Commercial time. Eat all you want of those golden hearts of corn.
Unless you just want to ping on the sugar rush. Benito Florres is the likely suspect that Bill is closing in on. All they find is his sassy sister.
Juanita invites them in and tells her brothers story. I'd imagined the lake visible at the end of the block, gulls mewing, and water lapping the wooden back porches as if they were docks. It was a vision Lefty had prompted when he told me the street was named for a ghostly island that sometimes still rose on the horizon of the lake, an island once inhabited by the Blue Island Indians that sank from sight when the last warrior died. Maybe my lifelong longing for islands came from the promise of that street name.
Pigeons, not gulls, paced the window ledges. One of Lefty's Mexican neighbors kept a pigeon coop on the roof, and the birds' constant cooing seemed like a cool windless breeze wafting through Lefty's room. A few times, Lefty took me up through the trapdoor to see the pigeons.
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I recalled overhearing my mother talking in a worried way to my father about Lefty drunkenly staggering up to the roof at night to play his sax. The cops had been called to get him down. Except for an audience of pigeons and neighbors whom he woke from a sound sleep at three in the morning, Lefty no longer played in public. His old combo, the Bluebirds, had broken up when he'd left for Korea. Lefty's best buddy from the Bluebirds, a guy we called the Bruiser, still drummed in a local band that played for weddings. You could hear the Bruiser from a block away, his bass beat a sonic boom, his rimshots carrying like gunfire.
We'd follow the beat to the open side door of a tavern hall and stand watching the dancers whoop around the dance floor while the Bruiser thundered behind a wheezy, sad-sack polka band. Lefty, played it whenever the Bruiser joined us there for a drink. They always set a shot of Jim Beam on the bar for Deke, the Bluebirds' guitar player who'd been killed in Korea.
I wondered who drank it after we left. It was one of those Saturdays in summer when we'd gone to Sportsman's-I'd hit a winner with a horse named You Bet Your Dupa-and we were in Lefty's room on Blue Island, listening to the Cubs lose to the Giants so I could report on the game, when he told me he was thinking of moving back to California.
I'm glad we weren't at a tavern, because before I could stop myself, I began to cry. I'll be back.
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Look, I got something special I been meaning to show you. Check it out. It opened with a whiff of brass and another scent, one that later in life I'd recognize as a mingling of cork grease, bamboo, and dried saliva. There was a note of perfume from a black slip stuffed in the bell of the horn. The bell was engraved with cursive I couldn't read, the keys were capped in mother-of-pearl. The saxophone gleamed from the plush emerald lining like pirate treasure in an encrusted chest.
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Like a piano on an empty stage, it seemed to emit silence. I pressed the keys, and the felt pads resonated against the holes. Just thumping the keys made a kind of music. The weight of the horn pulled me forward.
Juanita the Bruiser
I listened. All I heard were pigeons. It's there even if no one else hears it. I wanted that clarinet.
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Who taught you to whistle so good? When he played softball n talked about it, it brought meback to my youth and watching the game with my Aunt RIP I do wonder, did this become a HEA between him and Juanita?
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I would like to hope it did. Easy to know James has a family but was it with her? It did take me so The beginning of ths story starts out like it's going no where It did take me sometime to read this, I was putting it off because of the way it started. I'm glad I waited too because the tears helped somewhat after losing my cousin a little over a week ago. So for his hard times and sad few chapters I am grateful. I also wonder, are you still sober? A follow up novella or a continuation I would read now that I have read.
It's a bit dry at the start but if ur reading this, hang in there, it does get better Jun 06, ratherread rated it liked it Shelves: romance-lovers-reading-challenge. The concept is there, the author is capable of making me laugh out loud with his raunchy sense of humor and feel sorrow for James.
I love shy, lonely, athletic James the Hero. The author is a highly skilled writer. The plot is good, but it has too much boring, every day details about James' work and play 2. The plot is good, but it has too much boring, every day details about James' work and playing softball for me. Needs editing. Roy rated it it was amazing May 07, Joanne marked it as to-read Jul 17, Vieira marked it as to-read Jul 18, Crazy for Books Stephanie added it Jul 18, Barbara marked it as to-read Jul 24, Stacie marked it as to-read Oct 25, Deborah added it Jul 27, Maralyn Steeg marked it as to-read Aug 13, There are no discussion topics on this book yet.
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