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  Cynda began to pound on the door and plead with Spoony to let Iona come with her, but her attempts fell on deaf ears. With tears streaming down her face, she stood and straightened her clothes. As she walked down the steps, a searing pain shot through her. She sat down and lifted her shirt. Her chest was black and blue. Spoony messed up everything. Didn’t he know that birthday’s were important to little girls? She still remembered the last birthday she spent with her mother. She’d been left outside knocking then too.

  “Mama, please let me in.” Knocking harder on the door, Cynda said, “Come on, you know it’s my birthday.” Footsteps thudded toward the door. “Do you hear me, Mama? I want to open my presents now.”

  Flora wiped the sleep from her light brown eyes as she inched the door open. “Hey, baby,” she said to her now nine year old daughter. You know I’ve got company right now.”

  “Are we going to have a party today?” Cynda asked, only concerned about her birthday and not the man her mother was entertaining inside.

  Flora touched her daughter’s smooth young face. “No, baby. Mama has to work today.”

  “But we always have a party on my birthday. You always get me lots of presents.”

  Flora’s head bowed low as Romie walked into the hallway. His big Jackson-five afro swayed this way and that as he stalked toward them.

  He asked Cynda, “Are you bothering your mother? She’s busy.”

  Cynda backed away from him. His cold black eyes terrified her. Cynda’s mother made her call him uncle Romie, but Cynda’s Grammy told her that she’d never birthed no low-life animals, so he was not her uncle. “But it’s my birthday,” Cynda whined.

  Romie grabbed her arm. “Come with me, baby girl. I’ve got a present for you.”

  “No! No!” Cynda pulled away from him and barreled into her mother, pushing Flora backward into the bedroom. The smell of must wafted in the air. “Don’t let him take me, Mama, please.”

  Flora’s eyes widened as she looked from her daughter to Romie. There was a man in Flora’s bed. He sat up and pulled the cover over his naked body.

  “What’s going on, Flora?” the man asked.

  “Nothing Ralph,” Flora answered him. “Just go back to sleep.”

  Romie barked, “You don’t have time to be fooling around with this child. You need to be making some money.”

  Flora reached into the pocket of her rob and pulled out several bills. She threw them in Romie’s high-yellow face. “Is that enough money? Now can I please spend a few minutes with my daughter on her birthday?”

  Fire flashed in Romie’s eyes as he smacked Flora. He then grabbed a handful of her long black hair and pulled her close to him. “Don’t make me beat you this morning.”

  Flora put her hands up. “Okay, b-baby, calm down.”

  He grabbed Cynda’s hand. “I am calm. You get back over there and handle Ralph. I’ll take Cynda with me.”

  Birthday’s stopped being special for Cynda when her mother stopped standing up for her. Today, she’d done the same for her daughter.

  Chapter 2

  Keith Hosea Williams closed his Bible and then knelt down in front of his mammoth-sized leather chair and prayed. He dubbed his office the throne room, and this chair, the throne of God. Keith bowed down before this chair when he prayed. He loved to be in this room. He loved to talk with God each day. He and his heavenly Father met in the cool of the day, the dark of the night, and just about any time Keith needed to lean on the Lord. Like most new converts, Keith gave his life to God after some trying times. But unlike most, it took murder to bring Keith to his knees. Sometimes, when he closed his eyes he could still see Ray-Ray falling to the ground, lying in a pool of blood. The night Ray-Ray died, Keith swore that he’d never touch another gun. The only problem with his declaration was that he made his living as Isaac Walker’s enforcer. Simple job description – shoot hustlers with attitudes.

  But when Nina told him about God’s love and how He forgives sin, Keith knew where he would spend the rest of his life; safe in the arms of his Lord.

  The Lord had blessed him to start a construction company that was well on its way to earning millions. Construction work suited Keith. Six-two and 220-pounds with a rock-hard body, he was more than able to handle any job thrown his way. It was his baby-face that caused people to do a double-take. Teddy bear on steroids he’d once been called. He didn’t care. He liked his face, thought it gave him a soft edge to an otherwise hard body.

