The Book of Adam and Jo: an Interracial Literary Romance

by C. L. Donley

“I put just enough, you’re just thirsty,” Jo whined, watching him take another long drag from the straw.

  “Roughin’ up young punks makes me thirsty.”

  Jo snatched the drink out of his hand and took a drag of her own.

  “Thought you didn’t want any of my nazi saliva?” he said.

  Jo wanted his nazi saliva, tongue, teeth and whatever else he wanted to give her after what he just fucking did. They may as well have robbed a bank if her adrenaline was any indication. His nazi saliva was the way she wanted to come down. She couldn’t tell him how bad he had the very cells of her body teetering off the edge of reality.

  “Apparently I’ve had quite a bit of nazi saliva tonight.”

  “Jesse’s not a damn nazi. Just confused. Tryin’ to impress some simple fucks that clearly are pussies that don’t care about him.”

  Jo stayed quiet, glad she could get him off the subject of his nazi saliva with so much ease.

  “You don’t want any more fries?”

  “The damn things are cold,” he said. “I shoulda had that bastard make me some more.”

  “They’re actually still warm.”

  “Cold,” he said.

  Jo laughed. They both did. The remaining twenty-minute drive to his house, the sun finally starting to set.

  10

  Chapter 10

  By the time we get to the long driveway that leads to my house, it’s already dark. There isn’t a street light for miles and the stars came out bright and brilliant.

  “Always wondered about people who lived all the way out here.”

  “It’s simple, Jo. They just wanna move somewhere that blacks won’t follow.”

  “I get the feeling you’re not joking,” she said, staring blankly.

  I started to laugh, just to show her I was makin’ a joke, but then I just stopped.

  “I’d say no, but I think that would be worse.”

  Shit. Did I really just try to crack a joke, after the shit that went down tonight?

  I was always the kinda guy that knew when to quit. Knew when enough was enough. Did I just do that to Jo, of all people?

  Since when did you forget how to show respect, I said to myself. Jo took a leap of faith to be with me right now, to move to the next phase of whatever the hell this clusterfuck was, and I let my mouth move it back to the “non-existent” phase.

  My stomach was turning and turning to no end. What the fuck was happening to me? Maybe there was some shit in the burgers after all.

  “Fuck. Jo—”

  “We going inside or what?”

  “Yeah, we are,” I sighed, trying not to show my relief but feeling sick about it all the same. Ugh, did I have to take a shit? I’m never going to that fuckin’ place again.

  The house was built by hand in the 50’s, so I’m told, Just about everything on it is original, including the wood paneling that’s real shiplap. It’s not like any of the other houses around. More like those shotgun houses they make down South. Nothing fancy, but it’s clean and spacious. Open concept, made back in a time where “open concept” just meant “poor.” The windows face east so it gets good light.

  Jo walked ahead of me to the kitchen, looking this way and that, showing herself around my house. She’s one of those. I like it.

  “Adam… what the hell.”

  I saunter into the kitchen to see what she’s whining about. She’s found my Quaker Oats box in the kitchen pantry. It’s full of cash. She pulled out a giant roll.

  “It’s just my stash.”

  “You don’t have a bank account?”

  “'Course I do.”

  “You just don’t use it?”

  “You can’t let the Jews have everything, Jo. Gotta diversify.”

  She does that thing where she just stares at me in disbelief when I say something “racist.” Translation: true.

  “Before you give me that look, you should know it was my neighbor who told me that when I was a little kid, and she was an old black lady. Kept her money in her mattress.”

  We sat on the couch watching a movie. She didn’t want the lights off, and I’m starting to think she’s uncomfortable around me now because she’s starting to like me, a lot. I could tell I was earnin’ points with her for how fast Judah took to me. And then tonight, when I slapped Jesse around a little bit.

  She doesn’t want to, but she needs a strong man like a motherfucker. I don’t know if she’s ever gotten close to one. If she had, she wouldn’t have fallen for Chris’s bullshit. I can tell she’s wrestling. She hates the klan shit, I know it. But she hasn’t tried to talk me out of my beliefs, which I really fuckin’ respect. The women I meet don’t much care. They just wanna be fucked.

