He Who Is a Protector (Sadik Book 3)

by Love Belvin

  “How his daddy feel about you giving me his money?”

  “That’s not Sadik’s money. It’s mine. I may not have an Ellis’ wealth, but I do have a paying job and a little cushion to fall back on. That’s what I wanted to share with you.”

  Her attention went back to the baby, face expressionless. After a few seconds, she uttered, “I still can’t believe you had a baby. Seem like just a few months ago, we was at your mother’s spot waiting for her to finish cookin’ that Somali shit we used to fuck up.”

  A wry smile spread on my face at the vivid memory. That was so many moons ago. My hooya had been gone for six years now. So much had happened since then. So many heartbreaks, so many twists and turns on my journey. Most days, I didn’t recognize myself. Like today, I was having dinner at exclusive DiFillippo’s with my friends so I could be a support to one. Oh, and I brought my baby along. I had a child. A child who owned my heart—along with his father.

  “Yeah,” I exhaled, brushing my hand down the back of my head as I rolled my eyes to prepare myself. “So, I have news to share with you guys, especially after the way you reacted to my changes last year.”

  “Bitch, you pregnant again,” Tasche stated rather than asked.

  Simultaneously, Randi blurted, “Y’all married?”

  I took another deep breath, my chin lifting into the air, trying to cling to bravery. Exhaling while tossing my regard to the wall, I admitted, “Both.”

  “Both what?” Randi demanded.

  “When you get pregnant again? I mean, daaamn!” Tasche cried.

  This was as hard as I thought it would be. I wasn’t used to explaining my decisions because none were ever so extreme.

  “I’m not exactly sure when I got pregnant. My doctor’s appointment is in a few days.”

  “How did you let him knock you up again?” Randi’s tone was finally lively.

  “That wasn’t the intention.” I shook my head. “It was partly my ignorance with my body. I didn’t know how soon I should have started my period after a C-section, especially because I’m not breastfeeding. Then with all the craziness that happened, I really didn’t get concerned until last week.” I shrugged. “That’s when I bought a few tests and found out.”

  “Crazy shit like Iban Ellis shootin’ up your baby’s room,” Randi qualified.

  The word had gotten out, and the last person I would be dishonest with about it was a friend of mine. So I didn’t deny it.

  “Yeah.” I nodded with pouted lips, fortifying the next piece of information. “And before that with Sadik’s father having a heart attack. That was a huge setback for the family.” Licking my lips, I hesitated again. “I was there when it happened.”

  Tasche sucked in a breath and her eyes popped wide. “Say fuckin’ word!” she graveled.

  I nodded when I noticed Randi’s expression of shock, even if not as much as Tasche’s.

  “Yeah.” I swallowed, trying to decide what’s necessary to share and what’s not. The Ellises were a private family with a public reputation. I understood that and would protect them. “It was more terrifying than I imagined it would be for me. I felt that familiar pain of loss when I saw his body curl to it.”

  “Wow! You really in deep with them?” Randi inquired.

  My eyes closed and I whispered, “I am. My son is one of them.”

  “They ain’t like you, Bilan,” Randi warned again. “Them muthafuckas kill people for fun.” The blaze in her eyes had finally arrived after all this time sitting here. A flash of ire in them.

  I leaned toward her, over the table. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t spit rhetoric like that in a public place when you’re with me.”

  “It’s true!” she screeched.

  “Until you can prove it, please watch what you say in front of my son and me.”

  “C’mon, Randi,” Tasche cried with Sadik cradled in her arm. “She just told you she married to the nigga with another baby on the way. Why you gotta bring that murky shit up?”

  Sadik started sniffling, a sign of getting cranky. It was dinner time. I dug into his bag for his bib; his bottle had been warmed already.

  “I’m just saying, I’m from the streets, Tasche,” Randi explained. “Been born in them. You from Harlem, you know Harlem. Them Ellis niggas go deep in the streets. They bury bones underneath the fuckin’ concrete!” she whispered hard as I extracted Sadik from Tasche’s arms.

