The Search for a Dream Exposes Young Writer to Reality outside Sleepy Hometown in New Book

NEW YORK, NY. – Having the guts to go after one’s aspirations often leads to an awakening on a whole different front. In a compelling new work of fiction, Exchanging Pleasantries (now available through AuthorHouse), ferf ziamond pens a story of a naïve young writer, whose quest to get his byline in big time publications lands him in the heart of New York City. The book includes a screenplay format that seamlessly transforms this edgy urban adventure into a potential film.

With a sprinkle of romance and a dash of racial tension, Exchanging Pleasantries delivers a fresh, feelgood taste of America’s Northeast. MC is ready to make the leap from his small town newspaper job to the more exciting beats offered in New York. To make his journey more credible to his two close friends, Dangie and Mort, he lies and says he already has an offer from Newsday. Although he wishes MC had given up his dream years ago, Mort supports him on this journey into unknown territory. Dangie, frustrated that her relationship with MC never went beyond friendship, is hit hard by his departure, but Mort is there to console her in her hour of need.

Exchanging Pleasantries follows MC to the tough streets of New York, where his naivety lands him in situations ranging from awkward to menacing. Influenced by two prejudiced old men from his hometown, he sticks his foot in his mouth more than once. However, new acquaintances school him in a reality that is far different from what he has always known. Young Cletta, a streetwise juvenile delinquent, accidentally crosses paths with MC and becomes an important element to his journey. Karu’l and James and their easygoing father, Carter, teach the aspiring writer a thing or two about racism.

Meetings with several beautiful women and other unique characters make this comical adventure a sweet, entertaining voyage packed with life lessons.

ferf ziamond is a pen name “representing a colorless, ageless, genderless taleteller” who has introduced this unique concept of writing. Other titles by this author are Remembering Olsen, Anxiety Stricken and Snierdf.

AuthorHouse is the premier publishing house for emerging authors and new voices in literature. For more information, please visit www.authorhouse.com.

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ferf ziamond

Exchanging Pleasantries

for

everyone who cares for a clean and peaceful world

CHAPTER ONE

A soft breeze brings slight movement to the orange leaves that barely cling to the maples up and down Carter Bend. The street named after Vince Carter, the man who built the streets of Beverly Massachusetts. His memory is held alive through a bronze statue that sits proudly guarding the cul-de-sac at the end of the road.

Carter Bend forks off of Trenis’ De Beverly Drive, which is the main road that runs through the entire town of three by three and a half miles. Where they meet is where Trenis’ Village begins, an area of three streets comprised of a barber shop, gas station, ice cream shop, grocery store, library, and the coffee shop that has the appearance of an old shack.

A few friendly faces pass on the street throughout the day. A hello is never heard without someone’s name to follow. Everyone knows everyone, and where those two roads meet is where most of the younger folks meet. Unkempt, historic in appearance, and never empty, the coffee shack is commonly a gathering place for the twenty-two to twenty-nine year olds. That doesn’t mean that it can’t have a couple of seventy year olds occupying a table every now and again.

Harper and Grump are two regulars who use the same table day after day to drink coffee and play checkers for hours upon hours. Their minds are set back to their childhood era. They are sometimes referred to by the younger generation as, the ugly versions of the Vince Carter Statue. That is due to their being permanent fixtures and not the easiest on the eyes.

Their table, like the others, is made from old wood. All of the furniture looks as if it would fall to pieces if a strong wind came along. It looked like that since the first time Harper and Grump drank coffee at the shack.

Grump shakes his head and blinks his eyes rapidly. He looks around the room noticing a few more customers that must have slipped in while he nodded off. “Whose turn is it anyway?” He blurts to Harper who is not paying any mind to the game either.

“Hell if I know. My mind got lost out the winda.” The small window facing Ludlum Avenue, the third of the three village streets, has cob webs in the corners and crust scattered along the panes. Through the weeds growing on the opposite side of the glass, a young woman can be seen on her way to the coffee shack.

A once gold set of chimes, now brown, shakes and rings as the door opens. “Mornin Dangie.” Harper lifts his head for a moment and then looks back down at the checker board shrugging his shoulders. “Am I red or black?”

