by Leo Sullivan
Sullivan Productions, LLC
Presents
In This Life
A Novel by
Leo Sullivan
NOTE:
This novel is a work of fiction…Any resemblances to real people, living or dead, actual events, establishments, organizations, and/or locals are intended to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously as are those fictionalized events and incidents that involve real persons and did not occur, or are set to in the future.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Sullivan Productions, LLC
P.O. Box 1342
Decatur, GA 30031
Novel: In This Life
Copyright © 2011 by Leo Sullivan
Library of Congress Control Number: 2011939880
ISBN No: 978-0-9832392-2-2.
Cover Design: www.mariondesigns.com
Typeset/Inside Layout: Linda Williams
Printed in the United States Of America
Dedication
To my mother, Evette Sullivan,
may she Rest In Peace.
“Ma, I miss you every day.”
Acknowledgments
First, I would like to thank God for blessing me and allowing me to wake up each and every morning in good health. I would also like to thank God for the ability to put pen to paper and tell a story; what a wonderful gift.
Okay, so in no particular order, I’d like to thank the following folks: Rahman Muhammad, Wahida Clark, Renita M. Walker, Keith Saunders, Ms. T. Styles, Marvin Johnson and the wifey, Kay Kay; Carlene Crumpton and her beautiful family; Dude C.J. Crumpton, Darrell James Debrew, Victor Martin, Stephanie Grier, Vernina Calloway, Aunt Toni Sullivan and my son and daughter, Leo, Jr. and Christle; Snake and Tip at Grand Hustle Music, Sherrie Hackett, Kenisha Winebush, Jamel Shields, Willie Hosea and his beautiful daughters, Amber and Lazyirria; Buddy, Shaun (Qadir) Sinclair, Joseph Kwaha, Carlos Cajigas, Ronda Crenshaw, Von Davis, Darryl Hawkins, Anita Speller, Ms. Rice, Shameen Speight, LaTonya Lawson, Cheryl Taylor, Linda Williams and, most importantly, my mentor, Mutulu Shakur.
To those that I have forgotten to mention, blame it on my memory and not on my heart. If it makes you feel any better, just place your name right here ________________________.
~Peace~
Chapter One
Chicago, April 3, 1977
He held the binoculars to his read bloodshot eyes, waiting…. The stale smoke from the smoldering cigarette irritated his sinuses. However, he had told the man to light up, fast! He swore silently under his breath, if the man sitting next to him farted one more time he would pull out his nine-millimeter and blow his goddamn brains out.
The job should have been easy, involving little risk. Kidnap the kid and hightail it out of there. However, as it now turns out, it was not quite that simple. Hell, he had abducted ambassadors out of foreign countries and those jobs had been a piece of cake compared to this. Once again he had to admit that he had failed to do his homework. When he was younger he never made such blunders, and now he realizes just how conspicuous it looks for two white men to be parked in a Toy’s R Us van in a predominantly black neighborhood on the south side of Chicago.
Nineteen hours later, two six packs of warm beer, and two surprisingly bold attempts by a platoon of ten year olds to hijack the van; the driver now sat with his T-shirt pulled over his nose. For the first time in his long prosperous career, Mario Giddi, fifty-five years of age, was seriously questioning if he was getting too old for this line of work. About the only thing that he was sure of was that the man sitting next to him had past gas again. Now finding himself very agitated and on the fringe of another one of his violent tirades…he saw something, the most beautiful sight he had seen in the last twenty-four hours. The kid came strolling out the building with that bobbing gait so common among black boys. Mario quickly reached for the dossier on the kid and began to look back and forth at the kid and the picture.
“That’s him! That’s him!” He yelled. The sleeping redneck sitting next to him jumped and grabbed a high powered rifle with a scope on it, and was about to take aim at the kid…
“Don’t shoot you fucking idiot!
“Wha yah wanna do?” The redneck said dumbfounded. The man’s voice seemed to irritate the hell out of him. With all the restraint he could muster, he spoke through clinched teeth, his jaw knotted.
“Elmo, take…the…goddamned gun out the fuckin’ window. Now! Let’s just follow him and see if we can grab him off the street.” Mario then snatched the rifle out of Elmo’s hand as the hillbilly looked at him sideways, in an attempt to understand what was just said.
“He sho’ll is a bigg’en, said Elmo as he placed his large foot on the dash board. The dozen boiled eggs that he had eaten were hurting his stomach something terrible, and as Grandma had always told him, there was more room outside than there was inside. And with that thought in mind, Elmo Clampet farted for the last time. It vibrated the inside of the van. Even with the windows down the smell was awful. Shyly, he looked over at Mario, whose face was contorted as if he was possessed with demons. Mario now frantically dug under his seat for something. He retrieved a gun. At point blank range, just when Elmo was about to apologize and explain to him what his Grandma had taught him, Mario shot him right between the eyes. The silencer of the gun was quiet, like the snapping of a finger. Now in a fit of rage he vehemently talked to the corpse as he struggled to move it to the back of the van.