  “You ever… date outside of your race?” she suddenly asked.

  I played it cool and calm as a fuckin’ cucumber. I didn’t know if she was reading my mind, and I was suddenly afraid to read hers.

  “Once or twice,” I replied.

  “Black women?”

  “Once or twice.”

  “Get the fuck outta here,” she scoffed in disbelief.

  “I grew up in the projects, Jo. And our mom wasn’t exactly waiting with a plate of fresh-baked cookies when we got off the bus.”

  “Oh, okay. So ‘dating’ is probably too strong of a word.”

  “Yeah, that’s a stretch,” I said. She laughed a little about that.

  I’ve been with black girls before. I always suspected it would be the death of me. My first was a black girl. Gus’s idea. I was a teenager and suddenly had a giant schlong with no idea what to do with it. “Practice on a black one,” he told me. Of course, everything Gus said was ancient wisdom when I was fourteen. I didn’t know then he couldn’t make a girl come even if he had dildos for fingers.

  I haven’t had much luck with white girls. The ones I get are either liars or drama queens. The ones I like tend to be the most fucking draining. Like it was in their DNA. Even the scariest lookin’ trailer trash walked around like they were the queen of fuckin’ England after you fucked ‘em. And latinas, Jesus. Drama city.

  I always knew if I was giving it to a black girl good, and I liked to know. Dramatic in their own right, but still. No bullshit. The ugly ones were the best. Real fuckin’ gratitude. The world needed more of it, frankly.

  “All the other girls… were they in the klan?”

  “Women don’t really join. It’s more of a… patriarchy.”

  Jo gave me a raised eyebrow like she was impressed.

  “I know some big words,” I said. She giggled again.

  “Yeah but… I assume they have to get these women from somewhere.”

  “Well, the women hold separate meetings. But they don’t talk about klan shit, they just trade recipes or whatever. Like I said, the klan has a community. A pretty old one in North Carolina. In my experience, women don’t care one way or the other what you believe, they care what you do. As long as you can take care of ‘em and love ‘em. They’ll ride.”

  “Well that’s certainly true,” Jo said. She looked at my swastika that was staring her in the face since she was on my right side and it was basically her eye level. I was too scared to put my arm around her, so there it was. I just looked at her face as she looked at the emblem.

  She looked at it like… I don’t know. Just studying it. Like she was trying to confront it. Usually, I can feel her trying to pretend it’s not there. For my sake, not for hers. Like it’s some kind of deformity, like I’m in a wheelchair. She’s uncomfortable, but she’s trying to treat me fair.

  “What’s it make you feel?” I asked.

  “Your tattoo, you mean?” She looked at it and shrugged a little bit. “I don’t know. I mean, I know what I’m supposed to feel. I know it’s supposed to… strike some kind of fear in me or something.”

  “Does it?”

  Jo gave it a thoughtful look with her head cocked.

  “Sometimes. Sometimes I forget it’s there. And then I can see it peeking out and I�
�m like… ‘holy fuck!’”

  I grinned, but I kind of wanted to know what she meant by that, but I didn’t ask. Hell, I don’t even know what I wanted to hear.

  “What about now?” I asked instead.

  Then she did something that made all the blood leave my brain, and I forgot my name and what I was about and where I was at.

  She traced the lines on my skin with her finger and it instantly became gooseflesh. Everywhere she touched my skin was heated.

  “I went from hardly ever seeing it to seeing it all the time. I think I understand why you won’t have it removed. If you look at it long enough it starts to mean nothing. Or… it starts to mean something else.”

  “Something else like what?”

  “I don’t know, just… you,” she said.

  Somewhere in another universe, I kissed her right then. I know I did. But in this one, I didn’t.

  “Kinda sexy, actually,” she volunteered.

  My eyebrows went up.

  Oh, Josie. JoAnn Elizabeth Abrams.

