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    Ain't No Rest for the Wicked
    Ain't No Rest for the Wicked
    Ain't No Rest for the Wicked
    Ebook122 pages1 hour

    Ain't No Rest for the Wicked

    By Canojo Koi

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Ain't Rest for the Wicked is composed of eight short stories revolving around four generations of the Braxton family living in New Orleans, Louisiana. From Calvin "Cal" Braxton's relationship with his black girlfriend nicknamed Sweet Thing to the death of his great-grandson in 2052, follow the whole patched-up Braxton clan through life and drama through ninety-nine years of Southern chaos.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCanojo Koi
    Release dateOct 12, 2015
    ISBN9781519922243
    Ain't No Rest for the Wicked
    Author

    Canojo Koi

    Canojo Koi writes for the 18+ crowd. She love to write, watch anime, read manga, swim, and indulge in all things Japanese and British. Koi is also a sucker for sweet things. Her genres cover erotica, romance, comedy, drama, poetry, supernatural/paranormal, and maybe a little mystery all for adults.

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      Book preview

      Ain't No Rest for the Wicked - Canojo Koi

      Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked

      By: Canojo Koi 

      Copyright © 2016 by Noizchild Johnson

      All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

      First Edition, 2015

      www.noizchild.webs.com

      Cover Art Design by Canojo Koi

      Cover Art by Mogue Files

      Table of Contents

      Is

      Natural Ones

      Humming Bird

      Old Fools

      Rain Makers

      Long Live Cool

      Water Pump

      Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked

      About the Author

      Other Books by Canojo Koi

      Is

      ––––––––

      Isaac Braxton, known to many as Uncle Ike, is the son of Vince and Marie Braxton. Marla Carson, the baby of the whole crazy Braxton clan, is the daughter Winston Isley and Blake Carson. However, before we get to them, let’s go back to the patriarch, Calvin Cal Braxton.

      Cal Braxton was born on December tenth in 1935 at Anne Marie’s Hospital. He weighed eight pounds and six ounces...

      No, no, no! Not that far back! Fast forward eighteen years after 1935. December tenth, 1953...

      ––––––––

      Cal was plotting this morning as he usually did. No, today was different. Today was his eighteenth birthday. He was a real man now. Cal lay awake in bed and stared at the ceiling. Pitch black this morning.

      Happy birthday, Cal! Today had to be special.

      What do I want to do today?

      The loud thrust of the door caused him to jerk his head upwards.

      Happy birthday!

      Cal rolled over in his low bed. His mother, father, and younger twin brothers, Thomas and Clayborne, were all standing in the doorway. The oldest son clinched his eyes shut.

      Thank you, everyone, he mumbled.

      What’s the matter? his mother asked.

      Too bright!

      Sorry, Honey.

      You should be up anyway! his father boomed. It’s time for school!

      I know, I know, Cal mumbled. Can I at least have ten minutes?

      Sure, his mother replied. The family retreated to their big dining room for breakfast.

      In truth, Cal was really plotting on what to do for his birthday today. He wanted to give himself a night that he wouldn’t forget. Today seemed like the day to raise hell in New Orleans. Cal built up the rest of his birthday plans from there. When he was done, he got out of bed and got ready for school.

      ––––––––

      After a quick breakfast, Cal left early for school or so he had told his parents and brothers. In truth he had to iron out the details of this wild birthday in his brain, but first he had to make a little detour. Coal Donkey Avenue always screamed his name every morning. Cal had to take the back entrance, however. It’s not really a good thing to see a white boy going into a black neighborhood in the 1950’s in New Orleans. Cal didn’t mind; it just made the trip all the more exciting.

      Straight through the entrance of Coal Donkey Avenue, stay on the right hand side of the road, follow the fence into the woods, and come out on the dirt path and straight into the cul-de-sac to the yellow brick house on the left. Cal could practically walk this whole path in his sleep. The rare dusting of snow pushed him to speed up. He blinked a few flakes out of his eyes as he jogged on the dirt path. He stopped to catch his breath in the cul-de-sac. Cal’s eyes trailed over to his final destination. The big, old yellow house looked like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. Cal called it the doll house because it looked like a little girl placed her cute little homemade doll house in the middle of this developing slum. The home-made Christmas decorations on the door and windows added onto the cozy feeling to this particular house. Cal gave it a smug look. I am coming for you! He marched over to the house and up to the front porch. The boy knocked on the oak green door. He listened in for a few minutes before the door swung open wide. A black man the size of an oak tree who looked like a backwoods farmer stood in the frame. He looked like he could snap Cal’s spine into two with one full twist. Instinct told everyone never to piss off this man of few words. The boy looked up with a cheesy grin.

      Hi Sir, he said. Beautiful morning, isn’t it? The black man didn’t say anything. He had this, Die, little white boy. Die! in his eyes. Cal forced himself to keep smiling. I think he can smell my dad on me...

      White boy’s here! the man yelled. His voice could shake the dead back to life when he shouted. Cal tried to look inside the house, but the man blocked his view. Finally, the boy smiled when he heard footsteps coming to the door. The black man moved aside to reveal the star of Cal’s planned day. She looked like a little sweetheart of an angel. The pink coat, hat, and scarf couldn’t hide such a deep caramel round face. Her black, curly eyelashes were yet to be covered in snow. She held her textbooks to her chest as she lifted her head for a better look. Cal dusted the snow off of his grey hat and coat.

      Hi there, he greeted this cocoa angel. She gave him a nervous little smile.

      Hi... the angel mumbled while suppressing her emotions in front of her father. Cal had to stop coming here. She had no idea how long her father would accept this white boy here in Coal Donkey Avenue. It even surprised her that he hadn’t killed her boyfriend yet. She was lucky that her mother had a strange power over her father and let Cal come around the house. Otherwise, her boyfriend’s death would fuel the KKK’s reason to recruit new members. Despite the constant whispers of the black farmers about the Robinson’s daughter seeing a white boy around the shady places of New Orleans, her father held his tongue and temper every time he saw Cal’s face. This morning pushed his patience even thinner. The black man snorted as he closed the door behind her. Cal gave her a goofy grin.

      Ready to go? he asked. His angel sprang to life a little bit at his question.

      Alright, she said. Cal held out his hand to her. She slowly reached out to him, but hesitated. Then, she took his hand and he led her through another path to the city.

      On the walk to their schools, Cal turned to his secret girlfriend with a huge smile on his face. "Guess what day

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