Gainesville Green

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© 2012 by Dolphus Cue. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 06/20/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4772-2804-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-2802-9 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-2803-6 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012911248

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CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

MEMPHIS SHOOT OUT

KILLS GAINESVILLE MAN

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CHAPTER 1

Jimmy stood at the window, peeping through the slits of the blinds at the Black Muslims going inside the Stony Island Mosque. There were more of them today than usual. The asphalt lot protected by a chain link fence that surrounded the Mosque was packed to the limits with automobiles of all description. Charter buses, and retired school buses, were parked on both sides of the street. The street looked like a valley between two towering lines of mountains. Automobiles were also parked along the main thoroughfare, Stony Island, right up to the line that designated the bus stop. And the metro buses seemed to deliver a load of Black Muslims every fifteen minutes.

Jimmy was fascinated by the swelling numbers of Black Muslims, but he knew his mother would be angry when she returned from shopping. The place where she normally parked her brand new 1966 Ford Mustang, about a foot from the curb, close to the garage, which was used only for storage, and close to the walk way that led to back steps of the house was occupied by a school bus. He waited for the Sunday Morning edition of the newspaper. His mother had promised to pick up a paper but sometimes she forgot about small things like that. He was anxious to read the sports pages and analyze the box scores.

Stop lookin’ at those fools over there! You’ll be done tore somethin’ up directly!"

Jimmy jerked his head around. Joe Grimes, his stepfather, stood in the frame of the door, looking mean and hateful. He wore a pair of shower shoes, boxer shorts and a tee shirt with the shelves cut off. He opened his mouth and yawn like a growling lion. His forearms and biceps bulged with muscles as he pressed his palms, and strained against the door frame, like he could tear it apart. He smoothed a powerful hand over his course and tight curly hair, and then rubbed the stubbles on his chin like they itched. Jimmy’s eyelids fluttered like someone had thrown a handful of black pepper into his eyes.

Boy where’s your mama?

Jimmy jumped to attention and spoke up quickly, easing away from the blinds like a cat, and over to a chair at the dining room table. Jimmy’s voice was high and soft. It sounded like he was answering a question with a question.

She went to the store?

Joe Grimes ignored Jimmy. He flip-flopped into the kitchen and opened the door of the refrigerator. He surveyed the shelves, then took a half gallon milk carton and turned it up to his lips. When he closed the door of the refrigerator, the milk carton was empty. He burped and sat the carton on the kitchen counter. Jimmy averted his eyes as Joe Grimes flip-flopped into the dining room. He walked over to the window and peeped through the blinds.

The old man must be preachin’ over there this morning. They got cars parked everywhere but up on the roof!

Don’t look like mama will have any place to park, Jimmy added in a tone of appeasement, as he tried to look through the blinds from where he sat in his chair at the table. Joe Grimes parted the slits like he wanted a better view, or make certain that Jimmy was telling him the truth. He looked along the curb close to the garage and the rear of the house where the car was usually parked. He saw a solid line of retired school buses parked bumper to bumper behind each other. Joe Grimes snatched away from the slits. They rattled like a snake giving a warning.

Well kiss my ass! Joe Grimes spit out the words like they were tobacco juice. He spun away from the window and glared at Jimmy whose knees began to knock together under the table.

See there! See how they do! That’s why I don’t believe in none of that Black Muslim shit. Ever since they killed Malcolm X I aint had no use for them. A man is a man. And as long as he’s got these—he held out his big rough hands—and this up here—he tapped at his temple—he can make it! They talk about the white man being the blue eyed devil; I tell you they aint nothin’ but devils themselves! I got a good mind to go over there and tell one of them devils to move that damn bus. It’s blocking our garage. What if we had to get inside? Those devils don’t respect anyone but their own!

Jimmy watched as Joe Grimes vented. He dared not look away. Joe Grimes leaned forward and pounded a fist upon the table. Jimmy jumped.

You wanna know how to make in America? Huh? Get off your lazy black ass and work! Save your money and then put your money to work! He stood to his full height, 6'4", and, pounded his chest like an outraged Tarzan.

