Moses Scriptures

by Hannibal Black

  “Oh by the way, “I’m Angel.”

  “You got that right,” I whispered.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t hear you.”

  “My name is Moses.”

  What the fuck was I doing?

  I knew I was tripping but the aroma of her perfume possessed

  Pied Piper-like powers and had more than compromised my position.

  “Moses are you ready?”

  “Yeah, I’m ready.”

  I lifted the weights off the bar and watched her press four sets of ten reps with ease.

  She struggled a bit on the last rep; our eyes met and asked the question if she would be able to get the weight up. She gave a playful smirk to my doubt and shot the barbell up with pride.

  I was impressed. Angel jumped off the bench like she hadn’t lifted any weight at all.

  “Thanks a lot, Moses.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “Did you need me to spot you?”

  “No, I’m cool. I think I’m just going to go back to the Nautilus room.”

  “Oh I’m sorry, I took you away from your workout. I feel terrible.”

  “No, it was my pleasure,” I said walking away.

  I passed up on the Nautilus room and went straight to the showers. I felt like I was on a ballclub on a twenty-game-losing streak.

  I was making a mockery of the whole secret surveillance thing. I tried giving myself a pep talk. My private eye us to watching slip and fall candidates with neck braces and canes where this vision of beauty has me being a bit unconventional, that’s all it is.”

  That thought carried over to convince myself that what I was doing was undercover work. I could get more information talking with her than I could spy from afar, Hell, I make my own rules I’m my boss, I’m not breaking the rules, I’m breaking new ground. I’m a pioneer.”

  I was on my way down the stairs and out the door when I heard.

  “Moses wait up.”

  I turned to see Mrs. Wilkes smiling, jogging my way. She was casually fashionable and smelled like summer in heaven.

  I almost called her Mrs. Wilkes, but my eyes translated for my mind and I just said. “Angel.”

  Moses, I feel bad for you missing your workout.” “I didn’t miss it Sis; I was glad to help out.”

  “Let me buy you a cup of coffee,” Mrs. Wilkes said.

  I smirked. Not only is this woman soothing to the eyes, what she was saying was music to my ears. My coffee cravings were uncontrollable.

  “Well sis, if you insist.”

  “I do.”

  We walked across the street where there was one of those twenty-first-century coffee shops that carried every type of coffee imaginable.

  We got in line, and Mrs. Wilkes perfume tickled my nose. Angel ordered a café mocha. I placed my order for regular coffee, and the cashier who could have been Cindy’s twin sister looked at me like I had made a mistake.

  “Just plain coffee?” she said as I had asked for a cup of piss.

  “Yeah” I answered like there was a joke that I wasn’t in on.

  “Whatever you say.”

  We went and took a seat outside in the shade, took a few silent sips. Angel was first to speak. “So what made you decide to go to this gym?”

  I took a sip when I heard a question coming to get some time to

  improvise.

  “Well, a friend recommended it to me, so I’m just trying it out for the two week trial period.”

  “Well, how do you like it so far?”

  “It’s getting better.”

  She raised her cup to take a sip when her wedding band caught the reflection from the sun and hit me in the eye.

  “Are you married?”

  Angel extended her sip at my question.

  “Yeah” she sighed like she was on a team with a five-year losing streak.

  “Why the sad eyes?”

  Angel inhaled, then fashioned what resembled a smile.

  “I don’t want to bore you with my problems.”

  “I don’t think you could bore me.”

  “Well, then there must be an awful lot of caffeine in your cup.”

  Her eyes went to the sky then looked at me.

  “When I got married, it was like watching the sunset instead of rising, but still it was so beautiful. If I could take less than half of that feeling and spread it over five years, I would be the happiest woman in the world.”

  She was staring at me with sad eyes that would’ve made Hitler cry.

  I took a sip and sat there listening, surprised that her name matched more than her face.

  “So what about you Moses, you ever been married?”

  “No Angel, not me.”

  “Oh, so you must be a player,” Angel said, sounding like J.J Evans.

  I laughed. “No Angel not me. I lived with a woman before, but never married.”

  “Well, what was that like for you?”

  “It was a lot like you said.”

  Angel quickly put her cup down.

  “Oh no you can’t use my description, you’ve got to use your own.”

  She smiled.

  “It was priceless.”

  “Mmmm, well what happened?”

  “I guess I was from the mean streets and she was from the clean streets. In retrospect, I’m surprised it lasted as long as it did.”

  Angel stared with sympathetic eyes.

  “Did you love her?”

  “Very much.”

  Angel was giving me this look of approval, proud at my response.

  I couldn’t believe I was sitting there giving it up. Angel's eyes and batting lashes were working like Wonder Woman’s lasso compelling me to tell what I would otherwise keep to myself.

  “So how long have you been coming to this gym?” I asked. Angel looked sort of disappointed that I switched the subject. “Only about seven or eight months.”

  “Is that it? You look like you’ve been doing it for years.” “Thanks but it hasn’t been that long.”

  She seemed to be getting bored with my small talk. “So what do you do for excitement, Moses?”

