Just the other day we announced that Andy Holloman’s suspense-filled SHADES OF GRAY was our new Thriller of the Week and the sponsor of thousands of great bargains in the thriller, mystery, and suspense categories: over 200 free titles, over 600 quality 99-centers, and thousands more that you can read for free through the Kindle Lending Library if you have Amazon Prime!

Now we’re back to offer our weekly free Thriller excerpt, and we’re happy to share the news that this terrific read at $4.99 and FREE for Amazon Prime Members via Kindle Lending Library for Kindle Nation readers during its TOTW reign!

Shades of Gray

by Andy Holloman

4.4 stars – 41 Reviews

Kindle Price: $4.99

Text-to-Speech and Lending: Enabled

“Debut novelist Andy Holloman speeds us on a journey with punch, twist, and emotional dilemmas straight from our worst fears. Shades of Gray is a colorful, rollicking ride from start to finish.”

In the Fall of 2001, John Manning’s life is in turmoil. His six-year-old daughter Lucy needs a kidney transplant, and his travel agency is in financial distress because of the 9/11 tragedy. A lapse in his health insurance means he also has to quickly secure funds for his daughter’s operation.

Wanda, a client of John’s travel agency, is facing similar financial difficulties. Her livelihood as a drug dealer has also been hit hard by increased airport security. As a single parent, she wants to leave her dangerous profession and break free from her drug-lord boss Jamel, but a lack of funds has curtailed attempts to start a new life with her daughter.

Desperate times lead to desperate measures and John and Wanda form a partnership to smuggle cocaine via cruise ships. How far should a father go to save his child? Can a man and woman from completely different worlds help each other? Could they fall in love? And who will live to see the summer of 2002?

Reader Comments

Shades of Gray is a strikingly original and deeply moving story with an astonishing twist at the end. Andy Holloman renders brilliantly the tale of John Manning, a loving father and a reputable business man, whose incursion in the drug world fundamentally changes his life. Holloman makes his debut as a novelist by taking both his characters and readers on a journey where they equally experience tenderness, frustration, pain and truth. A raw, honest and captivating book that would make a great script for a movie!

– Anca Dumitru, Amazon Reviewer, 5 Stars

Super-Thriller! Loved the surprise ending! Loved the father-daughter relationship! What particularly impressed me was the appeal to the senses. You can FEEL Holloman’s writing.

– Elaine Diamondidis, Amazon Reviewer, 5 Stars

And here, for your reading pleasure, is our free excerpt:

