Chapter Seven Excerpt

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“Tell the truth, Dino.” Poppa C spoke in the soft, easy tone Marcus was accustomed to. “Did you even eat dinner?”

“I had dinner with my son’s mother, Granddad. C’mon now.”

“You had dinner with her or you made her dinner?”

“Why you gotta be old and nasty?”

“Boy, please. I know you. You wanna tell me I’m wrong?”

“You wrong, C.”

“You lying, Marcus. You didn’t eat dinner at Renee’s?”

“Yes, I had dinner with, Em.”

“What was she wearing?”

“I don’t know.” Marcus laughed.

“’Cause she wasn’t wearing nothing, that’s why.”

“God, you are sick.” Marcus hooped with laughter. “Dude, Jelly Roll. Can we get back there, please?”

“It’s well after two in the morning. You laughing and happy and shit. Ain’t even asked me for a hit of this.”

“You want me to hit it, C? Give it here.” The younger Clayton extended his hand to his grandfather.

“Hell, naw. You be don’ choked to death on this. You ain’t used to this shit no more.”

“You gon’ let me hit it or not?”
Smiling, Poppa C handed Marcus the joint. He watched him take the toke, hold it, swallow slowly. No coughing.

“Well, damn. Maybe you are used to this.”

“Um hmm,” Marcus mumbled as he handed the joint off and laid his head back on the couch.

His grandfather watched him and waited before he spoke again. “Dino,” Robert Clayton called softly.

“What?”

“You smell like a girl.” The old Indian chuckled.

“Whatever, old dude. You nasty. Don’t project your horny wishes on me ’cause you can’t break Ebony off.”

“Well,” Poppa C said, taking another hit, “I do pretty damn good breaking her off. Still got her ass running up the wall.”

“Them little blue pills is bad for your heart, C,” Marcus teased.

“Then you better stop taking them. This is all natural, boy.”

“Jokes, the old dude got jokes.”

“And the young dude done blew his baby mama’s back out, but playing coy. I know yo’ ass, Dino.”

The two sat quietly and listened to the calming Jazz music.

“What she call you, ‘Dee?’ She say it so sweet, makes me almost like white women. That what she call you tonight?”

Marcus refused to answer. After thirty minutes, he was sleepy and ready to retire to his old bedroom. Standing, he surveyed his grandfather’s barber shop, took in all the old sights. Heading toward the staircase, he patted Poppa C’s shoulder and bid him good night.

“Can’t hang with the big dogs, huh, pretty boy?”

“Guess not.” Marcus placed one foot on the bottom step before turning back to his grandfather. “And she calls me ‘daddy’ when I’m hitting it right. Said that like five times tonight.”

Robert Clayton waited for the basement door to close before he burst out in laughter. “That boy is a fool.”