I was silent.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"The day we first had sex…you really wanted me to fuck you raw. Intimacy?"
"Same principle," he explained.
I paused again.
"When you bit me, could I have died?"
"I wouldn't have killed you. But I need to be careful. And I won't bite you without your consent again."
"Thank you," I said.
"Oh, and one more thing. That soup I gave you? That's a family recipe. It helps you recover faster."
"It was good. And I do feel fine."
"Good."
We sat in silence for a few more moments. I put my arm around him.
"Hey," I said.
"What up?"
I laughed.
"Code switching again, I see. Anyway…yeah, um… I forgive you for lying to me about being a fake-me-out vampire and almost killing me. And…I still sorta like you in spite of all that."
He smiled.
"I'm glad. But trust and believe, I'm not a vampire. I hope you never have to meet one."
"Wait, so…" I stopped when I felt the house begin to rumble slightly with the sound of angry footsteps coming up the stairs. The attic door flew open and in a blur, I was knocked off the trunk. A force held me by the neck up against the wall, two feet from the floor. I couldn't breathe.
"Victor, stop!"
"You just couldn't keep your damn mouth shut, could you bruddah?" Victor hissed at Dante. His long dreadlocks were pulled back into a tight knot at the back of his head and his pale skin was red with fury.
"Let me tell you something, Son of Adam," Victor spat at me. "If you ever betray the secrets of my nation to another living soul, I will rip your beating heart from your chest and eat it before you die."
"Let him go, Eşusanya!" Dante shouted.
Victor dropped me to the floor and I gasped for breath, watching Dante and Victor hiss at each other. Their fangs emerged and elongated just below their flared lips.
This was really happening. I wasn't dreaming.
"Don't think I won't sacrifice one to save forty-seven, bruddah," Victor said.
"And don't think I won't sacrifice you to save him," Dante shot back.
"Please stop," I gasped. "It's not that deep."
Victor stepped over me and stormed back down the stairs.
"Are you okay?" Dante asked, as he helped me get back to my feet. I nodded, gulped, and said I'd be fine.
He pulled me into an embrace and held me there.
"So long as I live, nothing will happen to you. Do you hear me?"
I nodded. But I didn't believe him. I knew that no matter what he said, my life had changed irrevocably on that day. There was no going back now. Just then, another frightening thought popped into my head.
"Dante…"
"Yeah?"
"I ain't got no job."
He smiled, laughed and pulled me in tighter.
He thought I was cute. I knew he liked me. A lot. But what he didn't seem to understand was, no, I really didn't have a job, and whoever he really was, whether he was 500 years old or 25, if he couldn't get me a job, all the bloodsucking in the world wouldn't pay my rent.
For the rest of that night, though, it didn't matter. I fell asleep in his bed again, this time wrapped in his arms. Worries about the rent could wait until the morning.
Another Door Opens
I might not have had a job, but I had savings and an appetite. Dante casually suggested that we hit up the Takoma Park Farmer's Market, and I agreed. I picked him up and we were there in no time.
The market was open on Sundays on Laurel Avenue in downtown Takoma Park, Maryland, on one city block that was shut down for the vendors. They called this place the Berkeley of the East, with its hippies and head shops and retired protestors.
Dante and I walked around the market casually. I wasn't sure what I wanted. Dante, on the other hand, came prepared with his matching reusable grocery bags.
"Oh, you serious, huh?" I asked him.
"Damn right," he said.
I watched in amazement as he haggled with the farmers over the price of the produce, picking up pieces, showing imperfections, and demanding a discount. Every time he began to walk away, the farmer would make him a deal. By the end of the morning, he had filled both of his bags to the brim with fresh fruits and vegetables.
I had a bag of apples.
"That all you want?" he said.
"I mean…I guess. I usually just go to the Safeway."
"Man, you buggin'! Always buy organic!"
"That shit is expensive."
"Man, listen. If you can't grow it yourself, buy organic. I promise you. It's better for you and it tastes better. All these pesticides they be putting in the food and shit is killing us."
"Oh, okay," I said. I was not about to have a debate with a vampire over where I purchased my food with my hard earned, if paltry, nonprofit check. Not that I'd have any more of them coming.
We grabbed some falafel sandwiches from a food truck that was parked nearby and went down the street a bit to a park.
"So, whatchu gonna do about a job?" he asked.
"I don't know," I admitted. "I guess I will start looking soon. My savings are good, though."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I got paid pretty decent for nonprofit work, so I can get by for a little while. But I'll be looking soon."
"You should be looking for leadership jobs."
"Like what?"
"I think you'd be a good Executive Director of something."
I laughed immediately.
"What could I be in charge of?"
"Anything you want!"
"Man, please…my credentials aren't that strong."
"But you have the potential. You have the vision. Believe that."
"Yeah, I guess. I do want to do something more. Something different. I don't know what, though."
I finished up my sandwich and wiped my fingers. I looked up to see Dante staring.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing," he said. "I just like looking at you."