The beautiful blue sky bathed Freddy Thugstin as he walked briskly and seemed to constantly look over this shoulder. Today was just like the others. For the past few months his life had been a roller coaster of suspense and intrigue, but lately he was getting an uncanny feeling of danger. He wondered if they’d kill him. Maybe?
As soon as he turned the corner, there she stood in front of her building. She saw him and her face lit up, eyes sparkling, the beauty mark above her lip seemed to dance. It ruined her, “I am suppose to be mad at you” scowl. As he neared he grinned at her. She did not smile back, that was a bad sign. The amorous fragrance of peaches, along with the sweet promises of her glorious womanhood jagged his senses. He tried to kiss her on the lips, she turned her head slightly letting him barely touch her cheek.
At seventeen years old, Sasha Thomas was stunningly gorgeous: the kind of beauty that made people stare, both men and women. Today a light morning breeze swayed the brown sundress that clung to the curves of her pulp figure. Her long hair was in a ponytail that cascaded down the middle of her back. With each day, puberty seemed to bless her more. Somewhere in the distance, perhaps in a lost breeze, the soulful melodious voice of Mahalia Jackson could be heard in perfect concert with the morning chirping birds--the ghetto’s aubade, the chimes of summer’s reign.
“Sasha, I appreciate you meeting me here. When I called I wasn’t sure that you would come.” With contempt she folder her arms and stood back on her legs. Her lips curled into a snarl, she began to pat her foot impatiently.
“Freddy, I am trying to understand this, all of this.” She pointed in disgust at his clothes. “And this mysterious Aunt that just seemed to pop up out of nowhere. You never told me about her. Now all of a sudden you change on me.” Her voice moved up a notch. He could hear the quiver in it. Sasha was about to cry.
“Sasha, I realize things have changed a little, and I know that it is hurting our relationship.”
“Hurting! Hurting!” She screamed at him. “As far as I am concerned you have killed it.”
“Sasha, pleas
e let me explain. I know how you feel.”
“It’s over! Over!” She snapped. He cringed. He had never seen her this angry before.
Now the tears streamed down her cheeks. “Boy, did you know that in the last few months I have not seen you but twice?”
“Sasha, that’s all about to change --”
“You’re damn right it’s about to change!” She said as she pawed at her face with the back of her hand.
“I’m on something big--real big!”
“You’re selling dope?”
“No!”
“Freddy, you’re doing something illegal.”
“No.” He tried to quell her with words. “I’m into something worth millions, and I want you to be with me, my lady.” He said in his most sensuous voice, hoping that he had once again enthralled her with his boyish charm. He reached out to grab hold of her slim waist. With feline quickness she clawed his hand, scratching it, drawing blood. If she had been a cat the hair on her back would have stood up.
“Last year, around this same damn time, you pulled this same damn stunt. Only that time you were in the hospital full of bullets and still you won’t tell me what happened then, but I forgave your sorry ass! In fact, that’s when all this mess first started.” She turned and began to walk away.
“Sasha, I'm straight now! Soon things will be back to the way they once were.”
She whirled, “Soon? Soon is already too late.” Her eyes shot daggers at him. He lunged forward, timing was everything. The risk was great. If he did not grab her right she would claw the hell out of him. He pinned her to his chest. She struggled, but now he was able to look into the dark pools of her eyes and see the wrath of her anger. As if reading her mind he said, “Girl, if you bite me, I swear I’ll bite you back. Now try me?” She had every intention of sinking her teeth into his flesh, and for a moment she thought about taking him up on his offer of cannibalism. He could irk her like no one in the world, but now that he held her in his arms, her resistance subsided. He felt the curl of her spine uncoil as she relaxed and seemed to melt into his arms.
“It’s hard Sasha. And no one really gives a fuck about me, whether I end up in prison or die. I have been on my own since I was twelve. You stealing me food out the house and shit, that was cool, but with the death of my father and my mother in that place, how am I really to survive out here?” Now huddled in the secrecy of his arms, she reflected back on his dreary past. It was the tragic loss of both his parents, at the same time, that led to him being transferred to aunts and uncles like some kind of baggage. She looked up into his eyes and was about to say something, but abruptly changed her mind. She had promised to read his ass and that was what he was going to get.
“Freddy, pleeze! That ain’t no excuse. You need to run that game on one of your other girlfriends. Just tell me what’s going on?”
“I can’t.”
“Why not, Freddy?”
“It’s a secret.”
“Oh, a secret, well you know what a famous poet once said about the world's greatest secrets?”
“What’s that?”
“Secrets alone are best kept alone, by themselves.”
“And?”
“It means that if you want to keep a secret to yourself you need to be by yourself.”
“What poet said that?” Freddy asked
“Me.”
“You?” He released his hold on her. She took a step back. He thought he saw a glint of giddiness in her eyes. Just then he happened to glance over his shoulder. A white Toys “R” Us van was creeping toward them. His demeanor changed dramatically as he continued to peer at the van.
“Freddy, what is wrong with you? You act like you’ve seen a ghost or something.”
“Listen,” Freddy spoke in hushed tones. “There’s a white van that just pulled up behind us…No, don’t look now. And don’t act suspicious.”
