Apple Brown Betty by Phillip Thomas Duck Read Free Book Online Page A

Slay. “My condolences,” he said with no irony in his voice.
    â€œYou wanna tell me what happened?” Slay asked.
    â€œGeorge got himself dead,” Tuffy said.
    â€œI told you to ‘hem’ him up, Tuffy. Not kill him.”
    â€œI meant to just ‘buck fifty’ his face like you had said,” Tuffy said, “but I reached in the wrong pocket. My heat is in my right and my blade is in my left.” Buck fifty was street slang for a vicious slash that required one hundred and fifty stitches to mend. “I got crossed and reached in my right instead of my left.”
    â€œDang, Tuff.”
    â€œYou mad?”
    Slay sighed. Took the newspaper and folded it away from the article about George. “He give you any problems?”
    Tuffy shook his head, his eyes wide in remembrance. “Nah, when I moved to bounce on him, he rushed me like you said he would. That old school pride. That’s when I deaded him. Spit on him for good measure.”
    Slay nodded. “Right, right.” Kept nodding, trying to calm his churning stomach. He was losing the edge needed for this tough, brutal, unkind world.
    â€œHow ya moms takin’ it?”
    Wrinkles moved to the edges of Slay’s eyes as he narrowed them. “Hard, but she’ll pull through, she’s been through this before.”
    â€œSister?”
    â€œDoesn’t know yet,” Slay said. “My good old sister is about as removed from this neighborhood as she can be. Lives less than fifteen minutes away and won’t darken our mama’s doorstep. She doesn’t keep up on anything to do with Asbury Park.” Slay changed the tone of his voice, mocking, “She reads the New York Times. Wouldn’t think of opening the Asbury Park Press. ”
    â€œOh, word,” Tuffy said. “I feel her. Me neither.”
    Slay reached into his pocket, pulled a thick wad of bills and placed them on the dash in front of Tuffy. Tuffy reached up, took the bills, placed the money in the inside pocket of his black FUBU jean jacket.
    â€œYou sure no one saw you?” Slay asked.
    â€œNada soul, it was just me and poor Georgie. I did okay with this, Slay?”
    â€œYeah,” Slay said hesitantly.
    â€œKewl. I hope you can use me for some more stuff.”
    Slay nodded.
    Tuffy extended his hand and they tapped fists. He opened the door, tapped the rolled-up window as he moved to part and bopped up the street. Slay watched Tuffy walk into the Chinese Jade take-out restaurant and then he moved to drive off. He did an illegal U-turn and headed off in the other direction, his Nas CD turned way up again.
    Â 
    No.
    How many times did Desmond say it before it morphed to yes? Not enough times, he thought now as he stood naked over his bed and watched Nora sleeping beneath his covers. This was a major step backward for him. What’s done is supposed to stay done. But Nora, like most women, had a finger pressed to his pulse. She was beautiful, sophisticated, had a wicked sense of humor and a puppy dog’s loyalty. Anything she put her mind to, Desmond was sure she could achieve. Everything, that is, except taking Rucker as her last name.
    Regret sat heavy in Desmond’s stomach as he considered this grave mistake. It wasn’t in his nature to bring muddy footsteps onto anyone else’s polished floors. Yet, here he had trampled through Nora’s house again, leaving his tracks everywhere, pained in the knowledge that she wouldn’t be able to remove these tracks for a long time, and worse yet, the walls of her home would come tumbling down.
    He thought back to the evening prior. He was exhausted from his opening night, exhilarated by the presence of his family, broken down by Nora’s incessant plea for a “crumb of his time” when his parents prepared to drop Felicia back at the train station for her hop to New York and then leave for the drive back to Pennsylvania.
    â€œI can