by Carl Weber
Her eyebrows shot up like I’d hit a nerve. She looked at LC like she was waiting for him to come to her aid as I put her in her place, but he stood there silently. I’ll give it to her, though. At least she held her own and didn’t shrink away from me. She gave attitude right back. “And who are you, might I ask?”
The look on LC’s face told me he was silently begging me not to start any shit with his girl, and because he had showed me kindness, I decided to back off. “Oh, sorry,” I said sweetly. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m Chippy. I’m a friend of his brother Lou’s.” I extended my hand. Boy, did LC look relieved.
Donna looked me up and down like she was sizing up the competition. She didn’t bother to take my hand.
“Who isn’t a friend of Lou’s?” she sneered with a nasty little laugh. “After all, he is a real ladies’ man. He probably doesn’t remember anybody’s name after he . . . shall we say, meets them?”
“Oh, he remembers my name. Every man I know remembers my name and everything about me. That’s ’cause I’m a real woman too,” I added, knocking that smugness off of her face.
“Well, it was nice seeing you again, Chippy. I’ll bring those books by sometime next week.” LC shot me a look of gratitude as he took Donna’s hand.
“Thanks, LC. You two lovebirds have fun.”
“We will,” Donna answered for him. “More fun than he’s ever had.”
As I watched them walk away, I thought, Boy, he could do so much better.
LC
12
“So, LC, how are your studies coming?” Donna’s father drilled me as his wife smiled politely across the dinner table. Despite the fact that I had been dating her for almost a year, this was the first time Donna’s parents had invited me to dinner. Donna, who sat to my right, was beaming like a lightbulb.
“Well, Dr. Washington, it’s going great. I just finished finals, as you know, and I’ll probably end up on the dean’s list. I’m real excited about this history course I’m taking next semester on capitalism in the Renaissance. It’s fascinating how they made sure that all the lower classes had to depend on the rulers for their basic survival. As far back as history can go, the power dynamic doesn’t shift.” This was the kind of thing I could talk about all day.
“So exactly what kind of employment are you planning to procure with an interest in Renaissance history?” Donna’s father asked, his voice barely disguising his disdain for my choice of academic classes.
“Daddy, he’s not getting a degree in history, but he’s taking classes that interest him. How can you have a problem with that? You always said that knowledge is power,” Donna shot back at her father, smiling while she spoke so she didn’t appear disrespectful.
“Yes, dear. After all, it’s only his undergraduate education,” Mrs. Washington chimed in. No matter how many times I’d met them, something about Dr. and Mrs. Washington always made me nervous. After all, they were like royalty in our small town.
“I realize your family doesn’t have much education, but—”
“Daddy!”
Dr. Washington glanced at his daughter, but her protest did nothing to deter him from lecturing me. “All I’m saying is that if I were paying for your education, I would never approve of nonsense like that. Graduate schools want to know that you are taking rigorous classes that are commensurate with your continuing education. I mean, how do you expect to apply to medical or law school with classes in Renaissance history?” As he spoke, the housekeeper appeared, placing the roast been on the table. He continued, “Boy, you need to take your education seriously,” and his voice boomed so loudly that it caused the housekeeper to quickly retreat back to the safety of the kitchen. Hell, I wished I could have gone with her.
“Dr. Washington, history is only one of my interests.” I turned to smile at Donna, and I guess that sent the wrong message to her father.
“Oh, really?” he barked. That’s when I realized he thought I was referring to his daughter as my “other interests.”
I rushed to clean it up. “Well, you know Bryd’s gas station where I work?”
“Yes,” he said arrogantly, “and I can still see the oil still stuck under your fingernails. Seems like they don’t get clean even for Sunday dinner.”
“Daddy!” Donna chastised as I curled my fingers into fists to hide my fingernails. I knew my hands were clean, but all the scrubbing in the world didn’t remove the grease under my nails.
“No, that’s all right. He’s just telling the truth,” I assured Donna. She reached out to stroke the side of my face, and her father cleared his throat loudly to register his disapproval.
