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  Michael jumped in. “Hey, Kenneth, man, long time no see. How’s it going?”

  Kenneth stopped glaring at his wife to respond to Michael. “Things could be better. How’s everything with you?”

  “Pretty good, I can’t complain. Come on over here and sit down. Get some food in your stomach.”

  “I just stopped by to pick up a few things. I don’t want to bother you guys.”

  Elizabeth stood up. “Kenneth, you’re not bothering anyone. After all, you do pay the mortgage,” she said sweetly. “Sit on down. As a matter-of-fact, I made something especially for you.”

  “You did, huh?” he smiled and joined Michael at the picnic table.

  Elizabeth grabbed a plate, took the lid off the grill and scooped up a plate full of Kenneth’s clothes. She walked back over to the picnic area, stared at Kenneth for a moment, then put the plate in front of him.

  “What’s this?” Kenneth asked dumbfounded.

  “Aw, man. No she didn’t,” Michael interjected.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, you need a fork.” She pulled a plastic fork out of the box and put it in front of his plate. “Eat up.”

  Kenneth put his hands over his face and rubbed his temples. He looked up at this woman he called Wife. “Why’d you do this, Liz? You charbroiled some of my six and seven hundred dollar suits.”

  She hunched her shoulders. “You know what they say about a woman scorned.” She sat down and just stared at him, daring him to make the next move.

  “You are one sick, twisted-”

  “No. I’m one mad Black woman. And I’m sick and tired of taking your crap.”

  He stood up. “Psychotic -”

  “What?”

  Kenneth picked up his daughters, whispered something in their ears and kissed them goodbye. He put them down, then turned to Michael. “It was nice seeing you, man. But, I’ve got to get out of here before I do a slam dunk upside your sister’s empty head.” He turned to walk away, but Elizabeth wasn’t going to be put off so easily.

  “You didn’t eat your food. What’s the matter, Kenneth? I’ve never known you to be so unsociable.”

  He gave her the hand. “Get therapy.”

  “While I’m getting therapy, you can get another family. Cause this one’s off limits to you. You hear me?”

  He turned, and his eyes bore into her. “I have had it up to the high heavens with your crazy behind.”

  She stretched out her arms, puffed up her chest. “If you feel froggy – leap.”

  He walked back to the picnic table, braced his hands on it, and leaned in to face her. “You’ve been begging for a fight. I’ve decided to give you what you want.”

  “Good, bring it on! Can’t wait.”

  He straightened back up, feet straddled, but firmly planted on the ground. His lip curled into a smirk. “There’s just one thing about a fight you don’t seem to understand, my dear wife.”

  Elizabeth had seen that smirk before. It was the same look Kenneth had given a former business associate who had mistaken his kindness for weakness. It was a mistake that proved very costly. “What’s that?” Elizabeth asked, a slight tremor in her voice.

  “You can’t quit when you want to,” he said, and walked out.

  Michael had completely lost his composure when Elizabeth served up Kenneth’s clothes to him. He was finally getting himself together. But pure anger was rushing through him now. “So this is why you invited me over here. You needed me to protect you from Kenneth’s wrath.”

  “Hush, Michael,” she picked up Kenneth’s plate and threw it in the trash. “I didn’t need you to protect me from Kenneth. He’s never laid a hand on me in his life.”

  Michael shook his head and stood up, “He must be a candidate for sainthood.” He brushed off his pants. “I’m outta here.”

  “Oh, so you’re going to leave me too? Well, go ahead then. I don’t need either one of you. Just wait and see; once I start my singing career, I’m going to make a name for myself.”

  “When will you get it through your thick head, your name doesn’t have anything to do with secular music? As a matter of fact, do you know what the name Elizabeth means? ‘She worships the Lord’ is what it means. Do you think it’s some sort of coincidence that God gave you the singing voice of an angel and Mama gave you a name that means ‘She worships the Lord’?” He walked out of the yard toward his car.

  Elizabeth sat on the bench feeling no satisfaction whatsoever. What was she doing wrong? Why is it that nothing ever turned out the way she planned it? A fly buzzed around the table. She picked up her fly swatter and lunged at it, missed and gave up. What she really wanted was a big human-sized swatter so she could knock Kenneth and Michael upside the head. “Mmph, mmph, mmph. The more I deal with black men, the more I like the fly.”

