(no subject)
Per EdtheRoach's advice I'm sticking in here late. For those of you who will read this twice, I apologize. (But they both fit so neatly together.) So here goes.
Genre: Tragedy
Rating: PG-13-on the dark side
Word Count: 889, this version.
I saw him dump the body. I, Leora Coltrane, watched from the window as he marched across the dark parking lot. I knew what he was hauling. It was a dark night, couple years ago an' they ain't caught him yet, not my boy. An' they shoa' ain't found that body.
It happened one dark night, no moon, couldn't even see the sky; the breeze was blowing, but it was hot. It was the season fo' being hot.
We was club hoppin' my man an' I. We goin' t' all the good spots, then we go to Joe's. Joe's ain't much to look at, not durin' the day. It didn't even look that good at night, but we go there 'cuz it's Joe's. That was when I first saw 'im. He was a clean boy, hair slicked back, college kid, white boy. What he was doin' in Joe's I can never tell, but there he was. An' he is gettin' an eyefull, staring, just staring away.
It was that red stiletto heel followed by a long leg an’ a lil’ black leather skirt. The boy stared. I guess he couldn't help it.
"What you staring at boy?" The skirt asked. "Honey, you go put yo' eyes somewhere else." Dellisha turned her back on him. She go leaning into another pair of leering eyes an' jabbered away 'bout some sort'a nothing.
The boy slunk off to the other end of the bar. It was darker there, maybe he thought no one'd see him. We seen 'im, though, staring at that black skirt and those red heels.
Now Deonte he ain't a bad man, but he takes care of his own. You go cross his neighbor and you ain't gonna live too long. An' there's dat boy a starin' an starin' at Dellisha's skirt. Dellisha, she ain't no bad girl, neither, she just loves the men and they loves her.
She coulda' made some kinda' magazine spread, some photograph, standing there leanin' on the bar. Long legs, long, long, an’ that little skirt wi' her inside it all smooth an' curvy. Her hair hangin' down, I never know how she keep her hair that long. Long legs, long hair and them spikey lil' heels, like a dagger blade. Oh she's hot, just so much brown sugar, an' she knows it too. She turns an' give my man a look and he git hisself over there.
"Who dat man in da' corner?"
"I don't know 'im, he's not from 'round here. He don't come wi' you?"
Dellisha shook her head. "Maybe I should git knowin' some new people."
"You good with the set you got, don't go takin' up wi' no new ones, hear? Deonte shook her arm, but she was lookin' at the boy. Deonte, he came back, grumbling.
"Ain't nobody in my family takin' up wi' no white boy. Ain't nobody."
Dellisha moved to the back corner. She was a good woman, Dellisha, just too good wi' the boys, that's all. I could see her sizing him up, moving in for the kill.
"Hey pretty boy, talk to momma why don't you." She is petting that boy's arm, she just ready to shake loose. “I ain’t gonna mail you no invitation boy, com’on.”
Deonte he couldn't take no more. He stands up an' leaves me, leave me to watch, like he knows I be doin'.
The boy, he don't see my man leave; all he see is one black booty and a pair of long black legs.
But Dellisha see him. She know my man, an now, he ain't no happy man. She be talking soft to the boy, just for a minute an' she make her way out the door.
His eyes, they follow her out the door. He get up, he pay and go to the door. I see him from the window, slipping off 'cross the street. A few doorways down he stop, an' a long bronze arm goes circlin' 'round him and I knew where they was headed. She be already slipping the straps down her bare shoulders.
Some stupid kid, he foun' the wallet on the street, they drug him in an question him good, but he don't know nothin'; he don't remember even where he found it, poor kid. What's happen'd to him I'd don't wanna say but he ain't talkin' now.
God, they all heard Dellisha scream. Don't nobody remember nothing, but I could hear hear from Joe's. She went an' cried for a week afta' that. First she's like, "Is he hurt. Is he hurt." Then, dang, she's off screaming an' wailing. "He's the best I ever had." She crying an' screaming an' yelling, "Deonte, don't hurt 'im." She be just crazy, just crazy. Still is.
Jester of Hell's Square they call him, Joe that is. They say it's like he's hidin somethin', like he knows what's goin' down but he won't tell 'em, just to make 'em cops look bad. But they can't do nothin' to Joe, he's like family Joe is. An' when I seen him carryin' that floppin' body down to the crack that night, an' when he be diggin' that slug out of Dellisha's wall and tellin' everybody to be cool, I know he the man.
