Moses Scriptures

by Hannibal Black

  “Oh yeah,” Angel said clapping.

  We climbed into the balloon, which didn’t feel like it could hold us. Francesco pulled a wire, which shot the flame heating the balloon. We began to rise off the ground slowly. Angel’s smile got wider the higher we got. After a while, everything on the earth started to look miniature. The whole time Francesco was reciting the history of the hot air balloon, and its contribution to aviation. Angel seemed to be listening, but I was too busy making sure nothing snapped. I even asked Francesco a few questions to make sure everything was working correctly.

  “Don’t be afraid Moses; I’m here,” Angel said jokingly. “I’m not afraid; I’m just cautious.”

  “Whatever you say, Moses,” Angel said, grabbing my hand and holding it tight.

  “Isn’t the view beautiful?”

  She was right. It was a beautiful sight.

  “I feel like I’m above all problems, above all the stress, I feel close to heaven.” She said.

  I watched her as she spoke. The peace that appeared on her face was as precious as life itself.

  I guess Francesco waited for us to get comfortable because when we seemed to be, he let go of the wire, went into the picnic basket, pulled out a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

  “Here you are my friends, feel free to make a toast. I also have fresh strawberries and cream for you to share.”

  “Thank you, Francesco, you’re wonderful,” Angel said.

  She was happy I felt lucky and a little guilty to be sharing in her pleasure. I was doing nothing that Mr. Wilkes couldn’t have done himself. Then again I was on the outside looking in I didn’t fully know their problems yet an still I couldn’t imagine the pressure or proposition that would’ve pulled me away from Angel.

  Francesco filled both of our glasses and awaited our toast. Angel raised her glass.

  “To something exciting,” She proposed as we touched glasses.

  I only had one glass of champagne; the memory of my hangover was way too fresh to get my drink on. Angel had about three glasses and was looking a little tipsy. We shared one big spoon with the strawberries and cream.

  We were making our descent as Francesco completed his dissertation on the hot air balloon and gave us business cards to pass on to friends. My nerves stopped jumping around when we finally touched the ground.

  “So, my friends, did you enjoy the ride?”

  Angel clasped her hands together like she was begging.

  “It was one of the most amazing trips I’ve ever taken, Francesco.

  Thank you so much.”

  “It is my pleasure, beautiful lady. And you, my friend, didn’t you enjoy the trip?”

  It didn’t change my religion. I was just glad to be on the ground. But Francesco was asking me as his self-esteem depended

  on it.

  “It was a spectacular experience, one I’ll never forget.”

  It was halfway accurate, more memory of Angel than the balloon ride.

  On the way back, Angel drove the speed limit and seemed relaxed.

  “I enjoyed myself up there. It was like being in another world. I know you didn’t enjoy it as much as I did Moses, but I gotta thank you for going with me.”

  “No, need to thank me, Angel. That smile put on your face was gratitude enough.”

  “You’re sweet Moses, the lady that lands you will truly be lucky.”

  Angel picked up speed and rocketed back to the coffee shop.

  “So Moses, you working out tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

  “I’ll see you then. Thanks again, Moses.”

  I smiled and shook my head, shaking off the undeserved appreciation.

  “Have sweet dreams, Angel,” I said, watching her smile and pull away.

  When I pulled in front of Priest’s pad, I saw Henny running down the stairs with a Black & Mild hanging out of his mouth, pulling up his sagging pants.

  “What’s up boy?” I said getting out of the van.

  “Hey Mo, you gotta quarter? Priest won’t let me use the phone.” I reached into my pocket and threw Henny a quarter.

  “Is Priest still recovering?”

  “Recovering?” Henny said, astonished by my question. “Man he’s up to their tripping.”

  I marched up the stairs, and when I got to Priest’s floor instead of the sounds of the latest hip-hop, I could hear ESPN anchors giving the latest baseball scores. I knocked on the door about six times before

  Priest opened it.

