The Seventh Chakra

by J. R. Bowles

  Zolar caught on to the game and added, “This way, we can have all the beds filled.”

  When Jackie felt Bernie's elbow in her side she joined in the antics. “Besides, I might throw both of you out for someone else and where would you two sleep then?”

  “I'm hurt,” Zolar joked. “Well, if you throw me out, I'll still have Bernie.”

  “How long will that be?” Rudy repeated, getting wrapped up into the conversation.

  “About that long,” Bernie spread his hands apart about eight inches.

  “No, I mean how many nights would you like the suite?” Rudy sputtered turning scarlet.

  “Two weeks,” Zolar answered.

  “And how would you like to pay for that?” Rudy asked.

  “Would you take it out in trade?” Jackie patted Rudy's hand, and he pulled away as if he had been stung by a bee.

  “Listen, I've had just about enough!” Rudy snapped, hands on his hips.

  “Enough? You haven't had any yet.” The three of them chimed in simultaneously and roared with laughter.

  Rudy's face reddened. He became very stern. “Look, you comedians, either pay or get out.”

  Zolar paid him cash.

  “Here's your room cards, suite 240.”

  They all laughed as they headed toward the elevator.

  Rudy watched them as they walked away. “I hope they get theirs.” he said out loud to himself. Then mumbled to himself. “I haven’t seen so many people paying in cash since Fleet Week.”

  CHAPTER 21

  “Jamal, why didn't we preach today?” Azid leaned his heavy body on the table across from Jamal.

  “Listen, man, this is just between you and me. Don't you go telling the others.” Jamal slumped down in the worn kitchen chair and rested his head against his hand for a moment. “It's starting to happen.” Jamal looked up at his long-time friend.

  “What's happening?”

  “This is going to sound fucked up, but last night I had a vision. Well, it wasn't exactly a vision, it was more like a party line.”

  “Party line?”

  “I can't tell you what I saw exactly, but I saw the universe—or at least the beginning of it. There was these other people there, and the Messiah, but he's not black like I've been saying. I felt other people there too but I couldn't see them, what they looked like, except one dude. He's a young kid. It was like I knew all of them through him. I want to find this kid.”

  “The Messiah's really here?” Azid asked in disbelief.

  “Yeah, if he's not the Messiah, then he's something else, and we've got to find him. If we find the kid, we'll find the Messiah and all of them.”

  “What do you mean all of them?”

  “The Messiah and those connected to him. I can't explain. I don't even understand it myself.” Jamal shrugged his massive shoulders and got up. “I'm going up to the block.”

  “Kind of late for that, isn't it. Do you want any of the tables or speakers taken?”

  “No, nothing; I'm going by myself. I just have this feeling that I need to go.”

  Azid watched Jamal through the window as he headed to the subway. He was probably en route to Times Square, what they called “the block.” Jamal was acting so strange. As he watched him walk away he felt compassion for Jamal. Jamal had been through more hardships than he had ever seen. He was from Blacksburg, Virginia—but there weren't many blacks in that burg. Azid chuckled to himself at his own pun. Jamal had fourteen brothers and sisters. He told him he was in school before he ever had his own pair of shoes, and those had been worn-out hand-me-downs. His father had worked two full-time jobs, and his mother had cleaned white folk's homes.

  Azid decided to follow Jamal to see what he was up to. If his brother needed help he would be there. Azid stayed back so Jamal wouldn't spot him. Jamal looked like he was lost in thought. He often had that look when he told the story about his first job at the age of ten, cleaning windows and picking up trash for a High's Ice Cream store. Then this white kid that worked there stole some money, and Jamal had been accused of it. The owner of the store had told his father; even his father didn't believe him when he said he didn't take it. Jamal had said his ancestors had similar problems. His great-great-uncle had been hanged in Lynchburg, Virginia, after having been accused of rape. No trial, nothing. Just some white bitch's word. No one ever really knew.

