by Dijorn Moss
“I’m sorry, Sam. I just have had a lot on my mind.”
“I know, and it hasn’t been the right thing. You’ve been running back and forth to Green Cove and not communicating with folks. It looks bad, man.”
I didn’t have time to worry about how my actions look, especially when I have a drug dealer who has made threats on my life looking for me. And I have no reason to believe that Demetrius will not make good on his threats. I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea about me, but what can I do?
Sammy pulls into his driveway. Like most homes on the island, Sammy’s place is only one story. I guess that’s to protect against the storm season, though I could be wrong. Unlike the other homes in the neighborhood, Sammy takes pride in his home. The yard is kept up, and there isn’t any trash or anything that would create an eyesore.
I follow Sammy into his home, and it’s a different story. While the outside of the house is kept as immaculate as possible, the inside of the house looks like a category-three tornado hit it. Newspapers, fishing equipment, and empty bottles of beer are scattered all over the place.
“Would you like a cold one, Doc?” Sammy asks.
“Sure.”
Sammy goes into his refrigerator and produces two domestic beers and pops the cap back on both of them.
Sammy isn’t a heavy drinker. He enjoys a good beer, but he never drinks in front of someone who has struggles with alcohol. The Bible says, “Do not cause your brother to struggle.” Of course, if Sammy knew about my struggle with alcohol, I doubt he would offer me a beer. I have always been somewhat delusional about my alcohol problem and not wanting to confide in Sammy about my struggles makes me question how genuine of a friend I am to him.
“So what’s on your mind?” Sammy asks after he takes a swig of his beer.
“What’s not on my mind? I can’t even call it nowadays.”
“Well you seem a little distraught since we left church.”
“Demetrius showed up at church today,” I say before I take a sip of my beer.
“I know. He ain’t hard to miss. So what about Demetrius showing up at church?”
“He wants to meet with me.”
For the first time, Sammy gives me a look of concern. He may not be so quick to demonize Demetrius like how Adele does; however, that doesn’t mean that Sammy thinks Demetrius is an upstanding citizen either.
“Now why would he want to talk with you?”
This is the part where my friendship and my profession collide. I can’t tell Sammy why Demetrius wants to meet with me, but I need his advice on what to do in this situation.
“I don’t know, maybe he needs some spiritual counsel.”
“Well, we all are in need of spiritual counsel. If Demetrius wants to turn his life around, then I say you should at least hear him out.”
Something tells me that Demetrius is not interested in a “Come to Jesus meeting.” “You may be right, Sam, but listen, since I don’t know who I’m dealing with, I have to ask you, do you have a piece?”
“A peace? Yeah, I have a peace that surpasses all understanding.”
“I’m not talking about that kind of peace. I’m talking about steel, heat—a gun.”
Sammy takes a swig of his beer but does not swallow. He just looks at me. The moment turns awkward because Sammy’s look is a look of disappointment. He finally swallows his beer.
“Now, why in the world would you need a gun?”
“I just don’t want to find myself in a jam with this guy, and I don’t have any protection.”
“I thought the Holy Spirit is your protection,” Sammy says.
“The Holy Spirit is my guide and my comforter, but what if Demetrius doesn’t respect the Holy Spirit?”
“Don’t matter. If Christ be lifted up, then He will draw all men to you. If you’re lifting Him up, then you ain’t got nothing to worry about. That is the question you have to ask yourself,” Sammy says.
I wish it was that simple, and I wish that I didn’t get myself mixed up in a situation where I would have to make such a dangerous request of Sammy. “I’m sorry, man, I’m just a little worried about meeting with him.”
“You know you could cancel,” Sammy says.
“That’s not an option.”
“I don’t understand; why not?”
“It’s just not. Trust me, I have to go.”
Sammy takes another swig and sits there and stares at me. Growing up, I was in search of a father figure, and I found them in the church. My father was only in my life for a brief moment and in that time he caused more harm than good. Sammy is the first real father figure I have and to see him look at me with so much disappointment is a little too much for me to bear right now.
Sammy gets up and goes into his room, and for a few minutes all I hear is rumbling going on until Sammy reenters the living room with a .38 revolver in his hand.
“I’m going to loan you ‘Old Bessie.’ You bring her back now, you hear?”
This gun is perfect for robbing stagecoaches. I can both feel and see the rust on this gun as I hold it in my hands. In short, I’ve seen water guns that are more intimidating. “Did you steal this off of Jesse James?”
“She’ll work just fine, but I have to admit, it’s strange for a minister to feel like he has to carry a gun to preach the Gospel.”
Strange indeed, but tonight, I’m not sure if it’s going to be the Gospel that will be preached. “You know what, Sammy? That’s okay. I’m going to take your advice and listen to the Holy Spirit.”
“Now you’re talking, Doc.”
I just hope that it’s the Holy Spirit and not my instincts telling me not to show up to this meeting empty-handed. I can’t afford to make a mistake if this meeting with Demetrius goes south.
Chapter Seven
From Sammy’s place, I go back to Adele’s house. Adele is sitting in her living room with the TV on while reading a magazine.
“Hey, Adele.”
“Hey, sugar. I was wondering where you were,” she says.
“I hung out with Sammy for a minute. Where’s Victory?”
“Victory is in her room taking a nap.”
Adele gives me a look that reinforces the no shacking up in her house rule. I’m spending so much time hunting down a murderer that the thought of being tempted by a beautiful woman is the farthest thing on my mind.
“What’s wrong with you?” Adele asks.
“Demetrius came by the church today.”
“I know, I saw him there too. Even the devil goes to church sometimes.”
“Yeah, he’s starting to pop up everywhere I go, and it’s making me nervous.”
Adele lets out a grunt before she gets up and starts to head out of the living room. “Come on, I got something for you.”
I follow Adele out of the living room, and we walk past one of her two bathrooms to the room that she has kept closed the entire time I’ve been here.
This is the one room that she does not rent out to guests. Adele opens the double doors, and it becomes clear why this room is off-limits.
The room is a memorial to Adele’s late husband, Melvin Paige. In this room there are wedding photos, certificates of service, and Melvin’s service uniform. Melvin served in the army during Vietnam. Something else, in this room are all of Melvin’s weapons. Guns, knives, you name it. I’m sure that when he was alive, Adele felt safe.
“Here you go. You can use this.” She hands me a 9 mm pistol.
I didn’t expect for Adele to have this many guns in her house. I mean, I don’t think anybody would be foolish enough to try to break into her home, but Adele is prepared if a small army invades her home.
“Thank you, Adele.”
“It was Melvin’s gun. I walked in one day and see him with that gun in his mouth. The war changed him.”
“So I hear.”
“Yeah, he went into himself and resented everybody and everything, including God. He was mad at God for what he had to do to survive.”
>
“What did you do?” I ask.
“I did what came natural. I loved him through it. I prayed for him for years, and for years I thought that God wasn’t listening. Then I had a revelation that God is eternal. He’s not bound by time, but He does pay attention to position. Melvin had to be in the right position to forgive God, and he and I had to be in the right position to love Him unconditionally.”
Adele’s tale is both heartbreaking and cautionary. If Melvin could overcome his past to enjoy what he had with Adele, then why can’t I? Perhaps there is still hope for me as long as I am willing to walk away from the things that are destroying me.
“Thanks again, Adele.”
“No problem, sweetie. You take care of yourself.”
“Will do.” I take the gun and head upstairs to my room.
I get on the phone and call Paul from the LA Times. After several missed calls and several urgent text messages, Paul finally answers the phone.
“Even on vacation you’re still a pain in the neck.”
“Brother, it’s good to hear from you.” I mean it, I don’t have very many friends, but Paul is one of them. “So you got that information for me?”
“I know you’ve been in the Bahamas, but out here, we have a really tight mayoral race, and I’ve been really busy.”
The mayoral race is the furthest thing on my mind. I have an unknown enemy which is not good, because I don’t know how to fight him. Paul’s information can give me the advantage that I need.
“Yes, I got that information for you, and to sum it up, if you see this guy heading toward you, run in the opposite direction.”
Now that we have established a firm grasp on the obvious, I need Paul to dig deeper. There has to be more that Paul is leaving out. “Lay it on me. What else did you find out?”
“He basically owns three-fourths of the island you’re on, but a lot of it has been bought through shell companies. He even owns a chunk of the island that the pastor who was murdered was killed on.”
Now that is both surprising and unsettling news. It doesn’t take much to know that Demetrius is calling the shots around here, but the fact that he owns so much property on this island is disturbing because it means it’s possible he may have something to do with Pastor Cole’s death after all.
“Now the property he owns is very interesting. He owns the airport and three-fourths of the landing strip.”
“How do you own three-fourths of a landing strip?”
“That is the original length of the landing strip, but the pilots were having trouble landing on it, and Demetrius refused to put up the money to extend the landing strip. Then comes in Randall Knott with his millions. He bought the land around the airport and extended the landing strip.”
“I’m sure that didn’t sit well with Demetrius.”
“It didn’t. He wasn’t making money, but he didn’t make a big fuss.”
“Why not? That doesn’t sound like the Demetrius I’ve met.”
It is a fair question. A guy is losing money and business and nothing happens. That is curious, to say the least.
“If I have to guess, Demetrius is a drug dealer, and he uses that airport to run drugs and conduct all of his shady business dealings.”
All I hear is drugs, and I check out. This adds a volatile piece to the puzzle—a drug runner, a business tycoon, and a dead preacher all on the same island. There are a million questions in between.
“This guy wants to meet me tonight.”
“Tonight? Didn’t you just hear what I just said? You can’t be that stupid.”
“I don’t think I have a choice.”
“You do have a choice. You can stop being stupid and come home.”
“There are people whose lives will be at risk if I don’t meet with him.”
Paul doesn’t respond. He doesn’t wish me well; he just hangs up the phone. I’m sure he’s disgusted with me at this point. His final warning to me is not to do anything stupid, but I seem prone to do stupid things.
Chapter Eight
One day, I’m going to do the right and smart thing. Tonight is not that night. It’s 9:50 p.m. and in a few minutes, one of Demetrius’s minions will pick me up. I don’t know if I’ll return from this meeting, but I know that I have to find out the truth. The search for truth has made me the man that I am today. I pray that this quest does not lead to my demise.
“Nic, you don’t want any dessert?” Victory extends a slice of Adele’s sinful lemon cake toward me.
“No, thanks, I have to go somewhere for a little bit.”
“Where are you going at this hour? We have cake, and we’re about to watch Justified.”
“Justified doesn’t come on tonight,” I reply.
“I have four episodes recorded,” Adele says from the other side of the kitchen.
As much as I would love nothing more than to sit and eat cake, I would love to even watch Justified, but something tells me that Demetrius is not someone who handles being stood up.
“I’ll just be gone for a minute. I’ll be back in a little bit.” That is a lie. It’s the second lie I’ve told Victory since I have met her; it’s becoming a habit.
“Wait a minute, Nic. I thought that we were going to have a nice evening together where we spend quality time?”
“We will, I promise.”
Victory cocks her head to the side, and I realize that I did something I shouldn’t have done. I made her a promise, and the worst thing I can do is promise Victory something I can’t fulfill.
“Okay. No problem. Have a nice meeting.” Victory shrugs her shoulders and goes back into the kitchen.
I head for the door before I do something that I will regret . . . like not show up to this meeting. I had my sports coat on to conceal the gun Adele gave me earlier. I pray that I won’t have to use it.
“Nic,” Adele says.
I stop and turn to look at her. “Adele, I have to go.”
“It’ll just take a minute. We can step outside.”
I step outside of the house, and Adele closes the door behind her. The clock is ticking, and I don’t have time for a sermon.
“I know you have to go, but let me tell you that you’re making a mistake.”
“You’re going to have to be a little more specific,” I say, since at this point, there are a few mistakes that I’m making.
“That girl has come all the way out here for you. That’s a special girl, but you know that already.”
“I know. I know, and I’m trying.”
“Knowing is one thing, applying is something different,” Adele says.
“You’re quoting Bruce Lee,” I say.
“Child, hush. The point is, trying isn’t enough, not for someone like Victory. Don’t be a fool.”
“I am a fool. I’m just hoping that one day I’ll wise up.”
In the end, all I can do is shrug my shoulders as I step away from Adele. I walk away from her house remembering the sad look on Victory’s face and Adele’s words etched in my mind. That look will haunt me. This is not the trip I had envisioned for us. I walk along the back of Adele’s house and at 10 p.m. on the dot, a Jeep pulls up. A window rolls down, and all I see is darkness; darkness and a man’s face that I can’t make out.
“Get in.”
That’s all he says.
“Right to business, I like that,” I say.
I get into the car and not another word is said between my mystery driver and me. We travel up one long, winding road that leads to the top of the hill where Demetrius’s house is located. In a place of paradise, Demetrius rules as king. I can say one thing for sure: when it gets dark on the island, it get terrifyingly dark. I realize I take things like streetlights for granted.
We arrive at the top of the hill, and the driver turns off the engine and exits the car without another word. I know why I’m here, so there’s no need for further instructions. I just start walking toward Demetrius’s mansion.
For a drug lord, the security is
pretty nonexistent. Either Demetrius is low on the criminal totem pole, or no one is stupid enough to try anything. I don’t think either scenario plays well for me, but I do lean more toward the former as opposed to the latter. I follow the driver through the front door.
Once inside, it’s all-black. I can’t even begin to make out the interior except for the golden chandelier and the bright light that radiates from the living room. Once in the living room, I see the biggest projection screen I have ever seen in my life. A soccer match is on. One of Demetrius’s henchmen proceeds to conduct a search. He pats me down and finds the gun Adele gave me in my back pocket. He takes the gun and walks over to Demetrius.
“He had this on him,” the henchman says as he hands the gun over to Demetrius.
Now that Demetrius knows that I’m carrying, this meeting can get real interesting. I just hope that it doesn’t turn deadly.
“You brought a gun to a meeting? How Christian of you,” Demetrius says.
“Most Christians I know carry heat. They cling to the Old Testament,” I say.
Demetrius laughs, and even some of his henchmen manage to chuckle. The gun turned out to be a stupid play, but it got a laugh out of Demetrius, which kills the tension in the room.
“Do you like soccer, Mr. Dungy?” Demetrius says with his back to me while sitting on the couch and smoking a cigar.
“It’s okay.” In truth, the only things that I know about soccer is that it’s a bore to watch compared to football, and that David Beckham used to be a great player. Now he is just an underwear model.
The thing I find most alarming about Demetrius is that he knows my name, which means he’s resourceful. They are a real chatty group. It’s clear that Demetrius rules over his men with fear. I need to gauge where Demetrius is mentally, and while I think this move is stupid, I doubt that it could be any more stupid than me getting into the car with a loaded gun.
“So are we going to do this or what?”
“What?” Demetrius says as he sits up and turns toward me.
“Well, seeing that you had no problems killing one preacher, I’m sure you won’t hesitate to kill another.”
