63

 

            On the fourth ring, Reuben answered the phone at the house in Decatur.  Hip-hop boomed in the background. 

            “Reuben, it’s your Uncle Tony.  Turn down that music, will you?”

            “My bad.”  The music’s volume dropped several decibels.  “Wassup, Unc?  I been working on that press release blaster thing for you since the crack of dawn, man.  Be done soon, today prob’ly.”

            Anthony had to concentrate for a moment to remember what the hell the kid was talking about.  The press release blaster.  The program he’d asked Reuben to create, to help promote his books.  It was as if he’d the conversation about it with his nephew in a previous life.

            “Thanks, Reuben.  I appreciate it.  Listen, is your mom around?”

            “Nah.  She spent the night with some dude.   She got her celly with her, though.”

            “She never answers when I call her cell.”

            “Just keep blowing her phone up.  I gotta do that sometimes to get her.”

            “That’s what I’ll do then.”

            “You got a new number or something, Unc?  I never seen the number you’re calling from.”

            “What’s your mom’s cell number?” he asked, ignoring the question.  “I don’t have it memorized.”

            Reuben gave him the number.  Anthony scribbled the digits on a notepad. 

            “You all right, man?” Reuben asked.  “You sound kinda uptight or something.”

            “I can’t get into it right now.”  A troubling thought occurred to him.  “Hey, why don’t you go to a friend’s place for the rest of the day?  Somewhere you can chill out.”

            “Huh?”

            “Reuben, I don’t have time to explain.  Just do it.”

            “But I’m working on this code, man.  Can I stay another hour?”

            “Fine, one more hour.  Then go.  And be careful.  Call me at this number when you’re settled.”

            He terminated the call and punched in Danielle’s number.  After five rings, voice mail picked up.  He hung up and called again, fingers drumming the table, Lisa watching him with a befuddled expression. 

            On the third attempt, Danielle finally answered in a scratchy voice.  “Who the hell keeps calling me?”           

            “It’s me, Tony.  We’ve gotta talk.  Right away, and in person.  Where are you?”

            “Boy, you done lost your goddamn mind?  You having some kinda war flashback or what?”

            “We’re coming to pick you up.  Give me an address.  Please, Danny, it’s important.”     

            She muttered something under her breath about his rudeness, but she gave him an address in Stone Mountain, which he jotted down. 

            “What’s this all about, anyway?” she asked.  “You talkin’ crazy, Junior.”

            “We’ll be there within an hour.” He hung up before she could ask more questions.     

            “Now, will you please tell me what’s going on?” Lisa asked.

            “I’ll tell you on the way,” he said, gathering their things.  “Let’s move out.” 

 

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