I – March 24, 2002

He reserved his Sunday nights for the most important person in his life—his six-year-old daughter Lucy. These nights were referred to as the Sabbath and he always observed. On more than one occasion, he had mentioned his Sunday night dinners with Lucy were the source of good luck for the upcoming week. Tonight, however, would end any further mention of the delight he took in these evenings. Lucy had always chosen the location for their dates, and, the familiar ching-ching-ching-ching rattle of dollar bills being exchanged for golden tokens falling from the change dispensers rang in John’s ears. The clanging of bells from the game machines and the flashing lights reminded him of Las Vegas. They were, however, quite far from Sin City as they slipped into a booth at the Chuckie Cheese in Raleigh, North Carolina. Parents hurried past them, chasing small children. Older children stuffed chains of small white tickets into the counting machine so they could collect a prize worth ten cents after spending ten dollars to collect the tickets from games of skill like pinball, skeeball, whack-a-mole, and pop-a-shot. No doubt casino owners the world over would sell their soul for similar odds. She reached across the table and pulled on his sleeve. “Daddy? Are you thinking about what kind of pizza to get?” He sighed. “I’m not thinking about anything except how perfect a little girl you are. You pick the pizza tonight.” “Well I want a pizza with double cheese and nothing else on it like that gross stuff that you like.” She smiled and studied the menu. As if she would order anything else.He removed his glasses and pushed his thinning blonde hair back from his eyes. He wiped the lens clean with his tie. “Daddy, Nana told me that I should help you watch what you eat so you don’t get any fatter.” “Hmmm, so my mom told you that?” “Yes, but she said it was for your own good and that when I told you this, you would understand. She told me that you used to be a skinnier and that wherever you went, pretty ladies would always smile at you.” “Seems like I better have a little chat with your Nana. She needs to understand that I’ve been working hard to be a good dad and take care of my business and that maybe it is OK to let other things slip a little.” “I will tell her Daddy. You don’t have to worry. But she did say that now you look more like you are sixty instead of forty-four.” “Wow! Now I know that I need to talk to my mom.” “Daddy, you don’t …’ “It’s OK sweetie, your nana is just looking out for me. I know she just wants me to take care of myself so I can take care of you.” She looked up at him from the menu, dark eyes twinkling. “Daddy, when are we going on another big boat trip? You remember how you said that we could go again and Wanda and Tonya could go with us? When can we go again?” He shook his head, leaned forward and took her small hand in his. “Sweetie, you’ve been asking me the same question three times a day since Wanda and I got back from the last one a few weeks ago. I’m not sure if we are going to go again right away.” “I just have to wait and see if it’s necessary to go again, sweetie. Wanda and I got a lot of work done on the last trip, so we probably won’t go again.” She pulled her hand away and sat back against the seat, turned her head to the side and crossed her arms. “You said I could go again, Daddy! Remember, you did! It’s not fair.” “What’s not fair, Lucy?” “You and Wanda didn’t even take me and Tonya last time.” “Look, I know how much you like Tonya but you don’t have to be on a cruise ship to have fun playing with her. We can meet her at a park, or McDonald’s or some other place to play.” He watched her uncross her arms and put her hands back on the table. She didn’t reach for his hand. She spoke without looking up. “Daddy, umm, do you think that you could marry Wanda?” He closed his eyes and tilted his head to the ceiling, smiling. “If you and Wanda got married then I could have a mommy and Tonya would be my sister.” She gave him a pleading smile. John was used to the question. He called it the “mommy test.” It was not a difficult test to pass. Lucy’s only requirements were: She had to like the potential mommy and the candidate had to be female. “Well honey, I’ve explained this to you already. Wanda and I are just friends and we just work together. We’re not interested in getting