa Monica Boulevard, then west again toward the beach. It was early, not eleven o'clock, and there was plenty of traffic on the street. But she didn't even slow.
'I like to go places in a party,' she said suddenly. 'Then to the theatre and a night club afterward.'
'With the white folks,' I remarked.
'You go to hell!' she flared, pushing back up to ninety.
CHAPTER VIII
We got the ticket just as we were coming into Santa Monica. Two motor-cycle cops pulled up and flagged us down. They rolled to a stop in front of us, stormed back on foot, cursing.
'All right,' one said, pulling out his book. 'Start lying.'
Laughter came up inside of me. If they wait a couple of days they can get me for murder, I thought. 'The lady's going to have some babies,' I said.
The cop leaned over to see me better. 'A coon,' he said. Then he looked at Alice again. 'Both coons.' Then on second thought he asked her, 'Are you white?'
'She's a coon, too,' I answered for her.
'Well, we'll just run you in,' the cop said.
'That's fine,' I taunted. 'You on your puddle jumper and me in my Buick Roadmaster.'
The cop's mouth opened and his face got blood-red. The other cop started back toward me.
'Wait a minute,' Alice said. 'I don't like this, I don't like any of this.' The cold hard authority in her voice stopped the cop. 'I am a supervisor in the Los Angeles Department of Welfare,' she went on, enunciating each syllable with careful deliberation. 'My father's a prominent Los Angeles physician, a personal friend of the mayor's, and one of the civic leaders of our community. I don't like the way you have spoken to me, the words you have employed, nor the tone of your voice. If you cannot give me the respect that is due me I'll see to it that you are both discharged from the police force.'