“Hi ya Harper.” Dangie, mid twenties, brunette, cute but not a super model, walks in unfolding some singles that she pulls from her purse. “The usual Kamptin.” She lays two dollars beside the old fashioned register and smiles at the large man in a tank top behind the counter. His hair is dark and messy as is his beard.

“Dangie.” Kamptin acknowledges her and places her cup of coffee on the worn counter.

She picks it up and walks past Harper and Grump’s table. “Who’s winning?” She looks at the checkerboard and takes a seat two tables back.

“I think I am.” Harper looks up as the chimes ring again. “Oh, this character.”

A young man in his twenties walks toward the counter. Kamptin reaches over to shake his hand. They speak for a few seconds and then the man heads toward Dangie holding his cup. “Black winning?” He looks at Grump.

“Black’s always losing in my book.” Grump stares him down as he takes a seat across from Dangie.

“Hey Dangie.” He looks at her with his glowing blue eyes.

“Mort. Good morning. Starting in all ready?”

“Candyland is friendlier!” He lifts himself up, peering at Grump. Dangie lets out a giggle and covers her mouth. Mort was referring to the game candyland and how it would sooth rather than rile. Grump and Harper’s old fashioned beliefs are the cause of their prejudice.

Grump looks back at Mort for a moment before Harper interrupts. “Gladstone’s on his way up the street. He can get us a refill.” His attention is out the window again.

“Thank you young man, you’re very enlightening.” Grump turns his head back to Harper and whispers. “What the hell is candyland?”

The chimes ring again and Harper smiles. “Hey Gladstone, would you mind?” He holds his coffee cup up to let the young man know he needs a refill. Grump follows suit.

The young man, the same age as Mort and Dangie, looks over and smiles back. He has a bag over his shoulder with a logo on it. TRENIS’ TIMES. “Sure thing Harper, Grump.” His name is MC but for some reason Harper and Grump refer to him as Gladstone. He looks further back and sees his friends. “Hey Mort. I may have done it!” He holds up a piece of paper and then looks back at Kamptin who places three cups and a package of crackers on the counter. A splinter comes up from the wood.

Over at the table Mort puts on a face and ridicules MC. “He may have done it once again. I may just pay a newspaper to hire him at this point.”

“Oh that’s so mean. He tries so hard. And he’s so adorable.” Dangie has an obvious crush on MC.

“Yea, your brother.” Mort looks toward MC who is balancing three coffee cups on his way to Harper and Grumps table. He looks back at Dangie. His straight face becomes a sarcastic grin. “Maybe now we’ll be able to get his cell phone number.” He continues abusing his friend. “Better yet, now maybe he’ll stop talking about that website he puts his stories on.”

MC makes his way over stopping by Harper and Grump to drop off their coffees. Harper hands him a dollar. “Keep the change Gladstone.” The total cost was close to two dollars. MC doesn’t mind picking up the rest of the bill.

“Thanks Harper.” He folds the bill and slips it into his shirt pocket and then sits next to Mort, across from Dangie. “I’m out of here guys.”

“What do you mean?” Dangie is quite concerned.

“I got a call. It’s time to move on.”

“On your Boston Herald phone?” Mort cracks a smile and drinks his coffee. MC always carries a cell phone around with him. None of his friends are allowed to have the number. It’s reserved only for call backs regarding his ten or eleven job applications to The Boston Herald.

MC is a part time writer of novellas and short stories. His big dream is to become a writer for a big newspaper or magazine. This is the day he decides to tell his friends that his dream has come true.

“Nah. This is the big time. New York Newsday.”

“Are you serious?” Dangie appears to be nervous.

Mort tries to stay relaxed. “You’re really gonna go down there? What’s wrong with your Trenis’ Times gig?”

“Give me a break. The biggest pay I ever got for writing for them was this bag.” He holds the bag up.

“Them black kids’ll eat you alive. You don’t stand a chance.” Grump puts in his two cents and turns back around.

They just laugh to themselves. “What is wrong with that idiot?” Mort shakes his head.

“You’d be a grump too if your daughter in-law ran off with your grandson.” Dangie is still focused on MC as she tries to explain Grumps anger.

“Even worse, not ever meeting that daughter in-law or grandson.” MC smirks.