married.” John watched her absorb his response. She frowned and looked down at the menu. “Is it, umm, it is because she’s a, a…. nigger?” she whispered. He winced as if punched. “What, what did you just say?” She tucked her chin against her chest, “I’m sorry Daddy.” “Lucy, sweetie, please don’t ever let me hear you say that word again.” He leaned forward and took her hands in his, pulling her toward him. “You know calling someone that is very bad. I don’t care what color Wanda and Tonya are and you know that.” John took a deep breath. Lucy pulled her hands free, “Did you hear Uncle Travis use that word again?” “I’m sorry Daddy.” “Answer me please Lucy.” “Umm, yes, Daddy. I heard Uncle Travis say that word when I was at his house watching movies.” She didn’t look up. “Tell me what happened. You’re not going to get in trouble.” “I was scared Daddy. Uncle Travis was really mad. He was yelling at somebody and he kept calling them a … you know, the bad word.” Her shoulders quivered. He wiped a tear off her cheek. “I know, I know. I can see you were scared. But was someone else at Uncle Travis’ house while you were there?” “No.” “But you said that he was yelling at someone.” “He was yelling on the … telephone.” “So he was talking on the phone and you heard him yelling and saying the bad word, right?” “Yes.” She wiped her nose with the sleeve of her sweater. “He was on the back porch. I wasn’t trying to listen, Daddy. You know how you told me that sometimes when people talk on the phone that it has to be for privacy and I’m not supposed to listen. But Uncle Travis left the window open. I wasn’t trying to listen but he was yelling and it was scary.” He marveled at her intelligence. She always knew what was happening around her and there were always questions. “I see. But you understand that just because Uncle Travis says bad words doesn’t mean that you should, right?” “I know, I know, Daddy.” He reached over and dabbed her eyes with a paper napkin. “Daddy, does Uncle Travis yell at people and fight with them all the time because he is a policeman? Just like the policeman fighting shows you like to watch?” “No, honey. Those are just police shows. I’m sure Uncle Travis has to yell at people sometimes, but policeman have pretty boring jobs. They don’t spend all their time fighting and driving their cars fast to catch the bad guys, like they do on TV.” She nodded. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “So can Wanda be my Mommy?” She tugged at a pink ribbon that was barely clinging to her long black curls. He was always careful to prepare her unruly hair as best he could each morning, but most ribbons or clips rarely survived an entire day. “Oh, Lucy, my little sweetie. I know how much you want to have a mommy. I want you to have one too, but it has to be the right person for both of us. You can’t just pick out people that you like and choose them to be your mommy.” An overweight teenage waitress interrupted their conversation. John ordered a large pizza with double cheese. “Don’t forget to get me a Sprite, Daddy. You said I could have a Sprite for a treat, no milk.” John smiled at the waitress and she noted the order on her pad. “But why can’t I decide who I want for my Mommy? It’s just not fair that everyone else has a Mommy but me. I want Wanda for my Mom and Tonya for my sister!” She poked her lip out in a pout. “I understand, baby. I want you to have a mommy also, but it has to be someone that I want to marry. There is someone out there for both of us and we will find her some day. I promise you that I will keep an eye out for the perfect person for both of us.” He patted her hand. They continued to talk about other issues. None was as grave as finding a new mommy, but important issues nonetheless. She answered questions about school, told stories about playing with friends in the neighborhood, and detailed who was being nice and who was being mean. All of these things were quite wonderful items to discuss as far as John was concerned. He watched her as she spoke. She brushed her hair back so that the curls framed her perfect, round face. Her brown, almond shaped eyes were accented by her smooth white skin. He felt that warm glow in his soul that only she could deliver. Lucy radiated a joy and innocence that John could become lost in, making the other troubled parts of his life fade away. She was his whole