Look at me! I came to Chicago with nothing! I was green, fresh from the sticks of Mississippi! I didn’t have anything but the clothes on my back! And nobody gave me anything! But I had these—he jutted his big rough callused hands towards Jimmy’s wide stretched eyes—and I had this—he tapped at his temple like a woodpecker tapping on a hollow tree.

I had to work hard for mine, hard honest work! You think that old man over there know anything about a hard day’s work?—he pointed toward the Mosque, shaking a finger like he was condemning it and all who were inside—Huh? He got those fools tricked, givin’ him money every day. Do you think he does an honest day’s work? Huh? You think he use these!

Again he jutted his hands before Jimmy’s eyes. He shook them like he was demanding an answer. Huh? Do you think he use these?

Jimmy’s eyes switched from side to side like a school boy’s in search of the right guess. No. He uses this? He tapped lightly at his temple; his voice soft and high like an uncertain reply.

Joe Grimes snatched his hands into fists. He huffed and puffed like the wolf who tried to blow down a house of bricks. He spun quickly away from the table. He took three steps, and then spun back around just as quickly. He leaned across the table and shook a threatening finger merely inches away from Jimmy’s nose. Jimmy’s knees knocked furiously together under the table. He braced himself for a slap, a whack, a yank, or some type of physical abuse.

Boy you aint got a lick of sense. You know that?

Yes sir, Jimmy cowered, ready to dodge or duck under the table.

You’re stupid! You’re down right stupid! Why I ought to…

Jimmy threw up a forearm to ward off a blow that never came. Instead Joe Grimes chomped at his lips as he glared down at Jimmy. This obscene standoff lasted for a moment, but it seem like it took forever before Joe Grimes flip-flopped away. Jimmy lowered his head like he was praying, and debated the wisdom of getting up from the table. Suddenly Joe Grimes blared out like a loudspeaker.

Boy, how long has your mama been gone?

Jimmy snapped to attention like a soldier.

I don’t know, but maybe close to an hour?

Hell she ought to be back by now. I hope she brings some beer.

Jimmy glimpsed the Mustang going pass the window.

I think she’s back. I believe I saw the car just go pass. She may be looking for a place to park.

Joe Grimes strutted to the window and parted the slits of the blinds.

Boy I don’t see… oh yeah, that’s her turning around—he started laughing—she’s parking that Mustang in the middle of the street. Man those Black Muslims sure don’t like that! Get out there and help them with those bags.

Jimmy hurried away from the table like he was glad to leave. His sisters were removing bags from the back seat of the Mustang; and his mother, Jill, was at the trunk. It was filled with five brown paper bags bulging with groceries. She didn’t have anything nice to say about the Black Muslims waiting in the cars behind her. Jimmy managed three of the bags, his two sisters managed the lighter ones, and the youngest girl carried the Sunday’s paper. Jill slammed the trunk and drove off, searching for a place to park.

Joe Grimes helped the girls with their bags and immediately asked about some beer. He was told that it was in one of the bags that Jimmy carried. He was walking up the stairs to the back door.

Boy hurry up Joe Grimes shouted, You act like those bags weight a thousand pounds!

Jimmy sat the bags on the nearest counter with a sigh of relief. Joe Grimes nearly pushed him aside as he began to dig into the bags like he was looking for gold.

I hope she got it cold.

Jimmy got the newspaper that his baby sister had carried. He went to the dining room table and opened the paper, The Chicago-Sun Times, to the sports page. Although he was by no means athletic—he was rarely picked to play on any team in his PE class, and when the teacher insisted that he be picked, he was regulated to the bench or buried deep in left field—still he enjoyed reading about professional athletes. They were his only heroes.

Mustang Sally! laughed Joe Grimes as Jill entered the back door. You parked that Mustang right in the middle of the street.

I swear Joe, said Jill, I’m going to start blocking off a parking space. It doesn’t make any sense. I live here and I can’t park my car next to my house. I can’t even get into my garage. I swear those people aint got no respect!

That’s just what I was telling that boy, cried Joe Grimes, But you’re right. We are going to start blocking it off. How are you coming with those gears?

The oldest girl, Charlene laughed.

Mama just keep scrapping those gears and cutting off at the red lights.