“Better for the daughter in-law and grandson. They don’t need to know this grouch of a granddad.” Mort laughs slightly at his own joke then he recalls a moment. “I met the grandson once. It’s no wonder Grump’s son kept a lid on that whole part of his life. Grump never would have approved. I could never forget that kid.”

“C’mon, he’s just an old man. He doesn’t realize half of what he says.” MC doesn’t get annoyed by Grump’s comments. “Do you think I should worry about the black kids?” He grows concerned.

“I can’t believe you’re actually considering leaving us.” Dangie wipes a tear from her eye. “What are you going to do with Ferf?” Ferf is MC’s grayish, black Ocicat that he had for the last five years.

“He’s coming with me.”

“That’s a long ride. That might not be good for her.”

“He’ll be fine.”

“She wasn’t so great last time she was in a car.”

Mort interrupts their conversation. “Five years and neither of you know the sex of that damn cat.” He shakes his head.

At the same time Dangie and MC state their beliefs. “She’s a girl!”

“He’s a boy!”

“Exactly!” Mort looks up at MC. “So, you’re really gonna do this?”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Remember what I said when you’re laying on the ground somewhere looking up at some black kid begging for your life.” Grump chimes in again.

MC didn’t really get called by Newsday. He uses that as a cover for his regular job relocating him to the New York office. Mort and Dangie are well aware of his writing dream so he feels that the best way to get them to understand his move is to say it is to chase that dream.

CHAPTER TWO

Light rainfall glides against the tall buildings. The streets are filled with yellow taxis at red lights. Pedestrians with umbrellas are on every corner. The honking of car horns indicates that this is lower Manhattan.

Between two fifty story buildings and off to the side, a big gold and black store sign sticks out on a three story building. MARIGOLD CAFÉ.

The inside of the café is a tremendous step up compared to the coffee shack. The door alone is made from the finest materials. Walls and floors of marble, ceiling fans, chandeliers, each modernized table and chair set complete with its own internet connection. Off to the side is a large shelf of exotic cookies.

Patrons set up scattered offices sipping lattes, coolatas, Mocha chinos, cremalinas, frappaccinos, creamy dippen frattas and any other silly named cup worth nine dollars and seventy five cents per half a serving.

One customer stands out above the rest. A yuppie named Ned. Tall, thin, mid-thirties, short blonde hair with plenty of mousse, someone the waitress’ are not crazy about. He takes up two tables. Laptop, fratte latte, and newspaper on one. Briefcase, cell phone, beeper, scattered folders, and pages of notes on the other.

He takes his eyes away from the laptop momentarily as a waitress carrying a coffee pot passes by. “Another Fratte latte Ginger.” He holds up his cup.

She has a perturbed look about her. “Ginger hasn’t worked here in months.” She walks to the counter and whispers to another waitress. “He’s such an asshole.”

The other waitress, cute, quiet, and easy going, laughs and hands her a cup. “One fratte latte.”

The angry waitress wears a name tag labeled ANN. She takes the cup. “Yea, I hope he chokes on it.”

The cute one wears the same type of tag. Hers is labeled DABNI. “You’re too much.”

“His arrogance is too much.” Ann brings the cup to him as a phone is heard ringing behind the counter. “You got that Dabni?”

Dabni picks up the phone. It’s her dad. She is excited to hear from him and she speaks loudly. “Daddy I miss you! How are things at home?”

In a small town outside of Boston, her dad, early fifties, a short, well groomed, pleasant man sits in a cozy, brown and white, neatly furnished kitchen. Scattered pictures held by magnet ornaments fill the refrigerator door. Dabni can be seen in a couple of the photos. A sign on an ornamental chef reads, NO BITCHIN IN GINNY’S KITCHEN.

On a windowsill sits a small birdhouse with a fake parakeet sitting on a perch.

Her dad has an enormous smile. “Come on home baby. I can set you up with your own place if you’re ready.”

“You know I’d love that daddy, but this just isn’t the time. Besides, when it is time, I’ll be setting myself up.”

“I know you will honey.” Some rattling is overheard in the background. “Oh wait baby.”

“Daddy?” She becomes concerned. “Is everything okay?”

“I have to go for now baby.” He is distracted. “You’re mother just spilled some coffee on herself. I have to clean her up.”

“Is she all right?”

“I’ll give you a call later.”

“Dad?”

