Bad Boy Brawly Brown (8 page)

off down the alley in spite of his unwanted passenger. He sideswiped 12

two wooden fences and knocked over a whole family of garbage 13

cans. I could tell by his driving that Conrad would never make the S 14

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grade on the military side of the revolution; I hoped that Xavier and 2

Strong saw that, too.

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Conrad took side streets. He made so many turns, it seemed to 4

me that we were going in circles. But at some point he pulled out 5

onto Central. We cruised that boulevard toward Florence.

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Nobody spoke for a long time.

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The younger people were in a funk. Maybe it was their first taste 8

of what the world thought of their idealism, their truth.

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Strong was just scared. His eyes were still wide with fear, and his 10

fists were clenched on the hem of Tina’s dress. She didn’t seem to 11

mind. She laid three fingers on the big knuckle of his right hand.

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There was a great deal of tenderness in the gesture.

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I stayed quiet because there was nothing I could learn from hear-14

ing my words. A police raid meant nothing to me. I’d been in whore-15

houses, speakeasies, barber shops, and alley craps games when the 16

police came down. Sometimes I got away and sometimes I lied about 17

my name. There was nothing spectacular about being rousted for be-18

ing black.

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After a while Conrad pulled over to the curb. He fumbled 20

around in the front of his pants for a moment and then turned 21

around, leveling a pistol at my head.

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“Hey, Con, what’s wrong wit’ you?” Xavier cried.

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“Conrad!” Tina added.

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“Who are you, man?” Conrad demanded.

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I gazed into his eyes, wondering why I felt no fear. For a moment 26

I thought that I had gone crazy, that Mouse’s death had robbed me 27

of my own survival instinct. But then I thought that it was probably 28

the adrenaline from the escape that kept me unafraid.

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“Easy,” I said.

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“Say what?”

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“Easy. Easy Rawlins.”

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“Put the gun down, Conrad,” Strong demanded in a command-1

ing baritone.

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“We don’t know who he is. Maybe he’s the one called the pigs 3

on us.”

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“They didn’t need him, Conrad,” Tina said. “We were right 5

there in our own place.”

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“Yeah, man,” Xavier complained. “Talk sense.”

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“Put the gun down,” Strong said again.

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Conrad finally did as he was told. It made no difference to me.

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By then I was thinking about Jesus wanting to drop out of school.

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Suddenly I felt that I understood my son’s desire. Life was too short 11

and too sweet to be spent in the company of fools.

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“Well, Mr. Rawlins?” Strong asked.

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“I was lookin’ for Brawly Brown. His mother wanted to make 14

sure that he wasn’t in trouble.”

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“What’s that supposed to mean?” Conrad wouldn’t have been 16

happy with anything I said.

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“It means that she’s a mother and she’s worried over her son. For 18

all she knows, he’s with a gang. So I told her that I’d find him and ask 19

him to give her a call.”

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Sometimes the truth is just as good as a lie.

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“You’re not welcome among us, Mr. Rawlins,” Strong said at last.

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“There’s no time for Good Samaritans and mother’s tears while the 23

police brutalize our souls and break our bodies.”

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“That’s okay with me, man. You know, I don’t want my body bro-25

ken, neither. But could you take me back to Hambones? My ride is 26

out in front’a there.” I didn’t lie but I talked in a way that hid the na-27

ture of my mind.

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“No,” Conrad said. “Get out here and find your own way back.”

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Xavier and Tina wouldn’t meet my gaze.

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“I think I must agree,” Strong said.

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“Okay. All right then.” I opened the door and got out. As soon as 2

I was on the curb the lime Caddy took off.

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There I was, at least three miles from my car, but I wasn’t un-4

happy. I walked four blocks to a small diner and called the Ajax Cab 5

Company. They sent a red and white car straight off to pick me up.

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A friendly driver named Arnold Beard from North Carolina took me 7

to my car.

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He didn’t ask me why I was out and so far away from my car, and 9

I felt no need to explain.

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I
WAS AT MY HOUSE
by eight-thirty. The volume on the TV was turned up high; I could hear it from the front porch. I knew what 14

I would find when I got inside. Feather would be sitting almost on 15

top of our console TV while Jesus slept behind her, sprawled out on 16

the couch.

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Frenchie, the little yellow dog, growled at me from under the 18

TV set. I was so happy to be home that even that foul mutt’s snarling 19

felt like a welcome.

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“Shhh, Daddy. Juice sleepin’.” She wore her pale blue pajamas 21

with decals of Roy Rogers and Dale Evans pasted all over them.

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“Hey there, cowgirl.”

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“Shhh,” she said, and then she giggled as I picked her up.

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“Are you baby-sitting for Juice?”

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“Uh-huh.”

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Feather put her soft arms around my neck and laid her head just 27

below my chin. She always fell asleep in my arms at night when I 28

came home late. She would try her best to stay awake until I got 29

there, but the moment I picked her up she was on her way to dream-30 S

land.

