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Back Atlanta Burns Save as PDF
Chapters (50)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Dedication Page
  4. CONTENTS
  5. PART ONE: SHOTGUN GRAVY
  6. Sometimes she wakes…
  7. CHAPTER ONE
  8. CHAPTER TWO
  9. CHAPTER THREE
  10. CHAPTER FOUR
  11. CHAPTER FIVE
  12. CHAPTER SIX
  13. CHAPTER SEVEN
  14. CHAPTER EIGHT
  15. CHAPTER NINE
  16. CHAPTER TEN
  17. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  18. PART TWO: BAIT DOG
  19. CHAPTER TWELVE
  20. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  21. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  22. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  23. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  24. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  25. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  26. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  27. CHAPTER TWENTY
  28. PART THREE: THE FARM
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  34. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  35. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  36. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  37. PART FOUR: KISSING FIRE
  38. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  42. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  43. PART FIVE: BAIT GIRL
  44. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  45. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  46. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  47. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
  48. EPILOGUE: THE MESSAGE
  49. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  50. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

“I said to myself, Arlene, you best never let anything happen to your baby bird again or she’s gonna hate you forever. Because what kind of mother lets her baby bird get hurt? Huh?”

Atlanta doesn’t need this. Not now. “I said, it’s over. It’s fine. Let’s just go.”

“I can’t abide this no more. Can’t sit idly by while people think they can do what they want. They can’t. World’s not supposed to work like that. I bought something. Something to make sense of everything. I brought it.” Her mother plops her big fake-leather purse, pink as a baby pig, onto her lap and begins rooting through it frantically. “Something to make up for what happened, something that . . . that says this ain’t gonna happen again.”

She pulls out a small revolver. Blued steel. Rosewood handle. Fit for a lady—appropriate enough, given that it’s a Smith & Wesson LadySmith. Guy had showed Atlanta one, but she didn’t buy it—she went with the .410 scattergun instead.

All she can think is, Holy shit, Mama has a gun.

And Mama throws open her car door and starts marching back toward the gun club.

“Atlanta,” Chris says from the backseat, “did your mother just pull out a—”

“Yes,” Atlanta says, struggling to undo her lap belt. Damn belts in this car are stickier than a cocklebur. She finally gets it undone, hurries outside, and steps in front of her mother.

“Mama,” she says, “you don’t want to do this. Trust me.”

“You did it,” Mama says, eyes wet. She holds up the gun as if for demonstration. “You protected yourself when I couldn’t. Or didn’t. I made a mistake, baby bird. I let him hurt you. And you’ll never be the same again.” A look crosses her face, the look of a spurned dog ready to bite. “This time I’m not letting anybody get away with hurting you. Now move aside, girl.”

The gun trembles like a living thing.

Atlanta gently places her hand over the side of the weapon. Eases it down.

“Please,” her mother says. A sad plea.

But Atlanta just shakes her head, then takes the gun. “Let me handle this,” she says.

“No,” Arlene says, but the word has lost conviction. Fresh tears run.

“Mama, it’s okay.”

“Please don’t get hurt.”

Atlanta kisses her mother on the cheek. Smells the cigarettes and perfume. Finds comfort there.

Then she goes back inside the gun club.

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER TEN

Skank sees her, cackles, says, “Oh, the bitch is back,” then starts to march over with her claws out. But that’s before she sees the .38 in Atlanta’s hand, and Atlanta makes sure the Skank sees it by sticking it up and pointing it at that mouth of hers—the one framed by the blackened, scabbing split in her lip.