“She’ll be fine sweetheart.”

Ann looks to Dabni as she slowly puts the phone down. “Is everything all right?”

“It always comes down to coffee in my life.”

CHAPTER THREE

In front of the coffee shack, Dangie and MC stand facing one another. Dangie’s dungaree jacket is two sizes too big. MC’s hooded sweat jacket is rather snug. The wind messes their hair slightly.

Dangie is looking for reasons for MC to stay in Beverly. “How are you going to break it to little Francis? He’ll be crushed.”

MC looks at her as if she lost her memory. “Oh c’mon. Little Francis? How long has it been? Little Francis is not little anymore and I haven’t done Tag Along since he turned sixteen a few months ago.”

Tag Along is a Big Brother type organization that MC belonged to for close to five years. He helped to mold and turn a boy named Francis into a responsible young adult.

“Yea, I guess.”

“Why are you reaching for this stuff? It’s not making my situation any easier.”

“Having a brother like you don’t make my life any easier either. I have a situation too you know.”

“What situation is that?”

“I could have a situation.”

“Can you get on with it? I’m tired of the word situation already.” His eyebrows point inward. “And stop calling me your brother!”

“You might as well be.”

“Why is that?” MC appears to be put out.

“What other reason could you have for not sleeping with me?”

“Oh don’t do this to me again Dangie.” On one hand her crush makes it difficult for him to pack up and leave. On the other hand getting away might just be what their relationship needs. “And how’d you get such a silly name anyway? Dangie?”

“You’re the bozo that gave me that name. My name is Angie, not Dangie.”

“Oh yea, that’s right.” MC begins to walk down the sidewalk. Dangie follows. “Look, it’s not gonna be forever. And it’s not even that far.”

“Can I visit you there?”

“Let’s not push it.”

“I always wanted to see New York.”

“I probably won’t have room for guests.”

“New York. The city that never sleeps.”

“Yea, sleeping arrangements might be tough.”

“They say it’s the greatest city in the world.”

“I’ll give you a call after I settle in.”

“At least hold onto this.” She pulls a picture out of her purse. “Look at it when you miss me.” It is a picture of Dangie sitting on a large rock in front of a lake.

A clanging sound is heard up the block. Dangie looks to MC and MC to Dangie. “The Angel of lost parts.” They both announce together.

An old blue Buick comes creeping down the street. Some backfires are heard. A closer look reveals two different color blue paints, bald tires, no side view mirrors, scuff marks, a missing head lamp, and a dangling license plate.

Behind the steering wheel sits a proud Mort. He believes the sweat he put into the angel of lost parts was worth every long painful minute of the two years he owned the lemon.

Mort rolls down the window which is an effort since he needs vice grips to complete the task. “She’s still breathin.”

MC coughs and waves his hand in front of his face. “Breathin with emphysema.”

“What a you say, one last ride for the city boy before his departure?”

MC and Dangie climb into the wreck. A large puff of smoke blows from the tail pipe.

CHAPTER FOUR

In downtown Manhattan smoke flows steady from a manhole in the middle of the avenue. A constant stream of yellow cabs drive through the cloud and continue to the next traffic light. A policeman waves the automobiles past the blank signal.

A crowd forms on the corner waiting to cross the avenue. Three white boys’ ages twelve to thirteen decide to run between the cars. The policeman hollers, he is unable to leave his post to begin a chase.

The boys laugh and continue to run. The smallest of the three turns around to give the officer a look at his middle finger. The officer takes two steps forward wanting to catch the kid and put a scare into him, however, he understands that would be a losing battle.

The boy turns around to hurry along as he slams directly into a large three hundred pound woman in a flowery dress. He hits the floor as the other two boys pause to laugh harder than they ever laughed before.

At first the woman clenches her pocket book in fear of it being stolen. When she notices all of the laughter she feels she is the brunt of a joke and swings the pocket book at the red-faced boy. She misses and some of her belongings fly out of the bag.

Embarrassed, she bends down to pick up the items while the boys catch their breath and continue to run. The police officer has a semi-satisfied grin on his face.

The boys finally come to a stop. They are standing in front of the Marigold Café.

One of the taller boys looks to the shortest of the group. “Whatta ya say Cletta, steal a drink to get refreshed?”

