Collateral damage

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Isaac sent Janet into the corner with one last backhand slap before responding to the pounding noise behind him. “If this is one of your nosy neighbor friends, they’ll get the same as you,” he said. He shuffled his broad frame to the door to stare through the small pane just below his eye level. Somebody was there but it was too dark to see them. Arrogance rumbling in his throat, he flung the door wide.

His visitor offered more than a few surprises. First, his mode of dress — a black suit and tie — seemed rather formal. He wore black leather driving gloves and dark sunglasses, despite the fact that the moon was out behind him. He must have been black too, but he was awfully light for a black man, more like the color of coffee if you used real cream. And his hair was wavy, not kinky like all the black guys at Redskins camp before they threw Isaac out. For his temper, they said. As if a temper was a bad thing for a lineman to have.

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