Ah hush Charlene, countered Jill, I am doing okay; I am just not use to a standard shift. Sometimes I wish you’d brought me an automatic instead.

Joe Grimes grinned and took a swallow of beer.

I know you wanted that, but I got you what I wanted you to have. Once you learn how to shift those gears, then you’ll be able to drive my truck. Baby I got big plans for us.

Jill went over to Joe and gave him a hug then kissed him on the cheek.

Anything you say baby. You’re the man. I am going to learn those gears.

They smiled and looked at each like they were exchanging intimate thoughts that required no words. Jimmy glanced up at them from the sports page, and then casted his eyes upward. His two oldest sisters, Charlene and Joanna, looked on like they were in the front row of a dark movie house, ready to say, ah aint that sweet.

Joe Grimes rocked his head.

You better learn. I don’t want you to tear up that transmission. If you do, I am going to tear up your transmission.

The girl laughed as did their mother. She laughed because of double entendre and the girls because Joe Grimes was so funny. He cut his eyes at them.

I’ll tear her transmission out the frame!

Jimmy shook his head and closed the newspaper. He got up from the table and started toward the front door.

Boy where you think you going?

Jimmy wore a look of complete surprise as he turned and faced Joe Grimes.

Nowhere, just outside to sit on the steps and read the newspaper.

Wait until those people leave. Just as sure as you go out there, one of them will rush over here trying to sell you a newspaper, or a bean pie, or fill your head with that Black Muslim mess. Just stay inside the house until they leave.

Jimmy took a deep breath and muttered a mite too audible, ah shoot!

Boy what you just said? demanded Joe Grimes, stepping toward Jimmy like a heavy weight champion going to the corner to finish off a listless challenger.

I didn’t say anything!"

You’re telling damn lie! You said ah shit, now didn’t you?

Jimmy saw anger burning in Joe Grimes eyes. He saw a threat to his very existence. He saw only one way out of this dilemma. He looked down at the flip flops on Joe Grimes’ feet. They seemed like they were planted upon the earth. Jimmy bobbed his head up and down like a little boy caught with a hand in a cookie jar. He silently lifted his face like he was guilty as charged. Suddenly, all the eyes in the household were upon him. He saw disappointment, and shame in his mother s’ eyes. They seemed to sob, Oh Jimmy how could you? His sister’s eyes stretch in anticipation and Joe Grimes’s eyes narrowed to slits of hate.

Didn’t you say it?

Jimmy lowered his head again. His voice sound like a hangman noose was being tightened around his throat. His reply was barely audible.

Yes sir.

Huh? Joe Grimes demanded like a drill sergeant. Speak up, I can’t hear you!

Yes sir!

Joe Grimes looked satisfied as if he’d won something of great significance.

Now get your black ass upstairs!

Jimmy retreated upstairs like a man crawling on his hands and knees.

He’s hard headed! He smells his musk! He thinks he’s grown! That goddamn boy of yours! Jesus Christ, look he’s got me cussing. Jill I tell you that boy will make a preacher cuss. I bet you any amount of money he’ll end up in the chain gang, if he doesn’t end up dead first. I bet you he won’t reach twenty-one. I bet any amount…

Jimmy closed the door of his room and shut out the blooming voice of prophesy from below. Tears welled up in his eyes. He went to the window, opened it, and then stared down at the green neatly mowed lawn. He felt like jumping and hopefully killing himself. No one would give a shit anyway. He sniffed and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. The neatly mowed lawn blurred to a soft grassy spot of green. He leaned out the window.

One of these days, he sniffed, wiping snot from his nose, one of these days.

He turned from the window and threw himself upon the bed. He buried his face in the pillow, pounded upon the bed with his fists, and cried like a new born baby.

