some more cookies? There are sodas, milk, water and juice in the refrigerator if you’re thirsty,” Sierra offers, never looking my way.
Vernon grabs a couple of the freshly baked pecan-chocolate chip cookies and puts them in a napkin.
“I don’t mind if I do. Thanks, Sierra. These things are so good, you need to be selling them,” Vernon says as he kisses my wife on the cheek on his way to the refrigerator.
Sierra smiles. “They’re my mother’s recipe, so I’d have to get permission to do that, Vernon.”
“Baby, those look good. I think I’ll have one myself.” I reach to get a cookie from the baking tray, but Sierra moves them from my grasp. She gives me a cold stare as her smile evaporates so fast I don’t even see her blink. Sierra walks toward the kitchen counter where the cookie jar is. I just stand there with my hand outstretched.
“Make your own damn cookies, Mr. Selfish Man,”
Sierra snaps as she goes to sit with the kids at the table.
Vernon passes by me and gives me a nudge, trying to control his laughter as he heads outside. “Whoa, is it getting cold in here or is it just me?” Vernon teases as he pulls the tab from the grape-juice can.
I don’t even bother with the cookies. It’s best not to irritate my wife any more than I already have. We get on the basketball court in my driveway and Vernon comes over and puts his long arm around my shoulder.
“Joe, dang man. You got to be in some serious shit.
When your woman won’t even give you a cookie, you must have messed up bad,” Vernon states as he grabs the basketball from me and shoots it into the basket. “Yeah, Vincent Alexandria
63
brotha, just when you thought it couldn’t get worse, Big Poppa has to come to your house and whip your ass at basketball.”
“Vernon, I got this, and I can handle my wife. You just worry about this thrashing I’m about to put on your old ass, my friend.”
Vernon pushes the ball into my chest. “Well, dude, pull your pink panties up and take out the ball, so this old man can show you what he’s working with.”
I take the ball out, fake left, then right and drive to the basket, making a lay-up off the backboard. “One to nothing!”
Vernon gets the rebound and throws me the basketball. “That was luck. I dare you to do it again.”
I bounce the ball in-bound and fake to my left again and then pull up for a fifteen-foot jumper off the glass.
“Two to nothing! Where’s all that junk talking you were doing?”
“Just shut up and take the ball out, punk. That move wasn’t cute. You looked like Penny Hardaway on crack,”
Vernon jokes.
I bounce the ball in and dribble to my left, pulling up for another jump shot, which rolls around the rim, then out. Vernon grabs the rebound and puts the ball in for an easy lay-up. “Here I come, baby,” Vernon warns.
“Tell you what, old man, I know you don’t have a jumper no more, so as long as you can make it from twenty feet out, I won’t guard you.”
“I don’t need no favors because I live and die by my jumper, boy,” Vernon replies as he steps in-bounds and lets fly another jump shot that falls perfectly into the hoop, causing the nets to pop.
64
Black Rain
“Hot damn, you hear that, boy? Ooh, wee! I love that sound! You better get the fire extinguisher before I burn your nets up.”
“That was luck, and you know it. You need to shut up before I make you eat all that crap you’re talking.”
Vernon steps in-bound and lets another perfect shot fly.
It goes in just like the other. “That was for your momma!”
“We playing the dozens, now? Okay then, I’m gonna give you something to tell my momma about.”
Vernon steps in, but is unaware I have his rhythm down. When he goes up for another jump shot, I quickly leap and swat the ball on the roof, off the garage, and burst out laughing. “Yeah, now go and tell my momma about that, punk!”
Vernon calls out, “Foul!”
“What? Man, you must be crazy. That was all
Vernon grabs a couple of the freshly baked pecan-chocolate chip cookies and puts them in a napkin.
“I don’t mind if I do. Thanks, Sierra. These things are so good, you need to be selling them,” Vernon says as he kisses my wife on the cheek on his way to the refrigerator.
Sierra smiles. “They’re my mother’s recipe, so I’d have to get permission to do that, Vernon.”
“Baby, those look good. I think I’ll have one myself.” I reach to get a cookie from the baking tray, but Sierra moves them from my grasp. She gives me a cold stare as her smile evaporates so fast I don’t even see her blink. Sierra walks toward the kitchen counter where the cookie jar is. I just stand there with my hand outstretched.
“Make your own damn cookies, Mr. Selfish Man,”
Sierra snaps as she goes to sit with the kids at the table.
Vernon passes by me and gives me a nudge, trying to control his laughter as he heads outside. “Whoa, is it getting cold in here or is it just me?” Vernon teases as he pulls the tab from the grape-juice can.
I don’t even bother with the cookies. It’s best not to irritate my wife any more than I already have. We get on the basketball court in my driveway and Vernon comes over and puts his long arm around my shoulder.
“Joe, dang man. You got to be in some serious shit.
When your woman won’t even give you a cookie, you must have messed up bad,” Vernon states as he grabs the basketball from me and shoots it into the basket. “Yeah, Vincent Alexandria
63
brotha, just when you thought it couldn’t get worse, Big Poppa has to come to your house and whip your ass at basketball.”
“Vernon, I got this, and I can handle my wife. You just worry about this thrashing I’m about to put on your old ass, my friend.”
Vernon pushes the ball into my chest. “Well, dude, pull your pink panties up and take out the ball, so this old man can show you what he’s working with.”
I take the ball out, fake left, then right and drive to the basket, making a lay-up off the backboard. “One to nothing!”
Vernon gets the rebound and throws me the basketball. “That was luck. I dare you to do it again.”
I bounce the ball in-bound and fake to my left again and then pull up for a fifteen-foot jumper off the glass.
“Two to nothing! Where’s all that junk talking you were doing?”
“Just shut up and take the ball out, punk. That move wasn’t cute. You looked like Penny Hardaway on crack,”
Vernon jokes.
I bounce the ball in and dribble to my left, pulling up for another jump shot, which rolls around the rim, then out. Vernon grabs the rebound and puts the ball in for an easy lay-up. “Here I come, baby,” Vernon warns.
“Tell you what, old man, I know you don’t have a jumper no more, so as long as you can make it from twenty feet out, I won’t guard you.”
“I don’t need no favors because I live and die by my jumper, boy,” Vernon replies as he steps in-bounds and lets fly another jump shot that falls perfectly into the hoop, causing the nets to pop.
64
Black Rain
“Hot damn, you hear that, boy? Ooh, wee! I love that sound! You better get the fire extinguisher before I burn your nets up.”
“That was luck, and you know it. You need to shut up before I make you eat all that crap you’re talking.”
Vernon steps in-bound and lets another perfect shot fly.
It goes in just like the other. “That was for your momma!”
“We playing the dozens, now? Okay then, I’m gonna give you something to tell my momma about.”
Vernon steps in, but is unaware I have his rhythm down. When he goes up for another jump shot, I quickly leap and swat the ball on the roof, off the garage, and burst out laughing. “Yeah, now go and tell my momma about that, punk!”
Vernon calls out, “Foul!”
“What? Man, you must be crazy. That was all
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