Even Sinners Have Souls TOO

by Joy, E. n.

  "Hey now," he smiled reassuringly. "Do you need to talk to someone?"

  "Naw, Mr. Martin. I'm good." His breath reeked of liquor as he stood to his feet, almost losing his balance.

  "Well you don't look good, Son. Why don't you come on over to my house, put that bottle down, and let my wife fix you a plate of food?"

  "Naw, I done told you, I'm okay." Little Ro tried stashing the half drunken bottle of Hennessy behind one of the flower pots as he wildly waved his arms, dismissing Mr. Martin. "You can go on and just leave me alone. I don't need nobody's help."

  "All right, all right, all right." Mr. Martin reached in his back overall pocket and got out a small travel size Bible. "I'm gonna do just that, son, because I see that you are intent on going down the road of self destruction and defiance to the word of the Lord Our God. But while you taking that hard, bumpy and unfortunately often traveled journey to damnation, take this along with you for comfort, 'cause it ain't never too late to turn back on that road."

  The last thing Little Ro wanted to hear about was God. "Mr. Martin, leave me alone! And stop calling me son. I ain't got no Daddy. He ain't care about me, my sista or my momma! He left us."

  "Yes, son, that's true, I'm not your father, but remember this," he preached with a tone of certainty in his voice. "If you trust in the Lord, He'll never abandon you. And as for Roland Sr., I bet my last dollar he's up in heaven missing you every passing day. So try to be the best you can be and make him proud." With his quick, fiery filled sermon concluded, Mr. Martin while humming one of his favorite hymns, "Onward Christian Soldiers," headed back to the security of his front porch praising the name of Jesus.

  Little Ro licked his lips and leaned back, reaching for his bottle, defiant in the advice he was just given. Raising it to his lips, he glanced down at the Bible Mr. Martin left on the bottom step as he took another long swig.

  Mr. Martin watched the young Roland and shook his head, saying under his breath, "That child needs to take his self back to church and submerge his soul into the teachings of the Savior instead of drinking that sinful juice the Devil uses to trick folks to join his Army of the Wicked." Mr. Martin shook his head again, wondering what was gonna become of Little Ro if he kept on the path he was traveling.

  Chapter Seven

  On his second trip to the liquor store, a totally inebriated Little Ro tried and tried, but couldn't find Salena to do him the same solid she'd done earlier. Barely standing against the brick wall of the store , he attempted coaxing person after person, no matter who they were, in hopes that one of them would be dishonest and dumb enough to break the law and risk getting ticketed to buy his underage self another bottle.

  "Hey, you," he belched out loud as his eyes darted around and he waved another fifty dollar bill. "Can you grab something out the store for me?"

  "Naw, Young Playa," one guy responded.

  "Ain't that Arnita's son?" another one commented to her friend as they walked pass. "It's a shame how these kids behave. Look at him. Drunk as I don't know what. He ain't nothing like his daddy."

  Hearing people ignore his demands and then talk about him like he wasn't there, and on top of that, comparing him to his two timing, cheating, womanizing father, Little Ro grew more enraged than he was when he'd first walked down the block.

  "Y'all don't know me or nothing about me," Little Ro screamed out like the entire world could hear him. "I'm sick and tired of y'all hypocrites trying to judge me! I'm my own man! I make my own rules!"

  As Little Ro stood in the middle of the parking lot proclaiming his independence and manhood, two plain clothes police officers pulled up after receiving a call from the store's owner who'd gotten complaints from several older customers about a teenager outside disrespecting them. Trying his best to refrain from any more outbursts as they cautiously approached him with their guns drawn, Little Ro let the liquor take back over his system, resulting in him cursing them out without any regard whatsoever for their authority.

  As if matters couldn't get any worse, one last sign that he shouldn't be drinking jumped off as he violently vomited all the contents of his stomach on one of the officer's shoes as they slammed him down against the concrete pavement, checking him for any weapons or drugs.