"I like looking at you, too," I said. "Let's go home."
"Wait. Before we go, I have a confession to make."
"I don't know if I can handle another surprise from you, man."
"Naw, this is kind of important though. I…the way my people…man, listen. It's like this. There were a couple of times that I was following you."
"Following me where?"
"One night, you were coming home from downtown. And another time down on U Street."
"Why the hell were you following me, man? That's creepy as fuck."
"It's complicated. The way my people do things. We keep each other safe. It's not about stalking. It's…man, I don't even know why I decided to tell you. It's hard to understand if you're not part of our culture."
"Let me stop you right there. So, every time that happened, you know I felt panicked, right? It's like my Spidey-sense was tingling. I knew something was off, but I didn't know what."
"Yo, man, I'm really sorry about that. I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable or anything. It's just that the minute you came into my life, I had to keep you safe. It's just how we do things. And I didn't know you that well to just show up and be your bodyguard."
"So how about this…from now on, no more stalking. You wanna make sure I'm safe? Just walk beside me. You dig?"
"I dig, man." He reached out to hold my hand. I reached back, and he brought my hand to his mouth, tenderly kissing it.
I smiled like a kid again.
~
At home, I knew I needed to finally tell my mom about the job so I called her up during our regular time.
"Hey ma."
"Hey sweetie! How's it going?"
"I've got something to tell you."
"Uh-oh, what's wrong?"
"I lost my job last week."
My mother gasped audibly.
"What happened?"
"Well
the good news is I didn't get fired."
"So you quit?"
"Heck no."
"Laid off, then."
"In a manner of speaking. The organization closed."
"Say what?"
I laughed. "It's a long story, but basically Ernie and his goons got caught with their hands in the cookie jar."
"Stealing? From a nonprofit organization?"
"Yup. I mean, we all knew it, but nobody could prove it. Well, except the feds. Been investigating for a year until they finally got him. LaJwanne, too."
"Mmm-mm-mm," my mother said. "That's a shame. You always suspected it was something going on with them. So have you been dropping your resume anywhere?"
"I will tomorrow morning. That will be my full-time job. Wanted to take a break. Just a few days."
"Well they're always hiring IT people someplace."
"Yeah. It would be nice to work for a good nonprofit organization, though."
"I know that's what you'd prefer. But don't forget you can do just as much—if not more—if you make a great salary and join a board of directors. You don't always have to be 'in the mix' to be of service."
"You're right, ma."
"Do you need anything, though? You good on groceries?"
"Oh yeah, I'm fine. How's dad?"
"He's great. Everybody up here is fine. Ms. Thompson asked about you."
"Did she?"
"Yeah. She wants to know when you're coming up to visit. We all want to know."
"Thanksgiving, of course!"
"It would be nice to see you more than once a year."
"I know, Ma, I know. I gotta go though. I just wanted to update you on what was going on."
"Alrighty…take care. And let me know if you need anything!"
"Will do, Ma. Bye."
I clicked off my cell phone and put it on my dining room table. Dante was watching the DC United play soccer on my television in the living room. He watched intently as the ball traveled back and forth between the brown and tan legs of the players.
I sat next to him and watched. His eyebrows crinkled into knots.
"Why you so far away, papi?" he asked me, breaking from his soccer spell.
"Papi? What, you Dominican now?"
"He vivido en decenas de lugares y puedo hablar cientos de idiomas. Este es sólo uno, mi príncipe," he whispered in my ear.
"Uh…I don't know what you just said, but you got me!" I straddled him and he grabbed my sides. We kissed through our laughs.
He stood up and I held on. Lifting me was effortless to him and I was amazed.
"Why you look so surprised?" he asked.
"You just lifted me like it's nothing."
He slowly put me back on my feet.
"Sometimes I forget."
"Forget what? That you're always the strongest person in the room?"
"I'm not always the strongest."
"You're stronger than me."
"Maybe. But you're stronger in other ways. Promise."
I smiled.
"Think I can take you?"
Before he could answer, I planted another kiss on his lips. He opened his mouth while his arms went limp and his manhood became erect. I cradled his neck in one hand and pushed him back down to the couch with the other.
His eyes remained closed as I began to unbuckle his belt. Just then, heavy knocks rattled my door.
"Shit," I said, annoyed that my session with my man had been interrupted.
Dante sprang up from the couch and immediately went to look through the peephole.
"It's cool," he said.
"Why wouldn't it be?" I didn't wait for an answer. I went to the door and looked through the peephole. A tall, slim man with light brown skin stared back at me. He was wearing a sharp, black suit and a crisp white shirt.
"Who is it?!" I asked in my overly aggressive inner-city voice.
"Salaad."
"And who is Salaad?"
"I'm just delivering a message, sir." He held a sealed envelope in the air in front of the door.
I opened my door, which still had the chain over it. Salaad passed the envelope through and I took it.
"Thank you," I said, closing the door. I looked through the peephole and saw that he was already gone.
