by Foye, K'wan
“That will be quite enough, Khallah,” a male voice called from the podium at the front of the church.
Animal had been so focused on the girl called Khallah that he didn’t even see the bald man in the army jacket standing a few feet away.
“If I were you, I’d listen to him, shorty,” Animal taunted her.
Khallah took a menacing step forward, but the man’s voice boomed again. This time it was more of a command than a suggestion. “Khallah.” He stepped from the podium, his shiny black combat boots clanking heavily on the wooden steps. “Please do not make me repeat myself.”
It was apparent from the look on Khallah’s face that she wanted to tear into Animal, but the man’s words outweighed her rage, and she reluctantly let it go. “Yes, Father.” She lowered her head and turned away. “Pompous jackass,” she mumbled as she headed for a door leading to the church office.
“Love you too, boo,” Animal called after her.
“It’s not smart to taunt her like that. Khallah can be a real spitfire when pushed,” the bald man told Animal as he approached. He was tall with a clean shaven head and thick goatee that was sprinkled salt and pepper. He wore a black army jacket and blue jeans tucked into a pair of black combat boots. A black leather patch covered his right eye, but you could see the scar beneath that stretched from just above his brow to his cheek. A silver rosary swayed slightly in his left hand.
“I think I could’ve taken her,” Animal said sarcastically.
The man thought about it. “Hand-to-hand, I doubt it, but if you’d pulled that hammer, it might’ve tipped the scales in your favor.” He nodded at Animal’s waistline.
Animal looked down to see if the gun was noticeable, but it wasn’t, so how the hell did the man know it was there? “Fuck is you the police or something?” Animal drew the gun, looking frantically from side to side as if at any minute the church would be swarmed with law enforcement.
“Easy,” the man said, holding his hands so that they were visible. The rosary rattled in his trembling left hand while he reached for the collar of his jacket with his right. Carefully, he pulled his jacket open so that Animal could see the white priest’s collar that snaked around his neck. “There’s no need for that.”
“So says you. I’d rather have it and not need it than to need it and not have it.” Animal tucked the gun.
“Or you can remove yourself from situations that leave you such limited choices,” the priest countered.
“News flash for you, old-timer, in the ghetto, you play the hand you’re dealt, and you play to win. Being a man of the cloth I wouldn’t expect you to know too much about hood politics.” Animal flopped on the tattered bench and cast his eyes back to the mural.
The priest sat down next to him, but kept a safe distance. “I think I know a thing or three about hood politics.”
Animal looked over at the priest. “What? You gonna tell me how you, an ex-dope boy, found religion?”
“Nah, I never really had the patience to stand around selling drugs. My lane was a little faster, if you know what I mean.” The priest shaped his fingers like a gun. “Gained some, lost more.” He pointed to the patch over his eye.
Animal reflected on Gucci. “I know all about losses.”
“Money or a woman?”
“What?” Animal asked confused.
“It’s either money or a woman that’s got you sitting in a church with a gun looking like you’re planning on doing something you’re probably gonna regret.”
“I’m planning on doing a lot, Padre, but I highly doubt if I’ll regret any of it. Sometimes the principles of a thing outweigh the repercussions.”
The priest nodded. “Talking like that, I’m guessing it’s a woman. Only a lady can send a man on a kamikaze mission and have him convince himself that it actually makes sense. Love comes and goes, kid, but you won’t be able to be there to catch it the second time if you throw your life away over some broad.”
“What the fuck does a priest know about love? Ain’t all you muthafuckas virgins or something?” Animal said mockingly.
The priest smirked. “It’s like I told you; I haven’t always been a priest, and even my long walk with the Lord hasn’t been without its detours. Love is a double-edged sword. It can be a gift from God or a curse from the devil, all depending on how you chose to wield it. When in doubt,” he shrugged, “leave it in God’s hands.”
Animal snorted. “That’s a fucking laugh. So far, leaving things in God’s hands hasn’t done much for me but making sure that I’m on the short end of the shit stick every time. God don’t give a fuck about kids from the ghetto.”
