by Quan Millz
Pastor Wilson let out a slight snicker. “Oh really? You a college student or something?” he asked with this huge smile on his face.
This nigga reminded me just like that nigga that played the Bishop on the show Greenleaf! He was tall like a tree with a somewhat heavy build like he probably played football back in high school. He was wearing a dark-gray pinstripe suit that hugged his thick frame well. Damn, he probably did really work out though…
Shit, as I took a good look at him, I couldn’t lie. And don’t judge me for saying this – but for an old nigga, Pastor Wilson did look pretty good, I guess. He had silver wavy hair that connected to a well-trimmed beard that was the same color. I couldn’t tell how old he was..Maybe sixty-five? Seventy? Ehh, he was definitely someone’s granddaddy…But eww, the old bitches can have his ass! Not I! Bitch, I ain’t tryin’ to get worms. Nigga probably gotta pop a whole bottle of viagra, too. Nuh-uh. Fuck that! Nigga might die inside my pussy!
I quickly looked down at his wrist. I swear to God, this man had on a fifty-thousand dollar rolex! Had to be with the way that muhfucka glistened in my eyes! Trust me! If there was thing NuNu knew, it was jewelry! Yup, this was exactly where all you dumb bitches money was goin’! Straight to his wardrobe! I bet this nigga even got a Benz parked out front. Probably a Bentley. Probably live in some stupid ass mansion out in the ‘burbs. Or probably somewhere in one of those big ass houses in Kenwood next to the Obamas and Farrakhan.
Then it hit me!
YUHHP! I knew where I seent this nigga before! I just saw his ass on a billboard on the 47th street bus! I think he was running for Mayor! Yup! That was him!
ANYWAYS…
“No, sir. I, umm, I’m doing this because I am on probation…,” I answered.
Awkward silence suddenly filled the room.
I slightly smiled out of slight embarrassment. I mean, truth be told, it was kind of embarrassing I was having to explain to people why I had to do community service. But hey – it was whatever. Shit, truth be told, I probably wasn’t the first to come down here to do community service either.
“Oh, ok. Well, I’m glad you chose Apostolic to do your requirement,” he said as he looked me up and down. He paused for a moment and then said, “Shoot, we might have to use your hours to work out our members. You look like you’re in pretty good shape, young lady!”
Hrrrm…Yeah, there we go…I knew it! Typical man! See, I just knew from the moment this nigga walked in, I could tell he was gonna eventually be on some fuck shit. All men be on bullshit regardless of who they are. Pastor or dope boy. All men love pussy. Especially good-lookin’ young pussy. No man is excluded unless he gay.
I would be flattered by his comment to an extent. I had that type of bedazzling effect regardless of where I went. Granted, because I was a dancer, I had to keep myself in shape. Aside from my looks, I guess just from the way I walked, talked and even carried myself, men just knew I was on some low-key nasty hoe shit. Like, why lie? I dance and occasionally fuck niggas to make ends meet. Should shrug.
I swear! I could go around without make up and weave, and even wear a fucking Felicia The Crackhead outfit, and niggas will always still try to find a way how to shoot their shot.
“Yeah, I try my best to stay in shape.”
“I can tell!” he continued. Then he looked at Pastor Kevon and said, “Can you and I have a word in private for a second?”
“Sure, Pastor.” Pastor Kevon then looked at me and said, “I’m going to step outside with the Pastor for a second. Just give us a few minutes…”
“I won’t be long,” Pastor Wilson said as he gawked at me with a smile.
“No worries. I ain’t got nowhere else to go,” I said.
“Thank you…”
Pastor Kevon and Pastor Wilson exited the office. As soon as the door closed, I pulled out my cell phone and shot Jessica a text. I told her I was gonna hit her line when I got out of here.
About five or six minutes later, both men strolled back in.
Pastor Wilson stood next to me, looked down at me and asked, “So, Ms. Spearman, do you know who I am? What I am doing?”
“Ehhh, I think. You’re running for Mayor, right?” I said curiously.
“Yup! We just launched the campaign a day ago. Right now, I’m looking for volunteers. Now, although you were supposed to be technically volunteering for the church, which is a registered 501-c-3 organization, we’re going to finagle some things a bit so we can use your hours for the campaign. How does that sound?”
