The Mike Black Saga; MOB

by Glenn, Roy

  The calls began a little after 2:00 in the morning. She knew it was Bruce, and she knew what he wanted, so she didn’t answer the phone. But the calls continued about every ten minutes until Me’shelle unplugged her phone at 3:00 in the morning. By the time she had drifted off to sleep, it was after 4:00. That sleep was interrupted by a loud banging at her door accompanied by, “Me’shelle!” Bruce yelled at the top of his lungs as he continued to bang on the door. “Open the door, Me’shelle! I know you’re in there!”

  Me’shelle jumped out of bed and ran to the door. She had to shut him up because the last time he pulled a stunt like this, her landlord, Mrs. B., told her if it happened again, lease or no lease, she was putting her out. She swung the door open, snatched Bruce by his shirt and dragged him into the apartment. “Are you crazy, Bruce? What are doin’ knocking on my door like a crazy fool at four in the morning?”

  “You wouldn’t answer your phone.”

  “Did you ever think that I wasn’t home or had company and didn’t want to be bothered?”

  “Nope. Since that blockhead Trent dropped you, you never go anywhere,” Bruce said, looking around Me’shelle’s apartment.

  “He didn’t drop me. We agreed that we should see other people,” Me’shelle said, knowing Trent had dropped her.

  “Whatever, Me’shelle. That’s just some shit a muthafucka like him would say when he dropped your ass,” Bruce cracked.

  “Anyway, I still could’ve had a date.”

  “Who? You? Sister Mary-Me’shelle out on a date? I don’t think so. You never go anywhere, you never do anything. You just sit here every night readin’ them stupid self improvement books and gradin’ them kids’ papers.”

  “Books aren’t stupid!” Me’shelle replied angrily. “Never mind. And stop looking around here for something to pawn. How much do you need?”

  “Since you asked, I need two thousand dollars. But I know you ain’t got it like that, so just give me fifty and I’m gone.”

  Me’shelle sucked her teeth, but she went to get her purse anyway. “You know what, Bruce? This is the last time. I can’t keep supporting you and Natalie’s habit. If Mommy and Daddy knew you turned out to be a crackhead and I was supportin’ your habit, what would they say?”

  “I don’t know what your mother would say. And Pops wouldn’ta said nothin’. He woulda just sat in his chair and stared at the TV like he always did.”

  After that, she really didn’t get back to sleep, and once the morning flooded her bedroom with sunshine there was no longer any point in trying. By the time Me’shelle got to the Liberty Avenue exit on the Van Wyck Expressway, she felt tired.

  When she arrived at her aunt Miranda’s house, it was like a burst of energy came over her. Me’shelle unlocked the door and wandered through the house hollering, “Good morning, Aunt Miranda! Aunt Miranda, where are you?”

  “In the kitchen, Me’shelle,” Miranda answered.

  Me’shelle entered the kitchen and gave her aunt a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

  “Mornin’, Me’shelle. You look tired, baby. You gettin’ enough rest? Anyway, you’re just in time to help me pick and wash these greens so I can cook them for tomorrow. My arthritis is actin’ up on me this morning. And I don’t know what all that hollering was for. Where else would I be on Sunday morning?”

  “I don’t know, in bed or church maybe,” Me’shelle answered as she rolled up her sleeves.

  “When have you ever known me to be in bed past seven? I’m an early riser, and church, you know that’s your Aunt Juanita’s thing. She called me this morning like she does every Sunday, and invited me to go to church with her. And I told her no, just like I do every Sunday,” Miranda said as she sat down at the kitchen table.

  “You oughta go with her some time. Pastor usually preaches a sermon.”

  “Then you go with her.”

  “You know I used to before—” Me’shelle paused without finishing.

  “You can say it. Before Trent started bringing that slut to church with him every Sunday. But you know that shouldn’t stop you from goin’,” Miranda said.

  Me’shelle thought about all the things Bruce had said to her, not just about Trent, but about her parents. “Bruce came by at four in the morning.”

  “Oh Lord. That’s why you look so tired. How much did he want this time?”