“God loves us all,” the priest assured him.
“Then how come he don’t love me?” Animal looked up at the priest. His eyes were moist, but he wouldn’t let the tears fall in front of the stranger.
“Young man, I assure you—” the priest began but Animal cut him off.
“Assure me what? That God loved me when my family abandoned me to the streets and I had to eat trash to survive? Did he love me when he let my stepfather beat me until I shitted blood for a week? Or maybe he was just showing me love when he tried to take away the only thing I ever cared about?” Animal’s sadness was replaced by rage.
“I’m sorry,” the priest said sincerely. His heart truly went out to Animal.
“Not as sorry as my enemies will be when they’re choking on their own blood.” Animal stood to leave. The priest stood to block his path. “Stand aside, old man. I’d hate to hurt a servant of the Lord, but don’t think I won’t if you try to get between me and my due.”
The priest ignored Animal’s threat. “Revenge is not the answer.”
“Maybe not, but it’s all I got left. Thanks for the chat, Padre.” Animal stepped past him and headed for the church exit. When he was halfway there the priest called after him.
“Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord.”
Animal looked up at the mural. “Not this time, Padre.” He patted the gun on his hip. “Not this time.”
Long after Animal had gone, the priest still stood in the aisle, looking toward the door as if he expected Animal to change his mind and come back. Deep down, the priest knew that he wouldn’t. From the moment the young man had walked into the church the priest could smell it on him, the stink of death. The tormented soul had his feet firmly planted on the ground and would not be deterred from his path of vengeance, and there was nothing that the priest or anyone else would be able to say to sway him.
“I don’t like him,” Khallah said from just behind the priest. She moved so silently that he hadn’t even heard her approach. She was learning.
“The boy is in pain. Don’t be so judgmental, my child,” he told her.
“And his pain is going to get him killed,” she said.
“Or show him the light,” the priest countered.
“Only those who acknowledge the higher power are fit to receive his light. He’s just like the men who turned their backs on you. He does not believe!” she said heatedly.
“And neither did you at one time,” the priest reminded her. “It was the Lord’s divine will to interweave these particular strands of fate, and like good servants, we will watch what is to come and reap the rewards of the faithful. No matter how either of us feels, the boy has already started his walk down the lonely road and nothing short of death or victory will stray him from his path. It’s in his blood.”
“Do you think he’ll succeed?”
The priest measured the odds. “Honestly, no. But with faith, anything is possible.” He smiled knowingly.
FOURTEEN
ASHANTI WALKED INTO THE HOSPITAL LOBBY, CHATTING away on his cell phone, trying to put some things in motion for the night. The day had been a trying, yet prosperous, one that left him with a pocket full of cash, and Ashanti intended to celebrate the spoils. As he was passing the security desk en route to the elevators he noticed one of the security guards giving him a dirty look, so he returned the
favor and mugged him back.
“No cell phones,” the portly guard said with way too much attitude.
“My fault,” Ashanti said, ending the call and slipping the phone into his pocket.
“Where are you going?” the guard pressed him.
“Upstairs to visit somebody,” Ashanti said as if it should have been obvious.
“All visitors must be at least eighteen or accompanied by an adult. How old are you?” the security guard asked, looking at Ashanti suspiciously.
“Nineteen,” Ashanti lied.
“You got some ID that says so?”
Ashanti rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Blood, you seen me come in and outta here twice this week already. What you need to see my ID for?”
The security guard stood up and pointed his finger accusingly at Ashanti. “First of all, I ain’t ya Blood, son. Second of all, you gotta show ID because I say so.”
“Man, I ain’t got time for this shit.” Ashanti turned to walk away.
The security guard came from behind his desk and grabbed him by the arm. “Boy, don’t you walk off while I’m talking to you!” he barked.
Ashanti looked at the hand gripping his arm, then glared up at the security guard. “My nigga, if you don’t get yo’ slimy-ass claw off me, we gonna have a problem.”
