Three Sides of the Tracks by Mike Addington Page B

friend, and maybe, just maybe, I might
be’a part of it or you might need somebody with some sense. Somebody to make
sure you don’t drive off the road.”
    Bernard saw Danny’s big eyes. “Hey, don’t worry ‘bout it. Might just be
me. . . . Then again, . . . maybe not,” he said and let out a big laugh and
patted Danny on the shoulder.
    The screen door from the kitchen burst open. Bernard and Danny jerked in
their chairs.
    “You boys startin’ kinda early, aren’t you?” Slink said as he reached and
took the unlit marijuana from Bernard’s fingers. He lit it and took a deep
drag. “Got another one of those—? Damn , what happened to the yard?”
     

10
    The Beginning
     
    Slink drained half the beer in one long swallow. “Unc, you got a couple
of dollars to spare?”
    “Hell, boy, why don’t you get a job? Every month, soon as I get my check,
here you come. Sheeit,” Bernard said then pulled out a roll and peeled off a
couple of twenties.
    “That all you can spare? I got a game lined up.”
    “Better win then.”
    “Unc, the game ain’t till tomorrow, and it’ll take me an hour of shootin’
to get up to any worthwhile money if we start with twenty dollars.”
    Bernard’s face turned serious now. He looked up at his nephew. “If you so
damn good at shootin’ pool, how come you always around here wantin’ my money?”
    “ ‘Cause won’t nobody ‘round here shoot me; that’s why. I have to wait
till somebody comes through or hears about me and comes down from Atlanta. And,
well, you know money don’t last forever. Win a few hundred, it’s gone in a
couple of weeks. Less if it’s bill time. I hate asking; I really do. But I do
always pay it back, don’t I?”
    “Yeah, kid, I guess, well, maybe most times anyway. Here dang it, and
don’t ask for no more.” Bernard counted out a hundred dollars. “That’s it, bud;
no more this month. You hear me?”
    “Okay, Unc. Okay.” Slink patted Bernard on the shoulder. “You know I’m
always here for you too, don’t you? I mean, you’re family.”
    Bernard brushed the hand off his shoulder. “Don’t try that shit with me,
Slick, Slink, whatever the hell they call you around here.”
    Slink chuckled. “Okay then, but thanks anyway. I’ll get it back to you.”
    “C’mon, kid. We’re goin’ messing around. C’mon and go with us.”
    “I better stay here and finish the yard, Slink, but I appreciate the
offer.”
    “That wasn’t no offer. I said, c’mon, we’re gonna go mess around a little
bit. It’s a favor for you helping my unc out the other night.”
    “Leave him alone, Slink. He don’t need to be hanging ‘round your bunch,”
Bernard said.
    Slink looked at Danny and motioned with his hand.
    “Oh, it’ll be okay, Bernard. I’ll be back later this afternoon and finish
up the grass.”
    Bernard looked at his watch. “It’s afternoon now. We been shootin’ the
breeze longer than I thought. Slink, you better not get this boy in trouble
now, I’m tellin’ ya’. You hear me?”
    “Damn, Unc, you don’t have no faith in me at all, do you?”
    “None whatsoever.”
    Slink chuckled. “C’mon, kid.”
    Danny followed Slink through the house. The red Barracuda was parked
against the curb.
    “Great car, Slink.”
    “Yeah, I kinda like it. What’s your name again?”
    “Danny.”
    Slink walked with Danny to the passenger side and motioned to the man in
front. “In back. This guy’s riding up here with me.”
    Red eyes looked up at Slink. Red eyes set in a squared head and face that
seemed as if someone had made it piece by piece. The sunken chin under the wide
cheeks and strong jaws gave the impression his face stopped at the lips. Eyebrows
were almost white, and the skin looked washed out, bleached, the same color as a
leather baseball glove a kid bought when he was nine and was still using twenty
years later in pickup games. His father was a white man and his mother black.
But that didn’t tell the whole story