A CHANGE OF HEART: Book 1 of the Hartford Series

by Jermaine Watkins

  Dropping down on the bed beside the old lady, he used his hands to rub up her white-stockinged legs. “For a hundred years old, you ain’t ugly at all. As a matter of fact, you hot as any ho I fucked before.” The other five gang members burst out laughing at the perverse actions of their leader.

  Tracie struggled to break free from the dark-skinned guy, who had regained an armhold around Tracie’s neck. This was all his fault. He had been so eager to reach his Nana about his conversation with Andre that he was certain now, as he thought back, he’d forgotten to lock the front door.

  Maggie would rather die than reveal Ross’s whereabouts, and she began sobbing, praying aloud for God to stop the evil man from touching her.

  “Bitch, shut up. Prayin’ ain’t goin’ do shit.” Bizz ripped the front of Maggie’s dress from bottom to top, as if it were tissue paper, exposing her white silk slip, which she desperately tried to hide with her hands.

  “If there was a God, He wouldn’t let me do this to you.” The gang leader stood to unfasten the top of his black jean pants, pushing them down to his knees. “If there was a God, He would answer your fuckin’ prayers—”

  “He just did, you filthy son of a bitch.” Andre ran into the room, waving a black .32 automatic handgun from Bizz to the other five gang members, who all glared at him. He stopped his aim at the guy holding Tracie. “Turn him loose now!”

  Andre’s command was hesitantly obeyed. “Tracie, get your Nana outta here—I’ll take care of these niggas.”

  Snarling, Bizz said, “Think you the only nigga strapped? We goin’ hurt you real bad.”

  Andre released a shot directly between Bizz’s mean eyes, and the gang leader fell dead to the wooden floor.

  Tracie jumped into action, helping his Nana cover up with the bed’s tan comforter. He pushed her off toward the door, then ran to the closet and grabbed new clothes for her.

  Outside, the kitchen was a disaster, as if a tornado had spun a murderous course throughout. The refrigerator was turned over, its contents scattered in messy spills across the floor. Above the sink, the cabinet doors hung awkwardly on bent hinges. Maggie’s best china, which she had used for dinner earlier, was broken into tiny pieces that crunched underfoot as she and Tracie made their way toward the back door.

  As Tracie and Maggie were walking out of the apartment, the hallway echoed with the sound of gunshots. But they only paused momentarily before quickening their footsteps toward the stairway.

  The Sunday funeral for Andre “Little Man” Williams commenced in a small brick church located on Barbour Street, only a few short city blocks away from the housing project. It was Maggie’s home church, Daily Revival Baptist, which she had recommended to Andre’s Uncle Clyde, since he was not a Christian and had not attended a regular service in years.

  “Thanks, Maggie,” Clyde had said. He and she had sat across from each other at her kitchen table as Maggie jotted down notes in preparation for the funeral.

  “No thanks, I really owe it to him, Clyde.” She sniffed, as her mind went back to the night that the gang had brutally victimized Tracie and her. Of all the gunshots they had heard while exiting the apartment, one had claimed the life of the young man she’d turned her back on so many years ago. But it was even harder living with the guilt, knowing that his eternal sacrifice had been offered without thinking twice.

  Tracie suffered from the tragic loss of his friend to no end. He would cry, telling his Nana again and again all that Andre had revealed to him the last night. The steps he had taken to better his life. How he had used his constant memories of Tracie to lead him in the right, positive direction.

  He didn’t work on his manuscript for an entire week. Instead, he chose to spend time in his room, reading all the letters that had been stashed away for seven years.

  Ross had never heard the name Andre Williams until the night of Thanksgiving. After Nick and he had completed their assignment at the restaurant, he telephoned Tracie for a ride back home. When there was no answer, Nick had offered to drive Ross home.

  The sight of the flashing red and blue emergency lights from the police and ambulance vehicles caused a fear that nearly forced Ross into traumatic shock. He shoved his weight against the passenger door, getting out of the car. He had to show identification to prove he lived in the building, and then the police would only let him go to his own apartment. The officers standing in front of Maggie and Tracie’s apartment would not let him enter his friends’ home. “No one’s in there but dead folks,” one of them said.

  Heading back downstairs to his apartment, Ross said a desperate prayer before entering, relieved to find his friends sitting on his bed. Standing in the center of the little room, they all embraced in a tight circle for uncounted minutes. Then, relaxing over hot tea in the kitchen, Tracie and Maggie recounted the painful details of what had occurred soon after Ross’s departure for work.