  “What’s happening, Mo? Come on in,” Priest was dressed in white

  T-shirt, jeans and house slippers with a scarf around his braids.

  When I walked in, the first thing I noticed was the dining room table, usually cluttered with paperwork, was now neatly arranged.

  The papers stacked in neat piles. Priest had his home phone with caller ID, pager and cellular phone all on the table.

  After he greeted me, he went back to his seat at the head of the table and picked up the phone that was off the hook and resumed his conversation, reeling off gambling clichés to the person on the other end of the line.

  “Hey man, scared money don’t win money, don’t wait till the fall to win it all, there’s good money on all games not just two or three, see there now we're talking, what else.” Priest was jotting down numbers a mile a minute, cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder. I went to the fridge and poured myself something to drink, then sat at the table and waited for Priest to get off the phone. Priest seemed to love every minute of it. After a few minutes, he hung up the phone and grabbed a half a joint out of the ashtray.

  “So Priest, you look like you’ve found your groove.”

  Priest took a long pull of his joint and leaned back on the heels of his chair. He slowly let the smoke out of his mouth and inhaled it through his nose. He then returned his seat to the floor.

  “It’s like this Mo, after seeing those old dudes at Slim’s Party. Man those cats were living life; you know what I mean. They had the hustle behind them, they set goals, and they’re not worried about the law watching them, to hell with hustling for the cars and pretty broads. Do it for security, for the future.” Priest was talking like he had found a new religion.

  “Moses, you just gotta hustle hard as you can now so you can relax later.” Priest reminded me of a televangelist. But I was proud of him. He always had hustle in him, but he seemed now to have found direction. Before, the future to Priest was the football season. Now he was positioning himself to become one of those wise men that we looked up to, or so I hoped. The phone rang.

  “My man Ray, the game ain’t played without out a price so tell me who your favorite is?”

  Everything seemed to be going fine. Priest was quickly jotting down numbers all of a sudden he just stopped. His face dropped. He put his joint in the ashtray and slammed his pen on the table.

  “And where did you hear that!” Priest yelled. “Nobody ran me outta shit! Well, fuck what you heard. I don’t give a damn what everybody is saying’, you tell them differently! Oh, don’t worry; I got your bet.” Priest said and then slammed the phone on the hook. He was fuming. He stood up and paced around the table, switching directions every other second.

  I knew what was going on. Now, I was trying to figure out what part I should play. I had to calm Priest down, but this situation was a lot more delicate than the one with Slim. Rico and Steele was without a doubt the enemy. Any great attempt to appease the situation would seem like treason. But an inkling of inflaming the situation would have us both locked up and awaiting trial by night’s end; I’d have to be somewhat in the middle, but where?

  “Do you believe this shit!”? “No. What’s up Priest?”

  “These muthafuckas going around talking about they ran me out.

  I should go down there and burn that muthafucka down, with them in it!” Priest stopped and stared at me like I was Rico.”

  “You think I won’t? I don’t believe this shit. I should go
down to that muthafucka right now.”

  Priest walked to his room and came out with a three–fifty-seven magnum. He had the tumbler out checking the chambers. He gave it a spin then snapped it back in place. I had to think fast to keep him from becoming a ward of the state. He was lacing up his shoes when I found the right thing to say. But when I relayed it, I couldn’t be meek or passive. I couldn’t show any fear of the situation. My voice would have to resemble his rage but laced with reasoning. With that thought, I stood up and fired.

  “You know what,” I said with my face bawled in a knot.

  “If you go down there and break fool, it’s gonna look like they ran you out. Instead, this is what you should do; you go down there tomorrow and take bets like always, then see if they back that shit they talking!” I was barking now and halfway believed it.

  “They say they ran you out? If they raw let them do it for real. Don’t rent the reputation, own it! You know what I’m saying”

  Henny had walked in on the first part of my sermon. Priest was sitting silently; he then smacked my open hand hard three times.

