The Fourth of July

by Erica Hale

  Patrons of the bar said that it started with a game of pool that turned into a disaster. From courtroom testimony, some college kids stopped over to the bar and got into a fight over a bet that was placed. Sources didn’t know exactly who threw the first punch, but one kid almost lost an eye from a pool cue. Clay had a few bruises and a broken finger.

  Then, there was nothing here in Planters. I didn’t need a newspaper to know what happened next. The bastard came to my state and wrecked a family.

  I put my heels back on and stretched my back. I ran over everything about Clay. How his good looks and charm had got him out of some scraps. He’d probably had a laundry list of petty crimes that weren’t even reported. I bet they were just bushed away. With the crap that I was dealing with my son and this garbage with Clay, I was exhausted body and mind.

  I took the elevator to the 5th floor and sat at my desk.

  “So, what you doing for the holiday?”

  Francine was standing in my doorway.

  “What holiday?”

  “Come on city girl, don’t they celebrate the fourth up in Washington? It is a national holiday, isn’t it?”

  My God, I hadn’t even thought about the fourth. I had too much crap going on in my life to smell the flowers.

  “I don’t have any plans. Is there a good fireworks show somewhere around here? I would love to take my son somewhere, after getting a big plate of BBQ,” I said, trying to sound like my family and I were happy and normal.

  “The big show is usually in the city, but I think me and mine may just watch it on television, ya know? Too many wackos and crazies out. But if you are looking for a plate, you are more than welcome to come over and hang at my place. Just some family coming over, so you and your son can come.”

  I'd rather be doing anything else except sitting around Francine and all her perfect family on my day off. “That sounds great. Email me your number and we’ll try to get there.”

  If I would have declined the offer, she would have hounded me until Saturday, so it was best just to act like we were coming, and later make some excuse why we didn’t make it.

  “I’ll email ya all the information.”

  She squealed in delight. Then, she went on and on about great grandmother’s secret barbeque sauce, how in the hell do you have a secret sauce that everybody and they momma know about.

  “Francine, real quick, who was the person that had the job before me?”

  I remembered her talking about it on my first day here, but I had gone into and information coma and almost flat lined.

  She clasped her hands together and took a seat at my desk. “You remind me of her. Her name is Nadine Watermen. Beautiful girl, and smart, too. Just couldn’t hack it, ya know. Got burned out.”

  Her eyes were shifting from left to right, then she looked up. That was a clear sign that she was lying through her teeth.

  “Burned out? How? You can fit the town on the head of a match stick.”

  The reporter in me leaned forward and opened my ears.

  Francine licked her lips and continued, “Ya see, there was a bit of crime here a while back. Meth labs and such up in the woods. Nadine was on top of it. I mean she went beyond your courtroom stuff. She was going up there and nearly got herself killed.”

  “Killed? Damn, so she got too close, then?”

  “From what I’ve heard, and I hear a lot of things in this town, when you start looking into things that go on here, the stuff you look at starts to look back at you.” She hunched her shoulders. “Next thing I know she put in her letter of resignation and was gone. Without a trace, like vanished into thin air type of stuff.”

  She demonstrated by snapping her fingers.

  “So, the drugs and stuff, did she have a name or something? Anything that you think maybe I can continue?”

  Francine’s eyes grew large, then zeroed in on me. “Lauren, look I like you, and you know that there isn’t a lot of women here, so I want to keep you around.”

  For the first time, Francine looked like she was struggling with her words.

  “Everybody in Planters isn’t like that. I mean we are a good town and there are still some good people here, but some not so much.”

  I already knew what she was getting at but I wanted confirmation.

  “Francine, what do you mean?”

  She folded her arms over her chest, a clear sign that she was shutting down.

  “I’m a big girl I can take it.”

  She started to fidget and play with the hem of her blouse. “Some people here are kinda, I don’t know, not really into accepting people…different people.”

  “Black people,” I blurted.

