John put her on the bed and began to kiss her. He removed her clothes and took his off. He began to kiss her all over, from the top of her to her bottom, where he began to please her orally. Bunny moaned, and John kept going. As he was pleasuring Bunny, he tasted her, and the feeling lit him up on the inside. He loved it. Something popped into his head. This was it. Not only was this the moment he had been waiting for and dreaming about for years, but they would finally consummate their relationship. John and Bunny made love all day.
John went out to meet with the new partners he had recruited to help rebuild Chimera. He needed some gum and had no time to stop by a store before going to the meeting. Bunny told him that she had some in her wallet. It was smashed but still fresh. He went into her checkbook wallet, looked, and found it. He also found an old, folded napkin that was practically flat. It was from the Playboy Club. He opened it and saw that it had writing on it. He read it and realized it was the same napkin he had given her with his old phone number on it. She had kept that paper all of this time. He could not believe it. He put it back the way he had found it and returned her wallet to her purse.
Celia finally made it back to Harlem to visit her mother for the first time in a year. The reunion was great, and they were happy to see each other. Celia felt sorry for leaving her for so long but promised to make it up to her. Celia made plans for her mother to leave finally the wasteland of Harlem and live in Jamaica with her after much convincing. Celia promised her that she would enjoy it and that she could retire in peace and the sun. They went out for lunch in Manhattan, where they sat and talked to each other for hours. They discussed Jerome and the conditions in Harlem. She informed her mother that she had promised Mariana that she would remain in their lives in some capacity. Celia felt that was the least she could do. While they were enjoying lunch, she saw a newspaper that someone had left on another table at the café. She went over and grabbed it to look at the headline. On the front page, she saw a photo of Enzo Ambrosino with a headline announcing his death. She took the paper and set it aside. She decided to pass it along to John when she went back to the house. Celia and her mother finished their lunch and returned to Harlem to start packing. Before they left, she informed her mother that she wanted to introduce her to her old, new boyfriend, John, and invite her to his first wine tasting.
“You like torturing yourself, young lady, don’t you?” her mother said.
Bunny returned to Yonkers later on in the evening and examined the headline and story further. The article stated that Ambrosino suddenly fell ill with strange symptoms and died at Bellevue Hospital. John made it back home for the day and was glad to see her as usual. Bunny walked up to kiss him. Then she handed him the newspaper. “John, did you see the paper today?” she asked him.
“I did,” he responded.
“So, you have anything to tell me?” she asked in a sweet, flirtatious tone.
“No, I don’t,” he responded in the same way. “Just because I go and see him and he dies a few days later does not mean that I had anything to do with it. He was decrepit. I had nothing to do with that. I have excellent negotiating skills,” he said.
“Uh-huh,” Bunny responded.
“Uh-huh, nothing. I have a surprise for you, but you will see that at the get-together.” John pulled her closer to kiss her.
Ben remained in jail as he waited for his trial. The news that Brenda had blurted out to him sat in his head while he recovered from heroin withdrawals. He applied for treatment and rehabilitation, but in the meantime, he had to continue to wait. He did not want to be a father, but he had no choice. His mind kept going back to the box of baby clothes that Jerome had left there. He felt guilty. He would be responsible for yet another kid growing up without a father. What kind of father could he be in prison? How do you raise a child from behind bars? Would his child end up like him? Would he ever see Brenda and the baby? Was it even his baby?
Ben’s cellmate was another man being held for drug possession. His name was Patrick. Patrick had been jailed for unlawful possession of needles and illegal possession of heroin. He also was charged with selling to a minor. He faced up to a forty-year prison sentence with no probation or parole if he was convicted. He had been convicted before for lesser drug crimes, and recent changes in the law made the penalties tougher for repeat offenders. Patrick was an older white male who had a long grayish beard and sparse long hair. He had tattoos on his face and arms, from what Ben could see. He looked like a mix of scary, intimidating, and old hippie. He had served in the Korean War. He did not say much. He had a pocket Bible that he would take out and read occasionally. As he read it, he would make cheering gestures. Ben did not know what to think of him, but he decided to break the ice. The awkward silence bothered him. For all he knew, this person could be one of those who would shank you while you slept. “What are you in for?” Ben asked him.
