..."The Stone" as it was often called-was the epitome of small town frustration: Few jobs, no development and little to do after ten p.m. The only way out was to gamble on military service, or move in with distant relatives in some faraway city. Aurora roused him from his thoughts.

    "How do you feel about Mac's return?"

    "Mac doesn't fit in anymore," Ike said.   

    "He's always...been a magnet for trouble."

    "Plus, he's always up in Bones' face."

    "Mac wanted what Bones had, which was Falecia," Ike said bitterly.

    "Mac is older, kept a little loot in his pocket and there you have it."

    Ike sipped his beer then said, "Bones ought to be counting his blessings."

    "Mac thinks he's the father of her kid, but everyone knows that's a trick baby."

    "The baby's the color of butter. Mac's so black he can leave fingerprints on asphalt..."

    "Talk about living dangerously."

    "Mac...doesn't want to admit he was suckered. In a sense, Falecia's actions are poetic justice."

    Aurora spoke in a solemn tone. "That's the problem with this town: Everybody knows everybody."

    "Back to our original subject, how do you plan to deal with Mac?"

    "As my mother says, deal with him with a long-handled spoon. I'll give him props, but I don't think we'll be hanging out like we used to."

    A tall, brown skinned man walked over. Despite his sideburns his face still had a gaunt look to it.

    "What's up Sly?"

    "Just came to tell you, Ike, that Stevie called for you. Said he'd be a little late."

    "I figured as much," Ike said. "It's payday and he has to cash his check, plus kick his pops down."

    Aurora shook her head. "How can such a nice guy like Stevie have such a racist asshole for a father?"

    "He's more like his mother, but she's no cup of tea either. She just isn't as blatantly racist as his dad." Ike sat his beer down. "One day I overheard him refer to me as a 'coon,' so I jammed his ass up about it and he told me he meant nothing by it. Ain't that a bitch? If he hadn't been Stevie's dad I would have dug his ass out."

    "You and Stevie go way back."

    "You were with Pinch."

    "Don't remind me."

    "By the way, how's my man, Aaron?"

    Aurora beamed, as she always did when talking about her four-year old son. "He's fine and misses you much. You haven't seen us in over a week."

    "I been working my ass off."

    "And you still haven't told me why."

    "I'm saving like mad, baby. I want to leave here."

    He didn't understand why she didn't feel as strongly about leaving as he did. It was one thing not knowing where to go, and another being afraid to. Because she had a child by Pinch, he felt that should have been enough to spark her wanderlust.

    ...Pinch was twenty-one when she and Ike were juniors at Stonecutter High. By that time Pinch already had his feet planted firmly in street life. He had a car, better clothes and appeared to be worldlier, and so in the battle for aurora's affection, he won out. But it wasn't Ike who lost as much as Aurora. Several months later she was pregnant.

    At the beginning of her second trimester, Pinch left her. No phone call, letter, or anything of the sort. Occasionally he sent support money, probably to salve his guilt, but Aurora preferred to have nothing to do with him. After the baby was born she began mailing his checks back to him. After the child turned a year old, Pinch was no longer sending money, nor inquiring about the child.

    That was when Ike got his chance. After two months of dinners and quiet conversations she finally gave herself to him. On that night it took a few shots of gin and orange juice, and a helping hand from an Isley Brothers album, but they made love far into the night. By that time he had already won over her child and it wasn't long before Aaron began calling Ike his daddy.

    While reminiscing, neither recognized that Stevie had walked in until he plopped down onto the stool to Ike's left.

    "I see y'all got started without me."

    "That's okay, I know you'll enjoy playing catch up."

    Stevie's was usually the only white face in the bar, but no one had ever treated him as if he didn't belong.

    "Bad news," Ike said. He let Stevie order a beer before continuing. "Mac gets out the slammer on Thursday."

    "That is bad news," Stevie said. His voice had just a hint of a southern drawl.