Read Online Little White Lies by Paul Watkins - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Paul Watkins
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Almost made it through themorning.
***
As I reach for the kitchen door it opens, the door handle eluding my grasp. Martha stands before me with a meat cleaver in her hand and defiance in her eyes. I stop dead in my tracks not knowing quite what to say, or if I should say anything at all. She doesn’t like Bear, but there may be a black/white thing going here.
“I thought for a minute I was going to have to come out there and save your white butt,” she says without smiling. “I saw the whole thing… in case anybody wants to know.” A slow easy smile spreads across her face. “Where did you learn that Kung Fu shit?”
Kung Fu again. What the hell is it with Kung Fu around here?
“Look, Martha,” I begin, “I had a little problem and I had to fire Bear. Things got out of hand… somewhat… I just want you to know that what happened out there isn’t really me… that’s not the way I like to handle things.”
Martha steps back from the doorway, and then walks to the island and places the meat cleaver on a rack.
“Look, Philip, if you ever want to fire Martha, you just tell me you don’t need me anymore. I’ll go and pack my bags without a word and leave quietly… you don’t have to do any of that Kung Fu shit with me. I’ll just go.”
“Martha, look… listen to me… what happened out there was unfortunate, it… “
“Unfortunate! I like that. If anybody asks me what happened to Bear, I’ll tell them what happened was ‘unfortunate’. What a nice word. Is that a word you learn in them fancy schools? When you kick somebody’s ass you say it was unfortunate? Well ol’ Bear got a bad case of the unfortunates… he sure did.” Martha chuckles and looks out the window at Bear’s inert form. “Are you going to call an ambulance? I wonder if they have something in their bag for a real bad dose of the unfortunate.”
She continues to giggle, her round frame shaking with the effort. No longer even trying to maintain her stern look, it’s clear she’s going to make the most of the situation… swat me around for a while before letting it go. For my part, this conversation is going nowhere. I wave my hand at Martha and start to leave, but then remember that I want her to give a message to A.J. for me. I want to meet with him in the library when he returns. The last thing I need is for him to find out about all this commotion from someone else.
“Martha, will you tell Mr. Jackson I would like to meet with him in the library as soon as possible after he returns from his run? I’ll tell the maid upstairs.”
“Don’t bother,” Martha replies, “I’m going upstairs in a minute. I’ll take care of it.”
I thank Martha and head for the library. I can hear her mumbling some nonsense in the kitchen, but I’ve had enough of her philosophy for a while. I will never get her to understand this thing anyway, so why bother trying?
Sometime later I see the ambulance leave and Steve Marshall comes to the library. He walks to a corner and sits down, obviously in no mood for conversation. We sit in uneasy silence for the next ten minutes waiting for A.J. to return. Finally there’s a noise in the foyer as the Jacksons enter the house, followed by a lower volume conversation. Evidently A.J. is getting the word that we are waiting for him in the library. I rise in anticipation of his entrance. Marshall stays seated, apparently very interested in the floor space between his feet. A.J. enters and walks briskly to his desk.
“I understand you have a little problem.” He throws this over his shoulder as he rounds his desk, spins his chair and sits in one easy motion. “What’s up boys… someone hurt someone’s feelings?” The last is polished with a big grin.
I don’t know what he thinks at this point, but I might as well get it out and over with.
“I’ve fired Mr. Street.”
A.J. pops to his feet like a jack-in-the-box. He leans forward, his knuckles supporting him on the desk like a
***
As I reach for the kitchen door it opens, the door handle eluding my grasp. Martha stands before me with a meat cleaver in her hand and defiance in her eyes. I stop dead in my tracks not knowing quite what to say, or if I should say anything at all. She doesn’t like Bear, but there may be a black/white thing going here.
“I thought for a minute I was going to have to come out there and save your white butt,” she says without smiling. “I saw the whole thing… in case anybody wants to know.” A slow easy smile spreads across her face. “Where did you learn that Kung Fu shit?”
Kung Fu again. What the hell is it with Kung Fu around here?
“Look, Martha,” I begin, “I had a little problem and I had to fire Bear. Things got out of hand… somewhat… I just want you to know that what happened out there isn’t really me… that’s not the way I like to handle things.”
Martha steps back from the doorway, and then walks to the island and places the meat cleaver on a rack.
“Look, Philip, if you ever want to fire Martha, you just tell me you don’t need me anymore. I’ll go and pack my bags without a word and leave quietly… you don’t have to do any of that Kung Fu shit with me. I’ll just go.”
“Martha, look… listen to me… what happened out there was unfortunate, it… “
“Unfortunate! I like that. If anybody asks me what happened to Bear, I’ll tell them what happened was ‘unfortunate’. What a nice word. Is that a word you learn in them fancy schools? When you kick somebody’s ass you say it was unfortunate? Well ol’ Bear got a bad case of the unfortunates… he sure did.” Martha chuckles and looks out the window at Bear’s inert form. “Are you going to call an ambulance? I wonder if they have something in their bag for a real bad dose of the unfortunate.”
She continues to giggle, her round frame shaking with the effort. No longer even trying to maintain her stern look, it’s clear she’s going to make the most of the situation… swat me around for a while before letting it go. For my part, this conversation is going nowhere. I wave my hand at Martha and start to leave, but then remember that I want her to give a message to A.J. for me. I want to meet with him in the library when he returns. The last thing I need is for him to find out about all this commotion from someone else.
“Martha, will you tell Mr. Jackson I would like to meet with him in the library as soon as possible after he returns from his run? I’ll tell the maid upstairs.”
“Don’t bother,” Martha replies, “I’m going upstairs in a minute. I’ll take care of it.”
I thank Martha and head for the library. I can hear her mumbling some nonsense in the kitchen, but I’ve had enough of her philosophy for a while. I will never get her to understand this thing anyway, so why bother trying?
Sometime later I see the ambulance leave and Steve Marshall comes to the library. He walks to a corner and sits down, obviously in no mood for conversation. We sit in uneasy silence for the next ten minutes waiting for A.J. to return. Finally there’s a noise in the foyer as the Jacksons enter the house, followed by a lower volume conversation. Evidently A.J. is getting the word that we are waiting for him in the library. I rise in anticipation of his entrance. Marshall stays seated, apparently very interested in the floor space between his feet. A.J. enters and walks briskly to his desk.
“I understand you have a little problem.” He throws this over his shoulder as he rounds his desk, spins his chair and sits in one easy motion. “What’s up boys… someone hurt someone’s feelings?” The last is polished with a big grin.
I don’t know what he thinks at this point, but I might as well get it out and over with.
“I’ve fired Mr. Street.”
A.J. pops to his feet like a jack-in-the-box. He leans forward, his knuckles supporting him on the desk like a
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