not to mention that I’ve been neglecting my budding relationship with Keenan.
The church ladies are busy preparing juice and cookies like it’s summer bible camp instead of a meeting for recent parolees but I can’t blame them. Once a mother always a mother, I suppose. Even Mama has sympathy for G. She and Netta secured his attorney and were willing to go all the way to the Supreme Court to prove that he didn’t murder Pam if necessary.
“Why y’all looking at her like she’s laying across the table getting served?” one of the two rough looking broads present says, staring me down. “She ain’t even all that, probably still a virgin.”
“Even better,” G says, smiling. “I haven’t had fresh meat in a long time.”
That’s the last thing I need him to visualize happening. I want to smack the chick for putting that thought out there, but she looks like she’d have no problem beating my ass down in front of God and everybody else. The energy is already thick in here, like they could knock daddy out and run a train on all of the women if they really wanted to. But luckily there’s an officer posted by the back door to make sure everything stays chill.
“Okay, young men. Listen up,” Daddy says, slamming his Holy Bible down on the table, catching everyone’s attention.
Rita joins us at the table with a bible of her own.
“Damn, Reverend Massa. Ain’t no need for all that shit,” G says, making the other dudes around the table laugh. He lacks the natural good sense filter most of us were born with.
I know they didn’t just call my grandfather Massa like he’s living in the big house and they’re on the plantation. I’m glad they’re getting a kick out of this because pastor or not, Daddy doesn’t take any mess. I can tell by the heat rising out of my grandfather’s collar that he’s about to bring down the wrath of God on these unsuspecting so-called gangsters. Rita and I look at each other, take a deep breath and shake our heads: The shit’s about to go down and we both know it.
“Young man, I’ve had just about all the disrespect I can take from you. We’re here for you and this is how you act, like a little kid?” Daddy says, gesturing at Rita and me. “If it weren’t for Rita and your parole officer we wouldn’t be here. Consider yourselves blessed.”
The parolees shift in their seats as their parole officer makes his way over to our table.
“Is everything all right, Pastor James?” he says, his right fist balled up tightly ready to beat the respect back into any one of these fools if need be. I wish he would just take a pole upside G’s head. That would solve so many problems in my book. It was nice when he was locked up. All G’s good for is terrorizing our neighborhood. How Mickey ever hooked up with him is beyond me.
“Yes, Jamal. Everything is fine. We’re just getting some things straight. Isn’t that right, Gary?”
Gary? Who the hell is Gary?
“Yeah, we cool,” Mickey’s man says, shocking the hell out of me and then some.
All the years I’ve known G I’ve never known anyone to call him by his name. Hell, I thought maybe he didn’t know it even if he had been given one. He walks around the neighborhood calling himself G for gangster, like his mama took one look at him when he was born and knew that’s all he would ever be. But now we know the G actually stands for Gary. Wow. I can’t wait to tell everyone about this discovery.
“Now, like I was saying. Ms. Rita thinks it’s a good idea that we talk once a month to get your spirits back on track and I couldn’t agree more. I take it personally that so many of the young women and men baptized in my church have now been baptized by the judicial system.
The church ladies are busy preparing juice and cookies like it’s summer bible camp instead of a meeting for recent parolees but I can’t blame them. Once a mother always a mother, I suppose. Even Mama has sympathy for G. She and Netta secured his attorney and were willing to go all the way to the Supreme Court to prove that he didn’t murder Pam if necessary.
“Why y’all looking at her like she’s laying across the table getting served?” one of the two rough looking broads present says, staring me down. “She ain’t even all that, probably still a virgin.”
“Even better,” G says, smiling. “I haven’t had fresh meat in a long time.”
That’s the last thing I need him to visualize happening. I want to smack the chick for putting that thought out there, but she looks like she’d have no problem beating my ass down in front of God and everybody else. The energy is already thick in here, like they could knock daddy out and run a train on all of the women if they really wanted to. But luckily there’s an officer posted by the back door to make sure everything stays chill.
“Okay, young men. Listen up,” Daddy says, slamming his Holy Bible down on the table, catching everyone’s attention.
Rita joins us at the table with a bible of her own.
“Damn, Reverend Massa. Ain’t no need for all that shit,” G says, making the other dudes around the table laugh. He lacks the natural good sense filter most of us were born with.
I know they didn’t just call my grandfather Massa like he’s living in the big house and they’re on the plantation. I’m glad they’re getting a kick out of this because pastor or not, Daddy doesn’t take any mess. I can tell by the heat rising out of my grandfather’s collar that he’s about to bring down the wrath of God on these unsuspecting so-called gangsters. Rita and I look at each other, take a deep breath and shake our heads: The shit’s about to go down and we both know it.
“Young man, I’ve had just about all the disrespect I can take from you. We’re here for you and this is how you act, like a little kid?” Daddy says, gesturing at Rita and me. “If it weren’t for Rita and your parole officer we wouldn’t be here. Consider yourselves blessed.”
The parolees shift in their seats as their parole officer makes his way over to our table.
“Is everything all right, Pastor James?” he says, his right fist balled up tightly ready to beat the respect back into any one of these fools if need be. I wish he would just take a pole upside G’s head. That would solve so many problems in my book. It was nice when he was locked up. All G’s good for is terrorizing our neighborhood. How Mickey ever hooked up with him is beyond me.
“Yes, Jamal. Everything is fine. We’re just getting some things straight. Isn’t that right, Gary?”
Gary? Who the hell is Gary?
“Yeah, we cool,” Mickey’s man says, shocking the hell out of me and then some.
All the years I’ve known G I’ve never known anyone to call him by his name. Hell, I thought maybe he didn’t know it even if he had been given one. He walks around the neighborhood calling himself G for gangster, like his mama took one look at him when he was born and knew that’s all he would ever be. But now we know the G actually stands for Gary. Wow. I can’t wait to tell everyone about this discovery.
“Now, like I was saying. Ms. Rita thinks it’s a good idea that we talk once a month to get your spirits back on track and I couldn’t agree more. I take it personally that so many of the young women and men baptized in my church have now been baptized by the judicial system.
Similar Books