“Let’s check it out.” Even though Cletta is the smallest of the group, the other two look up to him. Due to the fact that he lives on the streets he teaches the other two how to fend for themselves.

They enter the Marigold Café. Some of the customers become quiet. They are surprised to see children in a coffee shop. Others like Ned continue typing away as if in the middle of a days work.

As usual Ned takes up two tables and has his belongings sprawled around. He’s in mid conversation on his cell phone and acts as if he wants the whole café to know his business. “Yes, oh yes. I just finished crushing another dream. Wait till this amateur reads my review of his rubbish.” He proclaims himself a writer and belongs to a website where he destroys real writer’s hopes of ever becoming published.

The idea of the site is for writers to have a place to bounce ideas off each other in hopes of creating constructive criticism that all parties will benefit from. Ned enjoys spewing his insults instead. “What’s another word for extremely bored?” He waits for an answer as Cletta stands nearby at the exotic cookie display waiting for heads to turn away.

“That’s it!” Ned hollers as everyone grants him their attention. “I am exceedingly depleted. The ramblings from page one to page twenty-one exasperated my every ounce of energy.” As he finishes up his verbal abuse, Cletta pockets a package of the cookies without anyone noticing. He makes his way over to the refrigerator where the other two boys glance at the variety of cold coffee’s, overpriced waters, and pastries.

A beautiful young woman in her early thirties approaches them. “Can I give you any assistance gentlemen?” She is the shop manager, Monique.

Cletta grips the cookies in his pocket. “You sure can.” He is obviously smitten by her good looks.

“Okay little man, you can take it back out on the street now.” She is polite although displeased with their presence.

Cletta makes his way toward the exit as the other two follow. “Could you show us your boobs first?” Cletta walks a little faster expecting anger from the woman. Most of the patrons look on in disgust. A random coffee drinker lets out a slight chuckle.

“That’s enough. Keep walking.” She walks behind them as they make their way back to the sidewalk. The door shuts and their laughter can be heard from inside.

Frustrated and slightly amused, Monique walks toward a smiling Dabni at the counter. “You handled that well.”

“Not as well as I would have liked to.”

“I guess you have to cut some slack to children these days.”

“I’d like to cut more than slack on that little wise ass.”

CHAPTER FIVE

In front of MC’s house, Mort’s angel of lost parts sits with the engine turned off while still clunking and clanging with light smoke blowing from under the hood. MC’s red Mazda is close by in front. It is filled with bags and boxes.

MC places a final box in the back seat as Mort and Dangie look on. “Well, I guess this is so long for now.” MC looks inside the pet carrier on the passenger seat. The eyes of Ferf are peeping from the darkness.

Dangie is holding back tears. She pulls MC close and holds onto him with her arms across his back. “You take care of yourself.” She sniffs. “And call us. Even if it means using your Boston Herald phone.” She takes a step back to allow Mort to say his piece.

Mort shakes his hand. “Later man.”

MC pulls him in closer and puts one arm around him. “It’s been a load of laughs.” He walks around the car to the driver’s side.

He pulls away as his hand sticks out of the window waving. Cutting it short was part of his plan. No tears, no time for deep flowing emotions. His mom and dad are seen at the front window with their arms around each other. Mort looks to them, smiles, and then back at Dangie.

The red Mazda gets further down the road and becomes out of eyes reach. Dangie stares at Mort. Mort stares back at Dangie. They both look like they want to say something.

The red Mazda makes its way to the highway on ramp. Music plays softly as MC watches the road while talking to himself. “I had to tell them I was called. It’s the only way I could have left with any pride.” He grips onto the steering wheel.

He told Mort, Dangie and his family that he was heading to New York to write for New York Newsday. That was a lie. In actuality his little office job had a relocation offer that he couldn’t refuse. A raise, a months paid rent in an upscale apartment complex, and a chance to experience city life.

MC feels his dream of writing is more of a fairy tale and that he should get off his rear and make some sort of a future for himself. Maybe New York is the place to discover whatever it is that he needs to discover.

The music continues to play softly on the radio. “This is my chance to lie about my life in a positive way. Maybe Newsday will give me a shot after all.” Before hitting the road he sent résumé’s around to various New York newspapers and magazines. He hoped for a response, deep down inside he didn’t expect one though.