world and his love for her sometimes left him petrified with fear that he could lose her, especially with her recent health problems and the corrective surgery approaching. Several times a week, he would lie in bed with her while she fell asleep. Then, after she had dozed off, he would move close to her face and breathe in as she exhaled. When he was that close to her, breathing her breath, his body relaxed, and anxious thoughts faded away. Her sweet, warm breath filled the lonely spaces deep within his soul. * * *  After dinner, a light rain fell as they walked across the parking lot. He wished now that he had not traded cars with Wanda. Her 30-year-old Mustang convertible had a leak in the roof. Wanda had expressed so much interest in his new minivan that he had offered to switch cars for a day When they were within a few miles of their home, the light rain became a severe thunderstorm, and John searched for the switch to adjust the wipers to a faster setting. He noticed that the car was handling strangely. The steering was out of alignment and he drifted right onto the shoulder. He jerked the car back onto the road. She sang “I’m a Little Teapot,” softly and he watched her in the rearview mirror as she performed the hand movements that went along with the lyrics. “Daddy, I smell something stinky?” “What does it smell like, sweetie? ” He leaned closer to the steering wheel, wiping the window with his shirt sleeve to remove the condensation. “It smells like the gas, like when you stop at the station to put gas in the car.” As they entered a sharp right curve he turned the steering wheel. There was no response. “Oh God, what the hell …” “Daddy, you said a bad w- …” He punched the brake with both feet as the car headed onto the far shoulder. No brakes. The car kept its forty-mile-per-hour pace and slid off the road and down a steep embankment. Sounds mixed together—small trees snapping, glass breaking, metal bending, and Lucy’s screams. He turned and reached back for her, but the car slammed him forward. He covered his face to cushion the blow as the car spun sideways and hit a large, old oak tree, which shuddered as it took the weight of the impact. “OUCH! AWWWW!!!” She screamed out. “Daddy help me! Help! I got cut by something and there’s a branch scratching me. It hurts Daddy, it’s hurting me! Daddy help me!”* * * Her voice came back as water dripped in his face. He had fallen forward and his head was trapped between the smashed driver’s side door and the steering wheel.“Daddy, I’m hurt! Wake up! Wake up, Daddy … please … wake up!” He couldn’t remember what had happened, swimming in the fog of unconsciousness. “Daddy, Daddy, please help me. I’m bleeding. Something cut me. The blood is all over me. Daddy, it hurts. It hurts real bad Daddy.” His body tensed as fire-hot pain shot through his leg. He tried to speak but the words would not form. “Oh my God! Oh God!! Lucy, Lucy.” He slid his right hand across his lap and felt a warm stickiness and the jagged edge of bone protruding through his torn pants leg. The pain ripped and burned through his entire body. Her voice woke him, softer this time. Pain clouded his thinking. How much time had passed? “Daddy, Daddy, wake up.” She whimpered. “I’m hurt, wake up. Daddy, I’m bleeding. Daddy, I’m scared. Daddy, Daddy, please wake up. Please. I’m scared.” He tried to form words, but nothing came out. Everything blurred. What had happened? Lucy? My Lucy, she’s hurt. I’m here sweetie. Daddy’s coming. I’m going to get you out of here. The haze and fog would not clear The pain came over him in huge waves and washed him back under. He regained consciousness. A whisper in the dark. “Daddy, Daddy, I’m cold. I’m still bleeding Daddy. Daddy, wake up. Please wake up Daddy.” I’m coming my Lucy, I’m coming. Hold on, your Daddy’s gonna come and save you. I promise. Tears flowed down his face. He could not turn around to see his precious Lucy. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t comfort her. He could only listen to her faint cries. The rain stopped. A full moon appeared and cast a pale light through the oak tree’s branches and into the car. Hold on sweetie. Daddy’s going to get up and get you out of here. You just sit tight now my little sweetie. Don’t be scared. I’m gonna save you my precious. John Manning fell back into unconsciousness, and Lucy’s soft cries ceased.