  Azid got off the subway at 42nd Street, knowing this would be Jamal's exit also. A young boy was trying to spray paint the side of the subway car. Azid smiled, remembering the times he had done his own art work on the train; but now, with the new galvanized train walls, the graffiti wouldn't last long.

  Azid hung back, tenaciously following Jamal, but he didn't head toward the block. He went in a different direction, stopping and standing outside of Mama Leone's restaurant. He seemed to be waiting. Jamal became extremely agitated when a white boy in a truck stopped outside of the restaurant. Jamal just watched as a man and a woman came out of the restaurant and got into the truck. Jamal waved at a taxi. Something must really be wrong--Jamal never used taxis. He said he would never give them money because they were the white man's slaves, most blacks couldn't afford them. But here was Jamal, getting in, and he seemed to be pointing at the truck.

  * * *

  “Follow that truck.” Jamal told the taxi driver, and the taxi sped away. Jamal leaned back in the seat, trying to convince himself of what he was doing here.

  He had been headed for the block but he just had this feeling he should change direction. That was when he saw him. He was the one. He was the one from last night. The one called Billy. He didn't know how he knew it; he just had this feeling he knew him, but he was just a boy. Then a man and woman came out and he knew immediately that the man was the promised one: Never had he seen anyone like him. It seemed like everyone on the street turned to stare at him. Even they knew something was different about him. At least he hadn't been the only one to notice the man was different.

  He followed them to the Castleton near Madison Square Garden. The man and woman got out and went into the hotel but the boy sat in the truck. Jamal paid the taxi driver and waited across the street. Several minutes passed; the man came out and handed something to the boy, then the boy entered the parking garage. Must have been a parking ticket. So they are staying here. Jamal shook his head. He had to get some money, he had to check into the hotel, but how was he going to come up with the money it would cost him?

  Jamal stood there in a daze thinking about the man. He had never seen anyone like him before. Messiah? Was it possible? Then he remembered his mother dragging him to the holiness church and the talk of the beast. The beast, the Anti-Christ, was it possible? Which was he?

  The man seemed so unassuming. Yet his power could be felt. Was it possible? He had to get himself into the hotel.

  Jamal was startled from his thoughts as he heard someone asking him something. “What? What did you say? “

  ”Got a light?”

  Jamal appraised the bold woman, asking him, a stranger, for a light for the cigarette she held up to her lips. At first he thought she was black, but then with additional scrutiny he guessed she was an Indian--Native American, he corrected himself. She was a foot shorter than him, with hair of raven blue-black.

  Jamal was immediately attracted, forgetting about everything but drifting into her velvet soft brown eyes. “Sure,” he said reaching into his pocket, hoping he had the lighter he used for lighting candles and incense. He didn't smoke; cigarettes were just another of the white man's way of exploiting.

  “I'm Jamal,” he introduced himself as he lit her cigarette.

  “Thank you.” She inhaled deeply from the non-filtered Camel and then watched the glow sparkle. A sliver of tobacco stuck to her tongue and she made a soft spitting sound.

  “I really should quit, but it's one of the few things of my heritage which still exists.” She laughed at Jamal's expression. “I'm Cherokee actually. You probably thought the whites came up with the
idea of tobacco. Afraid not; my people get the blame.”

  Jamal stood there a moment, mesmerized by her smile. “Could I buy you a cup of coffee?” He asked in his richest bass voice, not knowing quite what to say but not wanting to scare her away.

  “I would love one,” she smiled again. “My name is Mediceskia. It means 'song bird' in my language. My folks were still into that kind of thing when I was born; but please call me Mindy.” Her eyes danced merrily as she offered him her hand.

  Over coffee, Jamal learned she was staying at the Castleton; after several hours of wooing he managed to get an invitation to her room--or had he been the one wooed.

  * * *

  Azid had managed to follow Jamal, as he followed the truck. He stayed in the background, making sure Jamal hadn't seen him. He just couldn't figure what Jamal was up to. When Jamal and the girl went back to the hotel together, he felt angry and betrayed. What was wrong with Jamal?

