Hearing that, Rhonda got herself together and back in the car before the hungry runners took their boss up on his more-than-generous offer. “Bitch, I’ma see you out in these streets real soon—trust,” she shouted to a still-silent Trinity as her girl skirted off the block.
Trinity was noticeably unmoved by the idle threat. Clay smirked. He was impressed by Trinity’s ability to hold her peace no matter what the next female said to her or about her. If he wasn’t sure if she’d stand tall about their little secret, he was now. She didn’t flinch. Even when Whip started following her halfway down the block talking cash shit, she held her own.
Chapter Sixteen
Trinity Walker
“Why ole boy taking up for your punk ass so hellava?” Whip grilled a still-walking Trinity as if she was his woman or significant other. “Why he trying to save your ass from another beat down, huh? Why? Why the hell is that?”
Trinity wasn’t in the mood for any more confusion of any sort. Her mind was still reeling from the worst dramatic encounter of her young life. And dealing with a jealous, apparently ex-girlfriend and a dude she gave the pussy up to one time wasn’t on her agenda of important shit to do. She just wanted to pick up the food box with the baby milk and get back home as quickly as possible. “For real, Whip, I don’t know why that nigga do or say what he do. Why don’t you ask him instead of keep running up on me like I’m wifey or some shit like that? Damn.”
“I’d never wife a slut like you. You ain’t nothing but something a nigga fuck on when he ain’t got shit else to do.” Whip got in his emotions as he slowed down his pace. “You just got some good head on you, that’s all. You just good for sucking a nigga dick until it throw up in your mouth.”
“Well, if that’s all I’m worth to you, what’s the problem? You had all of that, and you still mad. I’m done entertaining this conversation, and for real, it’s see you later. Bye.”
Left standing there speechless, Whip allowed Trinity and her kids go on about their business. Caught up in his feelings, he went back down the block to see what, if anything, Clay was gonna say about the girl he seemed to be taking so much interest in.
* * *
Being asked by Reverend Richards to stand over to the side, Trinity felt uneasy. With things in her life being so financially stressed, the young mother often did what she had to do to survive. Trading pussy for food, money, or clothing was nothing new to her—but it was her choice to do so. Reverend Richards always seemed to undress her with his eyes and always held her hand extra long when greeting her. Trinity was far from being a fool. She knew given the time and opportunity, the supposedly God-fearing man would be just like every other man, with the exception of Clay, and take advantage of her neediness.
After everyone was gone, Trinity leaned up off the wall. Leaving the stroller off to the side, she asked the Reverend if it was at all possible if she could have a little extra formula because she didn’t intend on coming back out for a while. Surprised by the smell of what she thought was liquor on his breath, Trinity eased back. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d appreciate it.”
The reverend had an all-too-familiar, to Trinity, devilish grin. Recklessly looking over each shoulder, he boldly moved closer to the young female he often mentored about being overly promiscuous, telling her she could get anything she wanted if she just “asked the right way.” The smell of liquor escaping out of his mouth grew stronger and stronger. The closer he got in her personal space, the more she searched the area for any of his usual nosy parishioners—but saw none. Time and time again, he’d tried to push up on her low key—but this was much different.
Besides a drunken Ida stumbling by, rolling her eyes on her granddaughter’s behalf, and the Block Club president’s wife driving by, that end of the block was practically deserted.
“Yeah, I saw you talking with one of those dope boys a few minutes ago,” he stated in an extremely judgmental tone. “Is that the type of man you want around you and your kids? Did he do that to your beautiful face? You know he only wants one thing, don’t you? Most men his age only want you for your body. I mean, seriously, what else do you have to offer?”
“Umm, we were just talking—that’s all. Is that a crime or something?” she firmly placed her hands on both hips, sucking her teeth. “And, no, he didn’t touch my face. Why would you even say that?”
“Well, even if you and he haven’t done anything yet, it can happen. Talking to his type can only lead to one thing and one thing only—sex.” Reverend Richards licked his lips like a cat about to pounce on a mouse. “Now, is that what you want, Trinity—sex?”
“What?”
“Come on, now. You remember what you told me happened with that other young man trying to abuse your child. You only need to have one good man around your children.”
“What! Why you bring that up? I told you that in confidence, not to throw it up in my face.”
“I’m just saying, Trinity. I didn’t call Child Protective Services on you like I should’ve done, did I?” He rubbed his hands together as if he was plotting. “See, I’m in your corner. I can keep a secret for people I trust.”
“You a minister, and like I said, I confided in you. But I see how it is now.” Trinity was fed up with going through the word games he always played. She could respect him more if he just came out and said he wanted to hit it. “So look, Reverend, can I have the extra formula or not? I have to get back home. I don’t have time today for all that extra stuff you talking about. And matter of fact, truth be told, I don’t appreciate it at all.”
Realizing she wasn’t gonna play his game, he felt it was in his best interest to just let her go. As bad as he may have wanted to let his man pride take over his thoughts, he stopped. The liquid courage he had made him overly frisky, not flat-out stupid. And the louder Trinity was getting wasn’t worth the possible trouble it could cause. If she was caught in her emotions about the statements he was making to her, then she would play that game alone.