II – August 1975

  In the sticky, humid heat of an August afternoon in Durham, North Carolina, a small girl played with a group of five friends on a barren playground. The swings were all broken, the chains having been removed years ago, destined for activities that would never be considered childlike. The only piece of equipment on the playground that had any practical use was the monkey bars. It was so badly rusted that shards of brown metal would come off on the children’s hands. Occasionally, someone would get a cut or a piece of metal would lodge in one of the small hands, but this was never a deterrent. The playground was a paradise for the neighborhood children. An oasis where they could meet friends, swap stories, play tag, and avoid the hazards of their broken homes. A mother walked across the street toward the playground. “Hey! Hey, Wanda!” screamed the mother. “Get your ass over here now! I’ve called you ten times already! Are you deaf?” All of the childlike joy of play evaporated in that instant. Smiling, happy faces turned into scared, sad faces in the milliseconds that it took for those words to travel from the speaker’s mouth to the children’s ears. They all looked at the ground and then at the girl who belonged to the mother. She stood and gave a timid, frightened wave to the others. She walked toward the mother. “Are you gonna answer me? I can’t wait to get you back to the house and tear your ass up for not coming when I call you. This has got to stop, you hear?” said the Mother. The timid girl whispered “OK, Mama, I’m sorry.” “Shut up and don’t say anything. I’m too pissed off to listen to your bullshit right now,” she growled. The girl and the mother walked away from the playground, across the street, and around the corner to their home. Often the girl wished the playground was further from the house, maybe closer to the her other refuge: the elementary school. The mother took the two cinder block steps up to the porch that was just large enough to hold two rusted card table chairs and a dirt-stained love seat. The sofa’s stuffing material remained in some places. It still served its purpose whenever someone found a board to cover the rusted springs. The small girl followed, but at a greater distance than when the two had left the playground. Dread and fear covered her body like the worn out blanket on which she slept. She slithered up the steps as her mother was going through the door. Inside the front door, the living room held a tan couch with a green blanket strewn across it in an unsuccessful attempt to cover the many stains on the cushions. There was a nineteen-inch black-and-white TV opposite the couch. To the left was a small kitchen with dirty dishes piled in the sink as well as remnants of past meals still lying on the counter top. A white Formica table and two metal chairs stood against the wall opposite the sink. A short hallway, which began by the couch in the living room, led to the only bedroom. Mother and daughter shared this room, most of the time, and it had a small bathroom attached to it, with a mildewed shower, commode, and sink. There was a hole large enough to fit a basketball near the wall opposite the sink. “Get in here now. Don’t be dragging your ass behind me. I got to go to work and you got to eat. Go sit at the table. I’ve got some chicken and rice for you.” The girl sighed and slipped into her chair. She was hungry and because of this she let her guard down and reached for the bowl of food on the table instead of keeping her eye on her mother. As she picked up the spoon in the bowl, the back of her mother’s hand flew toward the small girl’s head and connected with tremendous force, just below her left ear. The girl fell to the floor screaming, holding her ear and trembling. “This is the last time you’re ever going to go to that playground! Are you listening to me? I know you could hear me and I’m not going to put up with your shit no more! Do you understand?” The mother loomed over the girl, eyes bulging with anger. “Answer me right now or you’re going to get smacked on the other side of your head!” The girl’s face was wrenched in pain. Her lower lip quivered, her checks soaked with tears. “Y-y-yes, Mama. I’m sorry,” she whispered. Past experience taught her to show how sorry she was to minimize the possibility of further punishment. “I won’t do it again. I promise.” These words came out with a clarity that surprised her. It worked. The mother opened the oven and pulled out a pan of biscuits, dropping them with a bang onto the stovetop. “You better do exactly as you are saying right now, because if you don’t, I’ll give you something to cry about. Now get back up in your chair and shush up.” The girl wiped tears and snot from her face, watching the mother from the corner of her eye. She slipped onto the chair and sat on the corner with one leg still on the ground, in case of another attack. The mother placed two biscuits on a plate and shoved them onto the table. “Here, eat your dinner. Lock the door behind me ‘cause I’m leaving for work now. Get in bed by nine o’clock and don’t sleep on the couch, sleep in your bed.” “Yes, Mama. I will. I will.” It was better when Mama went to work. Wanda was glad to have these few hours to be alone and unafraid. While her other friends’ parents worked in restaurants, fixed cars, or simply stayed around the house, Wanda had no idea what her mother’s job was. She just knew that her mother worked at night and sometimes brought home a friend. Twice during the summer, Wanda had witnessed her mother’s return from work just before sunrise. Her mother didn’t work every night, just the nights when Wanda didn’t have to go to school the next day. Sometimes when she came home from work, she