I thought for a second. This shit sounded kind of shady. But why was I not surprised. “Is this legal? I mean, can I do this? I think I should talk to my PO about this…”
“No, no, no. No need to do that. We will coordinate everything with Rasheeda. She’s on board. She’s a good friend to the church.”
“We’ll even give you a stipend, too,” Pastor Kevon interjected. “We’ll pay you about $400 a week. In cash. How does that sound?”
This was weird as fuck but I guess they sounded pretty legit. “Okay,” I said slightly shrugging my shoulders. “So, ya’ll gon have me volunteer on the campaign and ya’ll gon pay me $400 a week? In cash? I don’t know…I mean, this don’t—”
“I mean, look, if you aren’t comfortable, young sister, we understand. We just thought you might need the financial assistance,” Pastor Wilson explained. “You can just stick with working in the Pantry.”
“Okay, I’ll go ahead and do this then…”
“Great!” Pastor Wilson exclaimed.
Chapter Nine
After I pretty much agreed to be a “paid” volunteer on Pastor Wilson’s campaign for mayor, I spent the rest of my day at the church getting a tour of the facility.
The church owned a vacant building next door and was using it as his campaign headquarters. That was where I was going to be doing most of my volunteering.
Pastor Wilson told me I was going to be doing everything – passing out flyers, circulating petitions, making phone calls, etc. I had no idea what any of that meant but he said they would train me.
Pastor also said that I was going to be meeting with the campaign manager next week and from there, I would need to hit the ground running. I wasn’t expecting all of this really. Shit, I also still needed to get a job like ASAP.
But then, they were gonna pay me $400 a week. I was only gonna be technically volunteering ten hours a week, too, which was crazy! $40 an hour just to pass out flyers! So, I probably could still look for another job in the meantime.
By now, I had made it back to my crib. A bitch was starving. I ordered a pizza from Italian Fiesta and was waiting for them to come. I was laying up in my bed watching TV when my phone started to ring. It was Jessica.
“Wassup, bitch! I was just about to call yo ass!” I answered.
“Girl! You won’t believe who I just ran into!”
“Who?!?”
“Fuckin’ Kiara! Guess she finally bailed the fuck out!”
“Where you see her scary ass at?!?”
“Bitch, at Walgreens! And guess what! Her ass was straight spillin’ all types of tea about’chu! Said you was a muhfuckin’ liar. Said that you had told her that ya’ll was gonna drug that man and take off with his money. I mean, she went on and on! Bitch, she is tellin’ everyone your business!”
I gasped. “BITCH! WHAT?!? I KNOW YOU FUCKIN’ LYIN’! OOOOH! I swear ta God! Yo, look, bitch, if I see her ass in the streets, it’s muhfuckin’ crackin! I swear ta God!”
Now I knew Kiara’s ass wasn’t that bold! She a muhfuckin’ lie! Ain’t nobody was gon drug Darryl. I was just gonna give him sleeping pills and then we were gonna take off with his credit cards and shit. But UGHHH! These bitches ain’t built worth a damn nowadays! See, this was exactly how bitches get fucked up! Now she was crossing the line all the way! That was some straight-up pussy shit like for real! Any other day, a pussy hoe would get straight murdered for running her mouth like this! What the fuck was Kiara thinking?!? She knew b
etter!
“Girl, what you gon do? You can’t put ya hands on her!” Jessica said. She was right. UGHH!
“Bitch! I got a name to protect! She got me fucked up! Like, she gon make me lose my shits off her goofazz! I can’t even think about this shit right now!”
By now I was shaking with anger. Like, something was in me to hop my ride and slide up on that pussy hoe!
“Girl, just relax! Ain’t no one takin’ her snitchin’ ass serious any damn way!”
“But still! You know what! You right though. She a stupid lil hoe anyways. Bitch can’t even dance. Her bad-bodied self.” I calmed down for a sec. “Anyways, girl…So, let me tell you about this pastor who I’m gonna be working for…”
“Girl, I was just finne say! CHILE!” Jessica interrupted. “Bitch, I got this old nigga running me straight stacks!”
“Really?!? I wonder he is like the nigga who I’m gonna be working for. Pastor Wilson is his name.”
