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broke up the act! But c’mon! Shake a tail feather!”
    Then Peaches bolted from the table. Oh God! I tried to snatch her out of that skintight dress but I missed. Peaches grabbed one of the mikes and announced, “Ladies and gents, we’ve got a special something for you tonight.”
    I waved frantically,
no!
    Peaches saw me and sucked her teeth, in the mike no less, before saying, “My sister is here tonight. Many of you know her from Channel 8; she’s the hottest … smartest … best-looking television reporter in town… . Georgia Barnett!” Peaches then did a bump, a grind, and a double point over at me.
    I waved, feeling good that Peaches wanted to do some boisterous bragging on me. But every time she did, she’d come right behind all that good and embarrass me. I knew it was coming, that’s why I tried to stop her. But stopping Peaches was like trying to stop a runaway train with your big toe.
    “We’re twins. Fraternal. Georgia is the oldest!”
    “By a minute!” I shouted.
    The crowd laughed.
    “I want her to come up here and play the piano for you!”
    The crowd was cheering me on and I was so embarrassed, but what could I do? I walked over to the piano, sat down, and played—“Mary Had a Little Lamb.”
    Everyone laughed at me and I started laughing myself. Then Peaches started to scat … up two octaves above the key I was playing in. She was working it! Peaches is bad! I dropped in a few notes of harmony myself because I’ve got a good, can-do choir voice but nothing that can compare to my sister’s serious solo voice with its range, depth, and feeling. I took the high end of the temporary duet when the band joined in—then I faded out to let my sister roll. Peaches was born to sing, and I love hearing her blow any chance I get.
    We were both soggy with sweat when we finally took our seats again. “Georgia,” Peaches slurred from fatigue, “we cut up but some good that time! Huh? Whatcha say, whatcha say?”
    We did sound good but we both knew that our performing days together were long gone. Every now and then, though, we liked to sing a few songs together.
    “Hey, Peaches,” I said toweling my forehead off with a roughedged napkin. “I was back in the old neighborhood today.”
    “Yeah? Who done shot who now?”
    “You know?
That’s how I felt when the story broke. Englewood wasn’t like that when we were kids. The neighborhood just blew up! It is a mess over there now. The candy store is gone. There’s a vacant lot where the barbershop used to be. I feel displaced and out of touch every time I visit now.”
    “Georgia,” Peaches said, waving her hand for the bartender, who promptly brought over a glass of honey and a spoon. “It’s crazy. People started moving out. Jobs got scarce. Crime started rising. But face it; life is about change whether we can get with it or not. Don’t spaz about it though. Just do your thing, report the news.”
    “Yeah, Peaches, you’re right. Say, I know you keep your ear to the ground. Any of our old school buddies still hanging out in the old hood?”
    “Why?” Peaches grunted as she swallowed down a big spoon of honey. “I’m not trying to get anybody in trouble.”
    “Am I the law? I just want to have an ear inside the community. Maybe somebody can give me an extra tip or two on this gang thing happening over there.”
    “Well, there are still a couple of people, just not on the old block. Ms. Liza—she’s in that old-folks’ home the city just built on Parnell Street. A.J.’s mama is still there but she’s sick, mostly housebound.”
    “Hmmmmm. What about A.J.?”
    “Get that ‘suckey’ out your voice, sister-twin. A.J. is a crack fiend now.”
    “What?
I hate that. A.J. was smart. And he was always protecting everybody, looking out for the little ones and the weak ones. And he was so fine, too. Like a knight in shining black armor!”
    Peaches snorted. “Humphf! You know you wanted to give that boy some panties when you were