had trouble walking and she stumbled over the porch steps. Wanda preferred to sleep on the couch, which was further away from the bedroom and any guests. After her mother left, Wanda finished eating and locked the front door. She opened the only window in the room and walked back to the bedroom, returning with a square fan the same size as the TV, which she placed by the window. Next, she went to the kitchen and picked up one of the metal chairs, which she brought back and placed underneath the window. She plugged the fan in and set it up on the chair, adjusting it to point the stream of humid air toward the sofa. She turned on the television, ate two Oreo cookies that she had hidden between the cushions, and fell asleep as the Captain’s blue hat gave Gilligan his fourth swat of that evening’s episode. * * *  At the end of the school year, Travis’ third grade class had been studying weather. He learned hurricanes were powerful storms and that North Carolina’s Outer Banks were a frequent target. Though it was still early in the hurricane season, 1975 was shaping up to be a mild year for the big storms. Only Hurricane Amy, in late June, had threatened the North Carolina coast. Travis felt that being with his brother and his father was like watching an approaching hurricane. Each day they were together, the storm grew in intensity. He knew hurricanes had an eye in the middle, where it was calm and peaceful, and he hoped the eye would arrive soon. He loved the fishing trip that he, his brother and father took every August, and hoped it wouldn’t end badly, as some other trips had. It was early in the morning and they were thirty minutes from the marina. Cape Hatteras is the closest point on the East Coast to the Gulf Stream, which brings up warm water from the Gulf of Mexico and also abundant game fish, like marlin. Yesterday, John and Travis’ father had gotten into their loudest argument of the summer. John would be starting college in two weeks and Travis did not want to think about John’s leaving. He understood that John was his stepbrother, because they had different fathers, but John made Travis promise him last summer that they would never use any other word but brother to refer to each other. They were heading out to the Gulf Stream to catch marlins. Travis loved it when they went way out and tried for the big ones. The three of them had been deep sea fishing together at Hatteras since Travis was four. John and Travis’ father, Hank Hanson, had gone fishing together once before Travis was old enough join them, but it had not gone well. John and Hank argued most of the trip. Hank had purchased a fifty-foot Sea Ray the previous summer and all of them enjoyed the greater number of fishing trips. As much as John disliked his stepfather, he loved the boat. Travis also loved the boat, especially the soft bed in the lower cabin. He was tired and it was easy to catch a quick nap while they were heading out. The loud engine drowned out all the sounds around him and he fell asleep quickly. John always drove and, after another hour-and-a-half, he slowed the boat when they were close enough to their destination to begin setting out their lines. Travis awoke from his nap and watched his father climb the ladder to the upper deck where John was. Travis walked up the three steps, out of the cabin area, and stood under the deck, listening to them. Hank sat down on a small bench, opposite of the console where John was holding the ship’s wheel. “You know John, if I had talked to my father the same way you’ve been talking to me on this trip, he’d have kicked the shit out of me.” John continued to look out over the bow and the gently rolling swells. “Hank, if you weren’t such a stupid, bigoted fool, then maybe I wouldn’t have to talk to you like this. But if you’re saying that you think you should kick the shit out of me, then go ahead and give it your best shot.” Hank waved his hand in the air. “Now don’t go saying stuff like that. I ain’t going to do nothing of the sort. Why don’t you just let it rest for the day, John? You ain’t going to change me and I ain’t going to change you.” “I’m not worried about you or me, Hank. It’s that wonderful little nine-year-old boy sleeping down there that I worry about. Your attitudes, the way you talk about blacks, he doesn’t understand how wrong your old ways are. I can’t stand to see him picking up your habits.” “I just tell it like I see it, John. I know what I know. Like I said, you ain’t going to change me.” Hank took a sip from the beer he was holding. “There’s no need to bring up what happened with that little darkie boy at the marina if that’s where you’re heading with this.” “You’re goddamn right I am. That was the most insulting thing I’ve ever seen you do. You told that little boy that you didn’t want your son using the bathroom after a little ’nigger’ and you pushed Travis up ahead of him.” Hank leaned forward on the bench. “You don’t need to be worrying about Travis. I’m a good father and I know how to raise my boy. He knows what he sees in the world. Some people just ain’t the same as others and I didn’t make it that way. God did.” He paused and took a long sip of his beer. “I guess since you’re heading off to college, you think you’re a lot better than me. Maybe you think you know how to raise a kid. You don’t.”John turned and pointed his finger at Hank. “I know one thing Hank: Travis is a wonderful boy who loves his father, even if you are a prejudiced ass. You can bet I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure he knows your ways are wrong. I’m not going to let him grow up with your attitudes.” Hank looked down at this beer and shook his head. John pulled the throttle back and the boat shifted into neutral.