BooksBarbecue
Back Blood Grove
Chapters (55)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. Discover More
  53. Praise for Walter Mosley andBlood Grove
  54. About the Author
  55. Also by Walter Mosley

Usually when I told a story Uncle Sorry would smile. But that day he was dead serious.

“And what did you learn from that, Ezekiel?”

“I will never be last again.”

Old Sorry’s nostrils flared and he said, “Come here, boy. Come here.”

I was a little bit afraid but that old man was one of the few people I trusted so I walked right up to him. He was fishing around his pockets for something and finally came out with a five-dollar gold piece. That was a fortune for a full-grown black man back in those days.

“I want you to keep this money with you for all the rest’a the days of your life,” he said. “Keep it so that you nevah forget the lesson that bee taught you.”

“Why cain’t I spend it?” I asked.

“Because the lesson is more important an’ it’s hard for us poor mortals to remember everything. It’s just not possible.”

I still have that coin in my wallet. Just knowing it’s there reminds me of the lesson that bee and Sorry taught—that some things we must never forget. I was thinking about Sorry; tall and thin with a high forehead and skin as black and shiny as tar. That old man who parented me was in my mind’s eye when Mr. “Eddie” Brock Oldstein walked into the front door of the Stephanopoulos Talent Agency.

I could see him through the window talking to little Sata. When she told him her news he turned to look out the window. I don’t believe he saw me but he knew I was there.

At that moment I understood I could not take the next step of this job on my own.

I eased out into the boulevard headed west. A few blocks away I went into Manning’s Drug Store and used the pay phone to call my home phone. No one answered so I dialed another number that was answered by Matteo Longo, assigned driver for the residents of the Bowl of Brighthope.

“Did you take Feather anywhere today, Matt?”

“Down to the house where I took the hippie.”

Terry answered on the first ring.

“Yeah, she’s here, Easy. She’s getting high with her brother out back.”

28

28

I had no right to be angry with Terry. He was a hippie and hippies had a different set of rules than straights did. Hippies believed in free love and getting high, world peace and sharing what you have with those who don’t. If I didn’t want Feather to be exposed to all that, I shouldn’t have put Milo there and then given her the phone number.