I got me some secrets, but Joe, he knows 'em all.
Genre: Tragedy
Rating: PG-13-on the dark side
Word Count: 889, this version.
I saw him dump the body. I, Leora Coltrane, watched from the window as he marched across the dark parking lot. I knew what he was hauling. It was a dark night, couple years ago an' they ain't caught him yet, not my boy. An' they shoa' ain't found that body.
It happened one dark night, no moon, couldn't even see the sky; the breeze was blowing, but it was hot. It was the season fo' being hot.
We was club hoppin' my man an' I. We goin' t' all the good spots, then we go to Joe's. Joe's ain't much to look at, not durin' the day. It didn't even look that good at night, but we go there 'cuz it's Joe's. That was when I first saw 'im. He was a clean boy, hair slicked back, college kid, white boy. What he was doin' in Joe's I can never tell, but there he was. An' he is gettin' an eyefull, staring, just staring away.
It was that red stiletto heel followed by a long leg an’ a lil’ black leather skirt. The boy stared. I guess he couldn't help it.
"What you staring at boy?" The skirt asked. "Honey, you go put yo' eyes somewhere else." Dellisha turned her back on him. She go leaning into another pair of leering eyes an' jabbered away 'bout some sort'a nothing.
The boy slunk off to the other end of the bar. It was darker there, maybe he thought no one'd see him. We seen 'im, though, staring at that black skirt and those red heels.
Now Deonte he ain't a bad man, but he takes care of his own. You go cross his neighbor and you ain't gonna live too long. An' there's dat boy a starin' an starin' at Dellisha's skirt. Dellisha, she ain't no bad girl, neither, she just loves the men and they loves her.
She coulda' made some kinda' magazine spread, some photograph, standing there leanin' on the bar. Long legs, long, long, an’ that little skirt wi' her inside it all smooth an' curvy. Her hair hangin' down, I never know how she keep her hair that long. Long legs, long hair and them spikey lil' heels, like a dagger blade. Oh she's hot, just so much brown sugar, an' she knows it too. She turns an' give my man a look and he git hisself over there.
"Who dat man in da' corner?"
"I don't know 'im, he's not from 'round here. He don't come wi' you?"
Dellisha shook her head. "Maybe I should git knowin' some new people."
"You good with the set you got, don't go takin' up wi' no new ones, hear? Deonte shook her arm, but she was lookin' at the boy. Deonte, he came back, grumbling.
"Ain't nobody in my family takin' up wi' no white boy. Ain't nobody."
Dellisha moved to the back corner. She was a good woman, Dellisha, just too good wi' the boys, that's all. I could see her sizing him up, moving in for the kill.
"Hey pretty boy, talk to momma why don't you." She is petting that boy's arm, she just ready to shake loose. “I ain’t gonna mail you no invitation boy, com’on.”
Deonte he couldn't take no more. He stands up an' leaves me, leave me to watch, like he knows I be doin'.
The boy, he don't see my man leave; all he see is one black booty and a pair of long black legs.
But Dellisha see him. She know my man, an now, he ain't no happy man. She be talking soft to the boy, just for a minute an' she make her way out the door.
His eyes, they follow her out the door. He get up, he pay and go to the door. I see him from the window, slipping off 'cross the street. A few doorways down he stop, an' a long bronze arm goes circlin' 'round him and I knew where they was headed. She be already slipping the straps down her bare shoulders.
Some stupid kid, he foun' the wallet on the street, they drug him in an question him good, but he don't know nothin'; he don't remember even where he found it, poor kid. What's happen'd to him I'd don't wanna say but he ain't talkin' now.
God, they all heard Dellisha scream. Don't nobody remember nothing, but I could hear hear from Joe's. She went an' cried for a week afta' that. First she's like, "Is he hurt. Is he hurt." Then, dang, she's off screaming an' wailing. "He's the best I ever had." She crying an' screaming an' yelling, "Deonte, don't hurt 'im." She be just crazy, just crazy. Still is.
Jester of Hell's Square they call him, Joe that is. They say it's like he's hidin somethin', like he knows what's goin' down but he won't tell 'em, just to make 'em cops look bad. But they can't do nothin' to Joe, he's like family Joe is. An' when I seen him carryin' that floppin' body down to the crack that night, an' when he be diggin' that slug out of Dellisha's wall and tellin' everybody to be cool, I know he the man.
I got me some secrets, but Joe, he knows 'em all.