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320 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2004
"No. He didn't kill Nola. He might have set fire to his life but he didn't kill that girl."
"Woman," I said.
"Say what?"
"Woman. Nola Payne was a woman just like you and me are men."
Suggs was driving. He turned to me and gave me a quizzical look.
"I don't like bein' called boy," I said. "I don't like our Negro women to be called girls. That's easy enough, right?" It was something I had always wanted to say but hadn't. (p.239 Mosley)
His easy manner accepting my conditions made me think that this simple ride in a policeman’s car was going to take me down a much longer journey than I had planned on when I rolled out of bed that morning.
She was filled with the beauty of youth: her light brown skin and luscious hair, her child’s hands and woman’s figure. Her lips were in the shape of a chubby heart, and her eyes were always looking somewhere else to keep you from seeing the hunger they held . And even though everything about her was geared to making babies and a home, she sat there night after night with Geneva Landry, listening to her grief and loss.
I loved Bonnie, and had no intention of changing my situation, but still I yearned to be in the presence of the chattering young woman who lied to save me, and then lead me to freedom.
... I turned to look once more at the consecrated living room. Vika had come back and was removing the lemonade I’d put on the floor in my haste to leave. She had gotten down on one knee, a voluptuous purple sail with a yellow flag dipping into a crimson sea. My breath caught ...