by K'wan
“Stand down. It’s just the car service,” Tavion ordered them, as the sleek black town car pulled to a stop short of where they were standing.
“About freaking time. You know the check-in lines at the airport are going to be long as hell,” Alex complained.
“Ain’t like we’re traveling with any luggage. All of our stuff will be shipped, and I’ll buy you whatever you need for the time being,” Jonas told her.
“I hope Fashion Nova ships over there. You know that seems like the only thing I can fit since I got all big and fat,” Alex said, rubbing her baby bump. She was just starting to show.
“You ain’t fat; you’re thick.” Jonas kissed her cheek.
The older Hispanic man who had been driving the car climbed from behind the wheel to open the back door. He looked to be at least seventy and frail.
“Don’t worry about the door, OG. I got it.” Jonas stopped him. “Just worry about getting us to the airport in one piece. The snow probably has the roads looking real nasty.”
“No worries. You’re in good hands, Mr. Wrath,” the old man said and got back behind the wheel.
It wasn’t until Jonas pulled the back door open for Alex to get in that the warning bell went off in his head. The driver had called him Mr. Wrath, instead of Rafferty. What proceeded unfolded in what felt like slow motion. “What it do?” a familiar voice came from the backseat of the town car. Instinctively, Jonas pushed Alex to the ground. When he whirled on the car, he caught a glimpse of a familiar face just before the muzzle of the gun flashed.
Part I
“But if any provide not for his own,
and specifically for those of his own house,
he has denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel.”
—I Timothy 5:8 (KJV)
Chapter One
Six years earlier ...
Flash . . . squirm . . . flash . . . squirm. This had been their third attempt with the same results.
“Jonas, why can’t you sit still?” Anette asked in frustration. She was Jonas’s older sister, one of a set of fraternal twins. The sour one they called her because Anette always seemed to be pissed off about something.
“The flash is too bright. It hurts my eyes,” Jonas complained, tugging at the clip-on bow tie at his neck. It was Christmas Eve, which meant picture day. Every Christmas Eve, Jonas’s mother would dress them up in their best clothes and drag them to Woolworth’s department store for a family photo after church. No matter what was going on in their lives, it was a tradition not to be broken. This is what had four of his mother’s five kids sitting on the artificial grass in front of the cheap backdrop trying to look like a normal American family.
“Your eyes aren’t gonna be the only things hurting if you don’t act right so we can get these pictures done!” Janette warned. That was their mother. She was only 30 with five kids but had held together well. Her waist was small, hips wide, and her breasts had only begun to sag ever so slightly. Even with a gang of kids, Janette had no shortage of men looking to get with her, but she only had eyes for one.
Slick, who had been their live-in stepdad for the last two years, was lingering behind the photographer with a look on his face that said he would rather be anywhere but there with his girlfriend and her tribe of kids. He was a pretty boy; high yellow with good hair and two gold caps in his mouth. Women swooned over Slick like he was an R&B star.
“If he’s having trouble keeping his ass still, I can offer him some encouragement.” Slick tapped a manicured finger against the buckle of his Gucci belt. Slick was easy on the eyes but hard on the soul. This was a fact the Rafferty kids knew all too well.
Jonas gave Slick a dirty look. None of the kids liked their mother’s man, but he had a harder time hiding it than the others.
“Something you wanna get off your chest?” Slick asked, hoping the boy would open his mouth so he could slap him.
“Leave him be, Slick. Jonas is only doing what young men do, which is make things difficult for women,” Janette joked to try to ease some of the tension.
“That’s his problem. He thinks he’s too much of a man,” Slick said.
“More of a man than you,” Jonas mumbled.
“Say it again so I can knock your fucking teeth out!” Slick challenged. Jonas wisely remained silent.
“Come sit by me, Jonas.” Jonas’s other sister tugged at his shirt and motioned for him to occupy the space beside her. This was Claudette, but they called her Sweets because of her affection for sugar. “You keep yourself still so we can get through this, and there might be a candy bar in it for you,” she winked. Sweets was fair skinned and kind of on the chubby side, with a motherly nature.