“I’m done with this. I’m going to starting rigging up the lines.” Travis scurried back into the cabin as John came down the short ladder from the top deck. * * *  John wasn’t going to let Hank ruin this trip. It was a glorious August morning, with calm seas and a bright sun. Hank was right about one thing: John was never going to change him, no matter how much he argued with him. John would never understand why his mother chose to marry someone like Hank. She claimed to love him, that he provided well for all of them, and that down deep, he did have a good heart. John never saw it. He suspected his mother rarely did either. His mother once said loneliness and poverty force you to make compromises. John’s father had abandoned him and his mother when John was only a year old. Hank owned five auto repair shops in the Raleigh area. They had married when John was eight, and his mother no longer struggled to make ends meet. Travis arrived a year later and both John and his mother were elated to have a new family member. The three of them had fished hard for two days. John knew his conflicts with Hank would diminish if they concentrated more on the task at hand. This was the way it was, yelling and fighting at first, then getting down to business. On every trip, the amount of fish caught was inversely proportional to how much he fought with Hank. Their catch so far had been poor, but today was to be exceptional. They hauled in a dozen large fish and John reeled in the largest blue marlin any of them had ever caught. After the four-hour ordeal of landing the fish, he could not contain his delight. Even Hank was jumping up and down and whooping with excitement. The fish was twice as long as Travis, and Hank estimated it weighed three hundred pounds. After they had finished securing the fish to the side of the boat, Travis ran back to the cabin and grabbed a small camera. He took pictures while Hank held up John’s arm and pointed to his bicep. In the last picture he took, Hank had even thrown his arm over John’s shoulders. They were both covered with fish blood, seawater, and broad smiles. The drive home to Raleigh was filled with pride and laughter as the three of them revisited the success of their outing. John was already talking about coming home from college in a few weeks so they could take the boat out again. They left Hatteras around seven o’clock, and after the sun had gone down an hour later, John fell asleep in the back seat. “Son, you make sure that you get those pictures developed right away, and get some extra copies for us to give out. John really bagged us a good one.” “Are you going to show the pictures to the guys in the garage?” “Damn right! My guys are going to shit their drawers when they see the size of this marlin.” Travis looked out the window and then down at his hands. “Umm, Dad, uh, can I ask you something?” “Sure son, what’s on your mind?” Travis brushed a fish scale off the back of his hand. “Why do you and John fight about black people so much?” Hank smiled and glanced in the rear view mirror to see that John was still asleep. “Well Travis, it’s like this. See your brother is still young. He ain’t seen much of the world or the people in it. You understand?” “Yes sir.” “He just doesn’t know yet that people are different. See, I know them darkies ain’t the same as you and me. They just ain’t the same.” “But John said everyone is the same and it doesn’t matter what color their skin is.” “A lot of people say things like that, but they just don’t know. It’s just the way it is in this world. John would see the same things the same way too if he had grown up around them like I did. I started helping my Dad fix cars up when I was just about your age.” He flashed a smile at Travis. “He told me about how they ain’t the same as us. I worked with them when I got my first real job as a mechanic, when I was only fifteen. I saw that what my Dad said was right. Even hired a few when I opened my own shop, but don’t anymore. You just get a feeling for types of people and what they’re like after you’ve been around them some. You just need to listen to your Dad about these things. You’ll see too as you get older.” Hank turned and smiled at Travis. Travis was silent for a minute. “Remember you said I could start working in one of your shops next summer, right?” Hank reached over and patted him on the leg. “Now that’s my boy. You bet you can start next summer. Already been thinking about some good things you can do to learn your way around. I bet … oh shit.” Travis looked up and saw the flashing lights reflected in the windshield. “Goddamn cop is pulling me over.” Travis turned around in the seat and rose up on his knees to see the patrol car following them. Hank slowed the car down and pulled onto the shoulder of the road. “Son, reach over in the glove box there and get out the car registration. Goddamit, I sure don’t need another speeding ticket.” Travis handed his father the slip of paper from the glove box, and watched him as he opened his wallet and pulled out three $20 bills. He smiled at his son as he folded them into the car registration form. “Here’s you first lesson son in how the world really works. This little trick has bailed me out of a couple of problems in the past.” The highway patrolman walked to Hank’s window. All Travis could see was his enormous belly as it hung over his belt. He hiked his pants up and Hank rolled down the window. “Howdy officer. What’s wrong?” Hank’s voice was friendly, surprised. The patrolman shone his flashlight into Hank’s face and then moved the light to the back seat, pausing on John for a few seconds. “Let me see your driver’s license and registration please sir.” “You bet officer.” Hank took his wallet from the dashboard and