p.20
Without missing a beat Norma said, “Then I would go out on the deck
in back of my house and listen to the chimes as they blew in the wind.
And I would get out my paints and paint a pretty picture on a canvas as
it sat on the easel. And just relax as the ocean breeze blew over my body
and the waves pounded on the shore.”
“Wow!” Neal exclaimed. Her soliloquy was so vivid that he caught
himself drifting off to the Carolina shore. “See . . .”
“ . . . What?”
“You know what you’re going to do with yourself after you make all
kinds of money,” Neal bellowed.
“ . . . And you don’t?” Norma questioned him.
“I haven’t got the foggiest idea what I am going to do with the rest
of my life,” Neal responded. “Maybe I’ve been living my dream.”
“Well let me tell you somethin’. I have to have dreams like that,”
Norma said.
“Why is that?” Neal wondered.
“I’d go nuts looking at all of those egg yokes and egg whites if I didn’t
dream a little.” She laughed at her station in life. Her light brown locks
sprinkled with gray were covered by a hairnet. Dental work was needed
on her jagged teeth. Her stockings had a run down the calf from the knee
to the ankle. The smell of grease shot up the hood vent. Reality of life in
the diner displaced the dreams of the East coast.
Neal had to laugh along with her. “See you tomorrow.” He headed
out the door to his rusted-out Chevy. Over his shoulder he yelled. “Keep
working on those dreams and then give one to me.”
p.43
“Are you going to drive him home?” J Dub intervened.
“Yeah. He’s my responsibility,” Dr. DV announced. “We won’t get two
hundred yards out of the parking lot and he’ll be snoring and drooling
all over himself.”
“No, I won’t,” Captain Jer insisted.
“ . . . Happens every time. I don’t expect it to change this time,” Dr.
DV corrected.
“I only had a twelve pack,” Captain Jer said as he slurred his words.
“That’s not enough to put me to sleep.”
“You can barely keep your eyes open right now,” Fred laughed.
Captain Jer squinted. “That’s because it’s bright in here. I’m not
sloshed yet. Shoot, I’ve got to go out to dinner tonight.”
“I hope you’re not driving,” Pork Chop suggested.
“Nah. That’s the wife’s job,” Captain Jer mumbled.
“She’s worse than you!” Fred shouted.
Captain Jer rolled his head around on his shoulders until his chin fell
against his chest. He started laughing to himself. His body was shaking
from the chuckling. “We make a great pair.”
Pork Chop laughed out loud. “Where is she going to take you?”
Captain Jer raised his head and gave Pork Chop a bewildered look.
“ . . . Where else?” He gazed some more until Pork Chop came into focus.
“Your favorite place . . . the Aqua Mermaid.”
p.49
“Uh few uh da guys wanted ta go golfin’,” Tuey responded as he
walked toward the television set. He lifted his fingers to the blinds and
snuck a peek outside.
“Golfin’!” LeVournique shouted. “Since win ya start golfin’? We’s ain’t
got no money fo’ ya ta be doin’ dat.”
“Sum uh da fellas wanted ta git tagedda fo’ ole times sake,” Tuey
replied as he adjusted the oscillating fan to blow more directly on him.
“I’s only duz it once or twice uh year.”
“Wuzn’t it hot out der?” LeVournique asked. The humidity in August
was as high as the temperature on the thermometer.
“Whew weeeeeeee wuz it,” Tuey exclaimed as he reached into his
pocket, grabbed a handkerchief, and dabbed at the beads of sweat that
were on his forehead.
LeVournique walked into the front room with a bowl of freshly peeled
apples and offered them to Tuey. He reached in for two slices as he peered
through the blinds once more. “What’s ya be doin’ now?” she asked.
“Keepin’ mine eyes out fo’ dat Big Bertha,” Tuey responded. “Dat
woman have it in fo’ me.”
p.96
The next day Father Alphonso Blair, a monsignor and director of
finance for the diocese, explained to the church secretary that he had
an appointment with Harold Syms at First Cornstalk Bank. To save
her a trip he explained that he would take the money to the bank and
make the deposit. He would return with the deposit slip to verify that
the amount that was supposed to go in the bank actually made its way
to the church’s account.
Ricki Sandstoner was as personable and friendly with the monsignor of
the diocese as she had been with black businessman D. Wayne Smith. “Father
Blair, good morning! Are you here to fi ll out the scramble for Harold?”
“No, no, no. I’ve had enough of golf for the year,” he laughed. His
jovial attitude spread toward Ricki. “One tee time a year is good for me.”
He handed the bank bag to her.
“What should I tell Harold?” She smiled at the priest. “I’m certain
that he was going to pop the question and extend an invite.”
“You tell him that if he needs a player then he can call my friend
Scottie,” Father Blair said followed by a robust laugh. He then called her
bluff. “But something tells me that Harold isn’t playing in any scrambles.
After what I saw the other day the game of golf doesn’t look like his cup
of tea either.”
Ricki laughed. “I keep telling him that; he doesn’t even look the part.”
“And his talent won’t cover for him.” The priest laughed. “Or lack of.”
“He buys into all these charity events and tells me to find someone
else at the last minute,” Ricki explained. “Give me your friend’s number.
Next time I have to work the phone he’ll be the first one I’ll call.”
p. 173
Father Blair got out of bed and unhooked the breathing device. He
walked to the wall next to the new plasma television screen that was
mounted on the wall and pressed a button. The curtains slid open. “Pretty
neat, huh?”
Scottie P walked to the side of the window and searched for a chord.
He wore sweat pants with a draw string hanging from the waist. He had
taken his shirt off to reveal a hairy chest and a well-defined upper body.
“Are you awake now so that we can open the blinds?”
