Roman and Jewel by Dana L. Davis

Roman and Jewel by Dana L. Davis

Author:Dana L. Davis [Davis, Dana L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Inkyard Press
Published: 2021-01-04T18:30:00+00:00


* * *

Zeppelin and I don’t get a chance to talk, because we’re stuck with a ride-share driver who must have a disorder where he can’t stop his mouth from moving.

“And then we moved to Nigeria, and then my wife and I opened up the first church in Nigeria to have a full-time school and then my wife taught school and I preached the good word.”

“Wait, you’re a pastor?” Zeppelin asks. “I thought you were a security guard.”

“I thought you worked in construction,” I add.

“Yes, yes. All that. Plus, I run a church in Nigeria.”

Zeppelin and I exchange amused expressions as the Brooklyn Bridge comes into view. Even from the car I can see that the bridge is jam-packed with foot traffic. I don’t want Zeppelin to think I don’t wanna cross the bridge, it’s just that...well... I don’t wanna cross the bridge. It’s such a Jhames family thing to do, plus it’ll be arm-to-arm, shoulder-to-shoulder pedestrian traffic. Not exactly my idea of a good time.

Zeppelin’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He checks the screen. Studies it for a second.

“Everything all right?” I ask.

“Kenyon and Thomas are watching live music at Washington Square Park.”

“Who’s Thomas?”

“He plays bass in our band.” He quickly types a message. “Don’t worry. Told them I was busy.”

“Let’s go.” I sit up.

“You don’t wanna walk across the bridge?”

“I mean.” I shrug. “I do.” Not. “But we can do that any day. When’s the last time you got to hang with your friends? Unless you don’t want me to meet your friends.”

“You kidding? My friends would love you. But full disclosure, this is Greenwich Village on a Sunday night. I’ve done this with them before. All they do is smoke and drink.”

“So. I’ve smoked. I drink, too.” I’m lying. I reach into my bag like I’m searching for something, hoping this time he can’t read me the way he always does.

Zeppelin leans forward, speaking to our driver. “Could you actually take us across the bridge. To Washington Square Park?”

“Oh. Yes. I can do that,” the man says. “And we will drive past the ferry. I used to drive the ferry.”

“Wait. You’re a sea captain?” Zeppelin asks.

“Ferry master. Yes.”

“I bet you used to pilot airplanes, too,” Zeppelin says.

“No, no,” the man responds seriously. “I only fly the airplanes when I’m in Nigeria. No license to fly in America.”

“And we think we’re important, with our fancy Broadway jobs,” Zeppelin whispers.



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