  “Just fifty dollars this time,” Me’shelle said with a look that let her aunt know there was something else.

  “I’ve seen that face before. What did he say to you?”

  “It’s not what he said, ’cause what he said is the truth. It’s the way he said it. I asked him what would Mommy and Daddy think if they knew he was a crackhead and I was supporting his habit.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said, ‘I don’t know what your mother would say.’ Your mother. Like she wasn’t his mother too.”

  “Come sit down, Me’shelle,” Miranda said. Me’shelle stopped what she was doing and sat down at the table. “I can understand why your brother would feel like that. You both were very young when she died. He probably doesn’t remember much about her.”

  “I know that, Aunt Miranda. I don’t remember much about her either, but she’s still his mother.”

  “You know, when my sister died in that car accident, me and your Aunt Juanita stepped in and tried to help Clay raise you children. We used to get both of you on the weekends. But you’re father stopped that.”

  “Why?”

  “He thought we would turn Bruce into a sissy.”

  “What?”

  “One weekend when we took y’all home, your brother was crying like a baby because you were playing dress up and we wouldn’t let him play, mostly because we didn’t have anything for him to dress up in.”

  “I remember that,” Me’shelle said and smiled.

  “After that, Clay wouldn’t let Bruce come out here without him. So Bruce just sat there in front of that idiot box with your father.”

  “He said that too. He said Daddy wouldn’t say anything about him being a crackhead. He’d just sit in his chair and stare at the TV like he always did,” she said sadly.

  “Your father wasn’t always like that. Clay Lawrence was so full of life, and full of himself, for that matter. And he loved my baby sister Sabrina so much that when she died, a part of him died too.

  “I remember when we were growing up in Columbia. Your mother loved Jackie Wilson. So your father put on a suit, came to our house, and put on a show in front of your mother’s window,” Miranda recalled.

  “Daddy? Singing?”

  “Singing and dancing. He started out singing “A Woman, A Lover, A Friend.” Then he sang “Lonely Teardrops,” broke into “Doggin’ Around” and finished with “Baby Workout.” By the time he was finished, half the neighborhood was out there watching your father perform.”

  “I can’t believe that. You’re talking about my father? Could he sing?”

  “He could carry a tune, but he was no Jackie Wilson.”

  “I just can’t see Daddy singing and dancing.” Me’shelle laughed.

  “Yeah, well, the man you grew up with ain’t the same man I remember. Not the man your mother married. I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I was happy for him when he died. I felt that only then could he be free from the life without Sabrina that made him so miserable. He told me once after you kids were grown that he wished he could go on and die so he could be with his Sabrina again.”

  “I never knew he felt that way,” Me’shelle said sadly. “I knew he missed Mommy, but I never knew that he was just waiting for us to grow up so he could die,” she said as the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it, Aunt Miranda.”

  “I don’t know why. It ain’t nobody but Juanita. I don’t know why she just doesn’t use her key. Always wanna act like she’s a guest,” Miranda said, but Me’shelle went to open it anyway.

  Me’shelle let her in. “Hi, Aunt Juanita.”

  “Good afternoon, Me’shell
e. How are you today?” Juanita asked as she came into her sister’s house.

  “I’m fine. I’m a little tired, but other than that I’m fine.” Me’shelle gave her aunt a hug and a kiss.

  “Hey, Miranda,” Juanita said as she went into the kitchen and sat down at the table next to her sister. “You both missed a good service this morning. Pastor Franks gave a fine sermon. My Lord, that man can preach.”

  “What was it about?” Me’shelle asked.

  “Being honest and facing things about yourself, ’cause God knows who you are. You can’t hide from him, so you might as well be honest.”

  “That’s right,” Me’shelle said. “Honest self-evaluation is a beautiful thing.”

  “Me’shelle, when are you goin’ to stop gettin’ your religion from those self help books and come back to church?” Juanita asked Me’shelle, but Miranda answered with a question.

  “Was that big head Trent there with that slut?” she asked as she got up and began to put dinner on the table.