  All those years ago, Keith learned to trust God. Twelve years later he still didn’t doubt his Lord. Well, he did have one problem. Keith’s Lord and Savior, as he prayed, had just spoke into his heart, telling him the name of the woman he would marry. But as far as Keith was concerned, it was the wrong name. In his heart he felt that he had already met the woman he was sure would be a wonderful help-mate.

  Keith hadn’t heard God’s word right, that’s all. Somehow Satan had snuck into his office/throne room and was speaking into his ear. Don’t get him wrong. Keith had much love for Cynda Stephens, but it wasn’t the I-wanna-be-your-babby’s-daddy kind of love. Keith shook his head as he remembered the last time he’d seen Cynda. Like a wild cat, she stormed into Isaac’s wedding reception and told him and his new wife that they didn’t mean nothing to her. As high as gas prices were, why would she drive from Chicago to Dayton if they didn’t mean anything to her? It sure wasn’t to throw rice at the departing couple. Salt maybe, but not rice.

  Then Cynda blurted out that she was the one who informed the cops about Isaac’s drug run and had caused him to do three years of federal time. The thought of that moment still sent sweat chills to Keith’s forehead. Cynda’s declaration was a true test of Isaac’s salvation. Where he and Isaac came from, snitches got shanked. Cynda should still be on her knees thanking God for Isaac’s salvation. But right now she was probably on North Street selling her body.

  Go see about her.

  “What do you want me to see about her for?” He looked to heaven and said, “I’m telling You right now, whether this is a call from God or from the devil, I ain’t about to turn no hooker into a housewife.”

  He waited on God to respond. Waited for God to tell him that Satan had been bound, gagged, and banished and would never again be allowed near the throne of God, requesting to sift His people as wheat. But God didn’t say a mumbling word.

  He is the Almighty, Keith reasoned. He didn’t have to speak if He didn’t want to. So Keith back tracked. The last thing he heard from God was, go see about her.

  He could do that, right? No big deal, but marrying her would be another story.

  Standing, Keith put down his Bible and picked up the keys to his sonic blue Ford Ranger. Driving down the streets of Chicago, he wondered, not for the first time, why he still lived here. Since finally marrying Nina a year ago, Isaac was now a permanent resident of Dayton, Ohio. And truth be told, Keith wanted to be there, helping with his best friend’s street ministry. But God kept his feet planted in Chicago. He left Bishop Sumler’s church after Isaac and Nina married and was now attending a small church on the south side. The pastor was a decent, honorable man, and Keith knew that he could grow spiritually at this church. Maybe he would talk with Pastor Norton about what God had to say about Cynda. Maybe he needed to see a doctor, get on medication or something.

  Keith got off the highway in one of the hot spots and turned on Slumville, or maybe it was Trashville. When did the trash man run around here? He thought as he held his breath and rolled up the window as he parked. “I must be crazy.” Just as he was getting out of his truck his phone rang. Hopefully it was Jesus, calling to change the plans for his life.

  He looked down at the caller ID. It was his boy, the Ike-man. Keith smiled as he hit the talk button. “What up, playa?” Keith asked.

  “What’s with all this playa stuff? I’m a happily married man now,” Isaac stated.

  Sometimes that fact slipped Keith’s mind. He kept praying about it. Didn’t know if it kept sli
pping because he was still in love with Nina, Isaac’s wife, or because he was getting older, and wasn’t used to his boy being hooked up like that.

  “Okay, I’ll try to remember that,” Keith chuckled.

  “Do you have plans for next weekend?”

  Keith glanced outside his truck window. A lot of people with nothing to do were leaning against walls or walking down the street like zombies. Somebody should hand them some gloves and a trash bag, Keith thought to himself before replying to Isaac. “No, what’s up?”

  “You remember Spoony Davidson, the man who taught me about street life when I was eleven?”

  A knock on the window caused Keith to jump.

  “Hey man, you looking to get your high on?” the man outside his window asked.

