Free A Piece of Heaven by Sharon Dennis Wyeth Page B

eyebrow. Meanwhile, Nirvana peeked into one of the garment bags and spotted a red-beaded gown.
    “Look at this dress! It’s gorgeous!”
    “Must cost a fortune,” Dill commented. He gave Otis a sidelong glance. “Not what you’d usually pick up at an incense stand.”
    “Mind your business, McCoy,” Otis snapped with a scowl. He turned his attention to Nirvana and the red-beaded dress. “Go ahead, take it out.”
    Nirvana slipped the slinky dress out of its plastic. “This is outrageous!” she cried, holding the gown up to her body.
    “You’ve got the body for it, baby,” Otis observed.
    Ignoring Otis’s comment, Nirvana turned to Dill. “What do you think, honey?”
    Dill grinned. “You look like one of those chicks on the Academy Awards.”
    “It’s so beautiful,” Nirvana murmured. “Of course, I wouldn’t know where to wear a dress like this myself.”
    “Lots of places you could wear a dress like that,” Otis said, stepping in. “You’d be surprised at how many parties there are in this town.”
    “Those who make it in the recording industry know how to party, I imagine,” Dill volunteered.
    “They’re not the only ones,” Otis objected. “People get rich doing all kinds of stuff. Of course, people who flip hamburgers can’t expect to get nowhere,” he added.
    Dill jerked away. “Lay off, man.”
    “Yeah, leave him alone,” Nirvana said, putting the dress down.
    Otis glanced out the window.
    “Teachers can get rich,” I piped up. “Jackson owns his house. Houses in New York City are really expensive.”
    “That boss of yours ain’t rich,” said Otis. “He probably scrimped and saved his whole life for that house. Probably a bargain-basement house that the landlord was trying to get rid of. Might have been a condemned building, for all you know. The way you describe that junky old yard of his, I bet that’s just what it was.”
    “How would you know?” I snapped. “You haven’t even seen it! You’re always trying to put somebody down.”
    “How about that?” Dill added.
    “Don’t everybody gang up on me,” Otis responded, making his way to the muffin plate. “I don’t mean to disrespect that teacher you work for, Haley,” he said. “It’s just that I have my own dreams.”
    “What kind of dreams?” Nirvana asked.
    He shrugged. “Dreams of a better life.” He pointed to the slinky dress with red beads. “My wife is going to have a closet of gowns just as nice as that one. And she’s going to have places to wear them. And we won’t be walking or taking the subway to get there.”
    “What kind of car are you going to get?” Dill asked, rubbing his chin. “I want one of those Lincoln Navigators. Throw everything in the back, including the kids.”
    “I saw a television commercial for a BMW sports car that was definitely me,” said Nirvana.
    “I won’t need a car,” I said. “I won’t need one, because I’ll be living in the city. That’s why Jackson doesn’t have one.”
    “People in the city own cars,” said Otis. He sat down at the table and propped up his feet. “They own stretches. That’s where I’m going to be.”
    “And how are you going to get there?” Dill challenged. He strutted over to the stack of clothes. “By working in the incense business with that jailbird, Reggie?”
    I winced. “Reggie’s a jailbird?”
    Otis narrowed his eyes at Dill. “Watch your mouth around my sister, man.” My brother turned to me. “No, Reggie is not a jailbird. Reggie is my friend.” He turned to the window. “Matter of fact, I’m waiting for my friend right now. He was supposed to be across the street a little while ago. He was borrowing a van from somebody to drive our stuff over to the subway stop.”
    Dill grabbed Nirvana’s hand. He gave me a wink. “See you later, chickadee. We’ve got to be going.”
    “Wait, Nirvana!” I said, hurrying over to the shopping bag. “My boss gave me some candlestick holders. I thought your