removed his license. “Sir, I was following you for five miles and for that entire time, you’ve been traveling at least fifteen miles per hour over the speed limit.” Hank’s eyes opened wide, “Oh my god! Was I really going that fast? Damn officer, I’ve just been chatting with my boy here and I guess I wasn’t paying close enough attention.” He handed the officer his license and the car registration. The policeman studied the license with his flashlight. “Well Mr. Hanson, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to write you up for speeding,” Travis saw the patrolman’s plump hands unfold the car registration, revealing the cash. He lifted his arm and wiped the sweat off his forehead with his shirtsleeve. The patrolman looked at Hank. Hank smiled, reassuringly. “Hold on for just a second Mr. Hanson. I’m going to have to call this one in on the radio.” The patrolman turned and walked back to his car. Travis turned to look back. “Just keep looking ahead son. He’s just going to take a look at the paper work I gave him. Then he’ll come back and tell us to be on our way.” Three minutes later, the patrolman returned to Hank’s window. “Mr. Hanson, I’ve decided to let you go with just a warning. But if I catch you speeding or doing anything else wrong around here again, you won’t be so lucky.” He handed the license and registration back to Hank, who in turn handed everything back to Travis. Travis returned the empty registration to the glove compartment. “That’s mighty nice of you sir. I was just telling my boy here how cops don’t get the respect they deserve. You guys do a great job for us law abiding citizens. I just wish you didn’t have to spend any time with us good folk so that you can spend more time chasing down the bad guys.” “That’s mighty nice of you Mr. Hanson. We can take care of the bad guys if all you good guys would just slow down a little. Looks like you got some precious cargo in that car with you. You wouldn’t want to have anything happen to that boy of yours because you’re driving too fast now would you?” “Good point officer. I’ll pay closer attention, you can bet that.” “Well good night Mr. Hanson. Drive safe now, you hear?” “Yes sir officer. You have a good night now.” Hank pulled out from the side of the road. He was smiling. He drove on as the police car caught up with and then passed them. A few minutes later, the tail lights had disappeared. “Now son, you got to understand what just happened here. I mean really understand. You’re old enough now to start learning about how things work.” “But Dad, I didn’t know that you could pay for your speeding ticket like that. You told me about one that you had to mail in some money to pay.” “I paid for the ticket, son, I just put the money into the hands of someone who needs the money a lot more. Cops don’t get paid for shit. I just did that cop a big favor. Why he’ll be able to buy his kids some new shoes or maybe something nice for his wife.” “You mean that when you pay for a speeding ticket, the cop always gets the money? “No, that’s not how it works.” “Is that what you did when you mailed in that money before? You just mailed it to the cop instead of handing it to him like tonight?” “Nah, son. That ain’t what you’re seeing here. Now, officially, that cop was supposed to give me a ticket for driving too fast. Then he turns that ticket in to a judge who sends me a letter saying that I’ve got to pay the money to the courthouse or I can come and see the judge and tell him why I think I shouldn’t have to pay. Only the judge don’t listen very well, so if you go to court, you just end up paying the money anyway. Plus I gotta take off a day from work, sit in this big courtroom until they call my name and then I’ve wasted almost a whole day. See, this way, instead of giving the money to the judge, I just give it to the cop. The cop decides to take the money and then he lets me go. The cop can go on and spend more time catching bank robbers, muggers, and niggers who are breaking into people’s houses. I mean bad guys, criminals. Then the poor, tired cop goes home with the cash and helps his family and I don’t give my money to the judge and my insurance don’t go up. Everybody comes out a winner.” Travis sat up on his knees and turned to look in the back seat. John was still asleep. “But Dad, it’s against the law, isn’t it? John told me about one time when you did this and he was in the car. He said you could go to jail for doing this since you were breaking the law.” Hank snorted and waved his hand toward the back seat. “Oh, that John! Listen my boy. He sees things the wrong way because he just don’t understand the world. He and you are just kids. To John, everything is either right or wrong. But that ain’t how things work out there in the world. You’re better off listening to your ole dad than listening to John. You gotta trust me on this son. I know it’s hard to understand, but in time you will. Right now, you just gotta trust me. You trust your old dad now don’t you Travis?” Travis turned to the window and stared out at the sky. It was a clear night and Travis noticed the number of stars he could see was greater than he could ever remember. He could see John’s reflection in his window. What would his brother add to this conversation? What would he say about his father’s opinions? It was best that John was sleeping. They would have just ended up shouting at each other again. Yeah, it was better that John was asleep. “Yeah Dad, I trust you.” Hank reached over and tousled Travis’ hair. “Now that’s my boy.” “Can we stop and get something to eat? I’m starving.” “Yes sir, my boy. I’ll stop and get you anything you want.”

Continued….

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Shades of Gray

by Andy Holloman