by A L Williams
"Wear something nice," he looked me over. I grunted.
"Bi go maith," he said. Be well, strolling out of my office. It was still odd to hear him in his native tongue of Gaelic. I was grateful he at least taught me or I wouldn't have any clue what he was saying. The other officers and detectives always looked at him curiously when it slipped. Of course, he didn't care one bit. I envied him for that.
I walked over to the window, looking out at the station parking lot, police cars pulling in and out as the sun beat down, waves of heat rippling off the pavement.
I undid the top button of my white dress shirt, drawing out a necklace with beads of different colors mixed in with tarnished coins and a hand-carved, wooden claw. I rolled the beads between my fingers, watching the trees sway against the hot wind outside. The sun radiated through the window as I grounded myself with the feeling of the smooth beads.
Junior!
Junior!
Please wake up, beau garçon.
Another knock came at the door, pulling me from my thoughts. "Enter."
I turned and found a young officer running in. "Detective Scott, we need you for questioning." Buttoning my shirt back up after shoving the necklace inside my shirt, I followed him, entering an interview room with tables and chairs, pens and pads of paper scattered about. At the table, a woman, covered in dirt and grime, sat handcuffed to the chair. I approached, wrinkling my nose, the stench of unbathed flesh hitting me. The woman stared at me as I sat down. The officer handed me his pad, with notes scribbled down on it.
"You were brought in for public disruption," I said. The woman turned away without a word. "That's okay. You're entitled to not speak without representation."
She turned back, her eyes hard. "They are returning.”
I leaned forward. "Who?"
She smirked. "The heavens."
Great, another crazy.
"Ma'am, do you have somewhere to go?"
"They are coming," she repeated. She started to rock, repeating her words over and over again. "They are coming." I frowned and she met my gaze. "There is death on the horizon."
"Leave us alone," I waved off the police officer. He nodded and left the room. "What do you mean?" I said as the door latched shut.
"The heavens are coming."
I tilted my head. "Are you talking about God?"
She shook her head, her eyes twinkling. "He is perfect. But his first children are far from it." She jumped over the table, pulling the chair with her. She grabbed my shirt as two officers ran in with their guns pointed at her. She drew me in and I cringed at her putrid breath. "He is here." she spat.
"Who?" I asked, my heart beating hard against my chest.
"The Morning Star." The police officers dragged her back, slamming her down on the table as she started to laugh, the sound crazed.
"Take her to detox." I walked out of the room, her laughter echoing through the door. I returned to my office, her words repeating in my head.
They are coming.
~
I pulled into my driveway, turning off the car and stepping out. "Bonswa," said a familiar voice. I turned.
"Mambo—" I started, looking down at an ebony-skinned woman, wrinkles spreading across her face and around her dark, brown eyes. Her colorful, earthy-toned dress fell to her feet. Mambo was her titled, which meant priestess, and had been so since she migrated to the states. Even though she wasn’t in Haiti anymore, she still preferred to wear Haitian fashion. Even her scent reminded me of home. She faced me with a hand-beaded necklace of bones and stones lying on her chest.
"Shall we speak to the loa?" she said.
I shuffled my feet on the concrete. "I'm sorry. I forgot. I have other plans."
She narrowed her eyes. "You are Houngan, boy."
I slumped. "I know." She started instructing me to become Houngan from a young age, also known as a priest meant to guide Vodun followers. My training stopped when my mother died and I met Ben, he found my Mambo and brought her to the states. Soon after, Vodunist transplants appeared, looking to me to lead them. That’s when Mambo restarted my education.
"Rosaline!" a guy yelled from an old rusty car--a car that shouldn't be on the road--parked at the curb. I needed to talk to her about that.
"Tomorrow," she turned and walked towards the car, climbing in. The guy nodded at me and then pulled off the curb. I watched it disappear, smoke rising from the back as it sped off.
