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Back The Tin Men Save as PDF
Chapters (41)
  1. By the Same Author
  2. Copyright
  3. Introduction by the Author
  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. About the Author

I loped across to the piano and flipped the lid. My eighty-eight little friends smiled up at me. Black and white together – no segregation at this lunch-counter. I struck a few soft blues chords, just to tell my very good friends I was back again in the land that I call home, and then launched out into ‘Eatin’ Corn.’ I took it fast, but not too fast, tamping the rhythm down into a long flowing line that pounded down the tracks like the old Twentieth Century Limited. We swung out of A, my black and white friends and I, and went storming over into E minor. I knew nothing but that it was good. Just that here I was ridin’ ‘Eatin’ Corn’ like it was a soarin’ eagle, and my poor sad heart burstin’ with all the good joy of it. I forgot Nunopolos and Fiddlingchild and Anna-bitch. I even forgot Nina – till I saw her standin’ beside me at the piano, her eyes shinin’ like stars. They spoke to me, her eyes. They said, Hey Rick, give me a break. I can take it, Rick.

So I nodded across at her and gave her a break. And there she was, her voice pacing down the track beside me.

‘Eatin’ corn!

‘Eatin’ corn!

‘Eatin’ corn!

‘Eatin’ corn!’

‘Go, go, go, woman!’ I cried. And went, went, went she.

‘Eatin’ corn!

‘Eatin’ corn!

‘Eatin’ corn!’

Her voice writhed at me like leg-irons. My chords struck into her like love-bites. It was now. It was good.

‘Eatin’ corn!

‘Eatin’ corn!

‘Eatin’ corn!

‘Oh, gimme more’n!’

We wound it up, and sat looking at one another like we’d never seen one another before and maybe we hadn’t at that.

‘Hey, man, hey!’ she said.

‘Let’s make hey while the sun shines,’ I quipped, and I could see she liked being quipped as much as I liked quipping. I guess that made us just about the cosiest little gruesome twosome west of the Goldhawk Road.

Rowe signed off with a cool full stop, and sat looking at it like he’d never seen a full stop before, and maybe he hadn’t at that. He looked down at his twenty-six little friends on the keyboard, not to mention that crazy little full stop, or Pal Apostrophe, or cobber comma, or so long, colon, been good to know ya, and Honi soit key mal y pense, type-cast maybe, but who cares when twenty-six little shining ebony faces look up to yours saying Hey Daddy-o. . . .

‘All right,’ said Rowe to his twenty-six little friends. ‘It’s twenty-six to one and I surrender unconditionally. I swear I’ll never lay another finger on any of you again.’

31

31

The day dawned. The hour struck. The moment of destiny was at hand.