Let’s see, I got six by my first wife, five by my second, three by my—
Damn, Hatch said. Darnell glowed like a mythical being in his eyes.
— third. And Junior. Darnell nodded at Abu.
Abu, Abu said with clear malice.
Abu there.
Thanks, Abu said, his fat lips forming a sarcastic pout.
Least those the ones I take care of. See, my first wife had two from another—
Okay.
Well, and this other one I don’t even count.
Why not?
Cause he got a stupid mother. I go over there to visit him and she talkin bout, I ain’t gon let you see him cause all you gon do is have him sittin up round yo other woman. I say, So goddamn what? Then she call me at work, Darnell, I jus got outa jail.
Jail?
Yeah, jail. Police arrest me cause Jim ain’t been in school. He didn’t have no shoes to wear to school. I tell her, What good that nigga you messin wit? She talkin bout, Bring me some money or you never see Jim. So I told her, Fuck you, fuck Jim, fuck yo mamma, fuck yo daddy and yo whole fucking family.
Hatch, Darnell, and the girl all started cracking up with laughter. Abu remained quiet.
Whose baby is that? Hatch said, settled now, directing the question to both Darnell and his woman.
The woman grinned.
His father dead, Darnell said. He’s a bastard.
The woman cocked her eyes. Don’t call my baby no bastard. You no good rotten—
Girl, keep yo panties on. Don’t you know the meaning of the word?
She sat there, eyes smoking.
See, I’m honest wit her. Darnell nodded at his woman. She know I ain’t gon leave my wife for her.
The woman smiled.
My oldest daughter called me the other day. Seventeen. She been going wit this boy for a while. So I tell her, You jus finished school. You doing well. I be glad to have him as a son-in-law. She say, Daddy, I don’t know about him.
Why not?
He ask me for some.
What?
He ask me for some.
So I say, Damn, baby. Give him some. Yall been going together now for—
She live here? Hatch said.
No. In Yazoo.
Yazoo, ‘Sippi?
Yeah.
My folks out of Houston.
I know where that is.
I jus came back from there.
Well, I hope you had a good time.
Microphone check one two
represent
Microphone check
represent represent
Microphone check one two
represent
Microphone check
represent represent
Three four
Open up the door
Kid Attack is back and black so open up for more
I say I’m all that
Smooth and phat,
Lyrically developed, I’m like John Henry droppin the funky tracks
You can’t sweat me
but you might catch me
See me perspirin
No I ain’t cryin
See me flyin high like my man Flight Lesson
Don’t mean to brag but you should see me confessin to all
these bytches I be stressin
Ah um
Listen to this lesson:
honeys be scheezin, honeys be weavin, honeys be schemin
The honeys who be abstract be givin up the ave
That’s pretty good, Abu said.
It’s a little something I been workin on.
What about your guitar? You got some new phat licks? I bet you ready to tear—
Not really. Man, I ain’t played in days. Hatch wiggled his mute fingers. Don’t feel like it either.
Abu thought about the words with a disbelieving look. You’ll be back. You’ll play again.
Hatch said nothing.
The whir of wing in sudden flight. Birds lifted to the sky to join an eternal black stain that circled the horizon.
I been thinking, Abu said. Thinking. We should change the name of the band.
Oh yeah?
Yeah. How bout—
That’s good.
The yellow day opened before them. They walked, their unlaced athletic shoes flapping about their ankles. Defeated, Abu took a while before speaking again. So what’s up with Elsa? You talked to her since you got back?
Here, Hatch said. He shoved Mr. Pulliam’s green army bag into Abu’s chest. Carry this for a while.
Damn!
Yeah, I know. It’s heavy.
They descended into the breathing subway. Enclosed behind a lengthy picture window, a subway map glowed like a great magical web. Steel rivers, red, yellow, blue, black, green. Sticky magnetism, spinning above, below, and through the city. Fast train wind blew loose flyers down the platform like racing horses.
DO YOU WANT TO DIE OVERSEAS?
GIVE PEACE A CHANCE
END U.S. IMPERIALISM!
HELL NO! LET YOUR MAMMA GO!
MOTHERFUCK THE WAR!
Hatch hummed a melody and swayed, fire-blue depths.
You’ll get it back, Abu said.
A mouse scuttled into a crack of the tiled wall.
Ever notice something? Hatch said.
What?
How a mouse look like a Tampax.
Nigga, sometimes you think of some weird shit.
Seriously, his tail look jus like the string. And his body—
Okay, I get the picture.
YEAH. THERE WAS THIS LADY WIT NO HANDS AND NO FEET DRIVIN A CAR.
Nigga, you lyin, Abu said.
Straight up. One foot on the gas pedal. One foot on the steering wheel.
You lyin.
On the TV. In West Memphis.
No way.
They can do shit like that down South. On this other show, this man wit no hands and no arms was playin the drums.
Impossible.
That’s cause you ain’t never been down South.
Sure. Anything you say.
A trickle of water rolled down the train window. A second trickle staggered down as the train sped through the black tunnel.
You’ll be back, Abu said. Hatch turned to see the other studying him with true concern in his eyes. Abu leaned over his stomach, leaned in close. You’ll be back, he said. He lifted an invisible glass into the air, toasting to many more talented days.
Hatch allowed his eyes to travel the car. Look at that old motherfucker, he said, nodding at a white jackal who sat across the aisle intent on his newspaper.
Abu said nothing, clearly shocked at the swift shift in subject.
Man, jus look at him!
Ah, he’s old.
Yeah, but I bet he’s done a lot of damage.
At the next station, more jackals boarded the train, a pack, foul with the bowels of hell. Hatch pinched his nose.
What’s up with that? Abu said. Why you pinchin your nose?
I can’t breathe with all these jackals, Hatch said, nasal. He continued to pinch his nose.
Many of the jackals exited the train at the next station.
Good, Hatch said. He released his nose. Now we can breathe.
You too much, Abu said. Too much.
A nigga bopped onto the train. He walked stiffly on bowed legs, a cardboard skeleton, hinged limbs moving limply from side to side. He sat down and immediately fell asleep. The train pulled into squealing shaking speed.
That’s No Face the Thief! Hatch said.
Where?
Over there.
That ain’t him.
That’s him.
Hatch recognized the black eye patch. Pin-striped like his tailored pinstriped suit.