“Here you go, my dear. I didn’t mean any harm or to offend you.” Looking stupid, he handed her a fully stuffed box, adding a few more bottles of formula just as she asked. “I was only trying to advise you on this wicked world you are out navigating through. This neighborhood is an increasingly dangerous place. You know they found a teenager dead this morning, not too much younger than you. I know you probably heard folk in the street talking about it, right?”
“Yeah, right, whatever, Reverend Richards—whatever you say.” She practically snatched the box, placing it underneath the stroller seat. “And, naw, I ain’t heard nothing about nothing. I mind my own business around here, and maybe you should start doing the same thing.” Storming off, Trinity had no idea the boy killed the night before was the one with all the mouth that had smacked her on the ass at the bus stop, but even if she did, she wouldn’t give a sweet fuck anyhow. That was his mother’s bad luck of a high-price bill to pay for a funeral and his bad luck for getting himself killed in the first place.
Mr. and Mrs. Jessie
“I don’t know what to think of that sneaky preacher you so hell-bent on being in cahoots with.” Mrs. Jessie took out some more cleaning supplies she’d just returned with. “It was bad enough you went down there this morning at that press conference, not knowing what could’ve come from it, but now he keeps calling you, wanting you to keep a special watch on that boy over across the street.” She got back on her hands and knees trying to scrub out huge stains the group of scandalous teens had made. “If it wasn’t for that boy over there—drug dealer, girl beater, or not—we could’ve both been dead like those people on Fullerton Street, not to mention you could be arrested.”
“I know that, dear; trust me, I know,” he strongly agreed, ignoring yet another call from the pushy reverend trying to get a minute-by-minute update on any news of the teen’s murder so he could spoon-feed it to his brother. “It’s just I don’t want to cut him off cold, just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “It might a
ppear suspicious to him.”
“Suspicious or not, I been telling you to cut that religious con man fool loose for months. Just because he loaned us money for the new roof a few years ago doesn’t mean anything. You paid him back in full, plus he had me making free cakes and pies for the church every week, not even offering to reimburse us for the ingredients.”
“I know, dear—you’re right.” Mr. Jessie had been listening to voice mails ever since this morning, pressuring him to find out “something” or he might let it slip out to his wife he’d been sneaking off to the casino when he was supposed to be at crime prevention meetings. “He only wants to get his brother elected; he doesn’t care who he throws under the bus to do it.”
“I know I am,” she angrily huffed. “You don’t owe him anything. We have to look out for our self!” Getting off her sore knees, Mrs. Jessie approached her husband and longtime companion looking him dead in the eye. “Besides all that, I just saw that old fool trying to lean all over in that young girl’s face.” She shook her head with contempt. “Is that what y’all do down there at that building half the night acting like y’all trying to fight crime? Having young girls in there doing God knows what?”
Reassuring his wife that wasn’t the case and he’d avoid the reverend as much as possible, he grabbed some rags and started to help her clean. Why doesn’t he leave those young girls alone? One day he’s gonna go too far. I warned him the last time he got the deacon’s daughter pregnant and she threatened to tell if he didn’t pay for the abortion and give her half of the week’s collection. As the days go, by I wonder more and more if he’s even fit to lead a band of church mice, let alone people. God help us in the days moving forward with him at the helm.
Chapter Seventeen
Darkness soon took over the turmoil-filled day. Every customer was served, every dollar was counted, and every worker was paid. Long after the street was vacated, Clay noticed the glow emanating from Mrs. Gale’s apartment. Having not spoken to her from the night before, he felt it was in his best interest to make sure all was well. Mr. and Mrs. Jessie were definitely on board when it came to remaining silent about the wild teen’s unfortunate but very deliberate demise; however, when it came to the old woman, Clay had to make sure she understood what had taken place—had to. He had no idea if one or both of her longtime neighbors had confessed what truly jumped off at their home, but he would soon find out.
Within five minutes of Mrs. Gale letting him into the living room, he explained to her what really went down at the Jessies’, and surprisingly, in the long run—she understood.
“Look, trust me, no one wanted to hurt that boy,” Clay spoke in an even tone. “But if I start letting any-old-body, especially teenagers, run wild around here, ain’t no telling what would become of this block.”
“I know, but to see his family crying . . .”
“I know it was probably hard for you, but truth be told, it was either that little badass nigga that was terrorizing everybody around here with his crew or your people across the way.” Clay pointed out the window. “Maybe you should call them and ask them if I did the right thing.”
Mrs. Gale was at a loss. “No, son, it’s not that.”
“Well, listen, they had guns on them people, so if he wanted to go for bad, that’s the route he chose—not me!” Revealing more of the details, he urged her to collaborate with her neighbors and verify his story as fact.
Taking him at his word, she then revealed to the young drug-dealing menace who had affectionately taken to her, Reverend Richards had threatened her freedom. She told Clay that if she didn’t “make” him come to talk to the so-called good Christian pastor, that the police, along with his wanting-to-be-mayor brother, would investigate all the items he’d blessed her with and more than likely arrest her.
