i’ll try my hand at writing as them ✍️ + stack from sinners —— @whimsicfangs
he was a consummate businessman. if only his sole worry was keeping up with the change of the times. stack had to shuffle his ventures around the country every decade to dodge suspicious eyes. a black man making good by his own means was a hard enough pill to swallow, but the devil ended up in the details when the man seemed immune to old age. by the nineteen-eighties, stack got so well-versed in faking early retirement, shutting down business, and vanishing overnight that it was as natural to him as brushing his teeth or brewing a pot of strong coffee. he'd heard tell of a coastal town out west where the strong arm of the law was indiscernibly absent. with an historic boardwalk being a guaranteed tourist draw, stack didn't need to know much more before he set his sights on santa clara as his next station. his first challenge was buying—not renting—a space to open shop. the owner was hesitate, siting it wasn't common to give up a deed to beachfront property, but stack smooth talked his way into a deal that if his business failed in under six months, he'd sell it back to the owner for half of what stack paid him up front.
papers signed and hands shook, stack rolled up the security gate to his store the next night to the boardwalk lit across the horizon behind him. twirling a toothpick at one side of his mouth, he paused long enough to admire the view. bodies were milling around the sidewalks. on their way to the beach for bonfires, night swimming, or heading down to the tantalizing fanfare of the boardwalk and all its delights. stack watched his future clientele with a glint in his oddly colored eyes. past them, the waves crashed against the cliffs and further down rolled along the shore as if reaching for the same life stack admired. “ i never seen the ocean before. not like this. ” his human memories were hazy, but he was sure he didn't look out over the boat when he and smoke served. too queasy from nerves and the motion of the ship carrying them to the battlefield. the pictures in his mind switched quick as a lightning strike to brother fighting brother in a burning juke joint. back in the present, stack cracked his toothpick in two between his teeth. taking the pieces from his lips, he tossed them away.