  6

  Nina was bleeding.

  Doctor Hanson told her that her placenta was torn. He said that the complications with her pregnancy were more than likely a result of the beating Isaac gave her a little over two weeks ago and the stress she had been under.

  Nina was cramping.

  One minute she lay stretched out in her hospital bed and the next she was in a fetal position screaming, “Aaaaaaarh!”

  “What’s wrong with her?” Marguerite asked the doctor after witnessing Nina’s third cry of pain.

  “She’s having contractions. She’ll lose the baby before the night’s out,” the doctor told Marguerite, then turned to Nina and said, “If I take the baby now, it will save you hours of pain.”

  Nina gripped her belly tightly and shook her head. “No, no.”

  “Miss Lewis, I don’t think you understand the severity of the situation. You’re only sixteen weeks out. If you were further along, I could give you some magnesium to stop the contractions, but I can’t do anything to help you this early on.”

  Sweat drizzled from Nina’s forehead. She grabbed the doctor’s arm as she told him, “I can’t lose my baby.”

  “You could lose more than this baby, Miss Lewis. If you bleed any harder, you could lose your own life.”

  Nina turned her face from Dr. Hanson and thought about the baby she had aborted. Oh, how she longed to hold that child. She ached as her mind replayed Isaac’s cruel words, “A quick death is too good for a baby killer like you, Nina.” Maybe he was right. Maybe she did deserve a slow agonizing death for what she’d done to her first child.

  A steely determination overtook Nina as she looked back at her doctor. “If I have to die, then let me die. But I will not take the life of my unborn child.”

  Dr. Hanson turned imploring eyes on Marguerite. “Maybe you can talk some sense into her,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

  Marguerite watched the doctor leave, then she lowered the railing on the right side of Nina’s hospital bed and began rubbing her back.

  Another pain ripped through Nina’s small body. Tears welled in her eyes as she turned to heaven and asked, “Why are you against me?”

  “Hush, child,” Marguerite told her. “God’s not against you. He’ll come through for you, just wait and see.”

  Nina turned her face into her pillow and sobbed.

  Marguerite tried to stop the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. She rubbed Nina’s back and sang:

  “I got a feelin’ everything’s gonna be alright,

  o-o-o-ooh, I got a feelin’ everything’s gonna be alright,

  be alright

  be alright…

  Nina turned her face from her pillow and looked at this woman who had shown her more compassion than she’d ever known. She’d been more than a friend, more than a caregiver. Marguerite Barrow had some how replaced the mother that threw her away, and the adoptive mother that died before she could fully raise her. Nina loved Marguerite, she trusted her.

  “Why do you do that?” Nina asked while wiping the tears from her eyes and grabbing some Kleenex to blow her nose.

  “Do what, honey?”

&
nbsp; “Act like God is this super being who can do anything?”

  Marguerite gently touched Nina’s face, then put a wayward string of Nina’s hair back in place. “He is,” was all she said in answer to Nina’s question.

  “Then why has so much happened to me? Why have I lost so much?”

  “Ah, Nina. Child, don’t you know that life is full of love and loss?”

  Nina balled her fist and struck the mattress. “I’m tired of losing,” she said through tears.

  Marguerite wrapped Nina in her arms and rocked her as another contraction shot through her body. Nina cried out. Marguerite rubbed her back and prayed. When she was done communing with the Lord concerning Nina’s situation, she turned back to Nina and said, “Trust God, Nina. It’s going to be alright.”

  7

  Counting money was a pain.

  But if you let somebody else count it, you might as well let ‘em spend it too.

  That must be how Leonard felt about the situation, or that down-on-his-luck simpleton never would’ve had the nerve to take Isaac’s money.

  “Want me to take care of him?” Keith asked.

  “Naw.” Isaac rubbed his chin for a moment. “Leonard may be one of the stupidest brothers alive, but he’s a friend of mine. I’ll take care of him.”

  “What you gon’ do?”

  “He stole a hundred thou from me. What you think I’m gon’ do?”