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By the time I had her under the covers she was in a deep sleep.

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I left Jesus on the couch. It was hard to wake him up, and it had 2

been years since I could carry him to bed. After all, he was almost 3

seventeen years old. He’d wake up at some point and look in to 4

check on Feather and then me before going to bed.

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I put away the dishes that Jesus and Feather had washed and left 6

in the rack to dry. Then I went to my bedroom. Frenchie followed 7

me, snarling and crouching as if he were about to pounce. But he 8

was no larger than a big rat. He knew that he couldn’t do the kind of 9

damage he wanted.

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I stripped off my T-shirt and looked at him in the doorway.

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“What you want?”

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Confusion replaced hatred for a moment and then he snarled 13

again. I threw my T-shirt on his head, causing him to yelp and run 14

from the room.

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It gave me a kind of perverse pleasure to know that there was 16

someone close to me who was always planning my demise. Frenchie 17

hated me, that much was sure. He blamed me for the death of his 18

mistress, and forgiveness was not a part of his nature. Every time I 19

saw him he reminded me that there’s always somebody out to get 20

you, that you better keep your guard up because there’s no such a 21

thing as
safe.

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I
WENT TO BED
feeling lonely. That’s what Bonnie had brought 25

into my life — loneliness. Before her, my company was the best 26

company. I loved my kids but they were children; they were going to 27

grow up and go away, and I felt that I could let them. But now my 28

bed felt as though it were missing something when Bonnie was gone.

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When she was off on her flights to Europe and Africa, I never got a S 30

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satisfying sleep. And when she was home, even though I was miser-2

able over the death of Raymond, I found an island in my dreams that 3

was the closest thing to home that I had ever known.

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No one had ever really been there for me before. I never talked 5

to my first wife. Back then I thought that a man was supposed to be 6

strong and silent; he was supposed to make her safe and warm while 7

paying the bills and siring children.

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But Bonnie changed all that. She was on my wavelength. And 9

she was an independent thinker. She could take an action for herself 10

without anybody else’s approval. I knew that because she’d once 11

killed a man who attacked her and then went on with her life. Some-12

times I’d wake up at night and look at her, knowing that she had 13

crossed the same line I had. But I was never afraid. I felt like some 14

ancient nomad who could depend on his woman to fight at his side, 15

tooth and nail, against the wild.

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That night had me wide-eyed but it wasn’t just missing Bonnie.

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Neither was my insomnia due to the police raid or the pistol in my 18

face. All that was just a small part of the obstacle course that had 19

been my life. I was an orphan at eight years old in the Deep South. I 20

had fought, and won, against men when I didn’t even have hair in 21

my armpits.

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No, neither the Urban Revolutionary Party nor their cop ene-23

mies bothered me. But dead men were different.

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In the cool darkness of my room I wondered about the dead man 25

and Alva’s plea to find her son. It would have been easy enough for 26

me to go to John and tell him that murder was more than I had 27

signed up for. I didn’t even have to tell him, because it was bound to 28

get around about the death in Alva’s cousin’s home. John would 29

know that I couldn’t get involved with that kind of trouble. He knew 30 S

what trying to make a normal life meant.

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I decided to call him and say that I’d gone to the First Men, that
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I saw Brawly and he looked fine. He would have heard about the 1

murder by then. He’d understand.

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I breathed a deep sigh, relieved that my insanity was only a 3

twelve-hour bug. But when I dozed off I found myself in the middle 4

of a very real dream. I walked into a room where Mouse was seated 5

at a small round table. He was wearing a dark suit and a short-6

brimmed hat. I remained on my feet and told him the story of my 7

day. He was looking down while I spoke, listening to my words with 8

gravity. When I finished he looked up with his gray eyes glittering.

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He shrugged as if to say,
Hey, man, what’s to worry?

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I felt that giddiness in my gut again. I woke up in the middle of 11

the night realizing that I was trying to stifle a laugh.

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9
/ “MOUSE! HEY, RAYMOND,
wait up!”

He was walking down the street a block ahead of

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me. I increased my pace but couldn’t manage to gain on him.

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“Wait up, man!” I cried.

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And then, suddenly, he turned around. His pistol was in his hand 6

and he opened fire. I froze in place, knowing the deadly accuracy of 7

his marksmanship. He let off five or six rounds and I was still standing.

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I looked around behind me and saw three dead men on the ground.

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When I looked back in Mouse’s direction he smiled and tipped his 10

hat to me. Then he turned and walked away quickly. I wanted to fol-11

low but was so frightened that I couldn’t make my legs move.

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“Daddy.”

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I felt a slight nudge at my arm.

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“Daddy, wake up,” Jesus said. He was kneeling over me.

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I was on the floor next to the bed, partly wrapped in sheets and
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covers. I wondered how I got there. I didn’t think I could have fallen.

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Maybe I was trying to hide from those killers under the bed.

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“Uncle John’s here,” the boy said.

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“What time is it?”

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