a crooked smile. “Look on the bright side, Corso. You’ve got a whole four days to figure it out.”
Chapter 10
Tuesday, September 18
11:22 A.M. Day 2 of 6
“Robert.” That voice from downstairs. Sounded like a machine needed oil. He was glad for the sound of the damn radio. Even some lame-ass Doobie Brothers shit about Jesus bein’ all right was better than the voice.
“Robert” again. He rolled over and faced the wall. And what the hell was with the Robert shit anyway? How many times he have to tell her? Nobody but her call him Robert. Name be Fury. You ask anybody. They’ll tell you that man Fury is a taggin’ fool. Look around, man. Fury’s name is everywhere.
“Robert.” Oh crap, she was coming up the stairs. Maybe she’d forget about the missing tread. Serve her right to bust her ass. He heard her grunt as she stepped over the hole. Shit! He rolled over, swung his legs upward, and put his feet on the floor. Rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. Eyeballs felt like they were full of sand. He cracked his eyes open, glanced at the digital clock on his nightstand: 11:25. On her way to work. Get through the next five minutes and her sorry ass be gone till late.
The door banged open. Bustin’ a bigger hole in his beloved Tony Hawk poster.
“Let’s go,” she said.
“Hey…hey,” he managed to croak. “What’s happening?” She stood there, hands on hips, making that pissy face of hers. “I doan know, Robert. I’m working too damn hard to keep track of what’s happening anymore.” Oh, man…not this shit again. He bent his head and began picking the lint from between his toes. “I’ll tell you one thing, though, whatever is happening, happened about three hours ago. Ain’t nothing much going to happen, you doan get yourself out of bed in the morning, boy.” He tried not to groan. Jesus, ain’t got no respect for me at all.
“So where you lookin’ for a job today?”
He checked the window. More rain. Can’t look for work in the rain.
“Doan gimme that look!” she hollered.
“I din’ say nothin’.”
“What kind of look is that? Getting a job is what folks do when they ain’t going to school no more. No cause to be lookin’ at me like that. I’m not the one got myself expelled from Garfield High School. So now you get your butt out there and find yourself a job. You think I’m spending the rest of my life supportin’ yourself, you gotta nother think comin’. You hear me, young man? Anotha think comin’.”
“I been lookin’,” he protested.
“Maybe do something profitable wid your time, insteada hangin’ out wid losers like that Tommy Hutton and that other one wid the thing in his tongue, wid them damn spray cans of you-alls, vandalizin’ other people’s walls and everything.”
“I’m lookin’, Mom,” he said. He unwound himself from the covers and got to his feet, stretched his arms over his head hoping his morning hard-on would drive her out of the room.
“Gonna be late tonight. You be here when I get home. You hear me?”
He wanted to tell her to page him. Call whenever she got through screwin’ that fat Korean grocer she work for. Instead, said, “Yeah…sure.”
She gave him another long dose of the pissy look and said, “This here is serious shit. Robert. Ain’t about no job pushin’ burgers…the question is about what in hell you gonna do wid the rest of your life. And believe me, baby, you listen to your momma here—the rest of your life is a hell of a long time.”
No, Robert thought, the question is…where in hell am I gonna get eighteen bucks for paint? This kinda shitty weather, nothin’ but the best will stick. Cheap shit just roll down, make a puddle on the ground.
She turned and left the room. Left the damn door open. No respect at all.
Chapter 11
Wednesday, September 19
7:00 A.M. Day 3 of 6
She brought the morning paper. Dropped it on the seat between them. “FBI—No Way!” A cup of Starbucks coffee steamed softly between
Chapter 10
Tuesday, September 18
11:22 A.M. Day 2 of 6
“Robert.” That voice from downstairs. Sounded like a machine needed oil. He was glad for the sound of the damn radio. Even some lame-ass Doobie Brothers shit about Jesus bein’ all right was better than the voice.
“Robert” again. He rolled over and faced the wall. And what the hell was with the Robert shit anyway? How many times he have to tell her? Nobody but her call him Robert. Name be Fury. You ask anybody. They’ll tell you that man Fury is a taggin’ fool. Look around, man. Fury’s name is everywhere.
“Robert.” Oh crap, she was coming up the stairs. Maybe she’d forget about the missing tread. Serve her right to bust her ass. He heard her grunt as she stepped over the hole. Shit! He rolled over, swung his legs upward, and put his feet on the floor. Rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. Eyeballs felt like they were full of sand. He cracked his eyes open, glanced at the digital clock on his nightstand: 11:25. On her way to work. Get through the next five minutes and her sorry ass be gone till late.
The door banged open. Bustin’ a bigger hole in his beloved Tony Hawk poster.
“Let’s go,” she said.
“Hey…hey,” he managed to croak. “What’s happening?” She stood there, hands on hips, making that pissy face of hers. “I doan know, Robert. I’m working too damn hard to keep track of what’s happening anymore.” Oh, man…not this shit again. He bent his head and began picking the lint from between his toes. “I’ll tell you one thing, though, whatever is happening, happened about three hours ago. Ain’t nothing much going to happen, you doan get yourself out of bed in the morning, boy.” He tried not to groan. Jesus, ain’t got no respect for me at all.
“So where you lookin’ for a job today?”
He checked the window. More rain. Can’t look for work in the rain.
“Doan gimme that look!” she hollered.
“I din’ say nothin’.”
“What kind of look is that? Getting a job is what folks do when they ain’t going to school no more. No cause to be lookin’ at me like that. I’m not the one got myself expelled from Garfield High School. So now you get your butt out there and find yourself a job. You think I’m spending the rest of my life supportin’ yourself, you gotta nother think comin’. You hear me, young man? Anotha think comin’.”
“I been lookin’,” he protested.
“Maybe do something profitable wid your time, insteada hangin’ out wid losers like that Tommy Hutton and that other one wid the thing in his tongue, wid them damn spray cans of you-alls, vandalizin’ other people’s walls and everything.”
“I’m lookin’, Mom,” he said. He unwound himself from the covers and got to his feet, stretched his arms over his head hoping his morning hard-on would drive her out of the room.
“Gonna be late tonight. You be here when I get home. You hear me?”
He wanted to tell her to page him. Call whenever she got through screwin’ that fat Korean grocer she work for. Instead, said, “Yeah…sure.”
She gave him another long dose of the pissy look and said, “This here is serious shit. Robert. Ain’t about no job pushin’ burgers…the question is about what in hell you gonna do wid the rest of your life. And believe me, baby, you listen to your momma here—the rest of your life is a hell of a long time.”
No, Robert thought, the question is…where in hell am I gonna get eighteen bucks for paint? This kinda shitty weather, nothin’ but the best will stick. Cheap shit just roll down, make a puddle on the ground.
She turned and left the room. Left the damn door open. No respect at all.
Chapter 11
Wednesday, September 19
7:00 A.M. Day 3 of 6
She brought the morning paper. Dropped it on the seat between them. “FBI—No Way!” A cup of Starbucks coffee steamed softly between
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