Walter Mosley - Bad Boy Brawly Brown

“Okay, man,” I said, looking at my wristwatch. “Two minutes to hear what you mean.”

I expected Jackson to smile again, but instead he put on his serious face.

“It’s like this,” he said. “Newton was a religious man, what they called a Arianist...”

“A what?”

“It don’t matter, except that it meant that he was a heretic in England, but he didn’t let nobody know. He was a alchemist, too. Tryin’ to turn lead to gold and like that. He lived through the plague years. And at the end of his life he was the president of the science club and the head of the national mint.”

“All that?”

Jackson nodded almost solemnly. “As the head of the mint he was in charge of executions. And all them things he discovered — he kept ’em to himself for years before he let the world know.”

“So what, Jackson?”

“So what? This is black history we talkin’ here, Easy.”

“So now you sayin’ Newton was a black man?”

“No, brother. I’m sayin’ that all they teach in schools is how a apple done falled on Isaac’s head and that’s it. They don’t teach you about how he believed in magic or how he was in his heart against the Church of England. They don’t want you to know that you can sit in your room and discover things all by yourself that nobody else knows. I’m down here collectin’ knowledge while some other Negro is outside someplace swingin’ a hammer. That’s what I’m sayin’.”

“Swingin’ a hammer is more than you do,” I said out of reflex. I didn’t really believe it. Jackson Blue’s rendition of Isaac Newton reminded me of me, a man living in shadows in almost every part of his life. A man who keeps secrets and harbors passions that could get him killed if he let them out into the world.

“You a fool if you believe that, Easy.”

“And you just a fool, Jackson,” I said.

“How you see that?”

“This man you talkin’ about kept his secrets — for a while. But then he let the world know — that’s the only reason you know it today. When are you gonna let the world know?”

“One day I might surprise ya, Easy. Uh-huh.”

“Well,” I said, “until that day comes, I need you to do somethin’ for me.”

“What’s that?”

“Before I get into that, why don’t you answer my question?”

“What question?”

“How come you in your house in your underwear in the afternoon? I mean, who pays the rent?”

“Somebody who thinks that my studies are something important, that’s who.”

I could tell that he wasn’t going to reveal his golden goose. And it really wasn’t any of my business, so I went back to the reason I had come.

“I need you to apply for a job, Jackson,” I said.

“A job? I don’t know what the fuck’s got into you, brother. But I done worked more in my forty-two years than most white men twice my age. An’ I’m a lazy mothahfuckah.”

I had to laugh. It was funny and it was true. I celebrated the moment of joy by lighting up a cigarette.

“I ain’t askin’ you to work. I mean, maybe one day, tops. I just want you to apply for the job and then take it. But you don’t have to build up no real sweat or nuthin’.”

“What kinda job?”

“Construction.”

“Construction? Damn, Easy, that’s the hardest work out there. Just spendin’ the day out under that sun like to give me heat stroke.”

“Two hundred fifty dollars for one day,” I said.

“Where do I sign up?”

“Manelli Construction Company down in Compton. You can use John for a reference.”

“What you wanna know from them?”

“Everything you can find out. Who’s in charge. Who’s workin’ there. I wanna know about payroll and catering trucks and who’s on duty what hours. I wanna know about security and what anybody knows about Henry Strong’s murder three nights ago.”

Jackson digested the order, nodded.

“This about Brawly and the First Men?”

“Strong got killed out to there. John’s crew worked for Manelli when John couldn’t make the paychecks and they needed help. Somehow Mercury and Chapman got sumpin’ to do with what’s happenin’ with Brawly. I just need to know.”

Jackson nodded again and then extended his palm. I laid one of Mr. Strong’s hundred-dollar bills across it. That made Jackson smile.

We settled up quickly after that. He’d go down to Manelli’s that afternoon and show up for work the next day. Because the amount of time crossed over two days, I promised to pay for his expenses, as long as they didn’t get out of hand.

After that we talked about Newton some more. Jackson told me that the kind of calculus Newton created was called differential calculus. He tried to explain that mathematics was the language of the way things worked, that that was the real secret men were always going for — to speak in the language of things. I barely understood him, even on an everyday level, but I knew that he was saying something that was important to my life.

I came home to find Jesus and Feather in the front yard with Bonnie. They were trimming rosebushes that I’d cultivated on either side of the front door. Bonnie loved the apple-sized, mottled red and yellow roses. When she agreed to come live with me, she’d said, “Only if you promise to keep those roses by the door. That way I’ll think that they’re flowers you give me every day.”

Feather was collecting the roses in a tin pail that looked too big for her to carry. She was laughing while Jesus used his shears on one of the bushes. It was getting close to sunset and the sky was full of clouds that were a brilliant orange and black with the light at their back.

“Daddy!” Feather cried. She ran at me and tackled my legs. “I got another B-plus.”

“That’s great, baby.” I lifted her over my head and then brought her down for a kiss on the cheek.

Bonnie was taking off her thick gardening gloves, but Jesus kept hacking at the bush. He was doing a good job of it, too. I had taught him when he was Feather’s age. I didn’t need him to work, but he wanted to. He wanted to work with me, eat with me, walk with me down the street. If he was out in the world in trouble, I’d do anything to save him.

By then Bonnie was kissing me.

“Are you okay?” she asked, looking deep into my eyes.

“Okay,” I said, turning away as I spoke.

I went in the house, followed by Feather. Her B-plus paper was about “Betsy Washington” and the flag.

While I made us grilled-cheese sandwiches, Bonnie and Jesus joined us in the kitchen. I offered them sandwiches, but Jesus never had much of an appetite and Bonnie didn’t eat between meals.

“I know,” Feather said when we were all together. “I could read you my paper out loud.”

“Not right now, baby,” I said. “First I got somethin’ to say.”

Feather flashed an angry glance at me. The woman she was to become flickered a moment upon her face. She pouted and looked down. Then she took Jesus’s hand and leaned against his side.

“I wanted to talk to the family,” I said. “I want to say something to the kids.”

They were all looking at me. I took a bite out of my sandwich. I felt a little dizzy.

“School is the most important thing in the world,” I said. “Without an education, you can’t do anything. Without an education, they will treat you like a dog.” I glanced at the cabinet and saw the little yellow dog’s snout sniffing out my scent. “I expect you to go to college, Feather. Either you’ll become a teacher or a writer, or something even better than that. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she said.

We were staring at each other.

Jesus was staring at the floor, clenching his fists.