  “Again, Randi, please keep that away from me and my son.” I kept my voice low. “I know the Ellises aren’t innocent, but they’re a real family with real hearts and real issues. Don’t dehumanize them. And at least when you’re around me, don’t discuss those things in public where others can hear.”

  The waiter was heading to our table with bagged food and the dessert menu.

  “Take your time,” he advised before walking away.

  “How much I owe you for this?” Randi asked, digging through her purse.

  “Nothing,” I screeched, taken aback. “I invited you here. I’ll take care of it.”

  “A’ight,” she exhaled. “I gotta go. Thanks for everything. Sorry if you think I disrespected you.” She stood, sounding very guarded.

  After placing the bottle in Sadik’s readied mouth, I watched her take off.

  “Later, T,” were Randi’s last words.

  Tasche shook her head, going for the dessert menu and sliding in Randi’s chair, closer to me.

  “Told you she was on one,” Tasche murmured. I didn’t respond right away, jostled by the energy that had just tornadoed at the table in that short time. Where had it come from? I knew Randi was off from the moment I met her outside of the restaurant, but I didn’t have expectations of her being high energy, considering her loss of Ricky. “Let me tell you something, yo,” Tasche whispered out of nowhere, eyes locked on me.

  I swallowed. “What?”

  “Watch out for her. I never liked the way she rolled witchu, but that bitch look scorned just now. And scorned bitches burn everybody around them. Don’t be surprised if she flip on you. Sometimes, death bring the fuckin’ demons outta people. The shit always been there, but been controlled until the lid come off. Ricky getting murked like that could be what blew the lid off that one. Be careful, B.”

  I nodded, chewing the inside of my cheek, gazing over Sadik, who was sucking hard and dozing off at the same time. Poor guy should be in the process of getting put down at this hour. I just couldn’t resist having him with me now. I didn’t want to wait until later tonight when he was fast asleep. He was my latest addiction—him and his father’s sexual organ. That small fact annoyed me.

  “I just don’t get her. If I was a weaker person, I’d feel some kind of way about her disposition around me since Sadik. It’s like she’s angry with me for, at first, simply dating a guy. I thought we’d be beyond that by now.”

  She softly tugged on Sadik’s clenched fist.

  “I ‘on’t know why you let her fuck with ya head like that. Randi got some shit with her.” Her eyes rolled to the menu book. “I know her kind, yo.”

  I peered down to Sadik to find him dozing off. He needed to finish the whole bottle so I wiggled it to rouse him. It worked, but I wasn’t sure for how long. When he was tired, he was tired. So I rearranged him in my arm, disturbing his relaxed state more.

  “Yo, I heard their crème brûlée be’s the shit,” Tasche rasped. “You ever tried it?”

  I nodded. “It’s the best.” Considering the time needed to finish feeding and burping Sadik, we could definitely fit desert on the agenda. “Let’s go for it.”

  “True dat.” She closed the menu as the waiter returned. “Two crème brûlées, my man.”

  “Two?” he verified, eyes swinging between the two of us.

  I nodded.

  Tasche repeated, “Two.” When he left the table, she turned toward me. “So, another damn baby, Bilan?” I nodded with a dry smile as I examined Sadik’s half-mast eyes. “Another damn, blond hair, green...blue—” Her
face folded as she gazed over Sadik. “Sometimes, I see hazel in there, too. But whatever color they is, another baby with them crazy features. You ready for that?”

  I laughed at her description. Then I shook my head, humor escaping my face. “No,” I answered honestly. “I wasn’t ready for this one either, but it’s been the single most creative thing I’ve done my whole life. Look at him. He’s untainted…hope.”

  “Hope for what?”

  I took a moment to consider that. “Hope for me to not feel like everyone I love dies or goes away.” I shrugged, rearranging him again in my arm to keep him awake. “Hope that he’ll contribute something good to this ugly world.” Then I thought some more. “Hope he can change his family. Be the first agent of change for the Ellises,” my voice but a whisper.

  Tasche sat back in her seat. “I fucks with that.” She nodded, picking up her phone.

  We spent the next twenty-five minutes or so chatting about the new guy she’d been dating and eating delicious crème brûlée after I burped Sadik and let him rest into a peaceful sleep. Tasche kept me laughing to the point of needing to unbutton my pants at the table.

