Chango's Beads and Two-Tone Shoes

Начало книги

Just because my hair is curly. . No. My hair’s not curly, is what occurred to Quinn. The words must have come up and over the hall banister and eased their way into his sleep. Somebody is singing is what it is. Just because I always wear a smile. . Quinn knew the voice. He opened his eyes to no daylight and he listened: ’Cause, I’m glad I’m livin’. .

Quinn threw back the sheet that covered him and stood up into the musical darkness. He was still dressed but no shoes. He found them and walked to the hallway and down to the first landing of the stairs where he could look through the uprights of the banister at whoever was singing in the parlor below. It wasn’t the radio, not a Victrola. Somebody in the house was singing. Just because my color’s shady. .

“Bingo, you want the same?” somebody asked.

“Never change horses in a six-furlong race, Alex.” Was it Bingo who answered? Bingo was the singer. There were other men in the parlor: Alex, this was his house, a Negro man Quinn didn’t know, the one Alex calls Bingo, and one who was a stranger to Quinn. The front door opened and Quinn moved two steps down to see his father coming in with two more Negro men who were lifting a small piano over the threshold and onto the marble floor of the foyer.

Читать дальше →