“I don’t see why we have to sit through this and Yvette doesn’t.” Anette sucked her teeth.
“Because your sister wasn’t feeling good,” Janette said.
“More like she was smart enough to lie her way out of it,” Jonas mumbled.
“You hush that smart mouth of yours, Jonas Rafferty, or we’re going to have a problem!” Janette warned him.
“Um, guys . . . if we could just get this done. Other families are waiting,” the thin, white kid behind the camera said. He was growing frustrated with the unruly black family.
“Then let they asses wait! We paid our thirty-nine dollars and ninety-five cents same as they did! Now, get your nose out of our shit and back behind that camera before you piss me off, cracker!” Slick barked. Not wanting any problems, the photographer did as he was told. Within ten minutes, he was able to get the shots he needed, much to everyone’s relief, especially Slick’s. “About damn time. I got shit to do. Let’s go.”
“Are we going to go to McDonald’s now like you promised?” This was 8-year-old Josette, the baby of the family.
“McDonald’s? You better thaw out some chopped meat when you get in the house,” Slick dashed the little girl’s dream.
“But Mama promised.” Josette looked to Janette with watery eyes.
Seeing the look of disappointment on her baby girl’s face made Janette feel bad. “I don’t see why not since it’s on the way home.”
“We ain’t got time. We got people waiting on us, remember?” Slick gave her a look. Everyone now wore long faces, so he came up with a compromise. He took out his bankroll and peeled off a twenty which he shoved into Sweets’ hand. “Make sure these kids eat. We’ll see y’all at the house later.”
“Wait, you’re not going to drive us back? It’s snowing, and the walk is a fifteen-block walk from here.” Sweets looked from the crumpled bill to her mother and Slick who were hustling out of the department store.
“Ain’t like you can’t use the exercise!” Slick called over his shoulder, and they were gone.
* * *
“I hate him!” Jonas remarked, ravenously biting into his McDonald’s cheeseburger. He had to be mindful not to nick his fingers when he did. The ten blocks they had walked from Woolworths to get there had intensified his already-mounting hunger.
“What did I tell you about that word, Jonas? There is power in words,” Sweets scolded him, plucking Josette from Anette’s arms. She had been carrying her the last three blocks and looked like she needed a break. Josette had been complaining of her legs hurting, so the siblings took turns carrying her home.
“Sorry, I mean I don’t like him,” Jonas sheepishly corrected himself. “Why does he have to be so mean all the time?”
“Some people just have the devil in them, is all,” Sweets said. She had a way of trying to see the good in people even if there was none.
“The devil isn’t all he’s going to have in him,” Jonas said, trying to sound tough.
“Boy, stop talking like you about to do something,” Anette teased him, squeezing a ketchup packet over her fries.
“What? You don’t think I will?” Jonas rose to the challenge.
“Only thing you will do is get your head knocked off for getting in Mama’s business. Slick is a grown man, and you ain’t
but a boy. Leave it be,” Sweets warned.
“I ain’t gonna be a boy forever,” Jonas replied.
“I know, little brother . . . I know.” Sweets adjusted Josette on her hip to get a better grip. She felt a wince of pain, followed by the hollowed sound of her stomach growling. The twenty dollars hadn’t been enough to get all of them meals, so she just made sure her siblings ate.
“You can share my food if you want.” Josette offered one of her four chicken nuggets to her big sister.
“I’m fine, Jo-Jo. You eat.” Sweets kissed her frozen little cheek. It was the purest act of kindness she’d seen in so long that she had to stop herself from tearing up. Times like those she found comfort in telling herself struggle don’t last forever, but it sure felt like it would.
McDonald’s was only a few blocks from where lived, but the journey felt like a mile. The snow had come down hard over the last two days. The city’s idea of removal was pushing all the snow from the streets onto the curb creating giant mounts of piss and exhaust fumes that the pedestrians were forced to either navigate or take their chances walking in the street.
