A little bit of sin Chapter 18.2

good morning,

update on my da da: (yes, I still call him that.) fri was the first time he's gotten out of bed and walked (only a few steps). Please keep him in your prayers and asked God for strength in his healing.

(cause y'all know I'll stop a book for a funeral at least.)

Just kidding.

But i would and i'm sure you'll understand this, but y'all might have to come to detroit so i can just tell you the ending face to face.

we hope to have him back home but we're looking for a rehabilitation facility that will take his insurance in the metro detroit area. Pittsburgh can't understand that ann arbor and troy are way to far. we might as well put him in ohio!

keep praying for him please.

Didn't get cable, because comcast wanted 150 a month and Uverse is looking at 120. that's a lot of mullah.

So we're working on this digital box.

In detroit we get about eight channels. With digital I get about five extra channels and really it's not bad, except nbc keeps messing up on monday night and i'm going to have to kill someone if they keep messing up my heroes night.

didn't get much sleep last night, so i'm going to pump out what i can.

I LOVE THE COMMENTS, DISCUSSIONS AND SO FORTH! you guys are sooooo cool!!!

enjoy...

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Thirty minutes after making the phone call from the book, there was a knock on the apartment door. He wasn’t sure who they’d sent to pick him up, but he was certainly shocked to see Mark Murphy standing there looking very perturbed.

But when hadn’t Mark Murphy looked anything other than mad or perturbed about something. Even as a young boy, people gave a wide berth to the young man because his face usually never looked cordial.

He hadn’t laid eyes on Mark in so long the moment their eyes met, all he could see was that day in the hospital lobby. Colin’s face, hands and clothes were soaked in Frank’s blood and Mark was screaming, “You best do as my daddy says!”

With the familiar perturb look in his bright grayish green eyes, Colin determined that Mark was most likely the same backcountry ass he’d been all his life.

“My daddy told me to finish up my business and git’ovah here to pick you up. What the fuck you doing at this nigger hole? All I see outside is black bitches and them there babies.” He bombarded his body in ignoring the fact that Colin most likely had a good seventy pounds on him, but he was three feet taller. Mark Murphy didn’t get one dime of fat from Frank or his daddy. Instead of growing out like they had, Mark had grown up. He could down at pig from the rooter to the tooter in less than ten minutes when he was only eight years old and had always had a healthy appetite.

Unfortunately, his mouth was usually what got him into so much trouble and he had a permanent broken nose to show for it, which his father refused to fix when he was little when they had them money to do so. Now his slope leaned a little to the right.

“Let’s just go. I thought you’d call me when you pulled up,” Colin said annoyed the man came in. “Instead of just coming in.”

Mark was wearing beat up ratty jeans and a dark blue shirt with black cowboy boots on. He looked like a good old boy with dirty blonde hair, piercing dirty green eyes and a permanent smirk on his face that Colin would swear someone beat on him. He was just three years younger, but the boy was unfortunately smart as a whip, but refused to show his intelligence.

“And not see this glorious palace you’re living in?” Mark asked sarcastically, taking out a
fresh toothpick and sticking it between his lips.

“Gave up the smoking?”

“It was interfering with the asthma shit. Couldn’t stop hacking to get a puff down. Can’t drink either. Doc says my stomach’s intolerant to alcohol anymore, but don’t tell nobody.”

“What? You got the body of an eighty year old and the heart of the eighteen.”

“Something like that,” Mark said disgruntled. “Just not tolerant to outside influences. Doc said I need natural shit, but hell, he’s just trying to emasculate me cause I got more testosterone in my pinkie than he has in one testicle.”

Grabbing his jacket, he held the door open for Mark to leave. “You know you have nerve to talk about someone’s place.”

Mark’s eyes narrowed making him look mean as hell. “Shut the fuck up.”

They went down to Mark’s ninety royal blue Camero.

“This thing still works?” Colin asked amazed.

“Oh hell yeah. That engine you put in won’t die worth nothing. This baby’s won me a lot of
runs out on Poe Hill.”

“You ever gonna grow up, Mark. Pick a side? Have some kind of goal in life?”

Mark didn’t answer pretending to be busy starting up the car.

The drive out to Howell usually was about thirty, but Mark’s weaving in and out of traffic going over seventy miles an hour or more, got them there in less than twenty.

“If you trying to make amends with the only family you got by staying in that run down, bankrupt, dirty ass city, you know you got family out here, right?” Mark said.

“I’m not coming back here anymore to stay, Mark. I lost my faith in whatever I was supposed to believe in a long time ago and there’s nothing you can say to change that. I woke up to life. A life I missed with my brother and I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

“You aren’t going to make me believe you’re happy living around them niggars.”