I entered my house, dropping my keys on the table at the door, passing the living room filled with modern furniture in shadows of gray and blue. Against one wall was a large flat-screen television on a stand with DVDs and a player. The setting sun threw beams of light across the tile floors. When I entered my bedroom, I flopped on my bed, the springs creaking under me. The sun cast shadows along the whites walls, littered with pictures and art. Across from the bed was my large dresser with very little on it. I grew up with very little and carried that minimalist sensibility into my adulthood.The woman from the station drifted into my mind as I stared up at nothing.
They are coming.
What had she meant? A chill ran down my spine, remembering the insanity in her eyes. I shook it off. I pulled my necklace out of my shirt, rolling the beads between my fingertips. My phone rang in my pocket and I pulled it out. "Hey.”
"Are you getting ready? You better not be brooding over the unfairness of your life again," Ben said.
I lifted my leg and tugged my shoe off. "It's only seven." I heard shuffling on the other end of the phone as I removed the other shoe.
"You're thinking of your mother," he said.
It had been twenty-four years today since the day she died, leaving me with only this necklace and bitter memories. It was all I had left of her. I froze when I realized why he had invited me to the club. I would have spent the rest of the night thinking about her. I smiled, my stomach warming. He may be ridiculous, but he had always cared about me. I leaned back against my hand, sinking into the comforter. "I'll be ready soon."
"Chan e do choire a th'ann," he said. It is not your fault. I squeezed my eyes shut. He said that to me every year. Even now, I was surprised he remembered.
"I know," I whispered.
"Do you?" he said.
I tensed. He always saw right through me. "I'm trying." The phone was silent.
"She loved you. You. Not him. She didn't know him," he said. I fell back on my bed, the springs groaning under me. He sighed. “Be ready. I'll be there soon." The call ended.
After I tossed the phone on the bed, I stood slowly, dragging myself to the bathroom, my body heavy. I stopped in front of the mirror, the light bouncing off the sink fixtures, accenting the marbled counter. I glanced at my reflection and studied the dark circles, emphasizing the deep lines under my close-set, almond-shaped eyes. I climbed into the shower and leaned against the wall. Water poured over my shoulders, helping to release some tension.
That night at Divine came back. The memory of the man’s firm ass gripped in my hand and his hard cock pressing against my thigh filled my mind. It had been obvious he wasn’t unaffected, but why did he run? Did I do something wrong? And why was I still thinking of him? He had made it clear that he wanted to get far away from me. I should just let it go. I couldn't exactly be honest with him.
It's not your fault.
Once I was clean, I stepped out of the shower into the foggy room and walked back into my bedroom; the silence deafening. Sometimes I missed the loud music and countless voices of the village in Haiti. America was a much more diverse place with more opportunities, but there was nothing like home. I dressed and went into the living room. I looked to my bookshelf in the corner, a picture of Mambo, my mother, and a small child. I frowned, furrowing my brow as I moved over to it. It was always strange looking at the boy.
A knock came at the door. When I opened it, Ben sauntered in, dressed in a tight purple T-shirt with a white blazer and a pair of designer jeans. Even with all his primping, he was never late. He studie
d my gray t-shirt and black jeans. "Passable."
"I don't know why you care so much about what I wear," I said.
He smirked. "You're my partner. You have to look good."
I rolled my eyes. "You're so conceited."
He shrugged. "I can't help that I'm gorgeous."
"Let's get this over with."
Chapter Three
James
The sun looked down upon Fresh N Hot as customers crowded in. A long counter, stacked with chrome espresso and frothing machines pressed against the wall. A tip jar with dollar bills and change lay on the refrigerated glass display below the register, loaded with assorted of pastries. The aroma of coffee beans from around the world permeated the shop. Alongside it, the hint of vanilla, hazelnut, and other exotic blends wafted in my nose. Round tables littered the space with people alone or in groups.
"Are you okay?" Hayley said, standing next to the towers of paper cups and lids that surrounded the register. She hadn't stopped pestering me about last weekend, and I was running out of excuses.