  She wanted the ‘d.’ She wanted the ‘d’ so goddamn bad.

  Now I had to make a decision. Judging by the blood rushing around my body, I already knew what my decision was gonna be, but I had to choose how I was gonna navigate this fucked up situation.

  And that’s when I realized I was flying blind. I couldn’t see past JoJo, and I couldn’t see anyone else but her either.

  I suppose that was my fault. I dug too deep, too fast. I just wanted her to know me. I wanted to see her hang drywall and laugh and be happy, and not have to carry her own shit because she’s so damn tiny. But I also wanted to watch her carry her own shit because it was so damn cute.

  Now she was on my couch, touching me, telling me my swastika made her wet. Okay, maybe I added that.

  But it was probably true. Jesus. I was truly truly fucked. All I could think about now was looking down at Jo’s gorgeous body as I took possession of it. I wanted to watch Jo’s face. I wanted to watch my big cock go in that tiny, tiny opening.

  I already know I’m busted. If she can’t see my erection then she’s blind. So, fuck it. I just give her the stare, like ‘yeah, I’m thinkin’ about you, what are you gonna do about it.’ She didn’t do shit, except stare back at me. She glanced at my crotch.

  “Damn,” she says. I know what she’s referring to.

  “Yep,” I said, my ego through the roof.

  “That’s all you?”

  “Watch yourself, little Jo. A man like me would wreck you.”

  “Don’t play,” she flirts.

  She licks her lips and her eyes move back to mine.

  It’s too damn much too soon, and it’s just what I need to make it out of this spider web. She obviously just thought she could just do her little freaky routine and I would give her a free ride on the pony.

  Goddamn black chicks, man. So fucking crude. Even little Jo, who I could probably rip apart. She could at least pretend like she couldn’t take it. Or was at least apprehensive to take it. Now I have to wonder about how much dick she’s taken already. Ugggghhhhhhh…

  “Jo, that’s… unbecoming.”

  “What is?”

  “You really think I’m just gonna fuck you right here on my couch?”

  “I—”

  “It’s getting late.”

  Jo just looked at me like I have three heads. She chuckled a little bit and shook her head.

  “You’re right. Get me the hell out of here.”

  “Jo, I’m not driving you all the way back to Canton tonight.”

  “My mom’s not ten minutes away.”

  “You gonna wake your mother at this time a night?”

  “I got a key.”

  “I didn’t mean you couldn’t stay here. I just meant—”

  “I really don’t care. What you mean by anything anymore, Adam. This whole thing’s fuckin’ ridiculous. I’m not angry. In fact, I appreciate the reminder. I think I’ve had enough pride swallowing for one night.”

  Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

  I fuckin’ fucked up. Again. Fuck a gotdamn duck!

  I drove her to her mother’s in Leland. It was the only reasonable thing I’d done for her that whole day. It was after midnight and Jo wanted me to drop her off around the corner.

  “This right here is fine.”

  “Is this it?”

  “It’s fine,” she said again with a stoic look.

  “It’s ‘fine,’ is it? Is this your way of avoiding a fight?”

  “As much as I can.”

  “With everyone but me?”

  “Especially with you, Adam. But trying to avoid conflict with you is like trying to avoid water in a tsunami.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment, Jo.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  “Jo.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve had heartburn all night. I thought it was the burgers, but I think it’s you. I mean me.”

  I took her hand and Jo about died there in the dark, I could tell. I know it probably freaked her out, but I didn’t even do what I wanted. I wanted to put her hand over my heart and beg her forgiveness until it started beatin’ right again. But I knew I couldn’t do that. I just wanted her to see that I was takin’ it serious.

  “I hate that we get some time alone, just you and me and… I made it all fucked up.”

  “It’s not your fault. It hasn’t exactly been smooth sailing since we met.”

  “That’s no fuckin’ excuse. You just want a weekend not to have to worry about motherfuckers and then… all this shit happens. I feel like a piece a’ shit. I’m sorry, Jojo.”

