Page 57 of Dizzy

“Not your business,” Dizzy says.

The atmosphere in the cab gets even more tense. We drive about a mile in total, stewing silence, until we turn down the road to home and Parker breaks, blowing up.

“I didn’t call him a pussy!” He tries to keep it cool, but in no time, he’s shouting in earnest, face bright purple. “I said Smith is a pussy, and heisa pussy! I didn’t pick ‘em. I wouldn’t pick a pussy to play! And I sure as shit wouldn’t be a pussy and tell my daddy about it, if someone did call me a pussy, which I didn’t!”

The snort slips out before I can stop it. And then a snicker.

Dizzy frowns at me, but Carson’s giggling now, and I can’t stop. Soon, we’re both howling, and Parker’s baring his teeth, clenching his fists. Carson better watch out. He’s in range.

Dizzy pulls into the driveway. Parker lunges for the doorknob, and Dizzy engages the locks with a snick.

“No one goes nowhere.”

Shivers zip down my spine. It’s a voice you can’t ignore. Some primitive part of me whimpers and bares her neck.

We all simmer down. I’m only a little scared. I don’tthinkhe’s going to lose his temper. He hasn’t yet. But the nerves are delicious. Like at the top of the Ferris wheel at the carnival.

Dizzy gazes into the rearview. “Look at me, boy.”

Parker raises his chin the minimum acceptable amount. His black hair’s sticking up at all angles, and his young face is hard and mean. He’s the one who resembles his daddy, but they have such different temperaments.

Dizzy starts, “It ain’t about calling him a pussy or not. You disrespected that man’s house. He invited you as his son’s guest, and you disrespected his home. You apologize for that.”

“We were in Carl’s bedroom! No one heard but us. Carl’s brother was saying way worse shit.”

“Don’t matter.”

“Carl’s a goddamn snitch.”

“Don’t matter.”

“I should’ve just told his dad I didn’t say it.” Parker hunches over.

“Then you’d be a liar, wouldn’t you?” Dizzy lets his head fall back against the headrest. “Listen. Carson, you listen, too. There are three things to learn here. One. You disrespect a man in his own house—I don’t care if you meant to or not—you apologize. A man’s home is his castle.”

Carson nods sagely, as if he’s heard this before, and it doesn’t get more true. I wouldn’t know. I do know that a woman’s home is more or less a motel for ingrates, in my experience. Don’t know about a man’s house. Until Dizzy’s, I never been in one.

“Two. Better to be embarrassed or wrong than to be a liar. You know what Grandma always said— ‘The Lord hates a liar.’”

I agree. There’s worse things to be than a liar, I suppose, but there’s nothin’ worse that’s more common.

“I didn’t lie.” Parker’s barely holding back tears. I wouldn’t want to disappoint this man, either. I’d hate to look small to him.

“I know you didn’t.” Dizzy unbuckles his seat belt and unlocks the truck.

“What’s the third thing?” Carson asks.

Dizzy shakes his head as if he nearly forgot. “Don’t be friends with a snitch.”

Amen.

Everyone piles from the car.

“Are we not gonna talk about how messed up it is to call people pussies?” I call after them, but the boys are already to the door, and Dizzy’s getting my shopping bags.

Strangely, Parker’s crappy playdate has calmed me down. Or maybe it was Dizzy’s lecture. Mama never took up with a man who had much time for kids, so it’s weird to see it up close. Parenting or whatever.

“You comin’?” Dizzy’s laden down with bags, and he’s holding the door open for me with his foot.

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