BOMAW 7-9

by Mercedes Keyes

  "OH, YES—I DID, TOO! Sylvia! Don't you look at me like that! Now, this is a matter between father and son! Has nothing to do with either one of you! You women just—get back in your lil' huddle, sip your coolers, your wine, what have you—listen to your music and, uh—carry on—let us men see to matters with our sons, our boys. Ach, ach! Sylvia! I mean it, take your hands off your hips! Unroll that head, 'fore your neck snaps, and put that leg back beside the other one!"

  Sylvia crossed her arms over her breasts, glaring at her husband, who wore an expression which, while looking at her, was a combination of someone praying, while demanding, yet not 100% sure of how the order would be taken. They made eye contact, Sylvia could have raised a stink, but looking at him, into his eyes, she couldn't. Besides, Sheila was too noisy, hungry to pry, carrying on so beside her, she decided not to give her best friend more fuel and fun at their expense. And nothing in her could make her play her husband down before them, especially after his bold declaration of being the king, the ruler—she would tell him about that later, but not there in front of their guests.

  "He's right." She declared softly, and as the queen of the household, she would support her king.

  "HE'S—RIGHT?!" Sheila blasted, shocked.

  "Yes. We should let them take him—" Sylvia went on before Shawn2's wailing cut her off.

  "Noooo—mommieee!" Shawn2 snatched his eyes from Crystal, realizing a change and turned them to his mother, who was looking at Sylvia, and then up at her own husband. She sighed, Sylvia was right, Derrick had spoken, and she suddenly realized she shouldn't be riding over him in front of the others, "Okay...take'im away."

  "Noooo—mommieee!" In one last bid, Shawn2 blurted out, "Mommieee, tio Jake called me a little fucker!"

  All the women gasped out loud and then shot a glare to Jake. "I did not! I said—I said, 'come here you lil' sap sucker'!"

  "HE DID NOT!" Shawn2 called out the plea as he was being hauled away by his father.

  Jake growled at him through grinding teeth, "Wait till I get your lil' ass back downstairs!"

  Back in the basement, he sat on the love seat with the men surrounding him. Shawn2 looked from one face to the other, all were narrow-eyed, knowing, out to get him.

  "How long were you down here, boy?" Shawn asked.

  "I—" Shawn2 started, when Dennis cut him off.

  "Don't lie, 'cause I know how long."

  "I—I had to use the bathroom." He informed them.

  "All them trees outside, boy!" His Uncle Jake accused him.

  "I had to do the other one, number two!" Shawn2 gulped, looking at his Uncle Jake.

  "Yeah, right! What did you hear?!" Jake asked.

  "Nothing! I heard nothing! I was in the bathroom."

  "All that time?!" His father said next.

  "I was constipated! I couldn't get it out! I think I had too much candy today!"

  All four men growled above him. Shawn2 gulped, starting to sweat.

  "And you heard, absolutely nothing?!" Shawn leaned in closer, his foot propped up on the coffee table before him. His father was in the same position from his right. Dennis leaned over the back of the love seat from his left, and Jake was there from the right.

  "Nope! Nothing... I swear, nothing, tio."

  Shawn looked up at Derrick, and then Jake, and back to his brother Derrick again. "What do you think?"

  "It's possible, but—not likely." Derrick muttered, unsure.

  "Not likely, hell! He's lying his little ass off! Leave'im with me! I'll get the truth out'of'im!" Jake fumed. He knew him, knew him as no one did. He may look like Shawn, but Jake knew that Shawn2 was all him, all over again. Now, even worse, he'd armed him with some dangerous ammunition.

  "I don't know, maybe he didn't hear anything." Derrick leaned away, feeling sorry for his son.

  "Don't fall for it, Derrick! Look'at'im! He's faking it!" Shawn warned his brother, he'd seen that look hundreds of times from Jake.

  "No, I'm not! I didn't hear a thing!" Shawn2 swore.

  "I'm tellin' you! He tells that joke about the Mercedes and he'll be—" Jake started, setting him up, and sure enough, Shawn2 cut him off declaring, "Mercedes?! You said a Porsche?! Ach!" He gasped, slapping his hand over his mouth, realizing he'd told on himself.

  "I rest—my case!" Jake finished. "Leave'im with me." He petitioned in the most menacing voice Shawn2 had ever heard.

  "Noooo, daddieee, don't leave me with Tio Jake." Shawn2 pleaded.

  All four men rose from him, they looked at Jake, Derrick asked, "If I leave him to you, what you gonna do to him?" Derrick asked.