Suddenly I could hear Jessica get silent.
“You still there?”
“Wait! Bitch…Hold up..You’re gonna be working down at Apostolic?”
“Yeah!” I thought for a second. “Wait! Don’t tell me you fuckin’ that nigga, girl! He runnin’ for mayor!”
“Ughhh! Yes! I know!”
“Wait?!?! This nigga is a PASTOR! Like, he runs a whole ass church! He’s cheating on his wife with you?!?”
“Girl, fuck yeah! And we’ve been fucking for the last three months. I was gon tell you but you know we had been beefin’ and what not!”
“How in the fuck you even met old dude? This shit crazy as fuck, g!”
This was mind-blowing. Here I was thinking I was tripping about this man. When we first met, I kind of got that slimy feeling from him that he was that type of nigga. But then I just wrote it off as my own paranoia. Hoes like me swear every nigga out there is always on the hunt for some pussy. After hours of talking to the man, he seemed cool and my weird vibe about him went away. He talked about his campaign. Talked about how he was gonna do this and that. Most of it went over my head. So, after that, I pretty much was like let me just get these hours and money and move the fuck on. But now hearing Jessica tell me she was fucking this nigga was off the muhfuckin’ chain! Like, I didn’t see this shit coming at all!
“Girl. I ain’t even gon start on that! That’s a long story! Just know the nigga is nasty as hell. I ain’t gon tell a soul though. He been breakin’ me off right!”
“Oh my fuckin’ God! That shit is crazy!”
“I mean…He old as fuck! How old is he? How his body look? He got a big dick?”
“Girl. He seventy-one ‘bout to turn seventy-two in a month. His body aiight, but he is old. Got taco meat on his chest and shit. His balls be droopin’ damn near down to his kneecaps. But girl, his dick is GIGANTIC. Like the size of a baseball bat!”
“Ewww! Bitch! I’m ‘bout to throw the fuck up! His dick really that big though?” I clutched the fuck out of my chest.
“Bitch, yasss! I know it sound nasty but I didn’t mind. I mean, shit, his dick better than some of these other trash dick niggas out here. I’ll tell you that!”
“Can he fuck? Where the fuck ya’ll even be meeting up at?”
“Girl, yes! And eat pussy! Ass, too! Girl, that nigga is just a freak!”
“Shit! But wait, you didn’t answer my other question!”
“Oh! Yeah, girl, we meet up at different spots. He usually text me a place to meet up here and there. Sometimes it be a regular ass motel. Sometimes a hotel in Downtown. All over really. He don’t like to stay in one spot.”
“Damnnnnn…His wife though. That’s so fucked up. And this nigga supposed to be a pastor. A damn shame,” I said shaking my head.
“Girl, he talk so much shit about her, too. Talkin’ ‘bout they ain’t had sex in like almost twenty years. Said the bitch smell like bacon and fish all the time.”
“Oh God No! That is horrible!”
“Tell me about it! But hey, it is what it is. Bitch, two hours of letting him do what he wanna do is how I was able to pay off Marquise daycare for the rest of the year. And now I’m ‘bout to finally open up my catering business! Gotta get yo start-up funds from somewhere, lil heaux!”
“Shit, g! Put me on!”
“Girl, bye! He MY nigga! Find ya own! You already took my other man,” Jessica replied laughing but I knew she was somewhat serious.
I playfully smacked my teeth. “Yeah, I’on wanna share another nigga anymore anyways. Especially an old nigga. I got my eyes on Kevon though.”
“Girl, he GAY!”
“BITCH! NO! STAHHHP IT!”
Chapter Ten
A month passed.
It was a Wednesday mid-morning and I was sitting inside of the “Wilson For Mayor” headquarters.
So far, volunteering down here had been a breeze. Mr. Garrison, the campaign manager, had me making phone calls to people asking them to come out to rallies and community meetings.
I’d been going to my PO meetings with no issues. Pastor Wilson even had one of his assistants to help me look for a job. Now, I was working part-time as a call center representative for a hospital. Although I was working part-time, I couldn’t complain. The pay was decent – I was making $30 an hour.