  “That’s why you're my guy,” Priest said with sincerity. He picked up his revolver off the table and took it back to his room.

  Henny looked puzzled.

  “I thought we were gonna fuck something up?”

  I shook my head. “Not today.”

  Henny looked disappointed.

  Priest came back from his room.

  “Moses, did Priest tell you this old dude called you?” Henny said.

  I was thinking it was one of the fellas from Slim’s party calling to compliment me on the man I had become.

  Priest took his seat at the table.

  “Hey Mo, I tried.” Priest said.

  That’s when I woke up. “You tried what?”

  Priest looked like he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  “Mr. Wilkes called.” Priest said.

  Soon as he said that, he had my full attention.

  “I tried to bleed him for some more bread for you. I don’t know if his wife transformed into some angel overnight or what but he started questioning the whole thing. He’s starting to feel guilty about having her followed. Anyway, I tried to tell him differently but he wouldn’t budge, and as much gambling cheese I’m taking off this guy, I wasn’t about to push the issue. So I convinced him to give you a week. You take a few pictures; look like you were doing some work and next week you’ll have two grand. Which ain’t bad for taking a couple of snapshots.”

  The gig was up and to tell the truth I was lightweight devastated, but much more concerned about what was going to happen at the bar tomorrow.

  I was in a daze. I didn’t say a word. I was making my way out the door.

  “Moses,” Priest said.

  I turned around.

  “Before we go to the bar tomorrow, meet me here around three o’clock and bring your pistol. We’ll go over together.”

  “No problem.”

  I was lying. Tomorrow was a problem.

  I wasn’t nervous or concerned about confrontation, only the consequences. After all, Priest and I had performed countless high wire acts of violence in our youth. Being realistic, how many times could we make the narrow escape, cheating death, and the penitentiary?

  I decided to increase our odds by making a special trip to the bar alone. I thought maybe I could pick up an angle that could help get us out of this thing unscathed.

  When I reached what was once Slim’s Bar, I was in awe, like a child’s first look at Disneyland. Dazzling flashing rainbow lights danced off my dilated pupils. The blaring baseline of an Ice Cube song earthquake my eardrums, till I could almost taste the anticipation of violence in the air. The sight of the long blinking neon light that read: Rico’s Lounge helped me realize that this was no longer Slim’s.

  I stepped inside and peeped people piled up inside the bar, dressed to impress. Cognac and champagne bottles littered the tables, and a big banner over the bar read Grand Opening.

  A cocktail waitress whizzed by me leaving the smell of sweet perfume. I saw a couple more waitresses and noticed they lost two inches on their mini-skirts and went two sizes smaller with the T-shirts that read “Rico’s.”

  I scanned around but didn’t see Dimples anywhere.

  The interior of the bar was the same; chairs arranged the same.

  The booths had been refurbished but still hadn’t changed formation.

  I spotted an empty booth in the corner facing the office. I crawled in, ordered a beer and scoped around the room. I saw a few familiar faces; most of which I knew by sight and not by name.

  I made a couple of nods of acknowledgment and was on my second beer. I still hadn’t seen Rico, Steel, or Dimples for that matter. I glanced around and did a double take toward the office. There was a group of men coming out of the dark hallway. I couldn’t make out who they were until they stepped into the light. I recognized every one of them. It was Rico and Steel, Playboy, Rock and Cool Vic, all heavyweight hustlers. Playboy’s hustle was cocaine. He was about five years younger than me, but well on his way to street legend status. He had been on keys since he was seventeen. He had some brains to him, and kept his reputation to a whisper, he bought a beauty shop and barbecue joint, but he never stopped hustling. Rock was Playboy’s road-dog. They were socially inseparable, except when it came to hustling. Rock, who some called Rock-Wild was just that, He was nineteen a year younger than Playboy and had a reputation for being not only down for whatever, but up for whatever. His defining street moment was when he blew his re-up on partying and jewelry and then robbed two armored cars in a week, to get his hustle back on.

