Push Comes to Shove Read Online Free Page A

I help you today?”
    “May I speak with Greg Patterson?”
    “He’s in the art room with a customer. Can I tell him who’s calling?”
    “Tracy Morgan. I’m an acquisitions editor for the
Plain Dealer
.”
    “Hold on a minute, I’ll get him.” GP covered the phone and gave Kitchie a thumbs-up.
    A local bum strolled up with a cup in hand. “Spare some change, GP?”
    He shoved Blue Eye’s pseudo-twenty into the cup, then placed the phone on his ear. “Greg speaking.”
    “Good afternoon, Mr. Patterson. I’m Tracy Morgan with the
Plain Dealer
. You filled out an application with us some time ago. Sorry I’m just getting back with you.”
    “It’s cool. What’s up?”
    “Your sample work has impressed quite a few people in my department. If you’re still interested, I’d like to interview you. I have a comic column available that I believe you’ll do great in.”
    GP wanted to say hell yeah; instead he chose to keep things professional. “I’m interested. When would you like to meet?”

    Kitchie had worked pedestrians moseying the sidewalk; GP had solicited various motorists who had been delayed by a stoplight near the booth’s curb. At the end of the day, they had earned a little over ninety dollars, which barely covered the booth’s weekly rental fee.
    Due tomorrow.
    “I sure hope they give you that column. It’ll help out a lot; plus it’ll get your foot in the door.” Kitchie cleared a table, stuffing merchandise inside a duffle bag.
    “Keep your fingers crossed.” He packed the airbrushing guns.
    A 2005 Chrysler 300C with mirror-tinted windows stopped at the red light near the booth. The car wasn’t moving, but the chrome rims appeared to continue spinning.
    The window was lowered.
    “The starving artist who thinks he’s gonna draw his way to financial freedom.” Squeeze looked past GP and studied Kitchie’s round ass. “Long time no see.”
    GP squatted some and leaned on the passenger door of the Chrysler. A gorgeous woman sat there, snuggled with a dozen roses. GP nodded at the woman, then addressed Squeeze. “It’s been a while. What’s up with it, Squeeze?” He admired the man’s diamond-studded pinky ring. “I see you stepped it up a few notches from knocking over candy stores. What is it, you poison people for a living now?”
    Kitchie was now standing beside GP, caressing his shoulder.
    “I’ll be the first to tell you that crime pays the bills. Candy stores were just a stepping stone, though. I’m the neighborhood loan officer now. Got fucked-up credit but need some cash? Holler at your boy.” He stared at Kitchie’s crotch, pulled her pants down with his eyes, and had his way with her. When he was done, he turned his attention back to GP. “I see you still holding on to all that woman. I never could figure out why she chose you. I must not have been square enough.”
    “Don’t act like I’m not sitting here,” the woman holding the roses said.
    Squeeze hit her with a backhand across the mouth. “Stay in your place.”
    A car horn sounded off. Squeeze ignored it and pulled out a business card. “Don’t be bashful; if you ever need a loan, I’m sure I can work it out for an old friend.” He gave GP the card, thentook a long-stem rose from his date’s bundle. “Give this to Kitchie. I’m sure you haven’t bought her any in a while.” He winked at Kitchie.
    The window was raised and Squeeze sped away.
    “God, I can’t stand him.” Kitchie took the rose from GP and dropped it in the curbside drain.

    “What are you gonna tell Mom and Dad?” Junior squashed a caterpillar that was crawling on the porch steps.
    “Shoot, that I had to kick her butt. She put her hands on me first.” Secret watched her brother scrape the bug from the bottom of his shoe. “You think Daddy will ever get us all that stuff we named last night?”
    Junior ran the question through his head, then shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know…Nah, not all of it.”
    “Go in the