The security guard’s nostrils flared, and his eyes narrowed to slits. “What? You gonna do something, boy? You got some frog in you? Come on and try me. Come on!”
Ashanti slapped the security guard’s hand away, shocking and enraging him. The security guard drew his pepper spray, but Ashanti knocked his hand away and shoved him roughly against the desk. At the same time the security guard was reaching for his nightstick Ashanti was reaching for his gun. A hand landed on Ashanti’s shoulder, and he spun, ready to do battle, but froze when he saw Ms. Ronnie’s angry face.
“What in the hell is going on down here!” Ms. Ronnie shouted. By then, two more security guards had arrived on the scene and managed to separate Ashanti and his antagonizer.
“This little bastard is going to jail!” the security guard screamed.
“Jail? For what?” Ms. Ronnie looked rapidly from Ashanti to the security guard.
“Assaulting an officer.”
“Officer?” Ashanti laughed. “Nigga, you got your badge in the mail. Ain’t no power behind that.”
“We’ll see how much laughing you do when the police get here,” the security guard fumed, picking up the phone behind the security desk.
“If that’s the case, then I might as well earn the bogus charge you’re trying to put on me.” Ashanti took a step toward him, but Ms. Ronnie blocked his path.
“Wait a second, everybody, just calm down,” Ms. Ronnie told both of them. “Officer, may I speak to you for a minute?” she said, addressing the security guard. Reluctantly, he let Ms. Ronnie pull him to the side for a private conversation. They exchanged a few words, and eventually he calmed down. Ms. Ronnie shook his hand and gave him her thanks before turning her attention back to Ashanti. “Fool boy, are you trying to get yourself locked up?”
Ashanti sucked his teeth. “Ms. Ronnie, I ain’t stunting that toy cop.”
“And that ‘toy cop,’ as you call him, could’ve called some real ones in here to straighten your little ass out, and I think it’s safe to say that you getting searched right now would yield some very interesting findings.” She looked down at his waistline, knowing the little boy was strapped.
“You’re right, Ms. Ronnie,” Ashanti said sheepishly.
“I know I am. Now, I’ve gotten him to agree not to press charges if you apologize,” she told him.
Ashanti frowned. “Ms. Ronnie, he touched me first. I ain’t apologizing to him. He’s lucky I didn’t fold him for what he tried to pull.”
“Ashanti, you better tuck that pride and do what you gotta do to stay your mischievous ass outta jail. Now, go over there and make nice before you and me end up having a misunderstanding.” Ms. Ronnie folded her arms and gave Ashanti a no-nonsense look.
“A’ight,” Ashanti sighed, knowing Ms. Ronnie wasn’t going to back down. He shuffled over to the security desk.
The guard stood there with a smug expression on his face and his arms folded. “You got something you wanna say to me, boy?”
“I apologize,” Ashanti mumbled.
“Excuse me?” the security guard said as if he couldn’t hear him.
“I said I’m sorry!” Ashanti said loud enough for everyone to hear him.
“And you should be. I don’t know what’s wrong you young kids today. You got no respect for your elders. Maybe them skinny jeans y’all have taken to wearing has cut off the circulation to your brain.” The security guard laughed at his own joke.
“Whatever.” Ashanti fought the urge to punch the security guard in his face but, instead, walked back over to Ms. Ronnie. “Satisfied?”
“No, but it’ll do for now,” she said. “Ashanti, why is it that you can’t seem to stay out of trouble?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, Ms. Ronnie. Trouble seems to just have a way of finding me.”
“Then do a better job of hiding from it! Ashanti, day in and day out I see kids like you who have so much promise but throw their lives away for little to nothing; somebody said something to you or you didn’t like the way that they were looking at you. My God, when are you kids gonna wise up? After what happened to Gucci, then this craziness with Animal, and this stupid vendetta—” She paused, but the damage was already done.