  I had known these two since they were kids. They would hang around the basketball courts admiring the older guys. They started doing dirt for respect, starting with petty theft to grand theft to selling crack.

  They both grew up with Henny. Priest bailed them out of jail once, but still, they rarely spoke. They went from begging us for a dollar to barely talking, but I understood. It was their way of declaring their independence from their past, so I wasn’t mad at them.

  Now Cool Vic sold heavyweight weed and had been doing so for years. Though he was making big money, it never went to his head. Vic dressed modestly, no flashy jewelry. He drove the latest 4x4, minus the kit and chrome. He had an appealing personality that made him the people’s hustler.

  Most of all he was the herb-man, pleasing to all of the public, old, young it didn’t matter. He was as popular as Pepsi. We hadn’t talked for a long time. It had more to do with growing up and losing personal time and closing your circle of friends than it did with not being cool.

  Vic spotted me from across the room and approached my booth smiling with a drink in his hand.

  “Well, well, well, must be winter time in hell, what’s happening

  Mo? I haven’t seen you in a minute.”

  “Vic, what’s the deal boy?”

  “You know me, trying to stay out of the way.”

  “Yeah, I hear that.”

  I wanted to ask about the meeting. I understood that this was supposed to be a grand opening but coming out of that back room was a combination of questionable comrades.

  I mean Vic kept everything to himself. He was always good for a friendly conversation, but not a sit-down. Playboy was pretty much the same way, and Rock was way too sheisty to consort with, he was the type of cat who would come to your house and steal your silverware just on G.P.

  Growing up Rock and Playboy worshipped the ground Steel walked on, but in my mind that just made Vic’s visit with them stick out more. I decided to call him on it.

  “So what’s up Vic, you back there schooling the rookies?”

  He was puzzled for a second and then smiled at the loaded compliment.

  “Oh, no man. Them muthafuckas must think it’s the late eighties or something.

  I was itching to know what he was talking about but didn’t want to force his hand. Before I could co
me up with an angle, he switched the subject.

  “Hey, man what’s up with Priest? I heard he hated on Rico.

  “Naw, that ain’t the truth. Priest's uncle used to own this bar and just didn’t want to see it sold.”

  Vic nodded his head. “I can understand that.”

  I wanted to get back on the topic of Rico and Steel but didn’t know how.

  Vic was one of the few people who knew I was a private investigator and as mentally swift as he was, he still couldn’t discern my profession from law enforcement. One question too many and I would become law in his eyes.

  “Well my dude, I’m about to get going. Tell Priest I said what’s up.”

  “No doubt.”

  My curiosity was going in circles trying to figure out what the meeting was about, disagreement or allegiance. It had a bearing on my situation if they were together. They would share the same enemy and combined they were an army compared to Priest and me. But if they were at odds, it could be a good thing for us.

  I was determined to find out if they were together and if there wasn’t turmoil, I was going to create it.

  I was marinating on my plan when a pretty face popped into my booth.

  “Hey friendly, good to see you.” “Hey Dimples, how are you?” “Good,” Dimples said.

  Before she could get another word out, Steel was at the booth barking.

  “Hey this ain’t a social hour, Get back to work,” Steel said.

  He scowled at me, and I returned his stare. Dimples stood as

  Steel walked away.

  “You think Big Walt was mean, this dudes an asshole.” Dimples said.

  “Go ahead and handle your business Sis, I gotta breeze anyway.”

  Dimples gave a slight frown.

  “Well, don’t be a stranger.” She said.

  “Of course, not.”

  On the way home I was absorbed with apprehension about tomorrow.

  When Priest and I were in our teen’s confrontation was an every- day thing, it gave us a sense of invincibility, but after losing time and close friends to violence, we started to realize just how vulnerable we were. The last person I wanted to lose was Priest. We were like brothers, eternally linked through happiness and hard-times and in my mind, there was no conflict too great.