“I sell drugs, and I smoke them too,” Patrick said while he laughed. His sparse, brown teeth became more noticeable. “I know what you are in for; it’s in the news, and everybody is talking about it. I’m Pat,” he said while extending his hand so that Ben could shake it.
“I’m Ben.”
“You read the Bible? It’s some good shit in here. There’s killing, some weird shit like parting water, and locusts. Lots of locusts. There’s drinking blood; there’s sacrificing animals, and shit. It’s better than a movie. You have to read this,” Pat said.
“No, thanks,” Ben said.
“No, actually, I see why people go to church and talk about it. It’s entertaining. There is one story where Adam and Eve, they were naked; they had kids, the kids were jealous of each other, and one killed the other. The guy murdered his brother because he had the better girl. Can you believe that? It’s just like one of those soaps the women watch. There were only two of them, so the one that was left had to sleep with all the women so they could make more people. Cain and Abel, it was,” Pat said.
“Are you some preacher?” Ben asked him.
“No, man. I’m just here spreading the good message. That will be my next career. People pay good money to have some guy tell them what they can read for free. I can sell them some dreams,” Pat said and chuckled.
The explanation about Cain and Abel intrigued Ben. He took Pat up on his offer to read the book. He thought it could take his mind off other things until he went to court. Before he began reading, he asked Pat about his tattoos. Pat went down both arms and legs, explaining what each symbol represented. When he got to his face, he pointed out a small one under his eye. It was a teardrop. Pat told him that it was a symbol of the old fraternity. The old fraternity referred to the Cain and Abel story. It symbolized the killing of your brother. “If you ever kill your brother, you get one. Everyone will know what you are capable of doing, and they won’t mess with ya. I haven’t killed anybody yet, but it’s good to have,” Pat told him while laughing. Ben thought that people avoided Pat because he was crazy, but the idea made sense. Ben inquired about getting a teardrop tattoo. “Have you ever killed your brother?” Pat asked.
“Do I have to answer that?” Ben replied.
Pat leaned back and looked at him. “Well…I have a stick pin and some ink from this pen here. I’ll do this, but no screaming,” he said. Ben lay down and let Patrick do a quick inking of a teardrop. It was nothing dramatic but enough for a first-time jail tattoo. Once the tattoo was complete, both of them turned in for the night. The next day, Patrick was led out of the cell. While he was being escorted out, he turned back to Ben and said, “Let the good book guide you.” They took him away, and Ben never heard from him again. Ben stayed in the cell for the next day by himself with nothing to do but read the Bible, looking for the stories that Patrick had mentioned.
The next day, Ben was awakened from his sleep, handcuffed, escorted by guards, and moved to another room. In the room his lawyer, Mark Sullivan, and the court-appointed mental health professional waited to ask him some questions. Sullivan informed him that th
e grand jury had voted to indict him and that he was requesting a motion to look for more information about his case. He was going to use most of the forty-five-day timeframe to do so. In the meantime, they wanted to do a test on him. Ben did not know what that entailed. Sullivan explained to him that he wanted Ben to be forthright with his answers so he could help in the best way possible. Sullivan then questioned Ben. “What happened under your eye?”
Ben had to come up with something quick. He knew that what he said in this room could mean the difference between life in prison or prison with parole. “It’s a tear because I am sad. I’m sad in the world; it makes me cry like sadness makes Jesus cry,” he said. “What you find on me is the work of the Lord, and I do as he instructed me to do. I hear a voice from him telling me to do something, and I do it. I’m a good servant.” Ben proceeded to pull up his sleeves and show his lawyer the needle marks and bruises. “You see those? They are marked by God. I fought the enemy, and it left scars. I fought the enemy in the war. We were all soldiers for God. ‘Kill a gook for God’ was our motto. Look at my feet, scarred like Jesus was scarred when he carried the cross. This city is my cross,” he added.
