By Walter Mosley
Effortless Rawlins is making an attempt to stick as faraway from crime and its effects as a black guy can in 1964 L.A. yet difficulty nonetheless reveals how to his door. An previous good friend asks effortless to discover his stepson, Brawly Brown, a very good child long past indignant and lacking. Too speedy effortless reveals himself driving with a innovative workforce out to struggle racism, dodging the police, who are looking to pin him for homicide, and seeking out the proper of solutions from the incorrect form of girls. With little support from this international, effortless will get it from the next-from Mouse, his maximum pal and worst betrayal. yet whereas Mouse's legacy may also help effortless shop younger Brawly's lifestyles, it will possibly expense him his personal.
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Extra info for Bad Boy Brawly Brown (Easy Rawlins Series #7)
I’d read similar ideas before. I had read a lot in my time. Most of it white man’s fictions and his histories, too. I was a sucker for history. A car drove up and parked while I was remembering what I’d read about the plebes of ancient Rome. Two car doors slammed one after the other, but I was busy wondering whether that ancient oppressed people had some kind of pamphlets, or was it all word of mouth? But when I heard “Step out of the car,” I was dragged back to the present. The policemen had flanked my Pontiac.
John was standing there looking like a fish out of water in his overalls and work boots. ” I asked. John shifted his shoulders, looking all the more uncomfortable. ” I asked him. ” “Come on in the kitchen anyway. ” “I ain’t got time to fool around, Easy. ” I turned my back on him and went into the kitchen. I always liked the kitchen in the morning because that’s when the sun flooded the windows. While I was filling the percolator with tap water, John walked in. “Hey, man,” he said. “I’m sorry. ” He slumped down on one of the kitchen chairs as I measured out four level tablespoons of MJB.
Neither was my insomnia due to the police raid or the pistol in my face. All that was just a small part of the obstacle course that had been my life. I was an orphan at eight years old in the Deep South. I had fought, and won, against men when I didn’t even have hair in my armpits. No, neither the Urban Revolutionary Party nor their cop enemies bothered me. But dead men were different. In the cool darkness of my room I wondered about the dead man and Alva’s plea to find her son. It would have been easy enough for me to go to John and tell him that murder was more than I had signed up for.
Bad Boy Brawly Brown (Easy Rawlins Series #7) by Walter Mosley