Page 46 of Nuts

He looked at her and arched a brow. “You need anything, and I mean anything, don’t hesitate to give me a shout.”

“I uhhm. I can’t right now, but when I can, I will.”

He shook his head. “I’m lost.”

“My phone’s broken. As soon as I can afford it, I need to get it fixed.”

“Afford it?” He reached for his wallet. “I’ll get you a new phone. It’s the least I can do.”

“Sorry. I’ll take care of it myself,” she said with a wave of her hand. “It’s my phone, and my responsibility.”

“We’ve all got responsibilities, Joey. Best I can recall, I owed your Ol’ Man a few bucks when he passed. Four hundred if I remember correctly.” He opened his wallet and laid four $100 bills on the table. “You can do what you want with that. But, that’s my responsibility right there. Me and your Ol’ Man’s straight now.”

She looked at the money, and then at him. “I can’t--”

He stood. “Toss it in the trash. Take it to his gravesite. Frame it in a picture. Don’t rightly care. But that’s his. Him being gone and all, I suppose it’s yours.”

“Thank you. You don’t have any…do you have any pictures of him?”

“Your Ol’ Man?”

She nodded.

“Shit. You haven’t seen the book?”

“What book?”

He shot me a glare, and then looked at her. “The book about the history of the club.”

“I haven’t, no.”

“Plenty of pictures in there of your Ol’ Man. I’ll bring one by next time the Nut invites me over.”

“I can cook another meal,” Smudge said. “Fried chicken? Gravy? Biscuits?”

“Just tell me when,” he said.

“I’ll get the stuff and have Percy…” She shook her head. “P-Nut. I’ll have P-Nut let you know.”

He opened his arms. “Come here.”

She walked around the corner of the table and gave him a hug.

“Last time I seen you, you weren’t much bigger’n a minute. Nice to see you again,” he said.

“Nice to see you, too.”

Bama broke their embrace and looked her over. He shook his head and grinned. “See a lot of your mother in you, Joey. You’d sure make that woman proud. Get that phone fixed, and let me know about the fried chicken.”

“I will.”

As the sound of his motorcycle’s exhaust faded away, we carried the plates to the kitchen.

“I’ll get this cleaned up,” I said. “You cooked it, I’ll clean up.”

“I can help.”

“I know you well enough to know it’s eating you up inside about that cousin of yours,” I said. “There’s a computer in my bedroom. Go start digging.”