  Azid sat down across from the hotel and waited, even though he wasn't sure why.

  CHAPTER 22

  Billy glanced down at his watch. John should be out shortly with his girlfriend. There they are, he thought. He had began to wonder if a cop was going to come along and run him out of the 'no parking' space. He smiled at the look on Morgan's face when John handed her into his truck. She looked more than just a little surprised.

  “Hi again,” Billy said as the two of them crowded in.

  They chatted about the meal as Billy dodged the various taxis.

  “Well, here we are,” Billy said as they pulled up in front of the Castleton. “Morgan, it's been real nice meeting you.”

  “Billy,” John interrupted, “I was going to move into the city in a few days, so I thought I might as well check in. Are you able to get off from work next week?”

  “I checked with my Chief on the ship, and he said there wouldn't be any problem with me taking some leave.”

  “Good, it's settled,” John said. “Why don't we get a couple of rooms here now? It's not like we have to be back on the Island tonight. I can still keep that room on the Island.”

  “You're the boss, boss.” Billy said, placing his truck into park.

  “That would be a great idea.” Morgan fluttered her eye lids and glanced at her watch. “That way we wouldn't have to end the night so early. It's not even eleven o'clock yet.”

  “You get a room, boss. I can go back to the ship tonight and meet you tomorrow. Besides, I don't want to park my truck around here.”

  “They have inside parking, Billy, don't worry so much.” John told him. “Wait here, I'll escort Morgan in and get us a couple of rooms.”

  In the lobby John turned to Morgan. “You go on up and freshen up. I'll check Billy and me in.”

  “I'll be waiting.” Morgan kissed him on the cheek and smiled as he blushed.

  John walked over to the clerk. Noting the man's name tag he said, “Hi, Rudy, I would like two rooms, please.”

  Rudy looked up perturbed by someone using his name in such a familiar way, but was instantly almost overwhelmed. He first thought he was going to pass out, and then he gave John his warmest smile.

  John felt the clerk watching his every move. He didn't know what was going on, but something was happening to him; everywhere he went people seemed to turn and stare. He thought New Yorkers were supposed to be cold and too busy to notice anyone, but the ones he had met today seemed to be going out of their way to be friendly. Almost too friendly, like this clerk--but then John told himself the man just couldn't help the way he was.

  When he had first noticed people staring at him, he had checked a mirror to see if he had some food stuck to his face. He couldn't figure it out. He had never been one for the limelight and the attention disconcerted him.

  “Could I get a parking ticket also?” John asked Rudy.

  “But of course, Mr. Fleuric.” He said reading the registration card.

  John arranged for two connecting rooms for him and Billy, and after paying for eight days in advance, he took the parking ticket out to Billy.

  As he left the hotel to give the ticket to Billy, he could feel the eyes of everyone he passed on him. It gave him an uncomfortable feeling.

  “Billy, here's the parking pass and here's your room key.”

  Billy turned the card over, noting the room number and the magnetic strip attached.

  “Don't get it close to a magnet or credit card--they tend to demagnetize. My room is next door, you're in 230 and I'm in 232. I'm going on up. After you park, stop in.” John turned and walked, away feeling suddenly tired and weary. He tried to ignore the eyes of the people who stopped and stared. One woman with child in tow stopped directly in front of him. Her jaw dropped open and she acted as if she were trying to speak. Both she and the tot seemed spellbound by his very presence.

  What the hell is going on, he thought. This is driving me crazy. Upon entering his room he immediately started a hot shower.

  Drying himself, he stood in front of a full-length mirror and stared at his reflection. It was as if he was looking upon a stranger, not himself at all. Although he had always taken care of himself, he seemed in better physical condition than usual–even better than yesterday. His muscles seemed more defined, his face seemed different; but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. He shook his head. He was letting his imagination run away with him.

