Only two readers remained on the third floor of the downtown library. An elderly man sat at a table in the south end reading Pravda. Another man, who looked about 25, was buried in bound copies of Ebony several tables to the right of the first patron. Several librarians were at the main desk, located near the middle of the floor. They were putting away their pencils and checking the digital clock located on the wall directly across from them. Angie, an intern, began picking up books off the tables near the readers and stacking them on a metal cart.

The exit was at the right of the main desk. Lenny and Rich stood at the exit; the first man was closer to the south end. The up and down escalators were located about ten feet behind them. Both men were in uniform: White, long-sleeve shirt with shoulder patches and a silver plated badge. Navy blue tie. Black pants. But the pair had different appearances. Lenny’s shirt and pants were wrinkled. His left sleeve had mustard stains. Flecks of gray were sprinkled throughout his afro. His pea jacket rested in a heap behind him. Rich was a recent hire working his way through the accounting program at Loyola University. He looked like a West Point cadet with his pressed outfit and short hair style. The keys to the alarm system were clipped on his belt because Lenny once lost them.

The lights flicked off and on and a voice similar to Lena Horne’s filled the floor. “Attention! The library will close in thirty minutes. If you want to check out books, please do so now. Have a happy Thanksgiving.”

Lenny began swinging his arms. Rich turned to him and asked, “Do you have plans for tomorrow?”

“I’ll just eat some rib tips and watch the Bears,” Lenny replied without stopping his arms. He sounded like Barry White with a cold.

“Rib tips?” Rich asked as his eyebrows shot upward. “Carol would kill me if I ate those on Thanksgiving.”

“Well, I ain’t married. Rib tips, fries, and sauce. That’s good eatin’.”

“I see. Speaking of the Bears, I heard you played football.”

“Yeah. We won the public school title my senior year at Dunbar High.”

“What about college?”

“Cupla years at Wisconsin.”

“Why only two years?”

Lenny frowned. “Ripped up my knee,” he said.

“Ouch,” Rich said and scrunched his face. “I'm sorry to hear that.”

Angie passed them on the way to the north end. Lenny stopped his arms and leered at her. Her narrow hips and thin brown legs reminded him of his stepmother. But he remembered what happened after he made a pass at his stepmother last month. She told his father and got him kicked out of their bungalow. Lenny now stayed in a one-room apartment on 67th Street.

The old man shuffled toward the guards while wiping his grimy hands on a blue trench coat. His gray sweater, green nylon pants, and black boots contrasted with his reddish skin. Lenny covered his nose.

Rich greeted him like a old friend. “How are you today, Vassily?” he asked. Lenny cleared his throat, got his partner’s attention, and crooked his head toward the down escalator. Rich nodded.

Vassily gargled his answer. “OK, but my chess game very weak.” Rich and Vassily strolled toward the down escalator and chatted about chess games.

Lenny yawned and paced back and forth. A few minutes later, Rich took the escalator up toward his post.

The Ebony reader strode toward the exit. Lenny stared at his black wool coat, gray suit, wing-tipped shoes, wire-frame glasses, and black briefcase.

The patron skipped past Lenny without opening his case. Lenny turned toward him.

“Excuse me, sir,” he called out.

The young man stopped and turned around, frowning.

“Can you open your case for me?” Lenny asked.

The frown disappeared. The man stared blankly. Rich walked to Lenny’s left and watched the young man.

Lenny glanced at the clock while tapping his right foot. Should he let the guy go? He took a deep breath, then fixed a glare at his prey. “You have about ten minutes left if you have some more business in the library, sir,” he said.

The reader walked back toward the periodicals section. Rich twisted his head toward Lenny and asked, “Why did you let him go?”

Lenny grinned and said, “Tomorrow is a holiday.”

“Indeed,” Rich said.

The man returned, walking slower and keeping his eyes from Lenny’s. He opened his briefcase and Lenny sifted through several manila folders before letting him pass. The man shuffled toward the down escalator with his head bent down.

Lenny stretched his arms and asked Rich, “You mind checking the floor without me?”

“No. Take off.”

“Thanks,” Lenny said. “Have a nice holiday.”

Rich said, “The same to you.” He headed toward the main desk.