  Now, Ross looked around at all the people filling every seat in the church. The women wore stylish dresses, which many of them had accessorized with matching headdress. The men wore suits of black or gray, the traditional colors for funerals. Other than a few regular church members, they were mostly neighbors of the housing project community, who had come to pay their last respects.

  As the organist began playing, the people of the congregation grew emotional. They rose from their seats, jumping up and down across the red-carpeted floor. “Hallelujah!” they yelled. “Praise the Lord!” Although Ross felt a familiar presence of goodness, which stemmed from his having grown up in his parents’ church, he was not prepared for what occurred next.

  “You!”

  The congregation suddenly fell silent, staring back to see that the reverend, who had spoken the word, was pointing his forefinger at Ross. Reverend Joseph Prophet was dressed in a white suit, with a red necktie and a handkerchief tucked inside his breast pocket. When he smiled, his sagging dark cheeks doubled over his chin. His teeth were yellow-stained, and beads of perspiration rolled down from his shiny forehead.

  “Come here,” the reverend said.

  Ross thought he would release his bowels right then in front of all the black congregation staring curiously at him. And then he turned to his side to see Maggie’s smiling face, as she assisted him in getting to his feet. She escorted him to the reverend at the altar.

  “God bless you.” Reverend Prophet grabbed hold of Ross’s hand, which fell limp as he gently squeezed it. “I have a message for you... from God.”

  The congregation started again, hollering out their praises to God. Some of them jumped up from sitting and danced, without music, around the church.

  The reverend’s dark eyes were penetrating. “Ross, focus on me, not them.”

  But Ross had not spoken his name to anyone in the church. No one knew him except Tracie and Maggie, and he was barely acquainted with the deceased’s Uncle Clyde. Fear caused him to seek out the face of Tracie, who flicked up his thumb.

  “It’s okay,” Tracie mimed with his mouth.

  “Come, Tracie,” the reverend called out.

  When Tracie reached Ross’s side in front of the church, Reverend Prophet connected their two hands together. Closing his eyes, the reverend tilted his head up to the ceiling, as if he could see something that the others could not. Then he began singing “Amazing Grace.” The congregation followed his lead, and soon the walls echoed with the melodious song.

  The reverend held up his beefy hand to bring silence over the church. “Ask and it shall be given. Seek and ye shall find. Knock and the doors will be open to you. In my Father’s house are many, many mansions...”

  He looked down at the white and black hands that he held together. “Stick together,” Reverend Prophet said, before narrowing his eyes at Ross. “Pray hard for the things you want to achieve in life. Continued friendship, a published book, the literary agency... whatever your heart desires.”

  Again, Ross felt a familiar presence as he stared into the dark eyes of the reverend. Something
so very familiar about him... The eyes were unearthly dark, almost onyx... Nigger! Ross screamed within, and the reverend smiled to acknowledge his thoughts.

  “Trust in God, Ross.” Then Reverend Prophet reached out to hug Ross and Tracie simultaneously, as if his body was a bridge that spiritually connected one man to the other.

  Ross and Tracie returned to their seats, but Ross was blind to the rest of the funeral service. He was too excited about the thought of God’s holy hand being upon his life, and having always been there since the very beginning of his existence. For once, he trusted that, believed it with all his heart.

  The telephone was ringing when Ross arrived home from the funeral service. He wanted to get out of his suit and change into a light shirt and slacks before heading upstairs to rejoin his friends for dinner.

  He picked up the receiver in the living room office. “Hello,” he said.

  “Welcome back, Ross.”

  “Sandy?”

  “Yes, I had a chance to read your client’s manuscript over the holiday. All I can say is... absolutely marvelous, darling. Now when can I expect to read the rest so we can discuss a sale?”

  The End...

  ...and new beginnings

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Jermaine Watkins is committed to showing America the importance of reading and writing. His love of literature has inspired him to write his own series set in his hometown of Hartford, Connecticut. A Change of Heart is his debut book, and Watkins is already hard at work on a second installment.

  Watkins has been interviewed on radio shows, including CBS’s Hot 93.7 FM and Clear Channel’s Power 104.1 FM. He has been published in the Hartford Courant and Hartford Magazine, and he’s been signed at Barnes & Noble and Walmart.

  Watkins is incredibly proud of his father, Willie Rogers, who is the lead singer of the Soul Stirrers. This legendary gospel group was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1989 and launched Sam Cooke’s amazing musical career.