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from Mama needs new shoes by Shirley Holder Platt

Copyright © 2019–2020 Shirley Holder Platt

Chapter 13

Pops sat in the easy chair and squeezed a slice of lime into his Corona bottle. He drank a couple of swallows and patted his pocket for the cigarettes he’d given up years ago. Old habits are hard to break. I watched him from the corner of my eye. What was his angle?

“So, what have you been up to lately? Anything lucrative?”

Ah, there was the angle. He needed money.

“Why, you know I won’t lend and sure won’t give you any cash.”

“Now, Darlin’ girl o’ mine, don’t be that way. You haven’t seen your old man in, what is it, {} years, and all you can say is you won’t lend me money?” He drank some more beer, patted his pocket again. “Did I say I needed your dough?”

“Didn’t have to.” I squeezed lime juice into my bottle and set the fruit on an empty cut-glass candy dish Mrs. M had on the coffee table. I sipped from the long-neck and watched Pops over the top of the bottle.

“You’re breakin’ my heart,” he said. Then he sat forward and slapped the arms of his chair. “He’s stealing, you son-of-a-bitch. Stop scratching your crotch and play ball!”

So much for a broken heart. We watched the game for a couple of innings without conversation about anything but baseball.

“I’m bored,” Pops said out of the blue.

“So, you looked me up to entertain you?”

“Now, come on sugar. We had some fun times. You can’t de...

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