Josette’s legs were feeling better, so Sweets let her down, much to the relief of her back. Her sister may have been small, but she was quite solid. Josette’s feet had barely touched the ground before she took off running in the direction of one of the filthy mounds. Sweets thought about stopping her for fear of what kinds of germs the girl might pick up but decided against it. Whatever she happened to pick up would be nothing that a trip to the laundry and a good alcohol bath wouldn’t cure.
Josette had been complaining about her legs cramping off and on for weeks now. Sweets suggested to her mother that they take her to the doctor, but Janette chalked it up to laziness. She didn’t have time to be running back and forth to the clinic for something she insisted a little exercise would cure. Sweets had thought about taking Josette to the doctor on her own, but she was underage, and her showing up at the hospital to try to get Josette treated without a parent might’ve attracted Social Services.
Sweets rounded the corner of their block, mentally ticking off the list of things she had to do: gifts to wrap, dinner to prepare, the bathroom needed cleaning, etc. As usual, the strip was buzzing. Kids were out running around and playing in the filthy snow with no care for the cold. The dope boys were in their usual spot, huddled in front of the chicken shack slinging poison and drinking. They worked for a dude named Eight-Ball who supplied the neighborhood with cocaine and crack. He had been a running buddy of their father Zeke back in the days. Zeke only dabbled in drug dealing, but Eight-Ball was all in. Over the years, he had managed to build quite the operation.
Sweets shook her head sadly as one of them sold some rocks to a pregnant woman. The dealers never bothered her. She had grown up with them, and some were okay guys under the surface. She just didn’t agree with their lifestyle. Sweets understood that there weren’t many opportunities for kids in the hood, and you did what you had to do to put food on the table, but she couldn’t see the logic in risking years in prison over a few pennies, which is exactly what they were doing. The suppliers made the real money, while the hand-to-hand soldiers fought over scraps. She’d even tried to point this logic out to them once, but they laughed at her and dismissed her as a church girl who didn’t know anything, but Sweets had a better understanding of the game than most gave her credit for. She may have been a good girl, but a hustler had also raised her. It was only natural that she picked up a few tricks along the way.
As Sweets was passing with the kids, one of the youngsters made a transaction. It wouldn’t have been a big deal, but he did it right in front of Josette. Usually, they tried to put at least a little shade on their doings when the smaller children were about, but this young man had no such shame. Sweets tilted her head and gave him a questioning look. Where’s the respect? He shrugged his shoulders in the way of a weak apology and went back to what he was doing. Sweets was about to check him, but thankfully, she didn’t have to.
“Since when do we do that?” Drew appeared in the doorway of the chicken shack holding a snack box. Eight-Ball supplied the drugs on the block, but it was Drew who ran it. This was 139th, his strip. He was wearing a baggy gray Nike sweat suit with a white bandanna wrapped around his starter-kit cornrows. Drew was on the short side, but handsome with a smooth, brown face and the first signs of a beard beginning to sprout on his chin. His keen eyes rested on the boy who had made the sale, waiting for an explanation.
“Doing what?” the boy asked as if he had no clue what he was talking about.
“Not show the proper respect when it’s due.” Drew’s eyes went to Sweets and her siblings.
“I didn’t mean no disrespect,” the boy said, now realizing the error of his ways.
“Yet no respect was shown.” It was more of an observation than an accusation, but the weight of the statement was felt, nonetheless. “Now might be a good time to make a store run. That goes for all y’all.” The young men gathered in front of the chicken spot wasted no time doing as he’d suggested. “Sorry about that,” he apologized to Sweets and the kids when the boys had gone.
“No need to be. It’s not like it’s the first time she’s seen something like that.” Sweets downplayed it.
“It still doesn’t make it right,” Drew insisted. “So, where y’all coming from all dressed up?”