“And you are happy living where you live?” he questioned. “Seems to me you only got religion when you brother died.”

Mark narrowed his eyes. “Don’t’chu worry bout my life, Colin. I’m fixing it out.”

“Shouldn’t I? Do you still lead the double life that you think no one knows about? Funny how it seems you got the religion only after your brother died, but before that I remember you used to sneak away. Do you still do it? Do you still sneak down? Is that why you could pick me up so soon instead of someone driving out from Howell? Does your Daddy know you’re doing
something wrong?”

“It ain’t nothing wrong with me. Matter of fact, I’ain’t stuck myself anywhere cause I’ve been keeping busy getting my education if you must know, smartass. My law degree!” he emphasized.

Colin looked shocked. “Oh really? They let you out of law school sounding like a hillbilly racist? What school you go to? Acme Law Academy for the Stupidly Insane.”

“You can kiss my ass, Colin. I don’t have to prove anything to you! I know how to lawyer right on up when I need to.”

There was no doubt about that. Mark had the ability to change up his speech like an expert linguist and most people were fooled by the country lingo he always choose to relax in.
Mark continued on his rant, “You think just cause you seen the good life, there’s something better out there? You forgetting where you came from or what my family did for your family,” he sneered as if he were rubbing salt on an open wound.

Colin cringed as if Mark’s words physically hurt because he really wanted to say something to point out what Mark’s family had really done to his family, but he decided just to hit below the belt. “So your daddy still crying broke in public and trying to live the life, I take it?” Colin asked.

“Yeah,” Mark snorted. “He won’t even spend a dime for me unless I bring up the guilt he has over Frank’s death. I stop asking him for money. There’s no doubt in my mind, if the mean coot dies, we’ll just clean up the house and find all his money in a damn stinky mattress.” Mark had been so damn wishy-washy all his life and Colin could tell he still was. “As long as that bitch’s family still presses the court about my family’s money, Dad said he ain’t giving up one damn dime to no niggers.”

“And you’re still going along with this shit?”

“It ain’t bout the religion anymore. It’s about principle. That bitch’s family just out for hate now. Are you saying my daddy ain’t right? You the one asking a favor and you got nerve to back stab my daddy?”

Colin was quiet.

“Oh now you don’t wanna talk?” Mark sneered. “Hanging ‘round them black bitches got you to thinking in their favor.”

“I didn’t need to hang around them to see that if you do the right thing, you won’t have that weight of guilt,” Colin derided.

It was Mark’s turn to be quiet and the rest of the ride was silent. Mark’s miles per hour increased dangerously, but he arrived at the Murphy beat up three-bedroom home out in the middle of nowhere about a mile away from Howell, Michigan.

Just off to the left before going in the house, he could see the grave markers of Frank and their mother. It was the only part of the land that still had green grass around it and someone had even place fake flowers around their mother’s tombstone.

“How’s your father been taking her death?” he asked Mark not even looking to see if he was followed or not.

“Just taking it. I guess. Mean ass coot gets meaner by the year. Tired of being the whipping horse though.” Mark didn’t come up on the porch and Colin knew there was a reason. Most likely either Mark was mad at his father or his father was mad at him. “I just have better peace out on the lake than in that man’s presence.”

“You’re full of shit, Mark,” Colin said. “You two are just alike. Frank had to act a damn fool to even get your daddy’s attention.”

“Well, when I’m ready to wear a fucking diaper. Maybe that’ll cure the problem between him and I. Frank coddle that man’s authority like he was Zeus. But until the day I’m willing to bow down and kiss his damn crusty ass feet, I’m gonna stay full of shit until that man figures out he ain’t controlling my life like he did everyone elses.” Mark headed to the car and started it up. “I’ll be back by ‘round one but you know how to get around. If you ain’t here when I come back, I’ll meet you at the bar ‘cross from the bank. The boys wanna catch up.”

Colin rolled his eyes in exasperation knowing his old crew will try to drink him under the table. “I’ll talk to you later.”

When Mark was pulling off down the road, Colin knocked on the door. Edward Murphy was about five ten and wide. His body was shaped like a circle in the middle with his head and legs sticking out. Mark received his murky green eyes and dirty blonde hair from his father, but must have gotten his metabolism from his mother. Too bad, Edward beat her almost to death when she had something to say about Frank’s death.

“My boy,” Edward said with genuine pride, opening the door to let him in. “The prodigal son comes home.”

A little bit of sin won't hurt Chapter 18.2 (c) 2009 Sylvia Hubbard. All Rights Reserved