seen Spider since the funeral a month earlier. He’d been so distracted by the problems at Vidal Court, he hadn’t given much thought to missing his best friend. So Kijo was surprised by the deep happiness he now felt sitting in the van next to him.
“How come you don’t just move to Bridgeport?” Spider asked.
“Grandma Rose has forty years’ worth of clients at Jojo Jeffersons,” Kijo explained, as his grandmother had explained to him each time he suggested they leave town. “She can’t just pack up and move.”
“What did you tell her you were up to today?”
“Errands,” said Kijo. In fact, Kijo had invented an elaborate story for Grandma Rose about going up to Norwalk to help Spider get his van out of a tow lot. He’d added an unnecessary bit about a caseworker who had it in for Spider and had personally impounded the van. But Kijo wasn’t a good liar, and Grandma Rose had eyed him with suspicion as he’d left the house that morning with a big duffel bag.
“Can’t lock you up for first-degree erranding,” said Spider.
“She’ll lock us up if we’re late for dinner.”
“Us?” Spider flashed a smile. “We’re the Dukes again, my man.”
Spider’s all-time favorite show was The Dukes of Hazzard . As a kid, he became convinced the show was about black people: “The cousins don’t got a father, right? They only got their uncle Jesse. And they’re running moonshine, trying to get out from under the foot of that whitey-in-a-white-suit Boss Hogg. The Dukes are just regular black folk trying to raise themselves up selling joy juice!”
Spider was big on uncles. After Spider’s father was sent to prison, his uncle Clarence took him in, intending to raise him well so he wouldn’tgo the way of his father. Clarence once brought Spider all the way to Washington, D.C., to see Minister Farrakhan. Clarence was the only man Kijo had ever known who dyed his hair gray so he would be looked upon more decently. He liked his gin and he liked his dice, but he loved Spider, and Kijo had nothing but respect for the man on account of that.
Kijo once made the mistake of introducing Uncle Clarence to Grandma Rose. This was back when he thought what his grandma needed was a man around the house, before Kijo understood what the aunties who sometimes stayed the night were about. Grandma Rose had said what she said about all men: that she could smell a man who hadn’t been to church in years, and Clarence wasn’t coming anywhere near her kitchen table. Uncle Clarence ended up finding Lupa, a Uruguayan woman, but they never married.
And when Uncle Clarence’s cancer killed him, Spider talked the Diamond Diagnostics people into letting him drive specimens all over Connecticut. Kijo thought he’d have a better sense of direction by now.
“We’re going in circles.”
Spider took a pull of beer, wiped his nose. “These are back roads, Kijo. They are made out of circles. You ever hear of a cul-de-sac? Study that map.”
Spider flicked on a bright dome light, and in the glare Kijo noticed that Spider didn’t look so good. His braids, usually thick and raised off his scalp like the legs of a spider, were limp. His skin seemed dull and there were dark circles under his eyes. Kijo knew better than to ask.
“I wanna get a GPS,” Spider said with a sigh.
“You know how much that’ll sink you?” said Kijo.
“I’ll just tell the company it’s an occupational necessity.”
Kijo knew that Spider was broke, and that he didn’t have pull with Diamond Diagnostics. They’d told him one strike—even a parking ticket—and he was out. As if he was recalling this, Spider cranked upthe radio, singing and shaking along to Jay-Z. Spider shoved a slice of pizza into his mouth, chewing hard and thinking.
“Slow it down,” said Kijo.
Spider lightened on the gas, crept along a row of trees, lowered the radio. There wasn’t a person in sight.
“There,” Kijo said, taking a long look out the window. He felt
“How come you don’t just move to Bridgeport?” Spider asked.
“Grandma Rose has forty years’ worth of clients at Jojo Jeffersons,” Kijo explained, as his grandmother had explained to him each time he suggested they leave town. “She can’t just pack up and move.”
“What did you tell her you were up to today?”
“Errands,” said Kijo. In fact, Kijo had invented an elaborate story for Grandma Rose about going up to Norwalk to help Spider get his van out of a tow lot. He’d added an unnecessary bit about a caseworker who had it in for Spider and had personally impounded the van. But Kijo wasn’t a good liar, and Grandma Rose had eyed him with suspicion as he’d left the house that morning with a big duffel bag.
“Can’t lock you up for first-degree erranding,” said Spider.
“She’ll lock us up if we’re late for dinner.”
“Us?” Spider flashed a smile. “We’re the Dukes again, my man.”
Spider’s all-time favorite show was The Dukes of Hazzard . As a kid, he became convinced the show was about black people: “The cousins don’t got a father, right? They only got their uncle Jesse. And they’re running moonshine, trying to get out from under the foot of that whitey-in-a-white-suit Boss Hogg. The Dukes are just regular black folk trying to raise themselves up selling joy juice!”
Spider was big on uncles. After Spider’s father was sent to prison, his uncle Clarence took him in, intending to raise him well so he wouldn’tgo the way of his father. Clarence once brought Spider all the way to Washington, D.C., to see Minister Farrakhan. Clarence was the only man Kijo had ever known who dyed his hair gray so he would be looked upon more decently. He liked his gin and he liked his dice, but he loved Spider, and Kijo had nothing but respect for the man on account of that.
Kijo once made the mistake of introducing Uncle Clarence to Grandma Rose. This was back when he thought what his grandma needed was a man around the house, before Kijo understood what the aunties who sometimes stayed the night were about. Grandma Rose had said what she said about all men: that she could smell a man who hadn’t been to church in years, and Clarence wasn’t coming anywhere near her kitchen table. Uncle Clarence ended up finding Lupa, a Uruguayan woman, but they never married.
And when Uncle Clarence’s cancer killed him, Spider talked the Diamond Diagnostics people into letting him drive specimens all over Connecticut. Kijo thought he’d have a better sense of direction by now.
“We’re going in circles.”
Spider took a pull of beer, wiped his nose. “These are back roads, Kijo. They are made out of circles. You ever hear of a cul-de-sac? Study that map.”
Spider flicked on a bright dome light, and in the glare Kijo noticed that Spider didn’t look so good. His braids, usually thick and raised off his scalp like the legs of a spider, were limp. His skin seemed dull and there were dark circles under his eyes. Kijo knew better than to ask.
“I wanna get a GPS,” Spider said with a sigh.
“You know how much that’ll sink you?” said Kijo.
“I’ll just tell the company it’s an occupational necessity.”
Kijo knew that Spider was broke, and that he didn’t have pull with Diamond Diagnostics. They’d told him one strike—even a parking ticket—and he was out. As if he was recalling this, Spider cranked upthe radio, singing and shaking along to Jay-Z. Spider shoved a slice of pizza into his mouth, chewing hard and thinking.
“Slow it down,” said Kijo.
Spider lightened on the gas, crept along a row of trees, lowered the radio. There wasn’t a person in sight.
“There,” Kijo said, taking a long look out the window. He felt
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