I looked at Dante.
"What?" he asked.
"How you just gonna look once and say 'it's cool' like you know that dude. You know him?"
"Naw. What's in the letter?"
I didn't appreciate him deflecting the subject, but my curiosity was getting the better of me. I looked down to see my name written by hand in an ornate script. There was no return address, but there was a simple logo that looked like stylized letters F, C, and J.
I tore the envelope open and unfolded the letter:
.
Dear Mr. Kena:
The Foundation for Community Justice requests your presence at a reorganizational meeting of Magdalene House tomorrow
at nine o'clock in the morning.
John Smith,
Chairman of the Board of Directors
The Foundation for Community Justice
.
I was dumbfounded.
"What's it say?" Dante asked. I passed him the letter. He read it and smiled.
"You know something."
"No, I don't. I'm just happy for you."
"I wish you wouldn't lie to me."
"I'm not lying. I'm just not saying." He kissed me on the forehead and rose.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"I got some shit to do. See you tomorrow."
He left me feeling more confused than ever.
~
When I arrived at Magdalene House the next morning, the doors were wide open and a brunch buffet was waiting. The conference room was filled with the smells of bacon, eggs, bagels, freshly squeezed orange juice, and coffee.
"Hello?" I called out.
"Hey," Dante called back, emerging from the kitchen with two pitchers of orange juice.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked.
"Helping," he smugly said. "Do you want some breakfast?"
"What's going on? Who are you here with?"
"Relax. You'll see."
I gave him the side-eye and helped myself to a plate full of food. He had some serious explaining to do.
Victor entered the conference room. He wheeled out a flat screen television and began fiddling with the remote control.
Not this guy, too, I thought to myself.
Shortly, Steve and Cissy entered the conference room.
"Hey sweetie!" Cissy exclaimed as she embraced me. "You got a letter too?"
"Yup, got it yesterday."
"Hand delivered?" Steve asked. I nodded.
"Who are these guys? What do you suppose this is all about?" Cissy whispered.
"The shorter one is my…guy friend," I admitted in hush tones. "But I have no idea what this is about."
"Dude…your man sells…"
"I know what he sells," I interjected.
"Drugs?" Cissy asked.
"No! He sells movies."
"Bootlegs," Steve added.
"Will you shut up?" I said, embarrassed.
"I'm just saying. How does somebody go from bootleg man to…you know…whatever it is he's doing?"
"I'm telling you, I do not know."
"You think somebody bought the organization?" Steve asked.
"You can't buy a nonprofit," Cissy said. "But I'm sure Ernie tried to sell it a few times!"
We laughed heartily. Victor looked annoyed.
"Gentlemen. Ma'am." He got our attention.
"My name is Victor Pearl," he continued. "I'm a member of the Foundation for Community Justice. My uncle has a message for all of you."
Victor turned on the DVD player. A man in his thirties, or possibly forties, with a full head of long dreadlocks came on the screen. He had brown skin and a strong, wide nose.
"Greetings, ladies and gentlemen. My name is John S
mith and I am the chairman of the board of directors for the Foundation for Community Justice. I'm sorry that I couldn't be with you in person today. The foundation's many interests nationwide keep me very busy here at our headquarters in Colorado and around the world. However, it became imperative to send you this message.
"The Foundation has been following with great interest the situation with Magdalene House. We were saddened to learn of the sudden closure of the facility. We had been planning all along to approach the board of directors about potentially joining up with our network of local and regional nonprofit organizations, but, unfortunately, the issues of Magdalene House proved insurmountable.
"Until now, that is. Perhaps what Magdalene House needed was to die, so that it might be reborn again. What do you think about that?" Mr. Smith paused. Cissy, Steve, and I glanced at each other. Dante handed out sealed envelopes to each of us.
On screen, Mr. Smith continued. "Mrs. Flint, Mr. Waller, Mr. Kena, I would like to make you an offer. The Foundation for Community Justice has come to an agreement with the District of Columbia government. The foundation will assume the financial liabilities of Magdalene House and will continue to provide service to women and families infected and affected by HIV and AIDS. Of the previous staff members, we have decided to retain the three of you.
"Steven, we would like you to come aboard as our Director of Programs. Your achievements in social work have gone unacknowledged for long enough. You have what it takes to develop and enhance Magdalene's programming.
"Cissy, we would like you to return to Magdalene as the Director of Advancement. We want you continue to cultivate relationships for the organization while investigating opportunities for expansion.
"And Justin, this promotion might come as a bigger surprise to you than anyone else. We thought long and hard about whom should lead Magdalene into its next phase. We wanted someone who was well respected among the staff, who was invested enough to see it succeed while maintaining the distance necessary to allow the senior staff to do their jobs. We didn't want someone with the most education or the greatest number of connections-the foundation doesn't need that. What we need—what Magdalene needs—is someone with the vision, the ideas, and the courage to take the organization further than it had ever been before. Justin, we decided that person was you."
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