by Dijorn Moss
Quincy always got a rush from Karen’s begging, whether it was a seductive plea during those romantic periods, or a pathetic plea like the one she was doing now.
“You forget I don’t have to do what you say anymore. Divorce papers will be signed and on my lawyer’s desk come Monday. You and I are done, and thank God for that.”
It wasn’t enough to humiliate Karen. Her lover needed to pay too, and the Retreat was a perfect opportunity. Of course, Quincy was too old to play high school games, but at the same time he had been bested by another man. His pride was damaged and his swagger was in jeopardy. Would he regret not confronting Mr. A-MOG?
Quincy had another big deal on the table, but his business partner was more than capable of being able to handle it. He wanted to confront this hypocrite who called himself a man of God.
Chapter Nine
For the first time in his Christian walk, Chauncey was unsure of God’s will. He could not begin to put into words the events of tonight. Will coming along on this trip was either an act of God or the devil. There was also the story of Jonah; Chauncey likened himself to the prophet who spent three days in the belly of a whale because of his disobedience. He neither wanted to be disobedient nor did he want to miss out on a blessing. What if God placed Will on my path to show Pastor that I am ready for ministry? Could this hoodlum be a sign of Chauncey’s childhood prophecy being fulfilled? Only time would reveal.
Chauncey expected to be bombarded with demonic rap music all along the Grapevine. The stretch along the 5 Freeway was dangerous without the accompaniment of Snoop Dogg and Dr. Dre. To his surprise, Will did not entertain the sounds of gangster rap; instead he entertained the smooth sounds of Miles Davis and jazz music.
“You listen to jazz?” Chauncey asked.
“What you think, I just listen to Lil Wayne and T.I.?”
Chauncey had no idea who those two hoodlums were. He assumed they were probably a bunch of young thugs with expensive chains and microphones.
Even though jazz was not as bad as rap music, Chauncey still felt like his car was being overrun by demonic forces. He couldn’t sit idly by and let the devil have a place in his sanctified Cadillac. He knew that Will had a gun on him. Maybe Jesus would give him the power to strip the gun away and seize control of his car.
“Do you think we could change the station?” Chauncey asked.
“Do you think you could walk to Monterey from here?”
Chauncey glanced out into the ominous darkness. In the midst of a mountain that looked like jagged teeth and open fields, Chauncey decided to remain silent.
The next two hours were spent in unbroken silence. The music must have worked a nerve with Will since he turned off the stereo. The Cadillac devoured the miles as Will sped along the 5 Freeway.
“What got you into jazz music?” Chauncey asked.
“It relaxes me. It’s the kind of music you can take on a ride like this and cruise all along the coast without a worry in the world,” Will replied.
Chauncey’s mind went to the park. To him, jazz was like the rap music that had those thugs in a trance. It was demonic music to Chauncey. It was a form of music that promoted violence and greed. He did not understand how Will managed to escape its influence and how he found jazz music soothing.
“You ever listen to gospel?” Chauncey asked.
“No, not really. I mean, I heard a few songs from Kirk Franklin that were cool.”
“Yeah, well, Kirk Franklin is a little out there. I’m talking about some James Cleveland, some, ‘I don’t feel no ways tired,’” Chauncey sang.
“That sounds like something the slaves sang on the ship,” Will said.
“Boy, you don’t know nothing about music. James Cleveland had a lot of jazz influence in his music.”
“I just don’t like being sold on some fantasy about a life that is better than this one.”
“What’s wrong with going to a better place?”
“Nothing, it just reminds me that not even God can provide you with a peaceful life in this world. He has to wait and promise you something when you die.”
Chauncey had not encountered someone like Will. He seemed to be resigned to the idea that nothing good came out of life. That we live in a constant ebb and flow; one minute we are the victim, the next minute we are the assailant.
“I mean, you can’t possibly think that all there is for you is robbing folks. Is that all you think you’re meant to do with your life?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m meant to do. All I know is that this is what I’m good at and this is the hand that I was dealt, so I’m going to play it until it’s time for me to leave the table.”
It was absolute hopelessness that Chauncey heard in Will’s voice. He did not know what to say. What could this young man have possibly experienced that would give him such a grim view of life? “Well, God is good, and you shouldn’t let the devil make you think that there is nothing to live for.”
“I believe that there is a God. I just don’t think He’s good, at least not in my neighborhood. As far as living, I’m only living for the moment.”
“What about your family?”
“My mom is an addict. My dad is always in prison. If you add up the amount of time we have spent together outside of prison, I think it would total about six months. I got my brother and sister, but at the rate I’m going, who knows how long I’m going to be here.”
Despite Chauncey’s resentment toward his brother, he knew that his brother did not want to die without making things right with his family.
He knew that right now Henry was in that hospital bed fighting with every ounce to live. The problem was that Chauncey believed that he would eventually return to his habit and betray those who believed in him. Henry had betrayed Chauncey too much for Chauncey to believe in him.