Alpha Bear pressed another button and the Levelors rose to the
ceiling. The view through the tinted windows was majestic. Straight
down was a manicured golf course that looked out to a towering mountain
range in the distance. To the side several hotel skyscrapers could be seen.
“Lovely, isn’t it?”
“That’s the course I want to play,” Scottie P said as he peered below.
“But it’s like a thousand dollars a round.”
“So what?” Alpha Bear answered. “We’re on vacation. If you want to
play it, then I’ll pay for it.” He walked over to the top-floor window, stood
next to Scottie P, and marveled at the view. “Unbelievably gorgeous.”
Scottie P sighed. “I can’t wait to play it. I’ll go over there and get a tee time
then,” Scottie P said. “What are you doing the rest of the afternoon?”
“Have you seen the bathroom?” Alpha Bear asked. The tone in his
voice hinted at excitement.
“No.”
“It’s got a Jacuzzi tub with dozens of jets,” Alpha Bear gushed. “I think
that I’ll climb in and soak.”
p. 183
“You can wake the dead with that stuff blaring,” J Dub said as he
entered the shed. Tuey had his boom box turned up a few notches.
“Dat’s sum good stuff, ain’t it?”
J Dub shrugged. “Not really. I guess it’s a matter of taste.” He wasn’t
too fond of the gangster rap music.
“Dat’s my good frien’ D. Wayne singin’ dat song.”
“You told me that once before.”
“Yeah,” Tuey answered. “His rappa name is Shriek Caramel U-Hop.
Da lady in dat song be MiSSuS KuLe BReeZe SiSTa JaNeLLe.”
“He’s got his hand in a lot of stuff,” J Dub said.
Tuey’s eyes got real wide. “Oh yeah, he’s uh big success.”
J Dub went to the boom box and turned the volume down significantly.
“Whew. Now I can hear myself think.” He noticed the rolled up set of
plans on the work bench. “How’s the job going today?” Traffic on the golf
course was limited due to the cooler and damper weather.
“Da darn hydraulic system be actin’ up agin,” Tuey said. Puddles
squirmed loose from his arms, sprang onto the old couch, and jumped
to the gravel floor to nestle against J Dub’s leg.
“What’s wrong?”
“We be waitin’ fo’ uh part,” Tuey said.
“It’s a part and not a hose?” J Dub questioned.
Tuey nodded his head up and down. “Da arm wit’ da bucket won’t
move to da left or to da right.” He scratched the top of his skull cap. “I’s
tinks dat dere be sumptin’ wrong wit’ da kingpost.”
J Dub thought that it was better to not get into the specifics. “You’re
on top of things though, right?”
Tuey shook his head up and down. “It jus’ makes fo’ mo’ delays.” He
reached into the inner pocket of his camouflage suit and pulled out a
letter. “You’s don’t knows any lawyas duz ya?”
J Dub was puzzled as to why Tuey would need a lawyer. He looked
at the envelope and asked, “What do you have there?”
p. 207
Paul looked at Tuey. “How’s that ditch work coming along?”
“Oh,” Tuey drawled, “it be gittin’ dere.”
Captain Jer swung back around and yelled to Paco. “Maybe you can
help him. You’re an expert on ditches, aren’t you?”
“What do you mean?” Paco asked.
“Isn’t that they way you got into the country?” Captain Jer replied. Years
before Paco had crossed the Rio Grande from Chihuahua, Mexico.
“I had to swim a little,” Paco said with a grin.
“Yeah, right,” Captain Jer said. “Then you’re dumber than I thought.
I can see you tiptoeing across that quicksand.”
“I never got beat so hard in my life,” Paul said.
“When?” Julie butted in.
“When I swam across the Mississippi,” Paul answered.
“Then you must be the dumb one,” Captain Jer said. “Those currents
are enough to drown anybody.”
“My mother said the same thing,” Paul confided. “I was eleven and she
beat me so hard with a fly swatter I had welts for two weeks.” He paused.
“Back then it was one of those fly swatters that had metal around the mesh.”
The guys winced at the thought. “Did you’s make it?” Tuey asked.
“I’m sitting here, aren’t I?” Paul grinned. “I can say that I swam across
the Mississippi.”
p. 247
The front door opened and Tuey started to step through the door and
into the clubhouse. “Whoa! Whoa, big fella!” Julie shouted. “Where do
you think you’re going like that?”
“My’s backhoe’s stucks in da mud agin,” Tuey blurted.
Captain Jer was in rare form and mimicked Tuey. “I’s stays outsides den.
She’s in her bitchy mood.” He laughed at himself until his stomach shook.
Tuey stopped in his tracks. He was wearing rubber boots that were
covered in sludge. His pants legs were tucked in the boots and were coated
with mud up past the knees. His bright, lime-colored skull cap covered
his head. “Mista Syms’s is really gonna be pissed now.”
“Don’t you come in here looking like that!” Julie reminded him. “You
look like you’ve been sloppin’ a sty full of sows!”
“What’s am I’s gonna do’s now?” Tuey asked. “I’s can’ts work any mo’
today an’ we’s got’s dat meetin’ at da city hall comin’ up.”
“None’s of ’s us can’s helps ya,” was the drunken response from across
the room, “causes nones of ’s us is workin’. Excepts maybe Elia, here.”
Captain Jer laughed harder at his imitation of Tuey. “He’s stills workin’.
Maybe’s he’ll cuts yo’ hair an’ clean yo black ass up fo’ dat meetin’.”
Elia glared at Captain Jer. Then he broke out in laughter. “If I didn’t
know better and Tuey wasn’t a gentleman, then we’d both smack you
down to size.” He got up and headed for the door. “Come on Tuey. Let’s
go out and give you a haircut.”
“Dat Captain Jer’s gettin’ pretty good wit’ dose imitashuns uh me’s,”
Tuey said with a chuckle.