He sings along with the music while passing pastures, herds of cows, horse ranches, farms, and a house off in the distance every few miles.

He glances out the passenger side window at the cows and does a quick impression. “Mooooooooo!” He chuckles.

Ferf is becoming restless. “You like that Ferf?” He taps the pet carrier. Ferf’s cries become louder and louder.

Darkness falls. The white lines on the highway are all that is visible under an abnormally large moon.

CHAPTER SIX

Just as the sun rises Monique opens the Marigold Café. A heavy set African American woman with a friendly smile is the first customer of the day. She makes her way to a table as MC’S car pulls up outside the window.

Monique brings the woman a piping hot cup of coffee as MC stretches and yawns before walking up to the entrance.

“Here you go Maisy.” Monique places the cup in front of her. “Careful. It’s hot.”

“Thanks Mo.” Maisy opens her newspaper. “I may need your umbrella again hun. It looks like the clouds are coming back again.”

“No problem.”

Dabni straightens out the counter and runs around making sure all of the coffee pots are set up correctly. The sounds of brewing coffee and the smell of over twenty flavors combined smacks MC in the face as he walks through the door.

Monique grabs a newspaper and heads to her office. She winks at Dabni. “Go easy on him. He looks like an out of towner.”

Dabni smiles as Monique enters her office. “Good morning. Welcome to the Marigold Café. May I help you?” She gives MC a big smile.

MC continues to stare at the office door in hopes that Monique will come back out. He is mesmerized by the slight glimpse he had of her. “Uh, yea, I think so.” He seems dumbfounded. “Regular, cream and sugar.”

Dabni seems a little confused. “Sure, what flavor?”

“Flavor? Coffee. You said this is a café, right?”

“I know coffee but what kind? We have lattes, coolatas, Mocha chinos, Cremalinas, frappaccinos, creamy dippen frattas.”

“I don’t understand. What is all of that?”

Dabni tilts her head to the side and smiles. She has a cute look. “Monique said you were an out of towner.”

MC’s face lights up with excitement. “Who’s Monique? The woman that went in the back?”

“Yes, that’s the manager, Monique. The thirty one year old princess of the East side.” She looks to the office door and then back at MC. “So out of towner, where you from?” She pours a cup of a regular form of coffee. The most regular she can find.

MC continues to stare at the office door. “You probably never heard of it. Beverly Massachusetts. Up north. We have regular coffee up in those parts.”

She hands him the smoking cup. “This is as regular as we get here. Lemme know if it needs more cream or sugar.”

He takes a small sip. “It’s good.” He blows on the cup to cool it off. “Different, but good.”

“So, what do you do in Beverly Massachusetts?”

“That’s what brought me here to New York. My company has an office way up north that is downsizing. They offered me an incredible deal to come down here. I had to take it.”

“I guess you’re very valuable to the company.”

“I don’t know if I’d say that.”

“They seem to have wanted to keep you.” She has a convincing tone.

At first MC has a happy, proud look. Then it becomes doubtful. “Unless it was a mistake.”

“So, I have family near Boston. They call to scare me sometimes. My mom can’t seem to hold a coffee cup like she used to.” She catches herself blabbing. “Sorry, sometimes I just keep yapping if no one stops me.”

“No. I like it. You’re a good yapper.”

“Sometimes when I miss her I’ll send some refrigerator magnets or kitchen ornaments. See? There I go again. So how far is Beverly from Boston? My dad and I probably pass it on our trips to Maine.”

His eyes bulge a bit. “It’s quite a hike north of Boston.” He looks proud. “I know Boston though. I’m trying to get a job at the Herald.”

“Photographer?”

“No writer.” He grins. “Well, part time, hoping to become a writer.”

“Oh, you should meet.” She pauses. “Oh never mind.”

“Meet who?”

“I just thought of a guy Ned that spends his life here. He’s a writer, but the girls seem to dislike him.” She makes a familiar face.

“You just reminded me of a friend of mine, Dangie.”

“How funny, my name is Dabni.”

“Isn’t that something?” He looks back at the office door. “Well, her name is actually Angie. I just called her damn Angie so many times that Dangie became her name.”

“That’s funny.”

The office door suddenly opens a crack. MC becomes excited to get another glance at Monique. “Ann here yet Dabni?”