  “That’s a good question. I guess not enough. What about your- self?”

  Angel looked thoughtfully downward.

  “I thought working out every morning would do it, but to be honest, it’s starting to bore me. I want to get excited about something. I don’t care what, just something. You ever feel that way.”

  “I know exactly how you feel.”

  I noticed the big hand on the clock had done two laps around.

  Neither of us wanted to say it, but we knew it was getting late. I reluctantly volunteered.

  “I better let you get off here. I didn’t notice the time.”

  Angel looked at her watch then jumped up out of her seat.

  “You're right Moses; I’m sitting here babbling away.”

  “Not at all, Angel. It’s exciting.”

  Angel smiled.

  “Are you walking back toward the gym?”

  “No, I have some running around to do, but I’ll see you.”

  Angel then used the most serious and softest part of her voice.

  “I hope so.”

  I watched her walk away all my senses were stirring and conferring, all but one agreed that she was undoubtedly a warm idea.

  I arrived at my mother’s house late afternoon.

  I noticed the curtains on the window were now gone, replaced with old newspaper taped to the glass.

  Cracking paint, broken steps, all of the house’s imperfection were standing out, even the once colorful flowers on the side of the house had lost their glow and looked to be hanging their heads in sorrow.

  It sure wasn’t getting any easier. Every trip there was like the going to the funeral all over again.

  When I stepped inside, I saw Melody in jeans and a T-shirt scrubbing the floor working harder than Cinderella before the ball.

  “What’s up, big sis?”

  “Hey Moses,” Melo
dy said full of exhaustion.

  “Could you start taking things out of that cabinet?”

  Melody sounded as if her tireless efforts were getting the best of her. Melody was scrubbing the floor a million miles an hour, and then began pounding the scrubber against the floor.

  “I can’t get this stain out, damn it!”

  “Melody, are you all right?”

  She was now on her hands and knees crying.

  “Melody what’s wrong?”

  Melody got up and left the room, headed toward the front of the house.

  “I can’t do this anymore.”

  I wanted to follow her but thought maybe I should let her cool off.

  I realized that wouldn’t be being there for her.

  I went toward the front of the house and saw her sitting on the steps with her head between folded arms.

  She no longer looked like our mother; she was just a little girl crying her eyes out. It felt like it was twenty years ago, but if it had been

  I would have just left her alone.

  I sat next to Melody, put my arm around her. She lifted her head; her eyes were beginning to be dry. She stared at me with all the sadness and sincerity of a seven-year-old girl and said, “Thank you, Moses.”

  At the sound of those words, my heart dropped, and I felt the strangest sense of accomplishment and humbling sense of pride.

  I realized that all this time Melody’s faucet full of tears and fake fainting spells were for, she was crying out for family affection and not just to attract anonymous adulation. At that moment the August wind seemed to return to a summer breeze.

  Melody was now drawing back her tears with a couple of short sniffs. She gazed thoughtfully at the sky, “I think I’m going to go back to school.”

  School had been one of the few topics that my mother and Melody butted heads on.

  Melody was remarkably book smart. Acing test and typing term papers all came easy, almost too easy. The school never really could keep her attention. Her life was more about Melody and her friends and their he-said-she-said soap opera socializing. They were all too busy racing after engagement rings, husbands and babies.

  Our mother always stressed that she could do better than that; she could be a doctor or a lawyer, not just someone’s wife.

  My mother wound up harassing her until she was a year from a bachelor’s degree. Then she met William, dropped out, followed him around for four years, and later finally got married.

  Our mother would always tell us that we could be more tomorrow than what we were today. She would pray and patiently await our excellence while we wandered through a maze of mischief and mediocrity.

  Melody continued. “I’m gonna go back to school get my degree, then I’m going to law school and become a business attorney.”

  She was saying it like she was trying to convince herself that she

  “Do you want to have some tea with me, Moses?” Melody said with zeal.

  “Sure,” I responded with measured excitement.

  I didn’t care for tea, but my mother and Melody loved it.

  They would sit at the kitchen table; talking and drinking herbal tea like it was going out of style.

  Melody made us two cups, and we took a seat on the front steps.

  “Going back to school is going to be tough, but I’m gonna figure out a way to do it. I’ll work during the day and go to school at night.”

  Melody’s voice was full of a renewed sense of self.

  “I know you can do it, Sis.”

  We sat on the front steps until the sun went down and for the second time in a row, we got very little work done at the house.

  I think we kind of feared finishing because then we would have no excuse to get together and revisit the past in the place we still considered home.

  I hadn’t heard from Priest all day, so I decided I’d stop by Slim’s to see how he was holding up.

  Soon as I stepped inside, I heard BB King’s Lucille wailing the

  “Thrill is Gone,” out of the jukebox speakers.

  There were two rows of people lined up at the bar and sad faces all around.

  Priest’s booth was empty, so I went over and took a seat.

  Dimples came over frowning not living up to her namesake.

  “What’s with the frown, friendly?” I asked.