“Animal? What’s he got to do with any of this and what vendetta?” Ashanti asked suspiciously.
“Nothing. I meant the vendetta he carried that was eventually his undoing,” Ms. Ronnie lied. “Ashanti, I’ve come to know and love all y’all little misfits like my adopted children, and I just don’t know what I’d do if I lost another one of y’all.”
“Don’t worry, Ms. Ronnie, I ain’t going nowhere. I’m gonna be here for you and Gucci when she wakes up,” he vowed.
Ms. Ronnie cupped his face lovingly. “Please don’t make me promises you can’t keep,” she said thinking of when Animal had said the same thing. “Boy, you got me down here getting all emotional.” She dabbed the corners of her eyes with a napkin. “I gotta go check on a few things at the house so you can go on up and visit with Gucci while I’m gone. Tionna is up there too.”
“Cool, but before I forget, I have something for you.” He pulled a wad of money from his pocket and peeled off two thousand dollars of the money Don B. had given him which he extended to her.
“Ashanti, I can’t take your money,” she said.
“It ain’t all mine. We took up a collection in the hood,” he lied with a smile.
Humbly, Ms. Ronnie took the money and put it in her purse. “Thank you, Ashanti, and please tell your friends I said the same.” She hugged him tightly.
“I will, and no thanks needed. Since Animal is gone, you and Gucci are among the few people left who I look at like family, and I would do anything for you.”
“I know, and that’s what frightens me the most.” She patted the back of his hand. “Now, go ahead and visit with your friends.”
Ashanti silently entered Gucci’s hospital room. Gucci was as she had been every other time he visited, sleeping soundlessly while the machines measured her vitals. He still had a hard time seeing her that way so he focused on Tionna, who was sitting in the corner with her head buried in a book, giggling to herself.
“What’s up, Tionna?”
Tionna leaped from the chair and dropped her book on the floor. “Boy, you scared the shit out of me! Why don’t you make some noise when you walk?”
“I did, but you’re so caught up in that damn book that you didn’t hear me. What are you reading anyhow?” He picked the book up and looked at the cover and the title. “The Last Outlaw? What is this? Some kinda western or something?”
“No, it’s not a western.” She snatched the book from him. “It’s an urban fiction novel.”<
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Ashanti frowned. “I’ve heard of fiction and nonfiction. What the fuck is urban fiction supposed to be?”
“It’s like rap music, but on paper instead of CDs,” she explained. “You should try checking some of these out. I know you’d like them.”
“I’m cool on that reading shit. Don’t none of them books talk about where I’m from so I ain’t got time to be reading no white man’s fantasy,” Ashanti said in a disinterested tone.
“For your information, most of these books are written by blacks and Latinos who come from the same thing we come from, and a lot of the stories are very good. Stop being so closed minded about everything.”
“Anyhow.” He twisted his lips.
“So, what brings you this way three times in one week?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to check in on Gucci and drop something off to you.” He took out the remaining five hundred from the money Don B. had given him and handed it to Tionna.
“What’s this for?” she asked suspiciously.
Ashanti shrugged. “I dunno. Just because. I know you’ve been taking off from work to sit with Gucci, so I thought you could use a few dollars.”
“Well, I ain’t never one to turn down no paper.” She started to put the money in her purse but hesitated. “You ain’t kill nobody for this, did you?”
“No, I didn’t kill anybody for the money, Tionna. Look, if you don’t want it, you can give it back and I can spend it on weed and strippers.” Ashanti reached for the money, but Tionna snatched it back.
“The hell you will.” She quickly stuffed the money in her purse. “With your little ass I can never be sure if the money has blood on it or not, and I don’t need your kinda trouble, Ashanti.”
“Whatever.” He waved her off. “How’s Gucci?”
“Better, thank God.” Tionna went to stand at Gucci’s bedside. “They removed her breathing tube a few days ago, and there haven’t been any more complications from the surgeries, but she’s still in a coma and the doctors can’t seem to figure out why. It’s like she just won’t wake up.”