“I don’t want to go to jail. Why would he say those things to me?” Her eyes started to water as the thought of the reverend’s words resonated throughout her mind.
Clay was livid as he reassured her that set of circumstances would never ever take place. “Don’t worry about anything,” he said. “He a snake. What kinda man try to get tough with a damn old-ass lady—no offense, ma’am.” Clay had blood in his eyes and fire in his heart. “I’m on my way to holler at him right damn now.” Feeling the vibration of her apartment door frame shaking as Clay slammed it shut, Mrs. Gale started to read her Bible in hopes of calming her nerves. No more than into the second verse, she heard the bottom door do the same.
* * *
“Let me get this motherfucking straight. Your bitch ass had the nerve to call yourself verbally strong-arming an old-ass lady?” Clay wasted no time cornering Reverend Richards near the rear exit of the Outreach Building where he’d caught him. “Let me find out you trying to run shit your way around this bad boy, and they gonna discover your bitch ass laid the fuck out in the middle of rush-hour traffic somewhere. Now do me and you understand each other—or what?”
“Arggg, wait, wait,” he fought to catch his breath and break free from the young man’s certain death grip. “I didn’t threaten Mrs. Gale. I swear I didn’t. Where did you get that from?”
“Oh—so now she a liar, huh? Is that what you saying? The old woman is a damn liar?”
“Listen, son, I just wanted to talk to you—that’s all.” He dropped the small bag of garbage he was about to toss into the Dumpster. “I didn’t mean any harm or any disrespect to her or you. I don’t wanna have any problems between us.”
“Damn—I thought we had an understanding about you fucking with my people.”
“Whoa . . . So Mrs. Gale is your people now?” The so-called man of the cloth was being sarcastic, thrown aback at what he was hearing but not really surprised.
“Don’t worry about who people she is . . . Just worry about what can happen to you and yours if you get at her again spitting that rah-rah bullshit. I don’t give a damn about you or your wannabe mayor brother. He can get the business too for fucking with her. From this point on, she’s off-limits.” Clay let go of the man’s neck while shoving him into the concrete wall in one swift motion. He was fed up and wanted to get to the real point at hand for his roughhouse demeanor yet anticipated visit. “So, look, old man, I’m here. You wanna talk and shit, then here’s your only chance to do so. Now speak!”
Straightening his blue and silver necktie, Reverend Richards suggested they go into his office for some privacy. Not scared of what he’d find on the other side of the church doors, Clay obliged.
“Son, I’m not here to judge. You have your way of life, and I have mine.” He nodded over toward a Bible. “Even God and the devil were friends at one point, so I know we can make a deal.”
“A deal? Me and you?” Clay was puzzled and kept his eye on the shady minister. “What kinda deal would I wanna have with you? I gotta hear this bullshit.”
“One that’s beneficial to both of us.”
“Beneficial?”
“Yes, sir. I get what I want—which is a slowdown in crime in this district.”
“And?” Unmoved by words, Clay waited for the true punch line.
“And you get what you want.”
“And, okay, old man, I’ll fucking bite! What exactly is it that you think I want?”
“To sell your drugs in peace and stack your bread, as you young folk say.”
“Is that right?” Clay walked around to the other side of the desk not knowing if the preacher was taping him or not. “I don’t sell drugs—point-blank period!” He coldly stared into the preacher’s face letting him see the handle of his gun. “That bullshit is illegal as fuck. A nigga a mess around and catch a case that way.”
“Okay, okay, right. I understand. My mistake,” Reverend Richards wasn’t in the mood for round two of Clay’s hands wrapped around his throat. “Let me rephrase what I’m trying to say.”
“Yeah, you do that.” Aggravated, not knowing where this meeting of the minds was going, Clay stepped back, looking at the time on his cell. “An
d hurry up, I got places to be. Time is money in my world.”
“Son, all this, should we say . . . random victim crime is out of control in this district.”
“Okay and . . .”
“And stolen Walmart trucks, missing Water Department workers, and dead teenagers’ bodies turning up can’t keep flying unnoticed by the local police or the federal authorities.”
“What all that got to do with me? What the fuck you trying to say?” Clay knew where the preacher was going but had no intentions of traveling down that road with him—at least not willingly. “I’m about to cut out. I ain’t come here for all that crime and police update shit.”
“Calm down, son, trust me,” he advised, eager to politic. “I’m not your enemy. We have more in common than you may think. Just sit back and hear me out. That’s all I ask.”
By the time the awkward summit was over, the two men with two entirely different agendas had astoundingly come to an agreement that was indeed beneficial to both. Deciding to somewhat join forces to the greater good of furthering each one’s ultimate goal and outlook for the district they conducted business in, each felt the other had received the shorter end of the stick.
Chapter Eighteen
Clay
Clay, his crew, Dorie and Whip, met extra early to cook up a new strong package. After having Hustle-Man instead of Ida’s pesky ass come by and do the testing, they were ready to hit the block. With a new attitude and game plan in mind, Clay gathered all the runners together for their new assignments and a heads-up on how things would be run from now until further notice. The entire operation was getting an overhaul.
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