The Breakthrough Read Online Free Page B

don’t shop where I shop. This boy needs to be ’sposed to pigs’ knuckles, hocks, and trotters.”
    “Ewww!” Max said.
    “Don’t knock ’em till you try ’em, little one,” Florence said. “I ever fed you somethin’ you didn’t like? I ever try to feed you chitlins?”
    He shook his head.
    “A’ight then. You trust Aunt Flo. Your mama and daddy be getting regular barbecue. You be getting the real thing, just like Erastus used to make.”
    “We’ve got friends in the car,” Boone said, “so we’d better scoot.”
    Florence seemed to be having none of it, apparently eager to chat. “You’re goin’ to your former boss’s, you say? He a brother?”
    Boone nodded.
    “Then they ought to be serving the real thing too, but I bet they’re tonin’ it down for you.”
    “I hope so!” Boone said. “Pigs’ knuckles?”
    “I promise you, one of these days I’ll get some down you, and you’ll change your mind.”
    Boone drove, Jack sat next to him, and the women sat in the back.
    As he pulled out of the parking lot, Boone noticed a navy four-door Buick sedan parked down the street. It would have made little impression on him but for its age—at least thirty years old—and the out-of-state plates. South Carolina. As he passed it he couldn’t help memorizing the tag. DLJ 725.
    “Erastus was her husband, Hael?” Boone said.
    “Yes. Talks about him all the time. He was a CTA driver. Died way too young. Diabetes. Just coming up on retirement, and they had all kinds of plans.”
    “That’s awful,” Margaret said.
    “Worse was that her two teenage boys fell in with gangs after that,” Haeley said. “Both died in the streets.”
    “Such a wonderful person,” Boone said, “She doesn’t seem bitter. That’s a tough life.”
    “Says it all drove her back to her faith,” Haeley said. “She finally quit asking why and started asking what’s next? Feels like she’s supposed to serve people.”
    “So, speaking of why ,” Jack said, wrenching himself around to face Haeley, seatbelt straining, “can I jump right in?”
    She laughed. “What if I say no?”
    “Don’t waste your breath,” Margaret said.
    “I just gotta know what you ever saw in that DeWayne Mannock character.”
    Boone glanced into the rearview mirror and saw Haeley blanch.
    “Jack, no!” Margaret said. “Unfair. We’ve all got regrets. Just leave it alone.”
    “No, now I’m really curious. I mean, Haeley, you and I have worked together, been friends. You know I think you’re special. But Mannock, really? I s’pose you’ve had this conversation with Boones, but did the guy have one redeeming quality? Looks, personality, brains, a soft spot for kids or dogs? Was he smart, funny, have a business sense? Anything?”
    Boone noticed Margaret gaze out the window as if she wanted no more to do with this. Haeley appeared to be trying to fashion a response.
    Jack said, “I read his deposition transcript. He’s a sleazebag, a liar, a—”
    “All right!” Haeley snapped. “Listen, this is all from a very brief period of my life I don’t like to talk about. At church we like to say it’s under the blood. Know what that means?”
    Jack shrugged. “I wouldn’t have if this one hadn’t forced me to go with her, but yeah, I do. Seems a little convenient, sticking old mistakes under the blood, but if it works for you—”
    “Jack!” Margaret said, suddenly engaged again. “Let her answer.”
    Jack raised his brows and gazed back at Haeley. “The floor is yours. Tell me what could have possibly attracted you to that white trash.”
    “All right,” Margaret said, “now I need to let Haeley talk, but you happen to be in love with white trash.”
    “Oh, come on,” Jack said. “You have a little redneck in you, but you’re a far cry from white trash.”
    “He was convenient,” Haeley said.
    “Convenient?”
    “Listen, Jack, you’re one of my favorite people in the world. And though I don’t owe you any