Sullivan had paused before he proceeded to ask, “Did you understand that what you were doing was wrong?”
Ben responded, “I’m doing the Lord’s work. The Bible. It’s all in there, and you should read it. The drugs help people to escape the pain. Ask them; they will tell you.” He pulled out the Bible that Patrick had lent to him and slid it across the table. Sullivan and the doctor looked at it.
“We know what this is, Benjamin,” Sullivan said. “Do you understand that some of your actions broke the law?” he asked.
“The law made by man is not God’s law,” Ben said. “I am only required to follow the law of God. You take from the rich and give to the poor; you help them numb their pains; you take out criminals who harm the communities. That’s God’s work. He instructs us to do so. I can’t control that. I can’t stop God. He uses my body as a vessel. God is telling me now to silence that woman, but I can’t because you have me tied,” he said as he looked at the mental health examiner with them.
Sullivan sat back in his chair in disbelief. The mental-health examiner fiercely wrote in her notebook as Ben spoke. “Are you still using?” Sullivan asked him.
“The drugs, you mean? They give me superpowers. If I had some now, I could get out of this chair, these cuffs,” Ben said. Sullivan and the mental-health examiner motioned to the officers that they were done.
“OK, well, I will see what I can do,” Sullivan said as he motioned for the guards to let him and the doctor leave the area. They were escorted out, and Ben was sent back to his cell. Watching Patrick in the cell had given Ben a map on how to communicate with people and appear insane. He only had to mock Patrick’s mannerisms and actions. Ben hoped he had played well enough for his lawyer to have any statement he said to police suppressed on grounds of mental incompetence.
When it came time for Ben to face the charges, a true bill for an indictment was issued, and Ben went in front of a judge for a bench trial. The judge had ordered a presentencing investigation and report to make sure that the decision they came to was thoroughly examined and complete. His lawyer withdrew Ben’s guilty plea and entered a not-guilty plea. He bargained for lesser charges due to insanity, using the “M’Naghten Rule” as a partial defense. He presented the findings of the mental health professional stating that Ben was mentally ill. He recommended that Ben be placed in an institution for long-term treatment, as he had been treated before for substance abuse in the military. Sullivan claimed that his client was mentally deficient but that long-standing drug abuse and trauma from the war had caused this state. Sullivan said that substantial long-term treatment could cure him.
The investigators could not find a weapon that would have caused the blood spatter in the apartment, nor could they prove that he had committed the crime since he shared the apartment with a roommate who was now deceased. They only had hard evidence of his weapons and drug distribution, as well as the robbery charge. Prosecutors argued that the evidence they had against him was strong enough to put him away. They said that made him ineligible for release, although they were satisfied with the mental-health examiner’s findings. Ben had been convicted before during his court-martial in the US Army, and that fell under the ten-year predicate violation law.
Ben made a statement that his lawyer had informed him of the physical evidence and had to convince him that he had committed these actions that broke the law. The judge determined that a costly trial was likely to produce the same outcome with an insanity ruling. The prosecutors noted that the people were satisfied that the affirmative defense of lack of criminal responsibility by reason of mental disease or defect would likely be proven by the defendant at a trial by a preponderance of the evidence. The judge determined that he be committed to a state psychiatric facility for ten years.
A mental-health professional showed up to escort Ben to an inpatient mental-health facility at Bellevue Hospital. He would finally receive an opportunity to deal appropriately with the trauma of war and years of heavy narcotic use. Ben was placed in an antiviolence program. Part of his rehabilitation program would include retraining for society. The program taught participants that people who lost their bond with society caused delinquency, and the program retrained them to assimilate.
