The Welcome Home Diner: A Novel by Peggy Lampman

Author:Peggy Lampman [Lampman, Peggy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781542047821
Publisher: Lake Union
Published: 2017-10-09T16:00:00+00:00

Addie

The full harvest moon rises quickly, her blood-orange color native to October Michigan skies. She beams across our group as a searchlight, her glint reflected in a large piece of broken glass in our neighbor Curtis’s backyard. A draft of wood smoke travels from the bonfire, burning my eyes, and it spreads across the black night air in a porous cinder shade. The air is crisp with autumn, and it’s refreshing—not as chilly as it usually is this late in the season.

Jévon is walking toward our circle, his hand entwined with his lady friend’s. Her full-lipped, angular face is as finely wrought as a carving of ebony art, and they glide through the moonlight with catlike grace. Jévon nods at us, and Lella retrieves two additional chairs, sliding them into our circle around the flames.

Paul and Tim, in a heated conversation about the recent city council elections, smile at the couple and pass them a bottle of bourbon. Kevin mentioned he’d be partying at a downtown bar. I suspected that would be his plan after learning that Sam and Uriah would be a part of our group. I wish Sam could have waited a bit longer before rubbing her new dude in his face. And their relationship is going way too fast. This morning I tried to warn her, even after David advised me to leave it alone; that train had left the station.

“Bad news about the Banksy piece, right?” David says, addressing Jévon.

“One hundred and ten thou’s not chump change, man, but estimates were it could fetch four hundred thousand at auction. That’s a big gap.”

“Imagine,” Sam says. “One day a piece of graffiti is tucked away in dystopia, water lapping its base. A few years down the road, it’s eye candy in some Beverly Hills mansion. Too weird.”

“The gallery’s official word is the proceeds will help fund an East Side art space with a focus on kids,” Jévon says.

“That’s all fine and dandy, but the piece is part of the soul of Detroit. It should have stayed in our city,” David says, shaking his head. “The gallery would have gained prestige hanging on to it. The mural would be a tourist attraction, pumping funds into the city.”

“Water under the bridge, I guess. Maybe, one day, the new owners will bequeath it back,” I say, crossing my fingers.

David—his face and lips painted the pancake white of a vampire—begins strumming his guitar. Sam and Uriah rise, and bodies entwined, they slow dance around the outside of our circle. Hero clambers to all fours, and his head follows their movements. Sam said he enjoys wearing the costume of a hero, and we giggle watching the dog, so comical with those bat ears still affixed to his snow-white head.

Sitting next to David, I feel sexy and alluring, having vamped up the costume I wore at work. After showering, I traded my tattered black shirt for a corset that laces up the front and pushes up my breasts. I tied a clove of garlic around my neck to taunt my vampire and lined my eyes heavily in thick black kohl.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.