  Keith turned away from Isaac and finished counting the stack of green back in his hands. The house they were in, as well as several others had been grafted into what Isaac lovingly referred to as ‘The Promised Land.’

  Ten years ago, Isaac’s mentor relocated him from the mean streets of Chicago to Dayton, Ohio to help a street hustler named Ton-Ton with his war for drugs. Six months after Isaac arrived, Ton-Ton executed four young hoodlums who foolishly thought they could come up on his turf. The neighborhood always-in-somebody’s-business watchers, sickened by the viciousness of the executions, made sure there would be no advance to Park Place or Boardwalk for Ton-Ton. No, that Negro went straight to jail on a serious do not pass go felony.

  Isaac had already decided he wasn’t going back to Chicago. He was twenty-one years old and itching to be his own boss. He spied out the land left vacant by executions and neighborhood-do-gooders.

  He had no doubt that he would be able to claim it for himself. He had already shown them what he was capable of while working with Ton-Ton. No one would challenge him, he was certain of that. Standing on the corner of Riverview and Broadway, he stretched out his arms, leaned his head back and bellowed, “Welcome to The Promised Land!” Taking the land had been easy, keeping it had been work, but Isaac paid his dues and earned respect one beat down at a time. He held up a stack of money. “Is this all we collected from Williams Street?”

  “Yeah, man. It’s been slim pickings for a couple of weeks.”

  “Why?”

  Just as Keith parted his lips to respond, someone pounded on the door. Keith blew out some hot air and relaxed a bit as Isaac stood up.

  Isaac snatched the door open and glowered at the crack-head in front of him. “We’re closed. Come back later.”

  “Come on, man, I need to score now.” He lifted his hands to show Isaac the hotter than a day in July, fresh-out-the-back-door-of-somebody’s-house DVD player. “One of your lady friends would love this – brand new, man.”

  “I said we’re closed! Go find one of my runners. What you think they’re on the streets for?” He slammed the door. He wasn’t ‘bout to spend one day behind bars for selling a ten dollar piece of rock. That’s how hustlers get caught up all the time. Isaac turned his attention back to Keith. “Put that money in a bag and let’s bounce.”

  “Where we headed?”

  “Williams Street. Where you think, fool?” He snatched up his Nine and shoved it in the side of his pants. “We gon’ find out why my money’s short.”

  Keith chauffeured Isaac through the desecrated streets of West Dayton in his two-seater candy apple red Corvette. The music was thumping louder than a Saturday night at the Silver Fox, when all the fly girls backed that thang up, hoping to become some dope man’s woman. Heck, some of ‘em settled for being the ‘play thing.’

  Isaac leaned back as they drove down the Strip. He watched the inhabitants of the jungle. As they passed by, weave flowed heavy and thick down the backs of yellow, brown and dark blue sistahs. The electricity and telephone might get cut off, but never let a sistah be accused of having a bad hair day. Bling, bling weighed down the necks and arms of brothers in the game. Lexus, Mercedes, Cadillac, you name it, and it was flashed, ghetto-fab in full effect in the jungle. Keith turned down James H. McGee and kept rolling until he pulled into the parking lot of some carry-out that had changed owners, as well as names, too many times to keep track.

  “I’ll be right back – gotta buy my lotto ticket,” Keith said as he got out of the car.

  Rain or shine, Keith was gon’ play the lotto. Winning must not have been part of his strategy, ‘cause that brother never collected one green-back from his felonious gambling habit. Just another scam backed by the government, as far as Isaac was concerned. Keith went into the name-change-a-lot store and Isaac leaned back in his seat, content to keep his money in his pocket where it could make a difference.

  “Hey Boo!”

  Isaac turned and saw Rochelle Bozeman trotting her hourglass frame in front of him. She shook her head and Mr. Ed’s mane danced in the air until it landed just above her Black woman’s glory.

  “Hey you,” Isaac said as he eyed Rochelle.

  She cozied up next to the car. “Heard you and Nina broke up.”

  “Nothing lasts forever.”

  “That’s too bad. I always liked Nina.”

  “Is that a fact?”