  "Only what Shawn threatened to do to me, and did...he'll survive it, it'll be painful, but he'll be okay."

  Shawn2 was looking from one to the other, "What'a'ya gonna do'ta'me?!"

  Jake leaned down into his face, saying, "I'm gonna take your little pecker, pull it back between your legs, up through the crack'o'your ass, sew your little cheeks closed over it, stretch it up, wind it 'round your neck one time, stick it in one ear hole, pull it out the other, tie a knot in it, so it stays right there. Yeah—that's what I'm gonna do." Jake threatened menacingly.

  "DAI-AMN! That's gone hurt!" Dennis blasted, trying not to laugh.

  Shawn2 squeezed his legs tight, cupping his hands over and guarding his precious, next-generation-maker, looking from Jake to his father.

  "Daddy, I only heard the joke...that's all I heard...just the joke." Shawn2 whimpered.

  Shawn was looking at Jake, trying not to laugh himself. How many times had he threatened that very same thing? He stood proud to know that such cool tactics would be passed on to another generation for torture, he was proud of it, seeing as he'd made it up, strictly for Jake. Jake glanced up at him, Shawn grinned and winked at him adding, "If I remember correctly, the two times I tried it with you, didn't work! Knot wouldn't stay tied."

  "Not to mention the fact I had to take a shit! Mom rushed me to the hospital that one time, remember? Doctor asked her who sewed my ass closed!"

  "Ya'll ass is crazy! Anybody ever tell you that? Crazy—as—hell! Ain't nobody wanna hear all that screaming, waitin' on the knot to hol', just plaster his shit!" Dennis joined in, laughing and enjoying terrorizing him.

  "HUH?!" Shawn2 exclaimed.

  "Plaster?!" All three men asked at the same time.

  "Yeah, man, that shit'll work better! Just pack plaster over his lil' willy, stick a straw in his lil' pee-pee hole—pack that plaster 'round it, that way, he can take a leak when he need to."

  "Hm, that's a new one with us...plaster it, huh?" Derrick went along, as if giving it some thought.

  "Nooooo, mommy won't let you!"

  "Wrong, son, see—your mom and I made a little arrangement. From now on, when it comes to you—she's leaving you in my hands." Derrick told him, and then looked back up at Dennis, "Plaster, hmmm?"

  "I'm tellin' you, man, that's the way to go! They can't get you for that, the law, that is. But sewing his ass closed? Puttin' a knot in his willy? Somebody gone say something."

  Derrick looked at Shawn, "I think he's right. Laws have changed; now'days, they'll get you for tying his willy in a knot."

  "Look! You're gonna have to do something, Derrick! I'm telling you now, the boy is armed and dangerous! That is, unless you wish to be a grandpa within the next couple of years?!" Jake tossed at Derrick, "And the way he is!? I give it two years, tops—if that! Some woman, or father, will be knocking at your door, looking for you to buy the Huggies!"

  "HUH?! What are you talkin' about!? I don't even have a girlfriend!" Shawn2 argued in his defense.

  "Don't need a girlfriend! Just a willing pair of legs." Shawn leaned towards him to add.

  Derrick sighed, deciding game and toying-with-him time, was over. He sat on the loveseat beside his son. Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, fingers laced, he turned his head to look at him. Shawn2 stared at his father with wide eyes, wondering how long they'd keep him there? Wondering could they really do tho
se things? "Son..." His father called to get his attention, saying very seriously, "...sex, is not a game. Nor are girls, toys—to be played with. It is nothing else, but wrong, to use what you may have heard, to play with them."

  "I don't play with girls, dad! Honest I don't! I don't even like'em!" Shawn2 denied.

  "What? You gay?" Jake asked.

  "No!" Shawn2 denied immediately.

  "Son, you do like girls, because you're forever bragging to your brothers about which ones like you." Derrick pointed out.

  "It's not true, dad, it's all lies!"

  "You think you're slick!" Jake snarled.

  "Jake, let me handle this now, okay?"

  "I think you're too soft." Jake returned.

  "He's my son, let me deal with him."

  Shawn walked to the bar, Dennis took the seat that Derrick had vacated and Jake leaned back against the love-seat, his arms crossed, listening and watching his nephew. Derrick took a deep breath, watching his son squirm. Staring at him, he already knew what possible days were ahead for him with this one. After all, he'd grown up between Shawn and Jake, both notorious rakes. Both of them sexually active at an early age, despite what their dad had told them, all three. He'd listened, and Shawn and Jake—well, they'd gone their own direction. Both of them rebels in their own way. Derrick remembered clearly how serious their father had been in telling them about how serious it was to go to bed with a girl. If there was no intent to marry, then it was best not to bother. To his father, young boys, were the equivalent of young guns. Remembering that, Derrick took another deep breath and started with his own son, as he'd said to his others.

