Detective Lawry,” Louie smiled. “We took care of the powers that be. Why you’s coming up in here busting up my spot? This is the second time this month.” Louie talked with a thick Italian accent.
“Louie, we’ve got to shut you down. Your time’s running out. The administration is cracking down on these illegal number holes now that the lottery is in place.” Detective Lawry spoke to Louie like an old acquaintance. “The game is changing. I told you last year it was coming to this.” Then something else caught Lawry’s attention.
Numbers was frozen by the window with the number slip in hand.
“See, this is exactly what I’m talking about.” He pointed at Numbers. “You got these underage monkeys running around here like they’re at the city zoo or something. Come here, little blackie. You ready to go to jail like the rest of your tribe?” he barked at Numbers.
Numbers didn’t budge.
“Come on, Detective Lawry, easy on the boy,” Louie offered.
“I said, come here, little darkie, right now,” Lawry demanded again. This time Numbers slowly took a step forward.
All eyes were on Detective Lawry, fearing what he had planned for the youngest person in the spot. Crispy Carl knew DetectiveLawry was as low as they came. In terms of dirty cops, he was landfill.
“Hold on now, Detective Lawry, he’s with me,” Crispy Carl said, said stepping up.
Lawry swung around without warning, catching Crispy Carl off guard—directly in the abdomen—with his fat fist. Numbers and the other regulars gasped as Crispy Carl crumbled to the floor with the wind knocked out of him.
“Did anybody ask you anything, nigger?” Lawry fumed, looking at Crispy Carl at his feet.
“That ain’t right. That’s totally uncalled for,” an older lady spoke out.
“You made your point, Detective,” Louie conceded, holding his hands up, signaling that he’d given up. “What do you want?”
“Louie, you know I don’t want to do this to you, but I got a job to do. Shut it down right now. The next time I have to come back here it’s going to be real problems.” He glared at the patrons as he made his way out of the spot. He stopped when he got to the door and studied Numbers. “Stay out of my path, little blackie.”
Deal Me In
“Mommy, Numbers is bothering us,” the twins called out in unison. “Stop, doo-doo head! Get out of here, poopy face!” Lakeisha and Takeisha screamed at him.
Numbers was interfering with their teatime. The girls sat on the floor playing between the full-sized bed they shared and the twin-sized bed their mother slept on. They had dolls, doll accessories, and play dishes everywhere—all or most compliments of Numbers’s winnings.
“Boy, leave La-La and Ta-Ta alone and get from out my room before I have to come back there,” Jenny threatened. Numbers was not finished messing with the girls quite yet. He playfully pulled each of their ponytails before dashing out of the room.
“Maaaa!” the girls cried out.
Numbers was bored out of his skull. His mother had put him on punishment, again, after hearing about what happened at the number spot. She told him that she wanted him to stay away from that place, which was ironic because she was the one who sent him there in the first place.
Crispy Carl and Numbers did hit the number they put in that evening: 108 came out just like that. Straight. Louie didn’t want to pay out at first, but when all the other customers started demanding their money back, he figured it would be cheaper to pay up. Crispy Carl and Numbers were the only winners.
For the last month and a half, Numbers had followed his mother’s orders and stayed out of the spot, but with Christmas approaching he decided to try his luck. When Jenny sent him to the store across Park Avenue to get her a pack of Newports, Numbers thought he’d be slick and put in a quick number. He could have had Crispy Carl place the bet for him but decided it would be quicker to do it himself.
“Louie, we’ve got to shut you down. Your time’s running out. The administration is cracking down on these illegal number holes now that the lottery is in place.” Detective Lawry spoke to Louie like an old acquaintance. “The game is changing. I told you last year it was coming to this.” Then something else caught Lawry’s attention.
Numbers was frozen by the window with the number slip in hand.
“See, this is exactly what I’m talking about.” He pointed at Numbers. “You got these underage monkeys running around here like they’re at the city zoo or something. Come here, little blackie. You ready to go to jail like the rest of your tribe?” he barked at Numbers.
Numbers didn’t budge.
“Come on, Detective Lawry, easy on the boy,” Louie offered.
“I said, come here, little darkie, right now,” Lawry demanded again. This time Numbers slowly took a step forward.
All eyes were on Detective Lawry, fearing what he had planned for the youngest person in the spot. Crispy Carl knew DetectiveLawry was as low as they came. In terms of dirty cops, he was landfill.
“Hold on now, Detective Lawry, he’s with me,” Crispy Carl said, said stepping up.
Lawry swung around without warning, catching Crispy Carl off guard—directly in the abdomen—with his fat fist. Numbers and the other regulars gasped as Crispy Carl crumbled to the floor with the wind knocked out of him.
“Did anybody ask you anything, nigger?” Lawry fumed, looking at Crispy Carl at his feet.
“That ain’t right. That’s totally uncalled for,” an older lady spoke out.
“You made your point, Detective,” Louie conceded, holding his hands up, signaling that he’d given up. “What do you want?”
“Louie, you know I don’t want to do this to you, but I got a job to do. Shut it down right now. The next time I have to come back here it’s going to be real problems.” He glared at the patrons as he made his way out of the spot. He stopped when he got to the door and studied Numbers. “Stay out of my path, little blackie.”
Deal Me In
“Mommy, Numbers is bothering us,” the twins called out in unison. “Stop, doo-doo head! Get out of here, poopy face!” Lakeisha and Takeisha screamed at him.
Numbers was interfering with their teatime. The girls sat on the floor playing between the full-sized bed they shared and the twin-sized bed their mother slept on. They had dolls, doll accessories, and play dishes everywhere—all or most compliments of Numbers’s winnings.
“Boy, leave La-La and Ta-Ta alone and get from out my room before I have to come back there,” Jenny threatened. Numbers was not finished messing with the girls quite yet. He playfully pulled each of their ponytails before dashing out of the room.
“Maaaa!” the girls cried out.
Numbers was bored out of his skull. His mother had put him on punishment, again, after hearing about what happened at the number spot. She told him that she wanted him to stay away from that place, which was ironic because she was the one who sent him there in the first place.
Crispy Carl and Numbers did hit the number they put in that evening: 108 came out just like that. Straight. Louie didn’t want to pay out at first, but when all the other customers started demanding their money back, he figured it would be cheaper to pay up. Crispy Carl and Numbers were the only winners.
For the last month and a half, Numbers had followed his mother’s orders and stayed out of the spot, but with Christmas approaching he decided to try his luck. When Jenny sent him to the store across Park Avenue to get her a pack of Newports, Numbers thought he’d be slick and put in a quick number. He could have had Crispy Carl place the bet for him but decided it would be quicker to do it himself.
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