Chapter 15
With a clear head, John went to work. After making love to Bunny and informing her that she would not be able ever to get rid of him now, he had to draw out what he wanted for the future of the company. He was going to turn Chimera into a multifaceted corporation, but he knew that he needed to make his first venture a hit before he could think about expanding. The focus of the company would first center on his winery. He finally understood why Bunny ate so many fruits and berries. It made her juices sweeter. She tasted so good to him, and he wanted to make that his signature flavor. He had to find a way to duplicate her body juices without tipping her off. That meant that he had to make love to her repeatedly until he nailed it, which was something that John did not mind doing and Bunny did not mind receiving. They were finally in love with each other with no interferences.
The despair of the South Bronx and Harlem had spread into New York City. In less than ten short years, New York City had transformed from a once promising metropolitan municipality that benefited from the positive economic growth of the past thirty years into a fiscal hell. Incidences of murders and snatchings of personal property, such as chains and handbags, were at a record high. Joblessness went through the roof, and morale plummeted. Drug culture ruled the atmosphere. Disgruntled citizens had come to a point where they discouraged tourists from coming to New York because conditions were so bad. Union officials distributed flyers around the city that warned people not to go outside after six o’clock, not to walk anywhere, to take cabs, to stay off public transportation, and not to venture past Midtown Manhattan. The unions used these leaflets to protest looming layoffs and the dismissal of four thousand officers. Some argued that these layoffs would make the city more unsafe than it already was.
John knew that the conditions in the city were not ripe to start a new business. He suggested to Bunny that they relocate to her new place in Jamaica, where they would find fertile lands, warm weather, and better business-growing conditions. He wanted to buy land there to start the winery. The prime minister’s socialist-leaning policies were beginning to fail, and the tide had returned to the favor of economic growth and development. Many of the protests there mirrored those in the States when it came to dissatisfaction with the government. John felt that this would be a good time to get out of New York City, start over there, and take advantage of what Jamaica had to offer. Bunny agreed to it, but she was adamant that he would have to find a place on his own. She had made it clear that she was taking her mother and moving away for the time being. She was not interested in housing extra bodies that did not belong to relatives, an
d that included boyfriends. They were a couple now, but she did not believe in shacking up before marriage.
John knew this about her already. Once he realized that she would stay with him, he made sure after the meeting with Enzo Ambrosino to stop off in the diamond district in Manhattan to pick up a ring so he could propose to her. He did not intend to let Bunny walk away from his life for the third time. Before he knelt down, he wanted to get everything in order so there would be no delays at the beginning of their new life.
John contacted a wine distributor that he knew in New York City. He suggested a meeting with him and his wine-making team to help him create the right flavor, blend, aroma, and texture. The winemaker asked about John’s inspiration for the flavor. John explained only that the taste came from a particular woman. “Did she create the flavor?” The winemaker did not know what he meant.
“Not quite, but it tastes like her,” John answered.
“Tastes like her? You aren’t a cannibal or something?” the winemaker joked.
“No, but her juices are sweet,” John said.
The guy stared at him for a second before he got it. “Oh. OK, just a quick question: Do you want strangers to know what your lady’s—um, what should I say?—lady parts taste like?” he asked.
“I won’t tell them the specifics, no. I have not decided if I will tell her either. She may kill me. She’ll figure it out one day,” John said.
“Wow, well, this is a first.” The winemaker chuckled.
“It is. That’s the point. There is a goldmine between those thighs. Good stuff in there,” John said.
“Well, let’s get to work then,” the winemaker chimed back. They proceeded to make wine magic in the studio.
John knew exactly what he wanted, and after a couple of hours of mixing flavors, they came up with the perfect taste. He asked a designer to create a label for him and ordered to have some bottles made. John brought in a photo he had taken of Bunny while she was still working at the club. He hired an artist to draw her silhouette as the logo. BunnyWine was officially born. He wanted to introduce the new wine to friends and Bunny at a get- together before they left the city. After John had told him about his plans, the distributor put him in contact with a landowner in Jamaica who had a winery there. The process took months, as they needed time for the wine to ferment, clear, and age.
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