"What?" I blinked and glanced down, coffee spilling over the rim of the cup in my hand. "Shit," I muttered. I put the pot down and grabbed some towels to wipe up the mess.
She kneeled, grabbing my hand. "You're thinking of him, aren't you." I clenched my jaw. "You burned yourself." She stared at my hand, confusion plastered on her face. I stood up and threw the towel into the bucket marked Dirty Towels.
"The customers," I said. She ran to the register, and I continued to busy myself, still feeling her gaze against my back. Once she handed the final customer their change, she stormed over to me and pulled me into the kitchen. "Is there something you're not telling me?" I backed up, bumping into a metal table.
I glanced away. “No.” She narrowed her eyes. I held my hands up in surrender. “I told you I'm fine.”
"Bull— " she started.
"Hayley!" Corbin said as he walked up to us. Corbin opened the shop four years before he hired me. He didn't ask many questions, which I was grateful for. He straightened his thin black blazer over his shirt, shifting the golden necklace and cross at his chest. "There are customers. When you get a chance." She glanced through the swinging doors at the counter where several customers waited and pouted as she slumped and wandered back to the register.
He looked at me and smiled, brushing his shoulder-length, light brown hair out of his face. Corbin and Hayley were cousins. They were so different I didn't believe it at first, but seeing the way they interact reminded me of family.
"Let's talk," he said. I followed him through the kitchen and looked back, catching Hayley glaring at me through the little window on the swinging doors. We entered a small room that had a large, cherry wood desk that squeezed into the tight space. A computer screen, keyboard, and an assortment of office supplies sat on the desk, electrical cords dangling off the edge and a wastebasket against it. Corbin sat in a rolling, cushioned chair.
"Listen, I'm sorry. Sometimes Hayley can be— " I started. Corbin’s hand shot up, and I clamped my mouth shut.
"I need your help with converting business documents to digital," he said.
I walked around the desk and sat down as he moved out of the chair. He showed me what I needed to do. I had never been to school, but I was skilled with computers. There was no documentation of my birth, other than a vague inventory of the slave on the Miller Plantation. I created an identity, which I would alter every decade to avoid discovery, but it had grown more difficult as the world shifted into the digital era. So, I taught myself everything through trial and error. It was becoming much harder to modify digital data and that made me nervous.
In the end it worked out well for Corbin because he was computer illiterate. He didn't even have a smartphone. Instead, he preferred old flip phones from the early 2000s. I finished up the task and got out of the chair. He walked up, examining my work and patted my shoulder. "Thanks," he said. I moved out of his chair. "Is everything okay? She is worried about you." He typed, the clicking loud in the small room.
"I— " I stopped.
He turned his eyes to me. "You can always talk to us if you need to," I looked down at the floor, sunlight reflecting off the tile. I turned back, finding him studying me. "Get back to work before she drives me bankrupt." I chuckled.
~
Later, Hayley had left for the night to go to class and, as I started cleaning up and flipping chairs on top of tables, the sun hung low above the mountains. The man at the club drifted through my mind again. His dark eyes sent a chill down my spine. I had done everything I could to not think of him, but my body wasn't having it.
Sudden screams echoed in my head. I gripped the table, my fingers tingling. I squeezed my eyes shut and took several deep breaths. When I pulled back my hand, a scorch mark was left behind on the table. I furrowed my brow. It was too dangerous to get involved. I didn't know if I could keep from hurting them.
I miss you, mama.
A few hours later, my phone rang, dragging me from my daydreaming. I pulled it from my pocket. “Hello.”
"Hey, I called to ask you something," Hayley said.
I flopped into a nearby chair. “What's up?”
“You're coming with me to Divine tonight,” she said.
I rolled my eyes. “That’s not asking.”
"Oh come on. You had fun last time," she grumbled.
I rubbed my temple. "It's been a long day. I just want to relax."
“At least come with me so I'm not alone,” she said.
I leaned back as the setting sun washed the room in golden light. “Why don’t you invite your school friends?”