  Struggling with the officers for a good five minutes or so, Little Ro, outnumbered and oversized by the two officers, finally stopped resisting and was thrown, handcuffed head first, in back of their black unmarked vehicle and quickly whisked off to the local precinct. No sooner than they arrived at the station, still defiant, drunk and pissed off, the rebellious youth used his feet to repeatedly kick the police car's window until it cracked. Fortunately for him, as luck would have it, the Desk Sergeant on duty recognized Little Ro from cutting his yard in the past and stopped the officers from any rough house retaliation that was sure to follow.

  After logging in most of Little Ro's property that was on his person, the Sergeant took notice of one particular item he wasn't used to seeing in a young man's possessions. It was a small Bible. Apparently Little Ro, intoxicated and rambling, still had the mind set that God and his word was something too strong and powerful to be left on the stairs of his porch when he left to get his second bottle.

  Making his one phone call, which was of course, to his mother since he was legally still underage, a dizzy Little Ro could hardly get the words out that he was arrested before Arnita started screaming at the top of her lungs. Holding the telephone receiver as far away from his ear as he could, Little Ro closed his eyes, wondering how his life had gotten so far out of control in such a short time.

  It seemed to him that in between now being totally responsible for paying all the various household expenses and giving his Great Auntie Bell money to take care of his younger sister while his mom ran the streets trying hopelessly to recapture her youth, he was losing his mind.

  Less than an hour later, Arnita, designer purse on her arm, neck full of gold jewelry and nails perfectly manicured, stormed through the doors of the police station yelling out obscenities and cursing in the name of the Lord. Approaching the main desk with a serious attitude, she boldly demanded to see her son and the officers that arrested him, causing her to leave the Casino earlier than she'd planned.

  It was obvious to the officers that Arnita was the young boy's mother because that apple definitely didn't fall far from the tree. How they saw it, her and the boy both needed Jesus in their lives.

  The desk sergeant shook his head, still amazed after all his years on the job how some so-called parents acted when their children broke the law. It was as if they were mad at the system for catching the little heathens rather than being mad at their child for being a heathen.

  "Yes, are you Roland Mills, Jr.'s mother?" the Sergeant knowingly asked.

  "Yes, I am," she loudly stated. "Where's my son at and what did you pick him up for?"

  "There are several charges; Public Intoxication, Disorderly Conduct, Resisting Arrest and Destruction of Police Property."

  "Oh, heck naw. All of that?" Arnita frowned.

  "Sorry, Miss, but he's facing serious charges and his bond is rather high.Do you allow him to drink?"

  "A bond?" she quizzed, planting her hands firmly on her hips. "Can't you just release him to me and stay out of the way I raise mines?"

  "I wish it was that easy, but it's not."

  "Yeah, well let's get on with it. How much is it?" Arnita fumed as she opened her purse, ready to get out of there as soon as possible and back to the Casino where she had been on a winning streak.

  When it was all said and done, Arnita counted out $3,500. Two thousand of which she had in her purse, one thousand in small bills Little Ro had on his person, and lastly five hundred she withdrew out the ATM. Waiting forty-five minutes for the paperwork to be completed, Little Ro, still sick to his stomach, was finally freed. Before his mother yanked him out the door, the Desk Sergeant made sure to personally hand him back his Bible along with a card to his church, telling Little Ro he'd love to s
ee him at Sunday Services.

  Settling into the passenger seat, sympathy was not on his side as Arnita read him the riot act. She informed him that by the time she got home, she wanted every single penny of the bond money she'd put up on her dresser or it was gonna be hell to pay.

  She's acting like I didn't give her that money in the first place. But I can't take hearing her mouth, Little Ro said to himself. He felt like throwing up again with each pothole Arnita seemed to purposely ride over.

  "How much was the bond?" Little Ro asked his mother.

  "You owe me twenty-five hundred," she spat matter of factly.

  Little Ro didn't even think he had that much money in his stash with the way he always blew his money pretty much just as soon as he got it.