“Church and taking pictures,” Josette volunteered.
“Most people go to church on New Year’s Eve.”
Sweets shrugged. “We’re just different.”
“Yo, those joints are fly!” Jonas said, admiring the gray suede Timbs on Drew’s feet.
“Good looking out,” Drew said proudly, turning his foot over so that the boy could get a better look. “If you were a good boy this year, maybe Santa will drop a pair under the tree for you tonight. And what about you, Sweets?” he shifted his attention. “You been a good girl this year?”
“She’s always good,” Anette said spitefully.
“Ain’t nothing wrong with that. Bad boys like good girls,” Drew replied, giving Sweets the once-over.
Sweets couldn’t help but blush, as she always did whenever Drew gave her the time of day. He was popular in the neighborhood and could have any girl he wanted, so she never took him seriously when he flirted. Still, it made her feel good to be noticed.
Drew’s eyes shifted to something just beyond Sweets. She turned and found a fiend standing a few feet away. From the pleading look in her eyes, Sweets knew what time it was. “Duty calls,” she said, taking Josette by the hand.
“And so, it does.” Drew frowned. The crackhead had terrible timing, but he still had a quota to meet. “See y’all later.” He started toward the fiend but stopped short. “Y’all selling Christmas dinners again this year?”
“Maybe for a select few people,” Sweets teased. “You need your usual?”
“Yeah, but make it two dinners this time.”
“You having company?” Sweets asked.
“I hope so.” Drew winked at her and walked off with the fiend.
“Looks like Mama’s good girl is looking to pick up some bad habits,” Anette said slyly.
Sweets was about to walk the kids into the building when she spotted her other sister, Yvette, up on the corner. At first glance, she didn’t even recognize her. Yvette’s face was made up to an even shade of bronze with gold shadow covering the lids of her sleepy brown eyes. She was also wearing one of their mother’s skirts, a tight denim number that showed off her budding curves. She looked more like a grown woman than a 16-year-old girl.
Occupying her space was a much-older Puerto Rican man named Juan. Juan owned the grocery store that everyone in the neighborhood shopped in. At Juan’s store, you could get just about anything, including items that weren’t necessarily advertised for sale. Juan was one of those cats that you could come to in a pinch, and he’d float you whatever you needed until your food stamps or Social Security checks came in, but, of
course, he was going to charge you a ridiculous interest rate. His store made him quite popular in the neighborhood, especially among the ladies. Many of them were struggling single mothers who couldn’t make it through the end of the month without Juan’s mercies. Word had it that he traded as much in favors as he did goods.
The young girls in the neighborhood loved Juan too because he was always giving them free candy and snacks. Sweets steered clear of him. There was something about the way he looked at Sweets that gave her the creeps. She had thought about mentioning it to her mother but reasoned it wouldn’t do any good. If it didn’t involve her beloved Slick, she couldn’t be bothered with it. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know why Juan was hanging all over her sister. Whatever evil he had planned wouldn’t happen on her watch. She left Josette in the care of her siblings and plotted an intercept course.
“If you come outside and forget to put your clothes on, no wonder you got sick.” Sweets crashed their conversation. “Ain’t you supposed to be in bed?”
“I just came to the store to get some juice.” Yvette rolled her eyes.
“We got juice in the house,” Sweets reminded her.
“Not the kind I like.” She gave Sweets her back, hoping she would get the hint and leave, but had no such luck.
“Don’t you look nice today, Sweets,” Juan remarked, ogling the little yellow dress she had worn to church.
“Thanks,” Sweets said dryly, tugging her coat tighter around her.
“Say, we got in some more of those Entenmann’s cakes . . . the ones like the white stores downtown carry. I put one to the side for you because I know how much you like them,” Juan told her.
“No, thank you. Mama says I need to cut back on the sugar. She don’t want me getting fat,” Sweets told him. Her mother was always on her about her weight.
“Ain’t nothing wrong with a thick woman.” Juan licked his lips.