  “Yes, he was there, and yes, she was with him.”

  “When him and the slut stop coming every Sunday, that’s when she’ll start going to that church again,” Miranda answered and Me’shelle smiled.

  “For the life of me, I don’t understand why she has to show her cleavage for all the world to see,” Juanita said, shaking her head. She got a knife out of the drawer and began to slice the ham.

  “Because she’s a slut, that’s why.” Miranda stated the obvious answer.

  “It is a shame to see half the men in church falling all over themselves trying to find a reason to stand in front of her. And the older men are worst. Can’t even look her in the eyes ’cause they’re all down in that cleavage,” Juanita said.

  Me’shelle hugged both of her aunts. “You two are something else, but I love you both,” she said and let out a deep yawn.

  “What are you yawning for, Me’shelle? Did you have a date last night?” Juanita asked excitedly.

  “No, her brother came by at four in the morning,” Miranda said.

  “You need to stop giving Bruce all of your money for him to smoke up,” Juanita said.

  “I know, Aunt Juanita, but he’s my brother,” Me’shelle said while she put the vegetables into bowls.

  “He’s my nephew, but I don’t give him any money, and I don’t allow him or Natalie to come in my house. I had to learn that the hard way, ’cause they will steal everything they think they can take to the pawn shop,” Juanita preached while she carried a plate with the ham she had sliced, along with a plate of chicken, and put them on the dining room table. She came back in the kitchen still preaching. “I don’t know why Miranda still lets him in here.”

  “I just don’t let him out of my sight,” Miranda said as she pulled the baked macaroni and cheese from the oven. “He’s still family, but I ain’t stupid. But hold up, wait a minute. Ain’t you the one who always says that people like that need our prayers?”

  “Yes, I am,” Juanita said. “And I pray for Bruce and Natalie, and I especially pray for poor Brandy. She’s the one that needs all of our help and prayers and understanding. Having two junkies for parents has to be hard on her. I only wish I could have gotten custody of her, but that Natalie’s a smart one. She knew how to clean herself up and get her a job just long enough to have the judge let her stay with them.”

  “I wish you had too,” Me’shelle said. “I try to spend as much time with her as I can, but I know it’s not enough. She’s fifteen now, going on twenty-two, and looking like it too. I think she’s a little young to be hangin’ out all night, but they let her do what she wants to. And did you know she started smoking cigarettes?”

  “No, but I’m not surprised,” Miranda said. “Next thing she’ll be smokin that stuff with them and they’ll have her out selling herself so they can get high just like her mother.”

  “You know, Aunt Miranda, it’s just the three of us. Why do you cook enough food to feed an army? I have to go on a diet, starve myself and exercise so I won’t get fat.”

  The doorbell rang and Juanita went to answer it. “Are you expecting somebody, Miranda?”

  “No, not that I know of. Maybe Me’shelle talked up some guests for dinner,” Miranda replied.

  Juanita opened the door and there stood Bruce, Natalie, and Brandy. “What are you doing here?” Juanita asked, blocking the door.

  “What? I ain’t invited to Sunday dinner no more?” Bruce asked.

  Miranda rushed to the door. “Of course you are. He is family, Juanita. Get out of the way and let them in.”

  “That’s right, Aunt Juanita. We still a part of this family whether you like it or not,” Bruce said as he walked by Juanita. Natalie followed him. Brandy just stood there looking at Juanita.

  “Hi, Aunt Juanita. Can I come in?”

  “Of course you can, child. Come give your aunt a hug. You look more and more like your grandmother, rest her soul, every day.”

  Miranda and Me’shelle came to welcome Brandy with hugs and kisses. “Yes, she does,” Miranda said. “How are you doing, Brandy?”

  “I’m doin’ great, Aunt Miranda. What’s up, Me’shelle?” Brandy hugged her aunt.

  Bruce and Natalie didn’t get the same reception. Their presence in the house was met with cold stares and a general feeling of tension. Juanita watched them closely while the rest of the food was set out on the table. She never took her eyes off of them while Me’shelle and Brandy brought out the silverware and set the table. Now that dinner was ready, they all gathered around the table and bowed their heads in prayer.

