Chapter 7

It soon became obvious the demand was outstripping the supply by a large margin. I had signed up every farmer I knew and a lot that were friends with them but I didn’t know, and found myself having to pull a small trailer behind my truck, and still selling out. I had five or six folding chairs, and I would take them along, setting them up for Grandma Greely and her friends, along with a canopy for shade. She had become the official hostess, and would hold court while I worked. When it got to be too much for me, she sent me her fifteen year old granddaughter, and I showed her the prices and how to use the scales.

She wouldn’t take any money from customers, though. I surprised her by paying her, minimum wage for three hours, the time she got home from school until I was packed to go. I paid her in cash, and tears came to her eyes. It was the first money she had ever earned. I told her I would up her pay if she would learn how to use my app for EBT purchases and handle the money when I was busy. She seemed surprised that I would trust her with money.

“Why, you gonna steal from me?”

She was a very pretty young woman, black, white, and Hispanic mixing together in a very attractive balance. She blushed and said she would never do that.

“Didn’t think so. I’ll let you in on a business secret. People like to buy from pretty girls. Now hop in the truck and help me get your grandmother home. I expect you by three next Friday.”

The two officers made it a point to cruise through at least twice while I was there, and word got out.

It didn’t stop one guy from trying his luck. I was packing for the day, Grandma Greely and two of her friends were sitting chatting while her granddaughter Alice helped me total out the day and pack up. I was paying her ten dollars an hour by then, thirty dollars a day, and was thinking about taking her with me on Saturdays, which would give her another fifty a week. She was very excited when I told her we would give her a try next week.

He was young, thin, with the wild eyes and jerky mannerisms of a junkie. He had a tiny pistol, a little twenty-five automatic. Not much of a weapon, but I still didn’t want to get shot by one.

He was weaving, demanding the money. I reached for the money box, grabbing the Bond under it. I did not want anyone else to get hurt, and at short range the four-ten would blow him almost in two. The pistol didn’t have a chance to clear the table, when two guys slammed into him, hard. He went down, and they kicked the shit out of him for about five minutes.

They stood back, and instead of smiling, the two glowered at each other. Grandma Greely broke the silence. “Miguel! Michael! You boys behave now. This is Steve Moore. The black one is my grandson Michael, and the other guy is Miguel. They used to be friends, until politics got in the way. And Miguel is the grandson of Tina, my best friend.”

Tina was sitting beside Grandma Greely, and she was giving Miguel an earful in Spanish. To make it more interesting, the cops pulled in, looking at us talking and the unconscious guy on the ground.

“What happened to him?”

Miguel looked at him blandly. “I think he fell down.”

Michael chimed in. “Yeah, that’s it. His eyes just rolled back in his head, and he fell. Must have landed wrong, and it knocked him out. Junkies, huh?”

Officer Jose reached down and picked up the little pistol. “Well, I think we’ll take him in, possessing an illegal firearm and all that. You, you, and you come with me.”

Micheal, Miguel, and I walked with him to the side of the building. “Steve, let me introduce you. Miguel here is the leader of a ‘social’ club known as the Tenth Street Kings. Michel here leads the Brothers of Shadowwood, the name for the local projects. They clash from time to time over business interests and territories. They’ll screw up one day, and become guests of the state, but right now they’re clean.”