  She swung Mr. Ed’s mane again, softened her eyes and her voice as she stared at Isaac. “Yeah, but I like you better. I’m in the phone book, you know.”

  Isaac looked at her. Body tight, face wasn’t bad to look at either, but right now he was playing daddy to four women too many. He just didn’t have the energy to add number five to the list. “Not taking applications right now.”

  “If you say so.” She started walking toward the store, then turned back. “Give me a call anyway – never know, you just might find an opening I can fill.”

  Keith was back in the car. “Did you get them digits?”

  “Naw, not interested.”

  Keith started the car. “Let’s roll.”

  They pulled up to their spot on Williams Street. Isaac jumped out of the car and greeted his boys.

  Lou, Mickey, and Johnny high five’d and ‘what up’d’ Isaac and Keith. They chitchatted for a few minutes. “How’s your girl?” Mickey asked Isaac.

  “She’s fine,” she’s fine Isaac said, not wanting to put his business with Nina in the street.

  “Hey, did your mom get out the hospital?” Keith asked Lou.

  Lou said, “Yeah.”

  Then Isaac was ready to get down to business. “Money’s been slow over here, Lou. What’s going on?”

  Lou looked to Mickey and Johnny, hoping one of them would speak up. Neither did. “Man, Ray-Ray moved a couple of his boys in the alley right behind us.”

  “Yeah, them cats done took half our biz, just like that.” Johnny snapped his fingers.

  Isaac confronted Keith. “I know you knew about this, Keith. How you gon’ let them take from The Promised Land?”

  Keith opened his mouth to answer. Isaac lifted his hand. “Forget it, let’s just go take care of this. Mickey, follow me.” Mickey stepped in line behind Isaac and Keith as they pounced upon the unsuspecting runners in the alley.

  ***

  “Aaah yeah, baby needs a new pair of shoes,” the snaggletooth man said as he blew on the dice, threw them out and watched as they rolled through the alleyway. His raggedy mouth filled with curses as a foot stomped on one of his die.

  “Now is that any way to talk to t
he man who holds life and death in the palm of his hands?” Isaac asked while showing off his gun.

  The four men scrambled to get off their knees, crap game completely forgotten. A guy in a Nike jogging suit held out his hand. “What’s up Isaac?”

  Isaac shook his proffered hand. “Nothing much. I’m just trying to figure out how y’all set up for business in The Promised Land, and I didn’t know nothing about it.”

  Snaggletooth raised his hands. “No – no disrespect, Isaac. Ray-Ray told us that your turf ended at Williams Street.”

  “I just moved it over, dog. Y’all taking money out my pocket.”

  Nike suit looked at snaggletooth. “Ray-Ray ain’t gon’ like this.”

  Keith bent down, picked up the dice and handed them to Nike suit. “Take this game on down the street somewhere. You are officially off duty.”

  Isaac pointed at Mickey. “This is your turf, get a couple boys to help you run it.” Isaac and Keith headed back to the car, both had only one thought: find Ray-Ray.

  “Got any idea where Ray-Ray might be?” Keith asked Isaac as they drove away.

  “You know that fat simpleton is at Fish & More, inhaling all the catfish he can eat.”

  ***

  Isaac stepped into Fish & More. Ray-Ray was on his cell phone when he and Isaac’s eyes locked. Sweat dripped from his cornrows as he watched Isaac and Keith descend on him. Isaac wasn’t sure if Ray-Ray was nervous or if all that sweat came from being 120 pounds overweight. The one thing he was sure of was that Ray-Ray was on the line with one of the cats from the alley. Good, Isaac thought. Now I don’t have to explain nothin’ to him.

  Since there were no explanations needed, Isaac swooped down on Ray-Ray like a bad dream. He whipped the gun out of his pants and slapped Ray-Ray upside the head. The impact knocked his victim to the ground. Ray-Ray lifted up his hands trying to cover his head. “You got a problem with me taking what belongs to me, Ray-Ray?”

  “Man, that alley ain’t part of your turf,” Ray-Ray reasoned.

  “Everywhere my feet shall tread, boy. That’s The Promised Land. You got it? Everywhere my feet shall tread.”

  Ray-Ray glared at Isaac and said, “That alley is mine. Go to He-”