  She caught me off guard when she plopped down in the seat across from me; she had this look as if her dog had just died. Her head was hanging, and her lips were poking out, she looked like she was four years old, I almost reached for a tissue in anticipation of a tear.

  “Slim is closing the bar,” she sighed.

  “I liked this job, you guys were so much fun to be around, it’s sad.”

  “Aw, Sis you’re probably better off without this place. A pretty girl like you deserves a more attractive atmosphere.”

  Dimples smiled.

  “Thank you, that was sweet. But I’m still gonna miss you all.”

  Big Walt was flagging down Dimples from across the room.

  “I gotta go. Are you coming to Slim’s retirement party?”

  “I’m sure I’ll be there,”

  Dimples got up to leave.

  “Hey, have you seen Priest?”

  “I haven’t seen him all day. Did you want a drink? They’re half price.”

  “Why not.”

  “Cognac?”

  “Yeah double it up.”

  “Gotcha”

  I swept my eyes across the room and saw the usually giddy customers consumed with gloom, a mass suicide in their eyes, collectively drowning their sorrows in the half price spirits.

  I spotted Slim walking around with his shoulders slumped and his renown smile upside down. He came over to the booth and sat across from me.

  “What’s up young blood,” Slim said in a tumultuous tone.

  “All tastes are half price today.”

  “I’m hip.”

  Slim was nervously pressing his palms together. He went in his pocket and pulled out what I thought for sure would be a toothpick.

  I didn’t realize what it was till he was snapping a match to smoke.

  Hanging from the tip of his lips was a cigarette, something he had sworn off ever since Uncle Bird passed.

  His first puff of smoke rose slowly passed his brow, symbolizing the hell he felt.

  “What’s the deal with the cigarette Slim?” You look like retirement is getting the best of you.”

  He glared at me with exhaustion. He seemed to have aged ten years since last I saw him.

  “All these people got enough unpaid tabs to cure the national debt, and they're treating me like I murdered Malcolm X. I got a good mind to close it down today. Half of them won’t even speak, people I’ve known twenty years plus. I helped them when they were hurting, fed them when they were hungry. To tell you the truth Moses, my love for this shit died with Bird.”

  With that said, Slim smashed the cigarette out on the table.

  “I can’t wait to be an away from this place. I thought I’d never say something like that.”

  “Don’t sweat it Slim, you can’t please everybody,” I said.

  “You’re right, all of them can go straight to hell.”

  Slim got up. He seemed satisfied with our conversation. He was walking down the hall to his office when he turned around and came back.

  “Moses, how is Priest doing?”

  “I don’t know; I haven’t seen him.”

  “Well when you do, give him my best.”

  I looked Slim directly in the eye.

  “Without a doubt, Slim.”

  Dimples brought me the double brandy in a snifter, but after the talk with Slim, I needed a shot glass. I guzzled the spirit with speed, then tunneled my way out of Slim’s bar. I didn’t want to look at anybody.

  The scene had brought me down enough.

  I was on my way to the crib when I decided to stop by Priest’s pad to see how he was holding up.

  As I pull
ed in front of Priest’s building I got an immediate migraine looking at Tasha’s fire red Mustang. I noticed that it was still sitting on those chrome rims, which could mean two things; one she hadn’t been here long or the thieves on the block knew she was with Priest. If they knew, it wouldn’t be long before the whole neighborhood knew.

  I was waiting for Priest to buzz me up when I see the mini-skirt assassin herself coming down the stairs. She opened the door right after I got the buzz and was looking up at me with disdain. My return look was one of welcome.

  “What’s up Tasha? You staying out of trouble?” Tasha tightened up her jaws and cocked her eye.

  “Moses, you need to get you some business.” She snapped. When she walked passed, she bumped me on purpose.

  I found her comical; she was cute as a kitten but still capable of incredible cruelty. When I got to the last flight of stairs, I could hear the Wu-Tang Clan’s Raekwon wielding razor-sharp rhymes over a thumping bass line. It got louder and louder as I got to Priest’s door. I walked in and caught the whiff of well-seasoned catfish; my stomach was smiling hoping there was some left.

  Priest was sporting a polo shirt jean shorts and noticeably freshly braided cornrows. I tried to read his face to check his mood, which seemed pretty laid back.

  “What’s up Mo, did you eat?” “No, you got something?”

  “Yeah, help yourself to some catfish there are some corn and rice in there too.

  For an instant, I started thinking maybe Tashas’ not that bad after all.

  I grabbed a plate from the cabinet when Priest yelled toward the back room.

  “Turn that stereo down Henny!”

  Henny, whose real name was Henry but as a child, he would pronounce it Henny; was Uncle Bird’s only son. He was seventeen and filled with audacity and daring.

  His mother Rhonda was closer to our age than Bird’s. Bird cared for her but didn’t love her. He was always about sex, wine and a good time, never commitment. But when he found out that Rhonda was going to have his child, he treated her like a queen. She never needed for a thing. When Henny was born Bird was a new man; he’d always say, “Henny was his second chance at right.” Henny was only nine when Bird died.

  Priest swore to look after him and keep him out of trouble, which was more difficult than anybody could imagine.