  He tried not to think about what had happened to him last night on the island. That had been one reason he didn’t want to return to the island tonight. He smiled as he thought about the other one. Morgan, so sweet, so sensual. Sensual? Did he think that? He grabbed his cock and squeezed the blood to the tip. “I hope you do more than lie limp tonight,” he said aloud to it.

  Shortly after dressing he heard a knock. “Come on in, it’s open.”

  Billy dropped into one of the chairs. “Well, boss, how was your date?”

  “I had a good time today, but then I expect the rest of the evening to be better. By the way, I’ve unlocked the connecting door there, if you need anything just come on in.” He reached for the phone and dialed Morgan’s room.

  “Hi, would you like some company?” he said, into the receiver, then paused. “See you in a few minutes.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Bernie handed Jackie and Zolar drinks, then sat on the sofa beside Jackie.

  “It's a quarter till midnight. I feel like it's the witching hour.” Bernie sipped at his martini. He enjoyed the well-stocked bar the suite offered.

  “Like waiting for a bomb to go off.” Jackie stirred her vodka and tonic and licked the residue from her finger.

  “Do you have to put it quite like that?” Bernie asked.

  “Sorry.”

  “I'm looking forward to this.” Zolar gulped his Jack Daniels and coke. “I don't think we will experience the pain we felt the first time. Remember, it's the Sexual Chakra which is opening this time. It will probably be quite pleasurable.”

  “Am I feeling paranoid, or do you feel like you're on a seesaw? Like you're going up and down. You know, kind of like liquid, like the ebb and tide of the sea.” Jackie paused. “I feel like I'm losing my mind.”

  “I feel it too.” Bernie commented. “Like the sweet thrust of good sex--not that all sex isn't good, even bad sex is great.” He laughed.

  “You're not taking this very seriously,” Jackie scolded.

  “I always take my sex seriously.” Bernie grinned.

  “Last night we exploded into the universe. I don't know what you got from it, but I felt like I was God and I exploded.” Zolar tried to bring them back to the situation.

  “Yeah, I felt as if I was alone and my body just went to pieces.” Jackie shivered. “I felt like a cannibal eating my own body. I remember when I was a child in elementary school; being Catholic back then, before the church allowed you to eat meat on Friday, I was at lunch. I forgot all about it being Friday and the school cafeteria served ravioli. I was laughing and having a good time when I realized that it was Frid
ay and I had already eaten meat. I felt so sick then, I ran to the bathroom and stuck my finger down my throat trying to make myself throw up. I cried for the rest of the day. I just knew I was going to burn in Hell for my disobedience. When the church changed, I was shocked. But let me say last night was more frightening than anything I ever experienced before.”

  “I know what you're saying. I felt as if my gut had been jerked out and I was so ravenously hungry I would do anything to ease the pain. I felt empty and I had to replace it and I didn't care how.” Bernie tried to explain, leaning his head back on the sofa.

  “Zolar, would you sit beside me and hold my hand?” Jackie set her drink down and grasped Bernie's hand; he scooted closer to her.

  Zolar got up from the arm chair, moved over and sat beside Jackie, trying to soothe her. “It's okay, we're all a little frightened. Remember you're not alone. We are all in this together.” He moved down to the carpet and patted the floor. “Join me, let's intone a mantra which will relax us.”

  “Are we sure we want this to happen? I don't know, but if it's the Anti-Christ I feel like we should be trying to stop him.” Jackie was hesitant.

  “I don't know yet; after last night I have to know more. It's like someone has lifted a veil from my eyes. I'm game.” Bernie said, sliding off the couch and sitting cross-legged. “I can't do any of that yoga stuff, my joints are too stiff.” He glanced up at Jackie and said, “Of course, if you like stiff joints?”

  She smacked him and feigned dismay. “With all this going on--you're incorrigible.” But she found herself attracted to him, and yet she also found herself attracted to Zolar. Maybe she was the incorrigible one.

  “Okay,” she said as she moved to the floor, “what now?”