“Ashley and Jesús have other plans,” she replied, “It could be fun. What if he's there?”
I swallowed. "I don't care about that."
"Liar. You owe me," she said. I groaned. That’s the last time I’ll ask her to cover a shift.
"My class ends at seven. Meet me here. Do you want help picking out an outfit?” she asked.
I cringed. If she had her way, I would wear something ridiculous and tight. “No, I’ll be fine.”
“See you soon,” she said.
I pulled myself to my feet. “Bye.” I hung up and returned to closing up. After I finished, it was time to go get Hayley. I said my goodbyes to Corbin, who was in the back doing paperwork. After I grabbed my things, I stepped out into the evening air. Strolling to my car, a shiver rolled down my spine. I glanced behind me, finding only the trees swaying in the breeze. Street was quiet except for the whistle of the wind and the sound of traffic. I released a heavy breath. “You need to calm down.” I continued walking, unable to shake the sense that I was being watched.
Pima, the local college, rose above me as I drove up the dusty hills along Anklam road. Hayley had attended school before I met her. I pulled into the campus, the pavement aged and gray with the occasional pothole. The covered parking with solar panels towered over the spaces. The sun bathed the college’s terracotta walls in light, planted trees scattered about the structure. Students and professors walked throughout the parking lot with paperwork, books, or backpacks slung over their shoulders.
I entered the outside main courtyard and strolled along the sidewalk lined by rocks and cacti. I passed buildings with classrooms circling the yard. I swallowed around the lump in my throat. My steps echoed across the walls as students brushed past me; others stood talking and laughing. Several students sat at cement patio tables, focused on their textbooks, eyes trailing the lines of each page. The smell of aloe invaded my senses, and I shoved my hands into my denim pockets. “Jamie!” Hayley’s voice said as she jogged down from the stone balcony.
She ran into my arms and hugged me as if she hadn’t seen me in years. I stood stiff as she squeezed me, her head against my chest. Her friends, Ashley and Jesús, strolled up behind her.
“Hayley, you better stop that before James breaks into little pieces,” he said, a smirk that brightened his dark bronze skin across his youthful face.
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re just jealous,” she said.
My stomach churned as his gaze lingered. “Hey,” he said, with a wide, sultry smile.
"Hey." I glanced away. I had only met him a few times, but he always gave me a very weird feeling. Something about him rubbed me the wrong way. I looked down at Hayley’s five foot, two inches. “How was class?”
She poked out her lip. “Professor McKenzie was brutal. I'm convinced she doesn’t like me.” Ashley smirked, wrapping her fingers around her backpack straps on her chest.
“Maybe if you didn’t fuck around, she would,” Jesús said, swinging his backpack over his shoulder.
“I get good grades and I always pass the tests with flying colors!” Hayley said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I mean come on, is it necessary to ask me how abuse can affect a child? It’s not even a subject in sociology!” Jesús and Ashley laughed. I looked between the three of them, rocking back on my feet.
I jerked my head around when someone moved beside me. “Was my lecture not to your liking, Ms. McDonald?” she said, her voice firm and deep, yet feminine. The laughter died as they turned to her.
“Ms. McKenzie— ” Hayley said, her eyes narrowed as she looked at the professor.
“Professor McKenzie,” she said. Her long raven hair rained down around her wide shoulders, framing her angular, rounded eyes. She glanced at me with a frown on her face, her throat bobbing as she swallowed.
“Professor— ” Hayley started. The professor’s hand shot up.
“I expect a one thousand word essay since you found it so distasteful.”
Hayley gaped at the professor. “But no one else— ”
Ms. McKenzie brushed passed us. “One thousand words, Ms. McDonald,” she said, as she walked into the main building. Ashley and Jesús shared a look, bursting out laughing moments later.
Hayley glared at them. “Shut up!” She shoved Jesús, and he stumbled back, as he continued to laugh.
“Let’s go,” Ashley said, dragging Jesús down the inclined walkway.