  When we were done, I packed up Sadik’s things as the check was being settled. She held Sadik’s diaper bag as we trekked it to the front of the restaurant. I noticed the stumble in her stride when we reached the hostess’ desk.

  “Ezra?” she trilled, ghosted.

  At that name, a distinct chill coursed up my spine, and not the type a bald-headed kaleidoscopic-hued, golden man caused. There was only one person with that name I’d come across in my life. But this couldn’t be him. The tall, mahogany, bearded man with glasses perusing a menu glanced up at her. Slowly, recognition settled in his eyes as he removed the glasses with his marital banded left hand and slid them into the pocket of his blazer.

  His smile was…accompanied by charm and warmth. “Tasche,” he rasped deeper than her. “Good evening.”

  “Good evening? You mean night,” she teased him, but with a softer hand than her usual. “Whatchu doing in Hackensack this late?”

  He snorted, and—holy something in heaven—the man was gorgeous! Even with dark hair covering most of his head and face, his attractiveness was riveting.

  No way…

  “I had a late appointment and a certain friend of yours demanded eggplant parmigiana. In fact, she asserted if I did not arrive with this particular delicatessen in hand, I’d be addressed in the severest of manners.”

  Tasche snorted a hard laugh. “Lex ain’t that tough, chief.” Her one brow raised. “Is she, Ez?”

  He sighed. “As a wife, I can assure without reservation, she unequivocally is.”

  Chuckling, Tasche scratched her brow. “I wouldn’t know nothing ‘bout that. As long as you ain’t coming here for no cravings, I guess y’all good.”

  He chuckled lightheartedly as I stood dazed before him, clutching the handle to Sadik’s car seat tightly to the point of red knuckles. I couldn’t believe this was the preacher guy—the foreseer.

  Or is he?

  “No.” He shook his head, boyish grin curling his lips. “Not that.”

  “Good.” She gestured to Sadik’s baby bag hanging from her shoulder. “Because seem like all my real ones having them left and right.” There was a flicker in her eyes when they rolled up to me. “Oh, shit, E!” She turned fully to me. “This my girl, Bilan. She brought me out here with her baby boy for some grub tonight. We been tight since—” Her face folded. “Y’all met,” she declared with conviction before turning to him. “‘Memba last year…she came with me to one of your shows?”

  The memory clearly lost upon him, his brows shot up in the air as he pivoted to acknowledge me. Oh, my god. It was him! The scowl forming in his eyes was definitely of the intimidating reverend I encountered last spring.

  He extended his big hand. “You’ll have to forgive me, Bilan. My memory doesn’t often serve me well. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

  I placed Sadik’s seat between my legs and reached for his palm. Something in me crushed with disappointment. He gave me a prophecy that shook up my world and those starkly engaged eyes were blank on me. Centimeters away from his hand, I panicked wondering if he’d spook me again.

  I cleared my throat. “Hi,” I breathed.

  “You don’t remember her, E?” Tasche asked with humor in her voice. She leaned into him and murmured. “You scared the hell outta my friend.”

  “Sorry to say I do not.” He shook my hand then released it. “I am, however, saddened to have frightened you. The Word says in 1 Thessalonians, ‘do not treat prophecies with contempt. Test everything. Hold on to the good.’ So if there was any good in the message…any hope, let that be the focus, not the eccentric messenger.” His laughter was colorful and rich.

  Tactlessly, I couldn’t join in on their amusement. I was pale with disbelief. He was here. The religious leader I stalked online, the one who inspired my spiritual revolution, and predicted with accuracy the rollercoaster of my life was before me. And he didn’t remember me at all. I saw the apologetic emptiness in his eyes.

  Tonight, he was…regular. My eyes danced around for an entourage, a handler. God knew Sadik had several of them. In fact, one was waiting on us just outside. Maybe his was, too.

  “Told you, you hemmed her up when y’all met,” Tasche tried to explain.

  “Christ,” he sighed, brushing his palm over his beard before his face collapsed forward. His head rolled up again. “Again, Bilan, I apologize for the awkward encounter.” The depth of his apology was in the softness of his vocals.

