A Time for Poncey — And other Stories out of Skullbone

by Craig Davis

  ***

  Poncey shuffled quietly into the Diner and slid onto his usual stool. Mack, hanging around the edges of a nearby conversation, looked up and blurted, “Hey, I been waitin’ for you. What happened to you last night?”

  Poncey didn’t look at him. “Nothin’.” He had spent the night with international celebrities, and he could never speak a word about it. His mouth felt like it was carpeted.

  “I couldn’t find you anywheres. I lost my pass somewheres, an’ you coulda helped me look for it. I didn’t get to meet them girls at all – I never get any breaks! An’ I was totin’ aroun’ your cup of swee’ tea ever’where. Where’d you go?”

  Poncey didn’t respond. Thank God that’s over with, was his only thought.

  Mack settled in beside him. “Yeah, my pass must’ve dropped outa my pocket somewheres – dad blame it! I looked ever’where for that thing! Guess I had no right to it after all.”

  Poncey wheeled around on the stool to leave. Jazzy sat with some friends in a booth across the aisle. Mavis had set each table with red roses from the garden out back, standing in water glasses, and Jazzy tickled the fleshy petals with her fingertips. She cast her big eyes and a smile Poncey’s way.

  Poncey hesitated, and sat slumped like a ragdoll.

  Nothing good can come of this, he thought as he heaved himself to his feet and walked toward her. But at least it’s the poison I’m used to.