“Donna, do not disrespect your father with public displays of affection. People like us don’t engage in that sort of thing.” Mrs. Washington instructed.
Sensing my discomfort, Donna touched her leg against mine under the table. Damn if that didn’t make me more nervous, because it sent my mind running straight into the gutter, which was exactly where it didn’t need to be. Not in front of her parents. It felt like they could read my mind, and man, if they knew the things we had already done and how I had corrupted their daughter, they would have tossed me out for good.
I took the conversation back to the place I had been trying to go before the subject of my dirty fingernails came up. “Dr. and Mrs. Washington,” I said then stopped to make sure that I had their full attention. “You both should know that I love your daughter.” I turned and glanced at Donna, who nodded for me to continue. “And I want you to know that one day soon I’m going to own my own business.”
“And what kind of business is that, young man?” he asked, making no effort to conceal his doubt. “’Cause I done heard about that family of yours.” I could have said something to defend my family, but this was my first time being invited to dinner, and I didn’t want it to be my last.
“Byrd’s. Old Man Byrd offered to let me buy him out when he retires, which will be soon. That way when I graduate, I will already be set up financially, and then Donna and I—”
He cut me off. “A gas station? You think I am going to allow my daughter to settle for a man whose entire future is fixing cars and Lord knows what else?” He was glaring at me. I locked my eyes on his, clenching my jaw to keep from flipping on his ass. He kept pushing, trying to antagonize me. Maybe he hoped that if he pushed hard enough I would leave his daughter alone.
“Oh, you think I don’t know who you are?” he said. “This is a small town, and the Duncan family is legendary for being lowlife criminals. You got one brother can’t stay out of jail, another I heard is too dumb to think for himself, and then you have that pimp working at Big Sam’s, selling girls.”
“Now, you wait one minute, Dr. Washington. Don’t you ever talk about my brothers or where I come from.” My voice thundered. I had tried to remain respectful to Donna’s parents, but this man needed to know that there were some conversations off limits for the rest of his life, and my family was at the top of that list.
He stood up from the table. “I will not be disrespected in my own house. How dare you use that tone and threaten me?”
I took Donna’s hand, working hard to calm myself before things got physical. After all, even if I didn’t want him to talk about my family, much of what he said was true. The Duncans were not soft, and if he kept pushing me, he might find out just how much of that Duncan blood flowed through my veins.
Donna squeezed my hand, though, and that little reminder from the woman I loved was enough to make my rage subside a bit. I decided to talk rather than start swinging.
“Dr. Washington, I am going to marry your daughter with or without your approval, and that means that one day you will be the grandfather of my children. I suggest you be careful about how you talk to the man who will be responsible for siring your heirs,” I informed him before I got up to leave. “Thank you for the invitation to dinner, but I seem to have lost my appetite.”
“LC, don’t go,” Donna pleaded.
“L
et him go,” her father insisted, waving his hand like he was swatting away an irritating insect.
I looked dead in his eye and said, “I love your daughter, so I will be back.” I leaned down and gave Donna a long kiss before walking out of the house with my head held high.
Lou
13
I woke up to one of Levi’s roosters crowing outside my window around nine o’clock in the morning. I usually stayed in bed until noon, but I was drawn to the kitchen by the smell of freshly cooked bacon and biscuits. NeeNee Simpson, a shapely brown-skinned sister, was standing in front of the stove, wearing only a head wrap and a shirt that looked like it belonged to Larry. I’d known NeeNee most of my life; she was like family. She was also the closest thing Larry ever had to a steady woman, probably because she was the only one who would put up with his shit.
“Good morning, Lou. You want some cheese eggs and grits?” NeeNee held a spatula in her hand as she pointed me toward the coffee on the kitchen table.
“Mornin’, Nee. Yeah, eggs and grits would be nice. Thanks.” One thing I never did was refuse NeeNee’s cooking, because the girl had a gift. She could make a piece of shit taste good, so you could just imagine what she could do with some eggs and grits.
I sat down next to Larry, who had on a stocking cap, wife beater, and his boxers, with a lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He was cleaning his .45 at the table. I poured a cup of coffee, adding cream and sugar. “Y’all hear about Big Shirley?”
Larry chuckled. Of course his morbid ass would find that shit funny. “I heard she was going to cut Sam’s pecker off, and that new whore carved her up like a turkey on Thanksgiving.”
“She’ll be all right. Even with scars, Shirley’s got some of the best pussy in Waycross.” I took a sip of my coffee. “Speaking of Sam, we got that job in Valdosta to do today.”
“Yeah, I know. What we gonna do about Jeffery Peterson? Weren’t you supposed to go out there today?”
“Damn. Guess we’re gonna have to send LC.”
“Send me where?” LC walked in the back door, wearing his Byrd’s garage overalls like he’d been working all night.
“Gonna need you to take care of something this afternoon,” I said.
“Can’t. I gotta work this afternoon,” he protested.
“Figure it out. This’ll only take an hour or two of your time,” I told him firmly. “I need you, man, and I’ll make it worth your while. You got my word.”
LC sucked his teeth but didn’t say anything.
“Well, here’s something worth your while.” Larry slid a folded newspaper across the table. I unfolded it, revealing a small stack of money. It had to be four or five hundred dollars.
“Matt Jones?” I smirked.
“Yep. Brought it by this morning. He sold his car after he heard what happened to fat-ass Quincy’s foot.”
“Quincy still owes us three grand, I might add.”
“Don’t worry about Quincy. I’ll take care of him,” Larry stated.
NeeNee placed two plates of eggs, grits, bacon, and biscuits in front of us then sat on Larry’s knee as we started to eat. LC sat down across from me, carrying his own plate. For the next five minutes, we ate silently—until LC dropped the bomb on us.
“Old Man Walker died last night,” LC said out of nowhere, shocking the shit out of us.
We all turned to face him. Mr. Walker ran the numbers rackets in Waycross and all of Ware County, which was a pretty lucrative business.
“What the fuck do you mean, he died?” Larry snapped, stabbing a biscuit with his fork. “How did he die?” Larry and Ray Jr., Mr. Walker’s only son, were real close. In fact, he was so close to the family that he used to do number pick-ups for Mr. Walker before he went into the army. “You know, Lou, I wouldn’t put it past Sam to have Mr. Walker killed, just like he did Ray Jr.”
Rumor had it that Ray Jr. caught Sam messing with his old lady Sandra, and Sam ended up killing him. They never found Ray’s body, but Sandra ended up working at Sam’s a few weeks later, so you could just imagine what the rest of Waycross was thinking.
NeeNee said exactly what I was thinking. “Mm-hmm, everyone knows Sam wanted Mr. Walker’s business.”
Sam had been trying to get Mr. Walker to sell him the numbers business for a long time, but Mr. Walker refused.
“Sam didn’t kill Mr. Walker. He died in a car accident over there on US1 this morning,” LC clarified, and it was a relief for me. “Me and Mr. Byrd just pulled his car out of a ditch for the state police. They said he musta fell asleep at the wheel.”
“Yeah, but you can bet your ass he’ll still own Mr. Walker’s business by the end of the month,” Larry said with assurance, lighting a cigarette. “Damn shame, too. I know that old man didn’t want Sam to have his business.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that. Ms. Walker’s not gonna sell her husband’s policy bank to Big Sam,” NeeNee said, starting to clear off the table.
I shook my head. “If she don’t, he’ll just start up fresh. The Walkers don’t have the muscle to stand up to Big Sam. Not with Mr. Walker and Ray dead.”
“No, God dammit!” LC spoke up, slamming his hand on the table. He had that same shit eating grin he wore whenever he had a good hand in spades. “The Walkers don’t have the muscle, but you and Larry do. Y’all should buy it from Mrs. Walker before Big Sam does.”
I turned and looked at LC like he had two heads. Although the idea was sweet, the boy had no idea what he was suggesting. “What are you trying to do, get us all killed? Sam wants that business, LC. You don’t go up against a nigga like Big Sam Bradford on something like this.”
“Why not?”
“Because things don’t work that way.” I turned to Larry, who was sucking on what was left of his cigarette, listening intently. “Will you talk some sense into this boy?”
“I don’t know, Lou. The kid’s got a point. We’ve got the money, and I do know the business. I’m sure Mrs. Walker would sell us the customer list and give us her blessing.”
I shook my head furiously. “Oh my God! Do you two hear yourselves? Do you fucking hear yourself? What about Sam?”
“What about him!” Larry exploded. “All I keep hearing about is Sam this and Sam that. You need to stop being his bitch, Lou. What’s he going to do if we buy it?” Larry picked up his gun. “I’ll tell you what—nothin’. That’s what he’s going to do, except maybe cut you off from getting free pussy.”
“I don’t fucking believe this shit. Y’all have lost your minds.” I turned to LC and pointed. “You’re going to get us killed with all your big dreams of grandeur, college boy. You don’t understand how shit works. This is life, not some fucking college textbook or a rundown gas station you want to buy someday.”
“I know it’s life, Lou. What I don’t understand is why my big brothers, who I look up to, aren’t taking advantage of an opportunity to stand on their own,” LC said confidently.
“Cause that opportunity could get us all killed,” I replied.
“That opportunity could make us rich,” Larry added.
I glanced back and forth between my brothers. What the fuck were they trying to get me into?
Larry continued, “I don’t know about you, Lou, but I’m sick of being under that pimp’s thumb.”
LC got out of his chair, waving his hands around wildly as he talked. “It’s simple, Lou. Are you going to be the man or the man next to the man? Make up your mind, because opportunity knocks, and whichever play you decide, I’ll back you, and so will Larry and Levi.”
LC
14
First thing I noticed when I stopped the car in front of Big Sam’s was how quiet the place appeared to be for two in the afternoon. Like somebody had replaced the normal revelry with an almost churchlike atmosphere. There wasn’t one girl with her robe coming undone, requiring her to make a big show of retying it in order to reel in a customer. To say I was relived would be putting it mildly. Last thing I needed was for Donna to ca
tch a glimpse of what really went on in this place. It was one thing to know, and an entirely different thing to see it with your own eyes.
“I’ma go with you,” Donna insisted, staring up at the neon sign that read BIG SAM’S. Hell, it was bad enough that I was behind the wheel of her father’s brand new convertible Chrysler K car. If her pops found out she’d let me drive and then I’d taken her and his car over to Oak Street, I don’t know how crazy he’d get. It would be all the excuse he needed to get me away from his daughter for good, and I wasn’t about to let that happen.
“Nah, you stay in the car.” I picked up the pile of books that were in the back seat. “I’m just gonna run these in here and get something from Lou. I’ll be back in a flash.”
“But I want to go.” Donna pouted, batting her eyelashes at me.
“Sorry, babe. Big Sam’s is no place for you.” I gave her a quick peck on the cheek then headed toward the door before she could make a fuss.
The quiet made me wonder if the cops had finally raided the place. As soon as I opened the front door, I could see how mistaken I had been. The party was in full force, with more happy, hard-dick drunk men than I’d seen in a long time on a weekday. They were being seduced by half naked girls who planned on emptying their wallets.
“Well, hello, Mr. Duncan.” I looked up and saw Chippy in a black teddy, wearing a black cowboy hat and boots. A far cry from what she looked like at the library the other day, she took the phrase Ride ’em, cowgirl to a whole new level. She smiled at me, but unlike the other half naked women in the joint, her smile was genuine and not laced with any bullshit ulterior motives.
“Hey, just the woman I was looking for. How’s it going?”
“Better now that I finished reading that book you suggested. The library had two copies. It must be really popular.”
“Yeah, it was required reading for this psychology class I was taking.”
