Read Bad Boy Brawly Brown Online
Authors: Walter Mosley
Bad Boy Brawly Brown
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BAD BOY
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BRAWLY
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BROWN
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A L S O B Y WA L T E R M O S L E Y
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e a s y r aw l i n s n o v e l s
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Devil in a Blue Dress
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A Red Death
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White Butterfly
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Black Betty
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A Little Yellow Dog
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Gone Fishin’
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f i c t i o n
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RL’s Dream
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Blue Light
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Walkin’ the Dog
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Fearless Jones
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Futureland
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n o n f i c t i o n
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Workin’ on the Chain Gang
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WALTER MOSLEY
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B A D BOY
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BRAWLY
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B R O W N
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L I T T L E , B R O W N A N D C O M PA N Y
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Boston New York London
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Copyright © 2002 by Walter Mosley
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
First eBook Edition: July 2003
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similar-ity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Little, Brown and Company
1271 Avenue of the Americas
New York, NY 10020
Visit our web site at www.twbookmark.com.
ISBN: 0-7595-9841-X
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For Leroy Mosley
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/
MOUSE IS DEAD
.
Those words had gone through my 1
mind every morning for three months.
Mouse is dead
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because of me.
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When I sat up, Bonnie rolled her shoulder and sighed in her 4
sleep. The sky through our bedroom window was just beginning to 5
brighten.
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The image of Raymond, his eyes open and unseeing, lying stock-7
still on EttaMae’s front lawn, was still in my mind. I lurched out of 8
bed and stumbled to the bathroom. My feet hurt every morning, too, 9
as if I had spent all night walking, searching for EttaMae, to ask her 10
where she’d taken Ray after carrying him out of the hospital.
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So he was still alive?
I asked a nurse who had been on duty that 12
evening.
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No,
she said flatly.
His pulse was gone. The head nurse had just
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called the doctor to pronounce him dead when that crazy woman hit
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Arnold in the head with a suture tray and took Mr. Alexander’s body
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over her shoulder.
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I wandered into the living room and pulled the sash to open the 4
drapes. Red sunlight glinted through the ragged palms at the end of 5
our block. I had never wept over Raymond’s demise, but that tattered 6
light reflected a pain deep in my mind.
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I
T TOOK ME
over half an hour to get dressed. No two socks matched and every shirt seemed to be the wrong color. While I 11
was tying my shoes Bonnie woke up.
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“What are you doing, Easy?” she asked. She had been born in 13
British Guyana but her father was from Martinique, so there was the 14
music of the French language in her English accent.
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“Gettin’ dressed,” I said.
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“Where are you going?”
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“Where you think I’ma be goin’ at this time’a day? To work.” I 18
was feeling mean because of that red light in the far-off sky.
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“But it’s Saturday, baby.”
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“What?”
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Bonnie climbed out of the bed and hugged me. Her naked skin 22
was firm and warm.
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I pulled away from her.
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“You want some breakfast?” I asked.
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“Maybe a little later,” she said. “I didn’t get in from Idlewild un-26
til two this morning. And I have to go back out again today.”
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“Then you go to bed,” I said.
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“You sure? I mean . . . did you need to talk?”
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“Naw. Nuthin’s wrong. Just stupid is all. Thinkin’ Saturday’s a 30 S
workday. Damn.”
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B A D B O Y B R AW LY B R O W N
“Are you going to be okay?” she asked.
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“Yeah. Sure I am.”
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Bonnie had a fine figure. And she was not ashamed to be seen 3
naked. Looking at her pulling on those covers reminded me of why 4
I fell for her. If I hadn’t been so sad, I would have followed her back 5
under those blankets.
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EATHER’S LITTLE YELLOW DOG,
Frenchie, was hiding some-9
where, snarling at me while I made sausages and eggs. He was 10
the love of my little girl’s life, so I accepted his hatred. He blamed 11
me for the death of Idabell Turner, his first owner; I blamed myself 12
for the death of my best friend.
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I
WAS SITTING
at breakfast, smoking a Chesterfield and wonder-16
ing if EttaMae had moved back down to Houston. I still had 17
friends down there in the Fifth Ward. Maybe if I wrote to Lenora 18
Circel and just dropped a line about Etta —
say hi to Etta for me
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give Etta my love.
Then when she wrote back I might learn some-20
thing.
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“Hi, Dad.”
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My hand twitched, flicking two inches of cigarette ash on the 23
eggs.
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Jesus was standing there in front of me.
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“I told you not to sneak up on me like that, boy.”
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“I said hi,” he explained.
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The eggs were ruined but I wasn’t hungry. And I couldn’t stay 28
mad at Jesus, anyway. I might have taken him in when he was a 29
child, but the truth was that
he
had adopted
me.
Jesus worked hard at S 30
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making our home run smoothly, and his love for me was stronger 2
than blood.
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“What you doin’ today?” I asked him.
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“Nuthin’. Messin’ around.”
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“Sit down,” I said.
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Jesus didn’t move the chair as he sat, because there was enough 7
room for him to slide in under the table. He never wasted a move-8
ment — or a word.
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“I wanna drop out of high school,” he said.
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“Say what?”
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His dark eyes stared into mine. He had the smooth, eggshell-12
brown skin and the straight black hair of people who had lived in the 13
Southwest for thousands of years.
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“It’s only a year and a half till you graduate,” I said. “A diploma 15
will help you get a job. And if you keep up with track, you could get 16
a scholarship to UCLA.”