“Boy, what is wrong with you? Let me find out that you’re on some kind of medication.”
“Do you see the damn van girl?”
“Yes.” She replied. He was starting to unnerved her.
“What is the van doing?” He asked.
“That van has been parked around here for a while. L’il Mookie and them tried to break into it a couple of times,” she said.
“Ain’t that kind of strange?”
“Hell no. L’il Mookie bad asses done broke into all the mail boxes.”
“Sasha, I’m not talking about Mookie. I’m talking about them crackers parked around here--especially in a van for that length of time.”
She thought about it for a second, and as much as she hated to admit it, it was strange. She now peeked over his shoulder. The man was out of the van walking briskly towards them. It appeared as if he was trying to conceal something under his coat.
“What is the van doing?” Freddy asked.
“The van is doing nothing, but the man is coming up right behind you!”
“Whaat? Shit!” He hissed. “Let’s start walking.” Sasha took another look at the man then back at Freddy. She acted incredulously while gawking at the man coming.
“I just know big ole you ain’t scare of that little old wrinkled man.” She teased him.
“That l’il ole man is more than likely armed.” Freddy retorted. “Lets just play it off and you start running. I’ll act like I’m chasing you.”
“Nope.” Sasha said stubbornly.
Freddy glanced over his shoulder. The man was gaining distance. He was now about twenty or so yards from them. Freddy held her bare shoulders and shook her convincingly, “Dig, I ain’t down with that macho shit--getting killed on the strength of trying to impress a female. Sasha girl, I’m finna hall ass and leave your ass right here. If you think that the man is harmless then you talk to him!”
Sash could not believe her ears. Her long delicate eyelashes blinked as she now stood stunned, mouth agape forming an “O.” He never in her life talked to her like that. And now, judging from his demeanor, he was about to run off and leave her. While still looking him in his eyes, in a feminine act of defiance, ever so gently she reached down and grabbed a hand full of his flesh and pinched his stomach with all her might. He howled. She giggled and took off running. He gave chase, and was surprised that she could run as fast as she did with her lithe athletic body. Sasha was in the wind.
Chapter Two
A block later they both panted trying to catch their breaths as they stood outside Joe’s Groceries, a small, depauperated, ancient store that had seen better days. Freddy now looked down the street. The man had disappeared. However, the van was still parked.
Tiny beads of sweat glistened on Sasha’s nose. Affectionately, Freddy wiped it off with the tip of his finger. She seemed to radiate a glow under his touch. She opened her mouth to speak and then pensively she shook her head changing her mind and walked ahead of him. He just watched her.
The air conditioner in Joe’s Groceries felt good on their faces as their eyes adjusted from the ardent glare of the sun. Suddenly Freddy’s heart damn near jumped out his chest as he looked ahead and saw J.J. and Dirty Red leaning on the pinball machine drinking something out of a brown paper bag, as Sasha passed them. They were staring at her, eyes bulging out their heads like two hungry wolves about to pounce their prey.
Sasha sensed trouble as she passed them and looked back over her shoulder, ignoring the oohs and oomphs. To her horror, Freddy lazily strolled in making matters worse, his countenance, reverting, evaluated the eminent threat of danger. His eyes were hooded in purposeful suspicion as his shoulder braced the store wall to better position himself, giving each man his undivided attention. Body language means a lot in this ecology of the world. It can decide a man’s fate; friend of foe, prey or predator, coward or fighter. He now gave both men piercing stares. The kind you gave an enemy. Freddy Thugstin was a fighter. With his right hand in his pocket feigning to have a weapon he brushed close to both men. As Sasha looked on she wanted to grab him by his damn ear. Even his wa
lk had changed.
Even though no words had been spoken, in the silent language, the vernacular of the ‘Hood’ a thousand words had been conveyed. Sasha ordered a Coke and a pack of cigarettes for her mother. Freddy now stood in front of her. Surreptitiously he looked in their direction. J.J. and Dirty Red were gone? Instantly the balled up tension in his spine relaxed. Sasha looked at him bewildered, as if it was her first time really seeing him.
“Are you crazy or something? I see why you are always in to some kind of skirmish.” He just shrugged with a feeling of victory that a girl could never understand.
The elderly clerk returned with her items. His mahogany hulked face always reminded Freddy of a cartoon character, the buzzard that sat on the wire. Toothless, he clacked his eighty something year old gums together and stretched his pink tongue over his wrinkled brown lips and smiled at Sasha, whispering just out of Freddy’s distance. “Pretty momma, come back after the store closes and you can shop for free. I’ll show you a trick or two.” He then placed his tongue on his nose and made a face. Sasha cracked up laughing at the old man’s antics. He looked to be the last few leftovers from the slavery era. She walked away lassoing her arm around Freddy’s arm. The atmosphere seemed to relax. Freddy looked back at the man and was about to ask Sasha what he said, but she was now laughing near hysterics. The swell of her breast, along with the sweet fragrance of her body, aroused him as she held on to his arm, her body near his, he smiled. They exited the store as Joe smiled too, looking at Sasha from behind.