  “It’s fine. Really.”

  She said it really low-like. Like she was touched. It made me feel better, like I could breathe a little deeper. So I did.

  “Jo…”

  “What?”

  What was there to fuckin’ say? That I really liked her and wanted to kiss her? That I should’ve just said “fuck it” and peeled her pants off right there on my fuckin’ couch? She’s not an idiot, she knows this thing is doomed. She doesn’t want a second date, you idiot.

  “Never mind. Uh… the guys are probably gettin’ together tomorrow night. Goin’ to the Salty Dog.”

  “The guys?”

  “Corey, Gus, some of the crew. Probably Gus’s girl.”

  “You wanna know if I want to accompany you and your brothers to the most redneck establishment in the heart of Bethesda?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Tryin’ to prove somethin’ to myself, I guess.”

  “What?”

  “When I succeed, you’ll be the first person I tell,” I sighed.

  “Hand me your phone,” she said. I did and I watched her dark eyes dance by the glow of the screen. Jo worked her little nimble fingers typing her information into my phone and handing it back to me.

  “Call me tomorrow,” she said.

  She didn’t say she would, but she didn’t say she wouldn’t. Which said a lot.

  I felt that feeling again that I did at the house. That I kissed her in some other universe. This time it was really strong. This was the part where I kissed her soft and slow until she smiled and it was a danger to my heart. Because we knew good and damn well we weren’t supposed to and why, and we knew what people would have to say about it because we were two people being crushed by the tide of everybody else’s mediocrity. And we were holding on to each other like a lifeline.

  Somewhere that happened. But here, it didn’t. I didn’t say anything back. I couldn’t. I hoped she couldn’t see my face in the pitch black of the country neighborhood block with no porch lights.

  The door popped open and the words stuck in my throat when she whispered “bye” and let the truck door creak shut with a metallic slam. And I swore to myself the next time Jo threw herself at me, I was gonna fuckin’ catch her.

  11

  Chapter 11

  “Loo
k, if you’re tryin’ to nail this chick tonight or whatever then you could’ve left me at home,” Corey said. We’d just left the Lipton property for the day that wasn’t far from Uncle Charlie’s.

  “We’re just shootin’ the shit tonight. Maybe get a lil’ drunk.”

  “I heard black chicks get super horny when they’re drunk.”

  “I’m sure you hear a lot about how other people fuck,” I burnt him.

  “You should’ve invited her out here. Charlie might let us use the pontoon.”

  “Maybe another time.”

  “You’re really serious about this chick, admit it,” he suddenly said, looking dead at me.

  I got a little sweaty under the arms when he said that. I was definitely feeling somethin’ serious. And Corey could see it on me, so I had to pull it to-fuckin-gether.

  “If I was, could you blame me?” I said.

  “She’s certainly not like any nigger bitch I ever met.”

  “Pete, you’re gonna fuck up and say that shit in front of the wrong person.”

  “I like Jo plenty, but I’m not gonna fuckin’ change the way I talk around her.”

  “Corey, you change the way you talk in front of every damn body. And the ‘wrong person’ I was referring to is me.”

  “Adam, you nigger lovin’ bastard,” Corey devolved into hysterical laughter in the front seat the longer I looked back at him unamused. Finally I caved a little bit and laughed. It was hella ironic, I can’t lie to you.

  “Choke and die, Pete,” I said.

  In two hours, we were back at my house and Jo was there already in her mother’s car, a big black Suburban.

  “You been waiting long?” I asked as she made her way across the gravel driveway to the grassy front yard.

  “Nah,” she said, looking like a off-duty model with her hair down, a plain black tank and jeans.

  “Pete, get out and let Jo sit in the middle. Jo, you remember Corey.”

  “Also known as Pete. How’s the flip comin’ along?” she gave him a cordial smile.

  “Done. Doing punch list typa shit now. Probably for the next week.”

  “Which means two weeks. Shall we?”

  “To the batmobile,” Jo said with a sigh as she climbed in with Corey right behind.