Dabni looks out the window, MC’s car can be seen. On the corner across the street Ann is standing waiting for the light to change. “She’s right across the street.”

“Okay, the rush should be beginning soon.” Monique sticks her head out.

MC looks frozen. The moment he waited for from the time he entered the Marigold Café had come. “Uh.” He waves. Her face is the most beautiful he’s ever seen.

Monique gives a wiggling finger wave to him. “How ya doing doll?” She steps back into the office as MC continues to stare at the door. A few customers make their way in. Ann follows.

“Good morning Ann. Monique was asking for you.”

“I know. I’m five minutes late again.”

“By the way, this is.” Dabni looks over at MC who can’t keep his eyes off of the office door. “I’m sorry. I didn’t get your name.”

He comes out of his trance and looks back at Dabni. “Sorry? Monique?”

“No, your name.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. It’s MC.” He smiles at Ann who is putting on an apron.

“So, whatta you do for fun up north?” Dabni counts out some singles from the register.

“Funny but we spent most our time around a coffee place up there too.” He laughs slightly. “The shack it’s called.”

Dabni smiles at him while in the middle of counting with her lips moving. “Oh yea?”

MC leans on the counter. “Not as fancy as your place. Or should I say Monique’s place?” He can’t help but smile when saying her name. “I used to belong to an organization called Tag Along.”

“What’s that?”

“I would act like a big brother or older cousin to a kid. His name is Francis.”

“Oh, like Big Brother.”

“Yea, that’s what I said.”

“No, you said like a, big brother. Not Big Brother.”

“What’s your point?”

“There is an organization down here called Big Brother. You help nurture kids who don’t have any family.”

“That’s what Tag Along is.”

“Glad we established that.” She lets out a small laugh. “I belong to big sister.”

“I guess that’s the girl’s version.” He’s obviously being cute.

“Funny.” She is amused. “You should look into it down here.”

“I would, but what if they give me a black kid?” He has fear in his eyes. The words escaped before he could stop them. All of Grump’s prejudice had an impact on him. Some of the customers have blank stares on their faces. Maisy cannot take her eyes off of MC. Her mouth is wide open and she wants to say something. Nothing comes out.

“Excuse me?” Dabni answers in an upset manner.

“I gotta check on my cat.” He walks to the door as everyone watches him leave.

He walks out and holds the door for Ned who enters.

CHAPTER SEVEN

MC walks through a revolving door into a lavish and luxurious New York City apartment building. With pet carrier in hand, his eyes bulge and take in all of the sights the lobby has to offer. Chandeliers, bell boys, gold luggage carriers, a four story ceiling with two stairways circling an elevator. His walk to the front desk seems like a hike.

A pretty blonde woman with half a smile greets him at the end of the journey. “May I help you?”

MC puts the pet carrier down. Ferf is a little calmer than in the car, but still loud and disturbing. “Shhhhh. We’ll be home in a minute.” He pulls out his work ID and apartment paperwork. “Yes ma'am. My job made arrangements for me here.”

As the woman snickers and hands the papers back to him she puts two fingers over her mouth. “This is not where they made the arrangements. I’m sorry.”

He has a confused look. “No?”

“What you want to do is go two blocks south.” She points in that direction. MC studies her eyes.

“Make a left, and it is on the next corner. It’s the Brolstar, not the Borellis.”

He takes the papers back. “Sorry. My mistake.” He makes his way out of the Borellis and hears her voice from behind.

“Have a nice evening.”

He waves a hand up while approaching the revolving doors.

Out on the street it feels a bit colder. MC zips his jacket up. His car is down the block. It is in the only place he could find a spot, near a homeless shelter. “I better leave the car there. I’m not searching for a spot for another hour and a half.”

Annoyed by the New York City lack of street parking, he walks the two blocks south. At the next corner a homeless man stops him asking for change. The man wears rags. He can barely complete a sentence. “Pom a dollar. Pom a quarter. Bar since. Car a home.”

MC places Ferf’s carrier on the ground and pulls a few bills out of his pocket. “I’d like to give you two dollars but I only have a single and a couple of fives. I don’t suppose you have any change?”

The man just stares at MC as if he does not belong in the city. MC stares back for a moment. He looks down at the money. He hands over a five.

