Distant+Whispers

too? How bout them boys in front of that restaurant. You wants them to drop their dangerous jars of
bar-b-cue sauce? Look, officer, we gots laws in Georgetown. And right now, the folks in violation of
those laws are these boys here what done ignored their parade permit. Now, what we have here on
King Street is folks mindin their business, kids shootin slingshots, families eat’n bar-b-cue, and a
barber using his straight razor to solicit some business. If you sees anything different, you file a
report. You hear? But this is city street. I believe this is all under our jurisdiction.”
The burly white trooper glanced around. The sweet smell of bar-b-cue sauce wafted through the
air. The thick sauce oozed from broken mason jars that littered the street. His eyes lingered on the
ripped American flag in the street with its stars and stripes covered by a Nazi swakista. He
scrutinized the whining boy next to him and noticed the same swakista tattooed on his neck. There
was a symbol like that in the trooper’s granddaddy’s house, a souvenir from the time his granddaddy
fought in World War II.
The trooper released his grip on his pistol. What he thought was a gory, blood splattered free-forall,
was just a bunch of foolish out-of-staters being bombarded with bar-b-cue sauce.
The muscular trooper eyed the tall black sheriff closely. “You’re right. This is a city street. It’s
your call, officer.”
“That’s how I’m calling it…officer!” Booker T smiled. “We have this under control.” He lifted
his eyes towards the clamor still coming from Front Street. “You boys be careful out there. Hear!”
The trooper nodded, motioned towards his partner and they both headed towards their car.
Horn’s eyes remained lowered. His arms hung limp to his side. Toni slid her arm through her
father’s and pulled him gently towards the shop. When they reached the steps of the barber shop, Horn
hesitated and gazed around King Street. He caught Bootsie and Jake Luke’s eyes and nodded. They
smiled and nodded back. Audrey and Miz Charlotte were staring at him from the other side of King
Street. They both smiled. Then he eyed Mikell standing next to JT. The two locked eyes. Horn slid out
of Toni’s grip and walked over to Mikell.
“Boy,” Horn shook his head, then chuckled. “You is one crazy son-of-a-bitch. How you think you
can jump in the middle of a bunch of these people by yourself? These people ain’t got good sense.
They was gonna whomp your tail, boy.” Horn grinned.
Mikell tried to laugh, before wincing in pain because of his tender jaw.
Toni gasped. She rushed to Mikell. “You’re hurt!”
“Lemme see that,” said Horn, placing his broad hands on the boys face. He turned it left and right,
then felt the back of his head for any lumps. Mikell’s eyes got teary because of the Horn’s rough
handling of his face. Still, he sensed that this man expected him to take the pain, so he did.
While Horn was inspecting Mikell’s head, his eyes lingered for a long time on Mikell’s red hair.
“You always had this here hair, boy?” Horn asked.
“Yes sir. It’s from my father,” Mikell replied, relaxing under Horn’s barber touch. “When I came
here, Mister JT cut it for me. I had the visla. Um, the whistler,” Mikell said, correcting himself. “A
whistler is a real close cut,” Mikell said proudly.
Toni and others close to Mikell chuckled. So did Horn.
“I know what a whistler is, son,” Horn replied. “I’ve been cuttin’ hair since before you were
born.”
Horn rolled his eyes at JT who shrugged his shoulders. He dropped his head to his chest. He held