  After dinner, Bruce stepped up to Me’shelle. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “Sure, Bruce. What do you want to talk about?”

  “Let’s talk outside.” Once they were outside, Bruce said, “Me’shelle, I need two thousand dollars by Friday.”

  “No, Bruce. I told you last night I’m not gonna give you any more money. I can’t keep doing this. And besides, where would I get two thousand dollars?”

  “From them,” Bruce said, pointing at the house. “Get it from your aunts. They’ll give it to you with no questions asked. Tell them you need to get your car fixed or you’re behind on your rent. It doesn’t matter what you tell them. Please, Me’shelle, just get me the money.”

  “No, Bruce, I’m not gonna do that. I’ll take you and Natalie to a treatment program to get yourselves together. Brandy can stay with me until you two got it together, but I won’t ask them for any money so you can get high.”

  “You don’t understand me, Me’shelle. They’re gonna kill me if I don’t have it by Friday. Please, Me’shelle, you’re the only one I can come to.”

  “Bruce, if somebody’s gonna kill you, the best thing for you to do is leave Brandy with me, and you and Natalie get out of town. I’ll buy you two bus tickets to anywhere you want to go.”

  “Thanks for nothing, sis,” Bruce said as he turned to go back in the house. Then he stopped and faced Me’shelle. “But how you gonna live with yourself when I’m dead?”

  Chapter Eight

  Travis lay in bed and concentrated all of his mental energy on the situation that he found himself in. There were things happening all around him that told Travis it was time to get out of this robbery game and focus his energy on more positive things. Foremost on his mind was the fact that Freeze had every intention of killing Ronnie if he fucked up one more time. Although Ronnie had promised to tighten up and stick to the plan, Travis knew Ronnie all too well. If some little thing happened that he hadn’t planned for and it caused them to get caught, Freeze might take matters into his own hands.

  No, getting out now before anything else happened was the only option that Travis saw available. However, there was still the issue of money. When he started out, he had set out very specific financial goals that he wanted to accomplish. The plan was to have a half-million dollars in his numbered account in the Cayman Islands, his house in Connecticut and the timeshare in Freeport paid f
or, as well as his mother’s house in Fort Myers.

  He had never intended for this to become a way of life, but here he was two years later, still caught up in the game. He had been sidetracked from achieving his financial goals by giving into his passions. Travis liked to travel, so he’d been to Los Angeles, Vegas, Atlantic City, Miami, and the islands. He would fly to the islands at the drop of a dime. He also knew that hanging out with Ronnie and Jackie at Cynt’s and places like that took a chunk of his money.

  Travis glanced over at Mystique as he tried to focus on a solution. She was out like a light. The solution was simple: Make as much money as he could, as quickly as he could, with minimal risk. He had to become more disciplined about the way he spent his money. The words Jackie had spoken to Ronnie now had resonance for him. You need to stop your bullshit and stick to the plan. No deviation, just do what the plan calls for.

  Travis glanced over at Mystique again. She was becoming an expensive habit too. It wasn’t like she was charging a straight fee for her services, and her skills at providing those services were formidable, but she was getting very “needy.” Travis, I need this. Travis, I saw that. Travis, wouldn’t that like look nice on me? She was smoking up all the weed, and of course, he had to pay her to dance for him whenever he went to Cynt’s. She got to go too, Travis thought, but her neediness and formidable skills aside, he was really starting to like Mystique. He had grown accustomed to having her around. I don’t care. She gotta go.

  And what about Me’shelle Lawrence? What was the deal with that? He saw the disappointed look on her face when he didn’t press her for her phone number. Women like to be pursued, to be made to feel desirable, and he simply walked away like she was of no more importance to him than the next woman who passed his way. That definitely wasn’t the case. All of her beauty and physical attributes aside, he found her to be quite thoughtful and intelligent. How does she fit into your plan?

  There was no time to think about that now. Travis would make time to see her and establish some type of relationship with her when he solidified his financial position.