“Mmmm, non pel. Dank you.” The man makes some noises and MC hurries off. He finds himself under an awning that reads, THE BROLSTAR.

The check in runs smooth. Moments later MC sits on a large bed staring at Ferf who is finally out of his carrier. “It was a rough ride boy.” He takes a closer look at the cat. “Girl. Whatever you are.” Ferf jumps off of the bed. The three room apartment appears to be more than the two of them need. Fine oak furniture, a large ceiling fan, modernized kitchen, a fifth floor balcony. “I won’t take you in the car ever again. I promise.”

MC falls back on the bed. His hands cover his eyes and slowly move down to his mouth and chin. “I can’t believe how stupid I was at that café.” He reprimands himself. “What a fool I am. How could I talk down about black people when I never really got to know one of them? It’s all that idiot Grumps fault.” He points the remote control at the television to raise the volume of the football game.

“Football. Maybe I should join that Big Brother thing. I could start fresh with another kid like Francis. We could throw a football around.” He turns to the side. The sound of the game can be heard as he closes his eyes. “Big Brother organization.” He mumbles to himself.

There is the sound of a long swoosh, as if a ball is being sucked through a vacuum chute. The swoosh is followed by a young boys voice. “Not what you were expecting?”

MC and a twelve year old African American child are seen standing side by side. Only their heads turn to speak to one another, they never make eye contact. MC is taken aback by the boy’s appearance. “You’re the one assigned to me?”

They appear to be walking down the middle of a busy New York street, almost gliding. A restaurant called QUERO GLEANO, other store fronts, moving vehicles, and other pedestrians drift past them. The only sound is their two voices until the homeless man appears on a corner counting five dollar bills and making noises. “Mmmm, non pel. Dank you. Pom a dollar. Pom a quarter. Bar since. Car a home”

MC looks down toward the boy. “No, not exactly what I was expecting.”

“Cause I’m black!”

“You are black.”

“It’s African American asshole!”

“I apologize.”

“You think we coloreds are good at football. That’s all we’re good for right?” The boy becomes angry. “Well you can blow it out your fat white.”

MC is awakened by a referee’s whistle on the television. “Damn that Grump.” MC rolls over again.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Later in the day at the coffee shack in Beverly, Kamptin walks away from Harper and Grumps table after bringing them two cups of coffee. They are in the middle of a game of checkers. Harper thanks Kamptin then stares out the window at Ludlum Avenue. Grumps eyes continue to open and shut.

The door chimes ring as Mort and Dangie walk in together. Mort is laughing. “Yea, he would have liked that. Writers wanted.” He refers to something they read in the newspaper that would have been of interest to MC.

Harper takes his attention away from the window and watches the two of them speaking to Kamptin who hands them each a cup of coffee. Mort pays and they walk towards Harper and Grump. “Who’s winning?” Dangie smiles at them.

“I probably am. I can’t even tell if he’s awake.” Harper nods in Grump’s direction.

Mort looks at Grump. “He’s smarter when he’s sleeping anyway.”

“Where’s Gladstone? He not traveling in your circles anymore?”

“He’s a big city boy now. Remember? He took off for New York.”

Harper thinks for a moment. “That’s right.”

Grumps eyes open and he looks at Mort. “Them black kids eat him up yet?”

“He lives!” Mort adds some sarcasm.

Dangie can’t help being polite. “We haven’t spoken to him since he left, but I’m sure no one has given him a hard time.”

Grump laughs lightly. “Give it a little time. Them black kids’ll get him.” He is insistent.

Mort dismisses the comment and sits down at the table two back. Dangie follows after smiling at the men. She takes the seat directly across from Mort and looks deep into his eyes.

CHAPTER NINE

Early in the New York morning before the sun comes up, MC sits on the subway for the first time in his life. He has on a suit, tie, and sneakers that do not go with the ensemble.

There are only two others in the subway car. One, a business man also in a suit, he however wears a pair of dress shoes. The second, an older woman, close to Harper and Grump in age. She is dressed in rags like the homeless man. She has a pushcart in front of her.

Desperately wanting to learn his way around on the subway, MC chooses the business man to ask for tips. “This thing going near Wall Street?”

The man lifts his eyes over his newspaper. After a moments pause he mumbles. “Ten more stop