  I knew I shouldn't have bought that dag on chain two days ago, he fussed at himself. Little Ro had to think quick about how he was gonna get his moms her money back and fast. Most of Little Ro's clients were young kids from his high school, but he didn't have time to wait around for them to come to him. Although it wasn't something he particular cared to do, he knew that tomorrow he would have to go up to the high school and push all the pills he could.

  Chapter Eight

  Little Ro paced the floor persistently in hopes of coming up with an immediate solution to ensure Arnita wouldn't be on his back about her money. His plan to go up to the school and push some pills failed miserably. The high school was on lock. There were a couple suited up security guards that had everybody noid, including Little Ro. The last thing he wanted to do was end up in jail again and owe his moms even more money.

  As soon as he returned home, Little Ro was craving another drink to fight the demons that filled his head, so he retrieved a bottle of Absolut his mother kept on the top shelf of the kitchen cabinet. Twisting the top off, taking it to the head for a quick swig, he was stopped by a series of hard knocks at his front door.

  Bam, bam, bam, bam. The loud barrage of bangs increased. Bam, bam, bam.

  "Yeah, who is it?" Little Ro grabbed a pistol he kept tucked underneath the cushion of the sofa. He took a deep breath, gripping up on a gun that he'd traded a few pills for to a white boy from the suburbs "Yeah! Who that?"

  "It's me, Dude." Deon pounded his fist against the door once more, causing the frame to shake. "Open up!"

  Laying the gun, that made him feel tough, on the mantle above the fireplace, Little Ro turned the knob, letting his homeboy into the house. "What up, doe?" he slurred slightly, nodding his head upward.

  "Dude, did you give my Ole Girl some money before you bugged out, getting yourself arrested?"

  "Naw, why you say that?"

  "Because she got enough bread from somewhere to get as high as three kites, and she keeps mumbling something about you and her and some secret."

  "Ah, Dawg, maybe before when she copped me a bottle and I let her keep the change." Little Ro said it as though it wasn't a big deal.

  "Why you do that?" Deon, out of nowhere, lunged at Little Ro, collaring him up. "That was foul!"

  "Get off me. Is you crazy or what?" Little Ro shoved him back then straightened out his shirt.

  "I'm sorry, guy, but I've been trying to wean her off that stuff and convince her to get some help. So when she said secret, I knew she must've hit you up for some loot."

  Little Ro leaned over, picking the bottle off the floor then taking another sip. "You want some?" He extended the Absolut to Deon as sort of a peace offering.

  "Naw, I gotta get back to the crib and make some phone calls about this house I'm trying to get. Besides, you need to put that mess down. You already jacked up enough!"

  "Yeah, but I just been through hell on earth!" Little Ro smiled, realizing a solution to his money woes. "But you can help ya boy out until next week."

  "What is it?"

  "I'm gonna need to borrow some cash real quick to repay my Moms for that bond she had to post."

  Deon, who'd been on a mission of stacking dough since the day he and Little Ro linked up, didn't waste any amount of time stopping that notion from growing. "Look, I wanna work with you, but I ain't gonna be able to do it. Now I gotta bounce and make them calls. I'm out!"

  "Whoa, it's like that?" Little Ro took a huge gulp, giving him more courage than usual as he tossed the still open bottle across the room, spilling it on the new plush carpet. "Dawg, if it wasn't for me, you'd probably be still up there on the corner with that tramp mother of yours, broke!"

  Deon knew after what he'd told his friend about his Pop's death, he was in a bad way. That's probably why he had all of a sudden found a new friend in the form of alcohol. So he tried to overlook his rants.

  "Look, Ro," Deon explained, "I'm saving all my money so I can buy a crib out in the suburbs and get my mother out this neighborhood, along with all the horrible memories that haunt her and me everyday. It's been hard for both of us over the years living around here, and now. . ." Deon continued to try to explain why he couldn't afford to loan Little Ro any money, especially the way Little Ro let money slip through his fingers like water. "I almost have enough money saved."