  “But I’m not like that.” Francine assured, putting her hand over her heart. “I mean we’re all the same in the dark…I even dated a black guy in college once. He was so sweet and had the biggest--”

  “Francine, I don’t need to know all of that. What I am about to ask you is very important, and if you don’t want to answer believe me, I will make you.”

  I narrowed my eyes to try to drive the point home.

  She gulped, “Sure.”

  “Who are these people? I have a good idea that the Planters PD is not on the straight and narrow. And I can think of a few people in some high position that don’t like my skin tone.” I watched her internal tussle. “Francine, this is important. There are some things going on in this town that are slowly ripping it down the middle. You need to help me.”

  Francine pressed her lips together, making a straight line on her face. “Lauren, all I can tell you is that you are correct. Nadine was just like you, but she got in over her head. She was looking at some of the folks here and…and like I said, she’s gone.”

  “Do you think she was killed?”

  “Lauren, now that I wouldn’t know. Nadine didn’t have children or a family, but you do. Don’t go out there writing checks that your ass can’t cash. These are dangerous people that would stop at nothing to keep most of their activity in the dark.” She paused and thought. “You have that same look, the look for the truth about you just like her. And I’m going to tell you the same thing that I told you. Leave it alone.”

  Francine stood and walked to the door of the storage room. “You know that I’m not going to stop looking for the truth about this town.”

  “Nadine said the exact same thing.”

  Chapter 3

  “You know you being here is like having a brother, ya know? With it just being my dad and me before, now I have someone to talk to.” Ernest Junior noted, taking the game controller off his television. “School starts next month; I think you’ll like it. Bedford High is okay, only if you are a senior. This will be your first year, huh?”

  Anthony nodded. Truth was, he wasn’t excited about his new year in high school. He’d rather be back in Washington with his friends that he'd known his whole life. He was dismayed because being here in Planters wasn’t what he wanted. Then, he had to double it with his mother being a liar. “Yeah, school is school no matter where you go.”

  Ernest paused the video game. “I’m sure that you’re still pissed at me for running you in, but that was the only way for you to see what your mom or that lady posing as your mom was really about.”

  Anthony swallowed hard and tried to get his emotions in check. Any other day anyone talking about his ‘mom’ that way would get a foot in their ass. But today was so different.

  “Look, Leland liked your mom and did some digging and found out. The only way for you to know the truth about her is to get you the hell out of that house.”

  The way that Ernest laughed about it made Anthony grit his teeth. His mom did everything for him. Raised him, took care of him, and to find out it was all a lie turned his pain of betrayal to deep rooted anger.

  “Whatever. What time does your dad get home? I want to thank him for letting me crash here for a few days. Maybe later I can help clean up or something. Earn my keep.” As desponded as he was, Anthony forced a
smile on his face. “Don’t want your dad thinking that I’m a freeloader or anything.”

  “Yeah,” Earnest chuckled, starting the game back up. “Don’t want my dad thinking you are a black guy, all lazy and shit.”

  Thinking he was going to break the controller in his grip. “Yeah. I would hate for him to think of me like that.”

  Anthony waited to see if Ernest caught the sarcasm in his voice. Anthony thought of his grandfather, who had held a job up until four years ago, when he retired as an engineer. Or his Uncle Larry that worked IT for some big time corporation back in Seattle. Neither man was lazy like Ernest had said, both men worked hard for their families.

  “Sure don’t. Bad enough we got one living across the street. Hate to have one living with him, too.” Ernest laughed.

  Obviously, sarcasm isn’t in everyday conversation here in Planters, Anthony thought.

  “Dad won’t be in for another hour or so. Just relax, long as we stay up here and out of his way, the better the night will go.”

  Ernest turned from him and gave his full attention back to the game.

  Anthony looked over his new roommate and asked the question that burned at him since the two meet. “Hey, what happened to your cheek?”

  Last time, it was a bruise on his neck, after then, a series of small cuts were on his face and upper arm.

  “Man, nothing. Came up the basement stairs and tripped.” Ernest nudged at Anthony’s shoulders. “Everybody can’t be as graceful as you. You still have to show me that cross over that you did on me on the court.” Ernest gave a chipped tooth smile. “Show me some of them nigger moves that Mammy taught you.”

  Anthony was on his feet. “The problems that my mom and I are having is between us. Now, if you don’t want your ass kicked…again, you drop the name calling.”

  The controller was still in Anthony’s hand when he made the threat, but the look of surprise on Ernest’s face made him reconsider bashing his head in with it.

  “Look, I didn’t mean no harm by it. It’s just how people talk here. And if you want to live down here, you should get used to it.” All you could hear in the stuffy room was Anthony’s heavy breathing. “Shit I’m sorry. I’ll try not to use that word around you.”

  “Don’t use that word ever,” Anthony snapped back.

  Ernest put his hands up in surrender. “I promise. I won’t use that word. Now come on and let me kick your ass in this game real quick.”

  Reluctant at first, Anthony eased back on the edge of the bed.

  “I mean it,” he mumbled.

  “I said I promise.”

  The two played, laughed and ate until the sun no longer blazed through the bedroom.

  “EJ, get you narrow ass down here and now.” At the calling of his name, the younger Ernest straightened. “You hear me, boy?”

  “Come on,” Ernest urged, literally pulling Anthony from the bed, up the hall and down the stairs.

  “Yes, sir,” Ernest answered, standing at attention and Anthony felt a tremble of regret down his spine.

  Ernest, still dirty from the construction site, eyed both boys. “Y’all have been in this house all day? Has anybody come by here snooping around?”

  By the slur in his father’s voice, Ernest knew that this was either going to be the night his father fell asleep early or a night filled with embarrassment.

  “Yes, sir. Ain’t nobody been around here. Me and Anthony were playing video games and we--”

  “You and them damn games. Don’t y’all like girls?” He didn’t wait for either of them to answer. “Hell, when I was y’all’s age, you couldn’t keep me from up under some girl’s skirt who was willing to give it up.” Ernest Senior staggered towards the kitchen. “Hope the two of ya ain’t queer. Not having none of that shit in my house.”

  Ernest quickly fell in step behind his father and Anthony pulled up the rear. “No, sir. Just playing games and watching some T.V. is all we’ve been doing, swear.”

  Taking a beer out of the icebox, his father plopped down at the kitchen table. Ernest toeing off his mud covered work boots.

  “Call for a pizza or something.”

  Ernest Junior patted his pockets for his phone and dialed.

  “Did I give you permission to have company?”

  An audible gulp sounded off in the tiny kitchen.

  Anthony’s eyes widened.

  “I thought you said--”

  The crack of the wooden chair hitting the hardwood floor made both teens jump.

  Ernest was standing on top of his son.

  “Now you’re smarter than me, huh? Trying to tell me what I said.”

  Ernest Junior still had the cell phone to the side of his head.

  “No sir. I…I just…”

  He dropped his head.

  His father laughed and slapped his son on his shoulder. “I’m just messin wit’ ‘cha, boy.” He looked over to Anthony. “What? The two of ya can’t take a joke?”

  Taking his beer off the table and heading down the stairs to the basement, he said, “Don’t forget the sausage on the pizza.”

  It was confirmed, Anthony knew where the bruises came from. He also knew that he couldn’t live here with these people. Ernest had finished the call and put his phone back into his pocket.

  “So, you ready for another round of Zombie?”

  Anthony stepped in closer to Ernest. “Is he always like that?” He whispered, “I mean if he’s like that all the time, how do you take it?”

  Ernest shrugged. “Not all the time. Most nights, he just falls asleep in the basement and leaves me alone.”

  “He hits you.”

  “Like your mom never has.”