Things seemed “normal” for me now. Truthfully, I did miss the large amounts of fast money I used to make dancing. Now, I wasn’t able to buy the things I used to get all the time. But the more I thought about it, the more I thought of how the trade-off was worth it. I was getting tired of the club anyways. Management was always on some shady shit. The niggas that used to come up in there were always fucking disrespectful. And then, as ya’ll knew, I was fucking random ass niggas here and there to make extra cash.
Honestly, I couldn’t believe I let myself get that far. The more I thought about it, the more I realized mama was right to an extent. Granted, I still hated that bitch. But I guess she didn’t want me going down the same road as she did. So, to a degree, I can respect how she felt about the shit I used to do.
Speaking of which, my mama was adamant about getting full custody of my son. I didn’t know how I felt about that honestly. Deep down, I knew I was a bad mother. I had my son during a time when I had so much going on. That shit my mama said about me being the reason why I caused Quay’s severe autism really broke me.
When I was pregnant with him, I admit, I was still doing dumb shit like smoking and drinking from time to time. I started to notice around the age of two that something was wrong with him. He never talked. Never even smiled. He was always to himself. He only played with the toys I bought him. I knew something was wrong with him but I didn’t want to admit it. I just ignored it until one of his babysitters brought up his issues one day. My auntie Carolyn, my mama’s sister, took me and Quay down to a speech pathologist to get Quay tested for learning disabilities. That was when we found out he was on the autism spectrum. The doctor said he was far on the spectrum, too. So, for the most part, Quay would need help for the rest of his life.
About a year ago, my mama and I started beefing about money. I lent her $1000 so she could put a down payment on a car. She said she was gonna pay me back but she never did. When I kept pressing her about the issue, that was when she busted out with some “I’m ya mama. I did so much for you as a child that I’on need to pay you back” bullshit. And knew it was bullshit since she was a crackhead for most of my childhood. She cared more for the rock and for the streets than she did for me.
I threatened to take her ass to court and she knew she was gonna lose, too. The moment I threatened to sue her ass, next thing you know, DCFS came knocking on my door on reports that I had been beating my son. Quay had a bruise on his arm ‘cuz he fell down the stairs of my apartment one day. The DCFS caseworker lady saw it and they began an investigation on me. My mama ran her mouth about how I was stripping, I wasn’t taking Quay to speech therapy, wasn’t do this, doing that, etc. Next thing you know, her ass managed to convince a jud
ge to give her temporary custody. So now, she has been keeping my son. I was only allowed to see him once a week. Truth be told, I hadn’t been visiting him. It was just too depressing knowing my mama was doing all of this to me. It was also depressing that my son couldn’t speak and express his love to me. I always imagined I’d have a child who would tell me all day long they loved me. I ain’t never had someone really tell me that, to be honest with you.
“You alright over there?” Rebecca, one of the campaign volunteers, asked. I guess she saw me in a daze as I sat behind a computer silently. I took the headset off my head and exhaled. “Yeah, I was just thinking about life.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothin’…” I was obviously lying.
“I can tell something is wrong,” Rebecca said. She was much older than me – probably in her late forties. She was medium brown with long curly hair that ran down to her shoulders. She kind of reminded me of a thicker Halle Berry. “You sure everything alright? Usually, you would’ve been talking all day long!”
“I’m just mad with my mom, that’s all,” I said.
“You want to talk about it? Let’s go grab some coffee,” she said.
“Okay,” I said. We both stood up and made our way over to an area that had been converted into a makeshift breakroom. Rebecca and I walked over to a countertop. We made some coffee and then talked. “So, what’s up?” Rebecca asked.
“My mom…She’s trying to get full, permanent custody over my son.”
“Oh, wow, I’m sorry to hear that! Are you going to fight it?”
“I want to. But I just don’t know where to start, to be honest with you…Like, I know I’m gonna need to get a lawyer or somethin’.”
“Yes, you will. I don’t know if I told you this, but I retired from a law firm. I used to be a paralegal. I know plenty of lawyers. I don’t know if you know this either but Pastor Wilson is a lawyer, too!”
“He is?!? He never told me that!”
“Yes. A good one at that. Why you think he has so much money and clout? You never heard of the law firm, ‘Wilson, Gates & Associates’?”