  Keith held up a hand to the snaggle-toothed brother and continued his conversation. “Yeah, I remember ol’ Spoony. Couldn’t tell you the last time I saw him though.”

  “It’s been about ten years for me. That’s why I need to come down there. I’m really starting to feel bad about not reaching out to him since I got out of jail.” Spoony Davidson had been Isaac’s mentor. Isaac met Spoony when he was eleven. At that time Spoony was a twenty-seven year old pimp. Spoony taught Isaac how to pick pockets, run women, sell drugs, and how to set up his own territory. Isaac thought it was high time he returned the favor and taught Spoony a thing or two about his Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

  “You sent him a couple of letters when you were in prison, right?”

  “Yeah, but I haven’t contacted him since.”

  “All right, man. I feel you. Come on down. Maybe I’ll even go evangelizing with you.”

  “Like old times.”

  The pang of wanting to be with his friend to help in his street ministry stabbed at Keith. “Yeah, like old times.”

  After ending the call on that note, Keith got out of the truck to do a little evangelizing of his own. Flesh and temptation were sold by the hour all day long on this street. A woman in Daisy Dukes and a shirt unbuttoned so that it exposed mounds of cleavage said to him, “Your wait is over, baby. I got what you need right here.”

  “No, thank you. I’m looking for someone,” Keith kindly replied. Twenty years ago he had walked these same streets looking for a woman. He had loved that woman with all his heart; just wished that she had made better choices in life. Now God had sent him back to the same place, looking to save another woman. He doubted that this would turn out any better than before.

  Further down the street an older woman pushed on her bra, exposing what the good Lord endowed her with. “I’m right here, Sugar. Come tell Mama what you need,” she cooed at Keith. Keith shook his head and tried to walk past her, but she grabbed his arm. “What’s a matter? ‘Fraid I’ll be too much woman for you?”

  He removed her hand from his arm, blood pressure rising. “I don’t want what you’re offering. I’m looking for someone,” he stated firmly.

  “All I want is twenty bucks. I’m a lot cheaper than these other whores down here,” the woman pleaded.

  “Hey, why don’t you leave him alone, Granny? Didn’t he ask you to leave him alone?”

  Keith recognized the voice. He closed his eyes to the reality of this place and turned to face Ms. Cynda Stephens. She had been Isaac’s lady over a decade ago. When Keith met her back then, she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. He’d wished then that he’d met her before Isaac. Maybe Cynda’s life would have turned out differently.

  After all these years, even with her current lifestyle, she still took his breath away. Her type of beauty didn’t fade easily. She had that J-Lo thing going on. But if P-Diddy saw her now, instead of falling all over himself to drop his model of the week, he’d probably loan her a bottle of Proactive.

  “Hey, Keith, what you doing down here?” Cynda asked him.

  He took note of the short skirt and stilettos, and the low-cut shirt showing bosom and belly. He parted his full lips to tell her, “Looking for you.”

  She laughed. “Wonder what your God would say about that?”

  He studied her face and found her hazel eyes mesmerizing. He knew she purchased that eye color, because her natural eyes appeared coal black. But the hazel looked good with her amber skin tone. What didn’t look good on her was the fat lip and swollen cheek she was sporting.

  Fire shot through his eyes as he speculated on how her wounds might have come about, and before he could think about it, his hands were caressing her face. “What happened?”

  She averted her gaze and moved his hand from her face. “Just some black splotches.”

  “You know I’m not talking about the pimples and splotches on your face.” He pointed at her swollen eye. “Who did that?”

  “Man, you know what I do. It’s just a hazard of the job.”

  He backed up, inhaling deeply to calm himself. “Do you have some time? I’d like to talk to you about something.”

  “Time is money.”

  “How much for an hour?”

  “For an old friend like you? Fifty bucks.”

  He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and gave her a hundred.

  “What you want to do, man? I’m all yours; for the next hour anyway.”

  “Have you eaten?”

  Twirling her hair around her finger she told him, “Not since yesterday.”

  “Can I take you to lunch?”

  “If you want to waste money like that, I won’t complain.”