  "It's been hard for y'all?" Little Ro stepped back. "If it wasn't for your mother being so hot in the pants seducing my dad back in the day, he'd still be alive and things wouldn't have been so hard on me. I've been the man around here since the night my ole girl came home from the hospital with my father's belongings covered in blood. And P.S., no matter where you take your momma, she always gonna be nothing more than a slime ball crack head."

  "You know what? I'm gonna pray for you." Deon flipped the script. "Going to church helped me not be so angry and it can help you too. It can help you change."

  "Look; been there done that. The only thing that's gonna help me is that money I need to give back to my mother, not God. So run that!" Little Ro yanked forcefully on Deon's arm then swung on him, hitting his friend dead in his jaw.

  Having no choice but to defend himself, Deon fired back, delivering a strong blow to Little Ro's midsection. The harsh blow caused him to get weak in the knees. Deon then followed it up by a fist in his left eye. As chaos and pandemonium broke out inside the house, neighbors heard the noise spill out into the street and called the police.

  Consumed with not disappointing his mother, whom he'd die for, Little Ro gathered his composure. He charged at his friend once more, not wanting to take no for an answer. Enduring three additional swift socks in his face and landing on the floor near the fireplace, Arnita's worn out, beat down son saw no other alternative as he reached up and grabbed his pistol, putting one up top.

  "I said run that money," Little Ro repeated. "My momma needs it."

  "Dawg, your mother ain't no better than mine despite what you think or say. And my moms needs the money too." Deon took his chances bum rushing Little Ro, which resulted in both crashing on the oak framed coffee table then rolling around in the sharp pieces of the shattered glass top.

  Bang, Bang.

  The loud ear deafening sounds of the nine millimeter being fired twice echoed throughout the house as Deon and Little Ro both lay motionless on the floor; one in shock of shooting his friend and one in shock of being shot. As the police sirens roared in the distance, getting closer, neither moved a muscle. Three minutes later the house was swarming with officers, including the same cops who'd arrested Little Ro earlier. Paramedics brought him out on a gurney barely clinging to life.

  Mr. Martin, watching from his porch across the street, prayed quietly for Little Ro's recovery. As Deon, distraught and in a zombie like trance, was being handcuffed and led toward the squad car, Mr. Martin faithfully promised the young man that the church would stand behind him and pray for him too. Deon had recently become a member of the same church as Mr. Martin. Surely he'd be able to get off pleading self defense. After all, that was the truth, and all good Christians are led to believe that the truth shall set you free!

  With Bible in hand, Mr. Martin went inside his house, and placed a call to Arnita, informing her there had bee
n an altercation at her home and that Little Ro had been taken to the hospital.

  Chapter Nine

  The Here And Now

  "Don't say that, Auntie Bell," Arnita shrieked, her voice echoing throughout the hospital chapel. "I'm a good mother! I'd never do anything to harm either one of my kids."

  "You say that now, but you did harm him. Maybe not on purpose, but you still did. Forcing that boy to take his daddy's place and work everyday after school. Pressuring him all those times to keep his sister every Saturday instead of letting him be a child! Thank God I stepped in and took her when I did. Although now it looks like it might have been too late. But still, it was plain wrong, Arnita. There was no way that boy could fill a man's shoes!"

  Arnita thought for a moment, taking in her aunt's words as she thought back on how she handled things after the death of her husband. "I never thought about it like that. I love my baby and just want him to be all right." She continued to sob.

  Auntie Bell opened her Bible and started reading different verses, encouraging her niece to get on her knees and pray to God. "Tell the man upstairs you're sorry, honey, not me. He'll listen. Repent and tell Him what ails you and ask the Almighty Creator for His divine forgiveness. He'll decide in all His greatness what comes next."

  Overcome with emotion and ready to submit to the will of the Holy Father, Arnita fell from the chapel's pew and onto the ground with nothing but humbleness in her thoughts as she asked for the Lord to please show mercy on her first born child who'd temporary lost his way. She also prayed for God to please not punish him for her unspeakable sins.

  Our Father which art in Heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in Heaven. Arnita was overcome with grief. With each word that rolled off her quivering lips, she hoped for redemption as she prayed barely above a whisper. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen.