Rain Storm Page 3

  He used to own a crack house on the very street he now walked down. Broadway, and the surrounding streets, had been his territory. And nobody messed with what belonged to Isaac Walker. Because back then he’d been willing to kill to protect his turf. Money and power was what he had craved, and he had plenty of both.

  He, Keith and Leonard spent many nights in that crack house, counting money and distributing slow, intoxicating death – crank. Well, that was before he murdered Leonard. Isaac shook his head, trying to shake off the memory of the night he put a bullet in his ex-best friend, Leonard Pope. The memory still stung and caused him to turn away from that house every time he went by. He atoned for what he did to Leonard with every street hustler he brought to Christ.

  A small-time thug by the name of Charlie Depree now owned the house. He’d introduced himself to Isaac a couple months back and told Isaac that he was going to be top dog around here from now on. Isaac sized him up and knew that if he didn’t introduce Charlie to Jesus, the punk would be dead inside of a year.

  Isaac had been king of the inner-city drug trade. Now he’d come back as a friend of the King of Kings. Together they would reclaim the streets.

  “Hey, Pastor Walker,” a woman who’d just gotten off the number-three bus told him, “I enjoyed your sermon on Sunday. I’m going to bring my thick-in-the-head son next week.”

  “Thank you, Sister Patty,” Isaac replied. “Bring him on in. You never know when the Lord will move on his heart.”

  The weariness in her face dimmed the light he’d once seen in her eyes. “I sure hope so, pastor. I sure hope so.” She rolled her two wheeler cart full of groceries toward her house. Half the residents of this neighborhood didn’t have automobiles and used the bus to get to work, church, and the grocery.

  Isaac continued down Broadway. This had always been a low income kind of place. The houses, however, had been well-maintained despite the retail and fry-cook incomes that sustained the owners, but the onslaught of crack had destroyed the community. Once proud homeowners, they were now too busy taking care of grandchildren left behind by crack addicted parents. No time to mow the grass, plant flowers or paint the garage.

  When Isaac came upon the park where his son almost lost his life he stopped. About a year and a half ago, Donavan and his mother, Nina had been gunned down on their porch, but the whole episode began when Donavan attempted to meet one of his friends at Broadway Park. Donavan’s friend was dead, his killer standing over him when Donavan happened upon them in the park. Donavan had enough since to run like Forest all the way home, but the maniac followed him; and when Nina stepped onto the porch she and Donavan both had been splattered with bullets.

  At least once a month, when Isaac reached this park, he was compelled to walk on this land and pray that God would bring about a difference in the lives of the youth that inhabited this place.

  Because of the history he had with this area, and because Charlie Depree’s crack house, A.K.A, Isaac’s old crack house was right across the street, the Holy Spirit led Isaac to hold a tent revival at Broadway Park. The revival would be held in the spring, so he had five months to plan and pray.

  He had almost completed one lap around the park when he heard a woman scream. He back tracked and headed toward the other end of the park.

  “Didn’t I tell you I need my money?” The man’s left hand held onto the girl’s blood stained shirt collar while the other swooped down on her face.

  “Y-yes, Ch-Charlie.”

  Charlie smacked her as he said, “Didn’t I tell you what would happen if you didn’t have it this time?”

  Before Charlie could bring down his hand on the defenseless woman again, Isaac grabbed his raised arm, twisted it behind his back as he said, “So you like beating on defenseless women?”

  “Man, get your hands off me!” Charlie screamed.

  Isaac tightened his grip. “Let her go.”

  Charlie loosed his victim.

  Instead of running for her life, the girl fell backward onto the ground and cried.

  “This is between me and Ebony, man. Why don’t you find somebody else to save?” Charlie said.

  Isaac seemed destined to tangle with Charlie Depree. Charlie’s specialty was beating on women who owed him money for crack. Isaac was the bigger of the two men; Six-foot, 200-pounds, while Charlie shrunk beneath him at five-seven, 170-pounds. Turning him around so they were eye to eye, Isaac told Charlie, “This is my turf, young man. And I’m not going to let you take advantage of this girl.” He extended his finger toward Ebony. “She is off limits. And this area is off limits to punks like you.”

  Fist clenched, neck jutting forward, Charlie said, “You can’t ban me from a public place. You don’t own this park.”

  Isaac shoved him. “Act like I own it. And act like you think I’ll kill you the next time you step foot on my property.”

  Charlie backed away. He kept backing up until he reached the edge of the park and then turned toward Isaac and shouted, “This ain’t over! You gon’ get yours. And Ebony, I’ll see you around.”

  Isaac heard Charlie’s bold words, but he’d also seen the fear in Charlie’s eyes when he pushed him. He prayed that God would forgive him for handling things in the manner he would have before coming to Christ. Sometimes he let his anger get the best of him.

  Isaac turned toward Ebony and held out his hand to her. She wiped her wet cheeks, and then grabbed hold of his hand. As he pulled her up, he got a good look at her young face and wanted to chase Charlie down and give him a good beat down. “How old are you?”

  Sniffing, she told him, “Eighteen.”

  Isaac gave her a stern look and raised a suspicious eyebrow.

  She lowered her head. “I’m fifteen.”

  Isaac shook his head. “What are you doing with a guy like that?”

  Ebony kept her head low and began to cry again.

  Putting his hands in his pocket, Isaac backed away. He needed Nina if he was going to help this young girl. “Stop crying, Ebony. Look, have you eaten anything?”

  She shook her head.

  “I live a couple blocks over. Let me take you home so my wife can fix you something to eat.”

  Her lips pursed, arms crossed – sizing him up to be a perv.

  Isaac put up his hands. “I’m a pastor. I’m not interested in taking advantage of you. When we get to my house, I’ll have my wife come outside so you can talk with her. Okay?”

  ***

  Still plagued by her doctor’s proclamation that she would not be able to have more children because of the damage done to her body after being shot, Nina spent the evening on her knees praying that God would heal her womb. Needless to say, Isaac bursting through her bedroom door threw her discussion with the Lord way off.

  “Nina,” Isaac said. He halted when he saw her on her knees. “Sorry to interrupt, babe, but I need your help.”

  She smiled, remembering the first time this magnificently sculpted man had invaded her world. It was fifteen years ago, but Nina remembered walking into that night club on the West side of Dayton like it was yesterday.

  Isaac wore an Armani suit the night they met. His diamond bedecked hands glittered in the air as he sauntered toward her, smelling of money. His suit jacket curved nicely over his muscles.

  She ran her French manicured fingers through her short-layered hair and turned slightly in his direction, putting out the welcome mat.

  His pace quickened. Honey oozed out of his chocolate-coated mouth as he asked, “Have you been waiting long?”

  She looked into those deep chestnut eyes; Eyes that seemed to read her every thought and intent. Lord, have mercy. “Waiting for what?”

  “A man, someone to take care of you, like you deserve,” Isaac stated.

  His words were bold. Everything about him was bold and over the top. “So are you here to rescue me?” Nina played coy.

  “Why don’t we get to know each other a little better first?” He pulled up a seat next to her. “Then
we’ll see if you’re worth rescuing.” He flashed a dimpled smile.

  Nina thought that smile of his must have driven countless women wild. And she was no different. All these years later, those dimples still drove her wild.

  “Nina, did you hear me? I need your help.” Isaac repeated, snapping her back to reality.

  She knew what that meant. A month ago Isaac needed her help with a five-year-old boy who’d been abandoned by his heroin-using mother. They’d found the woman, got her into rehab and then turned the boy over to his grandmother. Two weeks ago Isaac brought a teenage gang-banger home. For a week straight, Isaac drilled the word of God into the young man’s heart. One morning the boy woke up and said he was ready to go home. Isaac bought him a bus ticket and sent him on his way. Of course a brand new Bible was in his suitcase.

  “Can you come downstairs with me?” Isaac asked.

  Standing up, Nina said, “I’m nervous. What am I going to see when I go downstairs this time, Mr. Walker?”

  He grabbed her hand. “Don’t be scared,” he joked, then became serious. “I need you, babe.”

  Following Isaac down the stairs, Nina recalled a time only a week after their honeymoon when she’d come downstairs and found a kitchen full of drug dealers breaking bread and talking about turf wars.

  Isaac had walked over to her and whispered in her ear, “God wants to save them, Nina. It’s our job to help.”

  He was whispering the same thing in her ear as he opened the front door to introduce her to this child-woman in skin-tight leopard-print pants, and a dingy white shirt that had blood splotches on it. “God wants to save her, Nina, I can feel it.”

  The bruises on the girl’s young face made Nina’s heart sink. “Come on in here, honey. Let me clean you up,” Nina offered.

  The girl hesitated at first, but Nina opened her arms and reached out to her. She didn’t walk into Nina’s arms, but she did go inside the house.

  Nina frowned and looked to her husband for answers. “Who did that to her face?” Nina mumbled.

  “Some drug dealer who’s also known for pimping the women he supplies drugs to – so she could be into anything right about now,” Isaac answered.

  Shaking her head while mumbling to Jesus, Nina walked back into the house.

  “She’s hungry babe, we need to feed her,” Isaac said, directing them to the kitchen.

  Donavan, Nina’s and Isaac’s twelve-year-old son, was in the kitchen fixing a second helping of Hamburger pizza. He was a mix between Isaac’s chocolate and Nina’s olive complexion. He had his mother’s hazel eyes and his daddy’s smile. Nina took the plate out of his hand just as he’d put a healthy slice on it.

  “Hey, that’s mine,” Donavan complained.

  “Cut yourself another slice, honey. I need to give this one to a guest,” Nina said.

  Donavan looked at the girl his dad had just seated in one of the leather backed kitchen chairs. His mother put the hamburger pizza on the table in front of her. “Who’s that?” Donavan asked.

  Nina smiled as she looked at her son. It was still hard for her to believe that she and her son had been shot and almost died about a year and a half ago. Life had gotten so complicated back then. Before she and Isaac married, Donavan and his friends had made some bad choices. His friends were dead now, and all she could say was thank You to Jesus for answering her prayers and saving her son’s life. That episode was the reason her doctor didn’t think she would be able to have anymore children, but it was also the thing that had scared Donavan straight; sent him running to God. That episode had also healed Nina and Isaac’s relationship to the point where after years of being apart, they decided to get married. Nina prayed that this young woman at her kitchen table would soon find peace with God and a place to belong also.

  5

  “Come on, Spoony, open up!” Cynda yelled at the top of her lungs while banging on the door. She could care less how many neighbors she disturbed. They probably needed to get up and get a job anyway. She had worked all day and night making Spoony’s money. So there was no way he was going to deny her the chance to spend time with her daughter today.

  She leaned on the buzzer. “I know y’all in there. Linda, please open the door. I just want to spend some time with Iona.”

  The door swung open and Spoony stood in front of her with a rag tied around his big head. His eyes dilated as his crusted lips cursed her for waking him. Wouldn’t you know it, while she was out working her rear end off, he was partying and sleeping in late. She held out three hundred dollars to him. “Now, can I see my child, please?” she begged.

  He was still half buzzed, slurring his words. “You gon’ have to do b-better than this,” he said, taking the money from her.

  Cynda brushed pass him. Linda and Iona were seated on a black leather couch. Everything but the glass lamps and the cream colored carpet was black in the living room. She should have known something was wrong with him when she saw his house years ago. Anyone whose favorite color was black needed therapy.

  Iona was dressed in a Rocawear jogging suit with ribbons around her perfect pony tails. “I figured you would come see her today,” Linda told her while puffing on her cancer stick. She nudged Iona. “Stand up. Let your mother see how pretty you look today.”

  Iona stood, twirled around and said, “You like my new jogging suit, Mama?”

  Cynda glared at Linda. “Why didn’t you let me in if you had her ready and waiting on me?”

  Shoulders slumped, eyes downcast, Linda said, “I had to wait for Spoony to open the door.”

  “You got some more questions, detective?” Spoony snarled.

  Cynda turned to face him, knowing she would have to endure his attitude before she could get her daughter out of this house. “Naw, I don’t have any more questions,” Cynda replied.

  He waved the money she gave him in her face. “Good. Cause ol’ Spoony got some detective work to do.” Closing in on her he asked, “Now, you been out tricking all night, right?”

  She nodded, hating him for talking about business in front of her daughter.

  Iona stomped her foot. “Mama, you didn’t answer me. Do you like my jogging suit?”

  Cynda turned toward Iona, but Spoony grabbed her chin and turned her head back in his direction. “Sit down, Iona. I’m talking to your mother right now.” Some of the white flakes from the crust around his lips fell as he taunted her. “If you’ve been out tricking all night, how come you only brought me three hundred dollars?”

  “That’s all I made. I can only take one customer at a time, you know,” Cynda reasoned. She wanted to call him a fool so bad, but she’d received her quota of fat lips for the week.

  He grabbed her arm and shoved her against the black wall. Three of the walls in the room were white, but the entry wall was midnight black.

  “Stop!” Iona screamed. “Why can’t you leave my mother alone?”

  Linda grabbed the child, and before she could run anymore interference, she put her hand over her mouth.

  Spoony ignored Iona while he patted Cynda down like the po-po on a robbery suspect. He finally finished his search and found that there was no more money on her. “Take your sorry self on out of here. And don’t keep Iona out all night long. You hear me, Cynda? Don’t make me come looking for you.”

  She rolled her eyes as she grabbed her daughter’s hand and walked out of the house. When they were down the street, Cynda took off her hat and pulled out the lining. She smiled as she showed Iona two hundred and fifty dollars.

  “This is for you, baby girl,” Cynda said to her daughter. “Just tell me what you want. We are going to celebrate your birthday just like I promised.”

  Biting her nails, Iona glanced over her shoulder.

  Cynda stopped and stared at her daughter. “What’s wrong, honey? Don’t you want to celebrate your birthday?”

  “Yes, Mama. But don’t you think you should give that money to Uncle Spoony?” Iona said.

  Cynda smirked. “I’ve given h
im more than enough money to blow up his nose.” Cynda grabbed Iona’s arm to hurry her along as she resumed her pace.

  Iona jerked away from her, with the same terrified look on her face. “But I don’t want to work for Uncle Spoony?”

  Cynda turned. “What are you talking about, girl?” she asked with a puzzled look on her face.

  “I can’t tell you. Just give him that money, okay Mama? I don’t need presents. I swear I don’t.”

  Cynda bent down in front of her daughter. She looked into her innocent eyes, and that’s when she saw that Iona’s eyes weren’t so innocent anymore. She knew what Cynda did for a living, and she was ashamed of her. “You don’t have to keep anything from me, baby. Tell Mama what’s wrong.”

  A tear rolled down Iona’s dark brown cheek. “I just don’t want to work for Uncle Spoony.”

  Cynda frowned. “Work for Spoony? What are you talking about? Why would you think that you would ever have to do that?”

  A flood gate opened and the tears streamed down Iona’s face, mingling with the wetness drizzling from her nose. “Uncle Sp-Spoony said that if you d-don’t start making more money, I’m gon’ h-have to take ooo-over for you.” Iona couldn’t look her mother in the eye.

  Cynda felt dirty. She also felt like the dumbest mother in the world. It wasn’t that she thought Spoony above child porn or even pimping a child – Spoony was low and disgusting – but she never thought he would do anything to harm this child. Not out of respect for her, but for Iona’s dad.

  But Spoony had evidently stopped reminding himself of the good times he’d had with Iona’s father. Her daughter was no longer safe in her pimp’s house. Cynda would die before Iona carried the whore legacy of the Stephens family one generation further. She pulled Keith’s business card out of her jacket pocket and put the numbers in her cell phone.