  They walked hand in hand toward his car; the prostitute and the man of God. For God told Keith to take this woman to be his wife and to love her, so that he might know the magnitude of God’s love for a world that continually whored after other gods.

  3

  “So what’s this free lunch all about?” Cynda asked while tossing a few fries into her mouth.

  Cutting up his pork chop, Keith said, “I just wanted to check on you. See if you need anything.” He took a bite, chewed, and then pointed his knife at her lip and cheek. “Looks like I came just in time.”

  She waved his concern off. “Please, I get a black eye about once a month.” Touching her cheek, she said, “This is nothing.”

  He clasped his hands together and announced, “Well, I’m here to take you away from the nothing that keeps going upside your head.”

  She laughed, and some chewed-up hamburger flew out of her mouth and onto the table. “Sorry,” Cynda said as she picked her discarded hamburger pieces off the table.

  “I’m serious,” Keith said. “I’ve got a job offer for you. See, I just opened my own business about nine months ago, and well, I could use help with all the paperwork. You used to be a receptionist didn’t you?” Janet Price was Keith’s current receptionist, but he would find her something else to do.

  “Look, Keith, for years I’ve watched you stare at me. So, I know you think I’m attractive.”

  The acne splotches on Cynda’s face was the only diminishing quality on her other wise gorgeous face. Keith figured the splotches would go away when she stopped using drugs, but he didn’t mention that, instead he told her, “You’re not just attractive, Cynda. You’re the most beautiful woman I know.”

  She held up her hand. “Whatever,” Cynda said, cutting her eyes. “Look, all I’m saying is, if you want to get some, you don’t have to dress it up with a job offer. Just show me the money, and I’m good.”

  He looked to heaven and silently asked, did you hear her? Turning back to Cynda, he said, “I’m not running game on you, and I’m not trying to get some. I’m here because I want to help you. Will you let me be a friend to you? It sure looks like you could use a friend right now.”

  She took another bite of her hamburger and shoved a couple of fries in her mouth. “I’ve got to go, Keith. It was nice seeing you again,” Cynda said as she attempted to stand.

  This time Keith raised his hand and pointed to his watch. “Not so fast. You still owe me time.”

  Cynda looked at her watch. “I’m like a ps
ychiatrist. I give fifty minute hours.”

  “Awe, but I paid for an extra hour. Remember?”

  “Why don’t we just consider the other fifty a tip? I’ve got things to do.”

  “A normal tip is about fifteen percent.”

  She slunk back in her seat. “Look, man, what do you want from me?”

  Keith smiled, determined not to let her contemptuous behavior get the best of him. “I want to be your friend.” He reached out and touched the back of her hand. As he looked into her eyes he told her, “I want to give you a hand up – get you off these streets.”

  She pulled her hand from his grasp. “How do you know I don’t like what I do? Matter-of-fact, I love it.” She leaned closer to him and seductively said, “I’m good at what I do, Keith. If you want to know how good, we can go get it done right now.”

  He leaned back in his seat. “I’m not interested. Guess I just don’t like to share.”

  Her face hardened. “It’s your loss.” She stood up. “I’ve got to get going, but this has been real fun. If you’re on my side of town again, look me up, okay?”

  Keith pulled out one of his business cards and handed it to her. “If you change your mind or need help, don’t hesitate to call me. I mean it.”

  She put his card in her purse and left without looking back. She stepped out of the restaurant, sashaying down the street. A car pulled up next to her, she bent over and leaned into the driver side window. She then ran to the passenger side of the car and jumped in.

  4

  At the end of the day, Isaac liked to walk around his neighborhood and talk to God about his plans for the people whom God had given him. Of course he did his talking with his mouth closed. Wouldn’t do to have the people he hoped to convert think he had truly lost his mind for Jesus.

  But God had been good to him. He’d spared his life more times than Isaac could recount. Back when all the craziness was going on, Isaac didn’t realize that God had been watching out for him. He just thought he was a bad somebody with whom nobody dared to mess with. Little did he know, God had brought him out of a life of drug dealing, running women, and killing so that he could reach back and bring others out.