  “She did when I was a kid and when I did something stupid. But, she never hit me in my face. Dude, that’s like abuse or something.”

  “He’s making me tough.”

  “He’s made you into his punching bag. You can’t stay here if he is doing that to you. Shit, I’ve been around the guy for ten minutes and I’m scared to death. We need to leave.” Anthony said, turning towards the front door. “Come on.”

  “And go where? I’m all he has.”

  “Dude, we don’t need this shit, and frankly neither do I. We need to get the hell up out of here. My mom knows people. She can get you somewhere safe.”

  Every day of his life, Ernest had thought of plans to get out of this house. Now, one was laid at his feet and he couldn’t take one step towards the door. His father would kill him if he looked for a savior in the black neighbor. That would seal the deal in never being able to step foot back into his home.

  He shook his head, “No. My dad just has it hard at work. The summer is always stressful. He’ll get better. I just have to wait it out, ya know?”

  “No the hell I don’t know. We need to get the hell out of here before he wakes up.”

  Anthony was practically begging. He was about ready to drag him out if he had to.

  Ernest stood still as a statue, afraid to live and too scared to die. “Nah, maybe it’s better if you go back to that liar than stay here, right? My old man is a lot of things,” Ernest paused. “Hell, and I might turn out like him but…I can’t leave him. Not to go run to some nig--” Ernest cut the word off. “I’ll just stay here.”

  There wasn’t a question about working it out with his mom, but it would be better than getting his head cracked. Anthony didn’t even acknowledge Ernest’s near slip up.

  “Dude, you can come, too.”

  “Go where?”

  Leland stood behind the boys in a wide stance. His height and build was suddenly taking up the door way of the kitchen.

  “Hey Leland, me and Anthony was talking about the fishing trip planned for this weekend. We’re still going, right?”

  Leland could smell the lie coming off the kid but decided to let it ride. “Where’s your old man?”

  Ernest threw his head back in the direction of the basement stairs. “Down there.”

  Stepping in bet
ween the teen boys, Leland faced Anthony and lowered his voice just above a whisper. “You don’t move a muscle until I come back upstairs. You understand?” The boy nodded. “I need to speak to you, but I have some business downstairs. Don’t go anywhere.”

  “Yes sir. I won’t go anywhere,” a defeated Anthony agreed.

  “Good.”

  Leland left a dirt trail as he descended the stairs. Ernest’s eyes were slits watching the flat screen, with a beer resting on his knee. “There he is. Did you get it done?” Before he could answer, Ernest put his hand up and cocked his head to the side like he was listening. “You ain’t done shit, I don’t hear her screaming.”

  Leland smirked. “I’m about to get on over there. I just wanted to stop by over here, so at least the boys see me. I need an alibi.”

  “Shit,” Ernest slurred. “Forrest already has you covered if that bitch wants to come and start some legal troubles. Buddy, you are in the clear, but it’s best when you finish with her, you go on home. Don’t call or nothing like that. I know that you heard about that Atlanta lawyer that she had with her the other day at the station. Don’t want anything tying you back here. Just go home, I’m sure you’re going to be pretty tired.”

  Leland stretched his arms over his head. “Yeah, that bitch is going to fight me tooth and nail.” Ernest grinned and it made Leland sick. “But, I’m going to get it though.”

  “Make sure you peel out. Let me know that you finished up. Hell, I might have to go over there and pay her a visit.”

  With a lazy smile, Leland gripped the bill of his cap. “Shit, she’ll be worn out by that time, but if you want to take a swing, you might fall in.” Both men laughed. “Don’t forget to talk to Forrest about getting all of our stories straight.”

  “Buddy, like I said, you are in the clear.”

  Leland had started up the stair before Ernest hollered out, “Before you go over there, there is something I should let you know.”

  Dust puffed off Leland’s boots as he descended the stairs. By the look on Ernest’s face all joking had left the building and the man was serious.

  “What’s up?”