The Fraud by H Claire Taylor

Author:H Claire Taylor
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Part 19

The Little Lynchtonian

Melono folded her arms and focused sternly on Larry. “That’s an extremely ambiguous answer, you realize that, right?”

“Perhaps, but it lifts your spirits, does it not, seeing as how I heard it from my mother, and she happens to see the future and all.” He grinned, and Melono rolled her eyes but a small smile escaped.

“So,” Quiche’awn said, “where do we start?” He stared at Larry, waiting for a response; however, Larry took his time before he began to speak.

“First,”—he turned to address Melono—“would you help get Lawrence to his car? I’m afraid he won’t go willingly unless you lead him to it.”

Melono nodded and led Lawrence out of the room.

“Secondly, you need to start by driving into town—”

“There’s a town around here?” Notmie asked.

“Yes, it’s a little ways north.”

“What town are we in, by the way?” Quiche’awn asked.

“This house isn’t actually in any town. It’s one of the few places left in the country that has been omitted from any town. It’s an oversight that’s worked in our favor when it comes to zoning codes. I can’t tell you how much paperwork would’ve been involved in getting some of our rooms approved for construction. But that’s not the point. The point is that the closest town, and the one to which you should be headed, is Lynchton. It’s not very populated—mostly just farmers—however, it has a peculiar affinity for auctions, which is most convenient in your situation, seeing as how you are to auction off the shirts.

“I must warn you, though, don’t mention that you know me. They aren’t too keen on people of color, so I doubt you’ll find a warm welcome awaiting you if you mention me… or any black person, for that matter. Oh, and don’t mention my mother either, they stopped liking her a long time ago, even before she adopted me, merely because she gave a starving black orphan child a piece of bread one day while he begged on the church steps.”

That seemed… not okay to Notmie. He looked over at Quiche’awn to try to verify his opinion.

Quiche’awn’s face was squinched like he’s smelled something unforgivable. “That’s… got to be the most depressing thing I’ve heard in a long time,” he said.

Notmie looked back to Larry and nodded.

“But even so, Larry,” Quiche’awn began, “you want us to go to a place called Lynchton where they hate black people? Do you not remember that I’m an eighth black?”

“Yes, I remember that, and that’s one of the reasons I’m warning you about it. It would be best if you had Notmie and Melono call you Brodie for a while.”

Notmie giggled. “Brodie? Don’t you mean… BOOTY?”

“Shut the hell up, Notmie! Larry, why can’t they call me Alex? What’s wrong with just plain Alex? It’s loads better than”—he paused and looked at Notmie who was still giggling—“my other name.”

Larry shrugged sympathetically. “I feel for you, Quiche’awn, I really do. But safety first, especially in Lynchton. Sorry, but it has to be Brodie. Alex can be short for Alejandro.

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