  And he’d remembered my name from the first time Tasche mentioned it in this conversation. That impressed me. Here I was, shattered from him not remembering me, but he’d been kind enough to memorize my name. I was being silly. He never asked me to troll him or subscribe to his church’s YouTube channel or stream his services each week faithfully. I was victimizing the man through apparent guilt.

  I breathed, “No! It’s totally fine. I can only imagine how many people you encounter in your line of work. It’s good to see you again,” I admitted.

  I wanted to ask about their new baby and how his wife had been adjusting to being a mother of three and married to a man with such a demanding lifestyle she didn’t necessarily fit into, but that would have implied I knew Lex beyond that evening of our chance meeting. Tasche hadn’t mentioned much to me, I was sure an oversight on her part. Over the past few months, our conversations were limited to Randi and the curveballs thrown in my life.

  “Amen,” he nodded, pleasant expression rebounding.

  “Yo, she been wanting to pull up to ya church,” Tasche chuckled nervously.

  My heart stammered into my chest. I wasn’t expecting that reveal; I’d still been stuck on seeing him live and in color.

  He doesn’t remember me…

  Ezra’s handsome face widened in a pleasant smile. “That sounds wonderful. We have Family and Friends Day coming soon. I’ll be sure Alexis passes along the information. We would love to have you both. His eyes glided over to me.

  I tried meeting him with a smile and was sure my nerves compromised it. As a last-minute save in his heavy presence, I opted for a nod.

  Tasche twisted her face, an expression of doubt. “Yeah.” She swiped the side of her nose. “I’ll let you know.”

  Ezra gave her a knowing chuckle. His attention was snatched by a waitress appearing with a tablet in hand for ordering. After acknowledging her, he turned to us.

  “Ladies, it was a pleasure running into you. Prayerfully, next time will be deliberate.”

  “A’ight, E,” began Tasche’s goodbye. “Kiss the babies for me and tell Lex-dawg I said waddup.”

  “Will do,” he agreed before his regard reached me. “Hang on in there, Bilan.” He turned to begin his order.

  Suddenly jarred, I stood frozen, wondering if that was a “message” with special meaning.

  “Yo, B,” Tasche called out to me. When I found he
r, she was standing closer to the revolving door of the entryway. “I think this ya peoples looking for y’all.”

  She was right. Rory was with Sadik tonight, leaving me with Johnson. He was kind enough to stay outside instead of hovering over us as Rory does.

  Still dumbfounded about this encounter, I picked my baby’s car seat up and began my way out of the restaurant.

  ∞10∞

  We moved with cautious speed up the driveway. Rory ran inside the opened garage door first, gun drawn and ready. Jamil glided inside behind her, light on his feet. Retro 50 Cent played from a small sound system in the garage. Marco lay flat on a bench, lifting at least one hundred-fifty pounds of weight. I watched from beyond a bush right off the driveway when the guy spotting Marco Rizzo recognized Rory.

  “Drop it on that nigga,” Rory demanded.

  The tall, shirtless white goofball looked scared, shocked, and confused at the same damn time. Jamil moved in closer with the fast cat, Heckler & Koch G36, because he liked to fucking show off. The guy’s hands went into the air at the sight of that ogling him. That left Marco alone to lift, and he strained right away. The bar dropped to his throat and as he struggled to lift it, his feet thrashed into the air. He grunted and wiggled until the bar graciously slid to his left and hit the cemented floor.

  “Now back the fuck away, bitch,” Rory grounded out, moving close to the spotter.

  He backed away until his body hit the shelf on the back wall. Jamil’s heat was trained on Marco, who, after a bit of an effort to stand while trying to catch his breath, eventually did.

  “What the fuck!” he demanded, twisting as much as his body would allow, looking for his associate. Instead, he found a seething Rory. “Fuck!” Marco shouted, knowing what time it was.

  “I wouldn’t get too loud,” I advised, striding inside, my Glock tapping my thigh casually. I smiled Marco’s way. “We don’t want to invite your family to this gathering. I made sure not to disturb them crashing this weak ass lift party. The fuck is a hundred-fifty pounds to a nigga weighing two hundred plus?”