“Are you questioning freedom?”
Jonathan looked at his uncle, a watermelon rind dripping down his wrist. Uncle Mack must have been saving that one.
“Yes, I am.”
“I’m a novelist. I question everything.”
Uncle Mack’s beery, confrontational tone snapped into condescension. “Let me tell you something about freedom. Your grandfather wasn’t raised in a nice home like you were. America allows citizens who work hard to take what’s theirs. That’s what he did. He worked hard. Because of freedom.”
“Did you like the book?”
“No it pissed me off. Interesting characters, but your logic needs some mechanical work.”