  "Shawn, I want you to listen to me. I want you to pay close attention to me, son, understand?"

  "Yes, dad."

  "Son, do you know how dangerous guns are?"

  "Yes, sir, I know."

  "Yes, you should, now—would you ever take a loaded gun, and point it at someone and pull the trigger?"

  "Of course not, dad!"

  "Why not?"

  "Because! It could kill them!"

  "Yep, it could, or cause them serious harm, right?"

  "Yeah."

  "Well, son, do you know, that our father, your grandpa Bart, said that boys are like young guns. You ever hear that?"

  Shawn2 shrugged.

  "Well, I'm telling you now, it's true. They are. All boys are, for the most part, are guns. Guns, with no bullets. Once you pass puberty, you become a gun, with bullets, loaded. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"

  Shawn2 gulped and nodded, staring in his dad's eyes, and then realized, he didn't understand, not really.

  "Why a gun, dad?"

  "Because a loaded gun, is dangerous. If used for the wrong reason, it will destroy lives. A young male, with a loaded gun, can wreak all kinds of hell and havoc on the lives of young girls. Similarly, as if one was to take a gun, point it at her, and shoot."

  "Huh, I don't understand...what are you, then? Tio Shawn, Dennis and Tio Jake?"

  "I'm a man, a husband, a father. So is your Tio Shawn, Dennis as well. And, well—your Tio Jake—he's a loaded gun as well. And I'm certain, he will tell you, the dangers of not knowing how to cautiously use your weapon. What you've heard, I fear, will give you cause, to possibly un-holster, your gun. You're too young, son. You're too young. I'm asking you, to keep your gun in your holster, until you become man enough, responsible enough, to know how it's best used. Too many young men, draw their gun in a moments notice, in the heat of passion. So many, out to prove they know how to aim and shoot, and at random, start blasting away, hurting many. And there are times, when they've even hurt themselves."

  "But, dad, why a gun?"

  "Your grandfather felt that a young man, like guns with bullets in the wrong hands, can wreck lives. He also felt, that a married man, depending on the type of man he is, is a Lion. Guardian of his keep. Both the gun, and the Lion, can be dangerous. People look down at guns, and fear them, with good reason. Lions—too, are feared, but they are also revered, glorified, their roar noted, as well demanding respect. There is more honor, in being a lion who roars with warning, than a gun, shooting off just to be heard for boasting. You understand?"

  Shawn2 nodded, and then looked up at Jake. Jake looked away, taking in a deep breath, running his hand over his face, uncomfortable with the topic, and then, at his nephew's next words, he paled. "If Jake's a gun, too, then life's not so bad! Tio Jake is cool! Mom says that women are always after him, that's ke-ewl! Why can't I be like him?!"

  Jake couldn't believe it. Hearing his nephew eagerly looking up to him for all the wrong reasons, made him feel ill. Never had he imagined that his chosen lifestyle, might effect someone else this way. It hadn't effected his own sons, in fact, he'd never given it thought. While he certainly, of late, looked back over his life and regretted many areas in it, not for one second had he thought his choices in life, could possibly be a stumbling block for another young male, mainly speaking, one of his nephews; his brother's son. He couldn't believe it. Jesus Christ! he thought before speaking up.

  "Shawn2—don't be stupid. Your dad's right. You wanna look up to someone, and think he's 'ke-ewl'? Look no further than the man sitting next to you. Believe me, boy, I've caused many an injury—and—I have plenty to regret..."

  Shawn knew where he was going with it. "Jake...chill, man. Don't even go there. Let that go, okay?"

  Jake stood, "Why?! We talking about young guns?! Are we not? Did his father not just say to him, the way you use your weapon, can wreak havoc? Pointing your gun, and shooting, can kill! Is it not so? Is that not a fact?"

  "I know, Jake, but let's not bring her into it, okay?" Shawn went on.

  "Why not? It's a perfect example, is it not?! Hm? What better example, can there fuckin' be? Huh?" Jake asked, and turned to Derrick, "You think there's a better example, Derrick, than Doris...huh? What do you think?"

  Derrick scratched his head, nervous. "Jake, it's not necessary."