Will, on the other hand, did not seem to want to live. It was like he wanted to be released from this curse called life. Maybe that’s why he spent his nights feasting off of the devil’s pie. The God Chauncey served believed in giving people life, and life more abundantly. But, at the same time, the enemy’s sole purpose was to steal, kill, and destroy. He thought that there were people who would find death a more compassionate act than life.
The car returned to silence and they merged onto Highway 101. They were now only a few hours outside of Asilomar Campgrounds and panic started to set in. If Will did not value his own life, then what made Chauncey think that Will wouldn’t kill him as soon as this whole experiment did not seem worth it? There was a gun and a long stretch of highway where a body could get dropped off and no one would notice.
With that terrifying thought in mind, Chauncey bowed his head.
Lord, please protect and do not let this boy kill me!
Chapter Ten
Jamal tried to call Quincy after they’d met for dinner earlier, but all he got was Quincy’s voice mail. The news of his separation from Karen and his abrupt departure from dinner were causes of concern for Jamal. After he hung up the phone, Jamal went back into Jamir’s room.
Jamal had made sure to get a two-bedroom apartment. He guessed that in light of what had transpired thus far this week, he could move into a smaller apartment. He would save $300 a month on rent with a one-bedroom as opposed to a two-bedroom. He could stay with a two-bedroom and turn the second bedroom into his office, but that would require him to move Jamir’s stuff out. That would be too much to do, but if he saved his money then maybe he could look into getting a house in a year or two.
Jamir was not his biological son and Jamal ached at the thought. Though he could have a close relationship with him, eventually, he and Chantel would have to tell Jamir the truth. Now, every time Jamir called him Daddy, Jamal felt like he was endorsing a lie. The Bible talks about the truth setting people free; but Jamal could not see it. The truth was that Jamir’s real daddy died in cold blood and Jamal was responsible. The truth was that his mother and everyone involved in bringing him into the world were i
rresponsible little kids. How could that truth be anything but devastating to a young boy? This was the point when God’s will was beyond Jamal’s understanding. How come God could not let this boy be his son?
The situation was even more complicated by the fact that Jamal would give anything to be with Chantel. He noticed how neither he nor Chantel had engaged in a serious relationship since high school.
Deep down they were perfect for each other, but the last time they were together, a life had been destroyed. They’d made an unspoken vow not to go down the road of a serious relationship again. Instead, Jamal and Chantel chose to focus their attention on Jamir. And a love that powerful cannot be joined together, but must remain apart. Jamal turned on his flat-screen TV, set to engage in his latest conquest of Call of Duty. Jamal was very frugal, but he still had full indulgences, entertainment being one of them. The Bible warns about an idle mind, and usually this was the time of night when Jamal would be tempted to see what was on Cinemax. Around this time, the channel was notorious for showing soft-core porn. He loved God with all his heart, but the flesh craved satisfaction. Jamal’s thoughts started to drift toward Mylessa and her proposal.
Since becoming a Christian, Jamal had been pretty good about abstaining from sex outside of marriage. In the beginning, Jamal still had a ferocious appetite that caused him to indulge in a few women a week, including several women at his job. One thing led to another, and word got around about his above-average performance in bed, because the next thing Jamal knew, a lot of women at the office began to take an interest in him. Jamal fasted and prayed until he nearly passed out, but eventually he was able to develop enough discipline to not give the devil even a foothold.
Jamal changed the channel, and as a result, he turned the TV off. He did not want his son to be exposed to pornography at a young age like he had been by his own father.
His son? Yes, Jamal had been there since his birth and had raised Jamir like a father would raise his son, but Jamir was not his son. Well, at least not biologically. Something about that revelation caused a disconnect with Jamal.
The news had brought a change. Jamal now had the freedom to leave Chantel and Jamir, and put the past behind him. Maybe this was God trying to signal to him that it was time to move on, and that maybe there was something better in store for him. Jamal never realized how strong a family tie was when the same blood flows through two people’s veins, as opposed to just an emotional and psychological connection.
Jamir started not to feel like Jamal’s own. He cringed at the thought that his separation was starting so soon. Jamal really needed answers. He did not know if he would get them during the Men’s Retreat. God needed to intervene.
They arrived just after three in the morning. While Chauncey was exhausted, fear had made an impact on his sleep. Since Chauncey served on the Men’s Retreat committee, he’d received his cabin key early, so he and Will were able to go straight to the room. But for most of the journey and since their arrival, Will had not said much. Even now, he just sat in the chair in the room, staring off into space, not even talking.
“You’re not tired?” Chauncey asked Will.
“I don’t sleep much. I’m always on the grind, and in my neighborhood, you go to sleep hearing sirens and helicopters. It’s too quiet here. It makes me a little nervous.”
“Trust in Jesus, He’ll give you rest.”
“Jesus never lived in the hood, so I doubt that!”
Maybe it had been a mistake for Chauncey to bring Will. He seemed to be diametrically opposed to the things of God. One could only hope that tomorrow the Retreat would start to work on his heart.
“You have to get at least eight hours of sleep. Your heart is working overtime. You could have a heart attack by the time you’re thirty,” Chauncey said.
“I might not even be around when I’m thirty. There’s a lot more stuff for me to worry about than a heart attack.”