Why did she marry him? Why? Why? Why? I aint do nothing! He hates me! He hates me! He hates me! Oh God Why? But that’s alright—that’s alright—that’s alright…

Jimmy kept repeating that’s alright like a mantra until he regained his composure. He lifted his face from the pillow. It was wet with snot and tears. He wiped his nose and eyes and sat upright on the bed. He looked over at the chest of draws, and then lowered his eyes to the bottom draw. He pulled it open and from beneath the folded clothing he picked up an old faded photograph. It showed a younger version of his mother, his two sisters, himself, and a young man who no longer existed on the face of the earth: his father. Everyone in the photograph was smiling, everyone had said cheese, and everyone was happy. Jimmy remembered that day. He remembered it very well. He was ten years old. His father’s best friend had snapped it. They were in Lincoln Park at the zoo. That was the last family outing. Jimmy focused upon the smiling face of his father. He remembered the whispered stories of how his father had been gunned down by a policeman after a botched robbery attempt of a Pawn Shop on State Street; and of how the policeman had let him bleed to death because he refused to name his two accomplices who had run off and left him.

Jimmy focused on the younger version of his mother. He remembered the welfare checks, the food stamps and the shabby apartment in the high rise projects. He remembered the gangs, the drugs, the graffiti, the filth, and the constant fear. He remembered the times he went to bed hungry and the nights his sisters cried all night long. He remembered the rats and roaches. He remembered too, the strange faceless men who appeared late at night and disappeared into his mother’s bedroom when he and his sisters were supposed to be sleep.

Jimmy looked away from the photograph and to the open window. He remembered Joe Grimes too, not the first night he came, but the first morning they met. It was a Sunday morning about four o’clock. Jimmy had got up to use the bathroom. The television was on in the front room. He had gone to investigate and to turn it off if his mother had fallen to sleep with it on. Joe Grimes sat back on the sofa in a pair of boxer short watching the television with his legs stretched out on the coffee table. Jimmy’s mother reclined with her head resting on his crotch. Jimmy was startled and froze. He was aware of the faceless men, who slipped in and out of the apartment late at night, but this was the first time, he’d seen one of those men; and the first time he’d seen his mother dressed in a bra and panties.

She lifted her head, looking as if she’d just woke up and could hardly wait to return to sleep. Oh Jimmy! Baby, I want you to meet Joe.

Jimmy never forgot the look in Joe Grimes eyes. It was defiant. It seemed to say, Yeah, I’ve been to bed with your mama and I hope you don’t like it.

I see you get up early. Joe Grimes said with a fox like smile, they say the early bird always get the worm.

Jimmy spoke in a soft greeting and continued on to the toilet. He heard them talking behind his back.

Jimmy is my oldest. I’ve got two more.

Baby I don’t care if you got ten more, declared Joe Grimes, you are going to be my woman!

Jimmy looked back at the photograph and at the smiling face of his father. Maybe Joe Grimes had taken his place with her, but not with him, never.

Suddenly Jimmy heard laughter outside in the hall. It was Jill and Joe Grimes. They were outside the door of his room. Quickly he tossed the photograph back into the draw, but before he could close it, a fist rapped at the door. Jimmy froze for an instant, and then slammed the draw shut just as the door opened. His mother stood at the threshold and looked like she couldn’t decide if she should enter the room or not.

Jimmy is you okay?

He answered quickly.

Yeah I am okay.

Then he heard Joe Grimes calling out to her. She glanced back over her shoulder and left without closing the door. Jimmy would have preferred that she had closed the door, if only to spare him the trouble of getting up to close it. He wanted privacy and although he was alone in the room he felt the open door denied him the privacy he craved. He got up to close the door and as he did, he heard something. He wasn’t sure at first, but soon it became distinct. It was his mother’s voice in a soft whimper that sounded half way between pleasure and pain. She whimpered a name that drove Jimmy insane, . . . Joe-Joe-Joe…. Jimmy shut the door. Jimmy stretched out on the bed. Jimmy stared up at the ceiling. Jimmy felt like covering his ears with the palms of his hands. And as if hearing mother utter that horrid name wasn’t enough, his ears detected the faint squeak of the box springs that supported the mattress of his mother’s bed. The squeaks were as steady as a metronome and seemed to grow louder with each tick and so did the whimpering until his mother’s utterances were no longer distinguishable as a single word, but as a guttural noise. The room started to feel like a torture chamber. Jimmy had taken all he could bare and got up from the bed determined to go down stairs. But as Jimmy arose, the squeaking stopped. Then he heard the door of his mother’s room open and soon after,