Tempest Rising - Diane Mckinney-whetstone [76]
“Yeah, son. Cute little sad-faced girl just out there.”
“You’d have a sad face too if you been through what they’ve been through.” The irritation was back in his voice.
Perry paused to bring the straight edge down over the paper. The paper grunted as it was sliced in two. He ran his fingers over the edges of the fresh-cut paper. That had been a good, even cut; the edges were smooth. “Tell me this, Ty.” He glanced at Tyrone, quickly, and then readied another stack of paper to cut. “Do you think those girls are scared, you know just walking through the streets in this part of the city since they’re so unused to it?”
“That youngest ain’t scared of too much,” Tyrone said as he picked up a handful of the cut paper ends and threw them in the bin of scrap paper. He allowed a slight smile to turn his lips at the thought of Bliss. “That middle one, Victoria, yeah, she’s definitely a little shy. The oldest is probably more afraid inside of that house.” He thought for a second. “I don’t think they’re like trembling in their boots, but hell, they got to feel exposed, you know, unprotected. Like at any minute something could jump off that they’re not prepared for.” Tyrone thought about how unprepared he was for what Mae just said.
Perry watched Tyrone’s face go from right there in the printshop to some rough, spiky place. Probably back to last weekend at Brick’s after-hours spot. “Tyrone, I’ve been thinking.” Perry stopped the paper cutter and looked directly at his son. How vulnerable and exposed he looked standing here in the ink-spotted printer’s apron, his eyebrows raised, dark and thick and innocent against his smooth, maroon-toned skin. “I want to show you where I keep my piece.”
“Your what?” Tyrone resisted the impulse to scratch his head.
“My piece, my pistol, my gun.” Now Perry’s voice was irritated.
“What do I need with your gun?” Tyrone did scratch his head now.
“Shit, what don’t you need with it? Some rough cats hang out on Fifty-second Street after dark. And you travel solo a lot. You know, if you ever feeling threatened, out of your element, you know, my piece might help take the edge off—”
“You think I’m out of my element, don’t you, Pops?”
“Come on, son, don’t go getting all touchy. I watch my own back, and I was born and raised up through here.”
“So that’s why the sudden interest in those girls. You think I’m defenseless as they are, don’t you? Admit it.”
“Naw, naw, naw. Those girls are interesting; that’s why I want to hear about them. I mean, they got one hell of a story; even Hettie talks about them. Plus you obviously attached, they even got you going in your pocket.”
“Keep your gun, Dad, okay? I’m not exactly defenseless.” He tossed another fistful of scraps into the bin. “I’m actually pretty good with my hands. Had you been around more when I was growing up you’d know that.” He stomped toward the back of the shop where the press was. He’d figure out the pink for the lilies on his own.
“Don’t you run that press while you mad, boy,” Perry called behind him. “I mean it, I don’t have no paper to be wasting on your emotions that you need to learn how to keep in check. You run that press now, mark my words, you gonna have to run it again.
“And need to tone down that accent a notch,” Perry muttered, mad at himself too as he went back to cutting paper in front of his two-way mirror as pieces of this part of West Philly rushed on by.
14
Shern and Bliss walked faster than normal on their way home from school. Even their conversations were jumpy and rushed. Partly because at every turn, at every black iron-gated alley, every clump of hedges tall enough for a man to hide behind, every corner house with an alcove down into the storefront basement entrance, they slowed, looked around themselves, then darted past making sure Larry wasn’t jumping out, like he had last week, like