“I’m going to pray for you. I’m going to bind that spirit in the name of Jesus!”
Will took out his gun and placed it in his lap. He gave Chauncey a smirk. “Just make sure you keep it down. Just because I don’t sleep doesn’t mean that I want to hear all of that praying stuff.”
Chauncey figured he would exercise wisdom and pray silently. He’d never felt fear like he had felt today. God must have had something greater for him. That’s why the devil was attacking him so hard. If this young man was an example, well, Chauncey refused to live in fear. Chauncey believed that he could save Will’s life, and Chauncey needed to trust God in spite of his doubts.
“Why did you decide to come if you didn’t want to have anything to do with Jesus?” Chauncey asked.
Chauncey’s question caused Will to put his head down, like his only solace came from the floor. Finally, Chauncey may have said something that resonated with Will’s conscience.
“It’s like every day I get in a corner and I start swinging. But I learned a long time ago that I’m not fighting to get out; I’m just trying to keep the walls from closing in. You gave me a chance to get out, and maybe for once in my life it won’t feel like a dogfight.”
And like a gunslinger from a Western, Will stood up with his gun and walked over to his nightstand. Only he was not about to discharge his weapon, but laid it down on the shelf. Even Chauncey had to marvel at the display of a warrior surrendering his weapon, even if it was only for a weekend.
Chapter Eleven
A beautiful metallic ’67 Chevy sat in a frail garage with the paint chipping away and the door off of its hinges. With the hood up, the car stood not in flawless shape, but anyone with a speck of knowledge about car history would know that this car was a classic. It took the smell of hazelnut to remind Jamal that his purpose was to drop off breakfast to his father before he headed to the retreat. He also had an ulterior motive and that was to get his advice on what to do about the situation with Chantel and Jamir. His father had forewarned him about fooling around with Chantel, and though he could predict how this conversation would play out, Jamal still had to try.
“She’s a beauty!” Jamal said.
A burly man with a bald head emerged from under the hood. He closed the hood and wiped his hands off on an orange, dirty towel. “I just had its oil changed. I was thinking about taking it out for a drive along the coast.”
Jamal scanned the wall at the pictures that had kept his father company since he was a child. He had pictures of naked women on top of cars, pictures of naked women with beer bottles in their hands, and just plain old pictures of naked women. Despite the collage of women, Jamal knew that the most beautiful thing in the garage was the ’67 Chevy.
“Maybe we can hop in and head to the Men’s Retreat,” Jamal said as he handed his father his coffee.
“I don’t know about that. All those men hugging and crying on each other…seems a little sweet to me,” his father said sarcastically as he sipped his cup of joe.
“That’s not what the Men’s Retreat is about. It’s about recognition of the broken areas in your life and letting God come in.”
“A man ain’t got no business crying in front of another man. That’s why I’m concerned about you. I don’t see you with no girlfriend. You still be running behind Clay’s old chick.”
“I’m about my B.I.,” Jamal said.
“I was about my business too, but it didn’t stop me from being a playa from the Himalayas.”
“I know. I could hear my mother crying from the next room, because it was another night that you didn’t come home.”
Jamal knew he had crossed the line by bringing up his deceased mother. When she’d died two years ago, Jamal promised his father that he wouldn’t talk about his mother around him. He regretted that promise, because all it did was allow his father to avoid talking about his shame. Jamal could not stand the sight of his father being proud of his actions.
“Son, there’s some things in a marriage you can’t understand that’s only between a man and a woman.”
“Well, Mother must not have gotten the memo, because she didn’t understand either,” Jamal said.
His father got up and raised his hand to smack him, but Jamal was not a little boy and his size and stature matched his father’s. After a moment that bordered on eternity, his father lowered his hand. Jamal was convinced that his father might not fare well in the exchange.
“I’m trying to tell you something for your own good, but you go on and do what you want,” his father snapped.
Wanting to switch subjects, Jamal tried to find something positive to talk about. “I got offered the promotion.”
“Well, that’s good. More money in your pocket never hurt nobody.”
“I don’t know if I’m going to take it.”
“What you mean you don’t know? Have I missed something here or aren’t you a single father?”
“I found out the other day that I’m not.”
Jamal’s father’s reaction was a shock to say the least. He flashed a smile and gave a reluctant Jamal a fist bump.
“Well, you’re in the game then! What you tripping for?”
“For three years I treated Jamir as if he was my son. I can’t just flick my feelings on and off like a light switch.”
“I’m not saying you have to, but at least you don’t have to worry about that broad trying to take advantage of you.”
Jamal hated whenever his father talked about Chantel like she was a two-dollar hooker. His father couldn’t handle a good woman, and that had been evident throughout his marriage.
“Don’t disrespect Chantel like that. She’s a good woman and a great mother.”
“Is that why she let both you and your best friend hit that?”
“We were kids back then and we didn’t know any better.”
“Never trust a redbone! She proved that she’s not above lying to you and now that you have an out, take it.”
Jamal did not care for his father’s archaic opinions. But, for once, he was making some sense. If there was one thing that his father was an expert on, it was scandalous women.