  "I disagree!" Jake dropped to his knees, leaning over the back of the love seat staring at his nephew, he reached over and flicked his middle finger hard, thumping him on the head.

  "OW!" Shawn2 rubbed the side of his head, looking at Jake, and then at his father, who looked away.

  "Don't look at your dad, look at me. Look at me!" He slapped him on the head, "Right now, look here!" He demanded.

  Rubbing the sore spot, Shawn2 looked at Jake.

  "Why do you think I'm cool?" Jake asked him directly.

  "'Cause..." Shawn2 whined.

  "'Cause what? And make sense when you answer."

  Shawn2 gulped, and again looked to his father to rescue him. Derrick stared at the floor beside him.

  "Answer me, don't look at him, look at me! Look at me...right here! What's so fuckin' cool about me, huh? Tell me?!"

  Afraid to answer, Shawn2 shrugged.

  "I'll tell you what, not—a—fuckin' thing! You understand that? I got no fuckin' home—"

  "Jake, man, come on." Shawn called out to him.

  "SHAWN! Leave me alone! I'm gonna get this through his thick skull! I'm all right—just leave me."

  Shawn nodded and remained silent.

  Jake turned back to his nephew, he was looking down, red in the face. "Eh, boy—look—at me. Look dead in my eyes...now."

  Shawn2 looked up, as he was told.

  "There's nothing 'ke-ewl'—about having no home! There's nothing 'ke-ewl'—in knowing that your own father doesn't like you, because you're a screw up! There's nothing 'ke-ewl', in having nothing—nothing worthwhile to show—for 40 fuckin'—wasted years! There's nothing 'ke-ewl' in being the family's, guaranteed black sheep—reject! There's nothing 'ke-ewl' in having three sons, that two other men have raised, because I was off, being fuckin' 'ke-ewl'! There's nothing 'ke-ewl', in having to depend on your older brothers to always have to pull you out the shit! You little dumb fuck! That is not 'ke-ewl'! It is not—fuckin' 'ke-ewl'—to watch a woman, whom you've fucked over—eat a bul
let, blowing her own fuckin' brains out—because…" Jake ground down hard on his jaw. "Remember Doris, Shawn2? You remember her?" He asked, wiping quickly at his face, swiping away a tear.

  Shawn2 nodded.

  "Remember the funeral? You weren't there, but you know there was one, don't you?"

  Shawn2 nodded.

  "That's what you get—fellow—young gun—when you don't, keep, your dick—holstered! You get to stand at a funeral, knowing you're the worst kind of shit in existence. That because of you, that person's life is now over—knowing that it's something you've done, that brought her to that! And you think that's 'ke-ewl'." Jake stared at him long and hard, straight into his eyes, so penetrative was his glare, Shawn2 looked down. Jake grabbed his chin, forcing his head back up to look him in the eyes. "Leave—the girls…alone. You're not ready. Do you understand me? To you—it's nothing more than getting off and telling about it—to them, it may mean a whole lot more! Leave them—the fuck—alone! I mean it!"

  Shawn2 gulped and nodded. Jake stared at him, long and hard. Wondering would he even listen? Did he understand what they were trying to tell him? Jake knew hehadn't listened. He'd barreled forward and made his mark. Had a reputation with the ladies, but now—where had it gotten him? He stood from the floor and walked outside, he needed a cigarette. Dennis sat back, wiping his hand over his face. A seed was planted; he was contemplating moving his family here, his boys. There was something about this family, in the midst of it, that he wanted for his own boys to see and be around. As rough around the edges as these brothers were, they all loved each other. He could see that. One thing Dennis had never known, and that was that white people, men especially, could feel so intensely as these brothers did. He worked with quite a few white guys, and knew they could be crazy, funny, and stupid too. But the McPherson's were the first that he'd spent any leisure time with. Growing up, there had only been his one brother, who now lived Colorado somewhere. Making good money as an architect. They didn't communicate as much as they should, even though they were close growing up. Dennis was the youngest. He knew his brother had married recently, but he had no children. He wanted his sons to experience the basis of a family atmosphere. He wanted them to learn something more in life than what was found in the big city. His boys were his heart. All B.S. aside, their lives would be what he laid the foundation for it to be. He wanted them to experience all expects of life to make sure they grew to be well-rounded young men. In the city, he was beginning to see they were too sheltered, closed in. They needed room to breathe, explore and experience the other side of life. That included other types of white people. He didn't want them growing up narrow-minded and prejudiced. They needed to know that people were people, good and bad, in all races. Dennis was starting to give serious thought to relocating, some serious thought.