The Retreat (5 page)

“We ain't called Untouchables for no reason. We live this, we breathe this, and each and every one of us is willing to die for the set. So when I look into your eyes, I better not see fear. There ain't no room for fear,” D-Loc said.

D-Loc could inspire the smallest guy in the room to feel like a giant. D-Loc had given Will's father his word that Will would never have to kill anyone. He used Will to steal cars and allowed his other compos to put in work.

“Nobody messes with the Untouchables because they know that we ain't the ones, man. We strike fear in their hearts, and you know what?” D-Loc pointed to his head. “That stays with them longer. It messes with their head, man, they because know when they see you on the streets, they see death.”

While D-Loc spoke, guns were passed like an offering plate. From sawed-off shotguns to nine millimeters, this looked more like soldiers going to Iraq than doing a drive-by. Will was not off the hook for the evening. After some mumbled good-byes, Will made his way back toward South Street on foot. The wind started to make its presence known as it began to shake the trees. Will always tried to see what lurked in the shadows.

He never knew what could prey on him as he tried to walk toward the intersection. Maybe the preacher man's devil lurked in the shadows. He approached the corner of South and Paramount. The plan was to jack the first car he saw and get off of the creepy block. He waited for the right car to stop by the gas station across the street, where the gas attendant never got involved with any carjacking. The owner didn't even have security cameras to turn over to the police. A few minutes later, a champagne Cadillac pulled into the gas station, and a robust man in a wool jacket got out and began pumping gas.

“That's what's up,” Will said to himself.

Will crossed the empty street and made his way up to the gas station lot. The guy had his back to Will, and he had no clue what was about to happen. Will grabbed his gun, pulled back the handle, and got within inches of the guy. The guy turned around with a weird, contorted look on his face.

“Check this out, playboy, we can either do this the easy way and you give me the keys, or I can go old school and put the gun in your face,” Will said.

Fear was evident on the guy's face, to the point where he froze up. In Will's peripheral, he saw a black-and-white squad car approaching the gas station.

“Can you believe this?” Will pointed the gun at the guy's chest. “Get in the car. Now!”

The guy got into car from the driver's side, and slid his way into the passenger seat. Will entered the car on the driver's side with his gun in hand, and pointed it toward the guy's abdomen.

“Oh, Jesus, please don't shoot me. Jesus. Oh, Lord!” the guy yelled.

“Shut up!” Will placed the gun on his lap and turned on the ignition. The police car was at the pump behind Will. This would have to be Will's worst string of bad luck.

The Cadillac slowly pulled away from the gas station. Will could see the dashboard glow of the cop's computer. Two pros, he mused, going about their work. One jacking and the other filling out paperwork. The night was unusual to say the least.

“What's your name?” Will asked.

“Chauncey. Deacon Chauncey McClendon,” Chauncey replied. He had a look of utter terror in his eyes. “If you need money I would be happy to give it to you.”

“I do need money, but I don't want your money.” Will looked at him in a way that started to freak the man out. “Listen, I need you to be cool. I don't want to hurt you. I just need your car.”

Will could tell that statement relaxed Chauncey a little.

“Listen, I know this is awkward, but I really am trying to get to this church event. I should've left hours ago, but I was held up.”

“You're real religious?”

“I'm not religious; I have a relationship with God.”

This statement raised an awkward look from Will. “How's that?”

“Well, religion is based on a set of rules used to control people, and God is about setting people free.”

“I'm not sure I understand,” Will said.

“Well, maybe you can come with me to the Men's Retreat,” Chauncey said joyously.

“Men's Retreat!” Will said, almost bursting a seam from laughing so hard.

“Yes, it's a time when men get together to get close with God.”

“Let me get this straight, you claim to be in a relationship with God, and now you want me to go away with you to a Men's Retreat with nothing but men?”

“Yeah!”

“That sounds a little suspect.”

Silence set in as neither one of them could figure out what to say or where they were going. Will appreciated the moment of quiet.

This guy is definitely in a cult or something.

“Are you going to kill me?” Chauncey asked.

“If you keep asking stupid questions, then yes, I will.”

“Can I at least ask where we are going? South branches up ahead.”

Pops had a point. Will did not have a clue where he was going. But the farther they drove, the more he felt the flux of the night churning in his stomach: the preaching, the tacky minivan, the liquor store, D-Loc, the gas station, this guy sitting next to him. Things were too hot for Will. It was too much for this nineteen-year-old to process. But a chance to get away from it all was more appealing. Will would go anywhere if he could be free from worry for just one night. A church event didn't seem too bad.

“I got to make a stop before we go to this Men's Retreat.” Will was shocked by his own words.

This Cadillac was definitely a getaway car, but for whom? For the first time, Will considered that there may be a force greater than himself that was moving him away from his surroundings and into the unknown.

Jamal dreamt of one day being able to afford to eat at the Gardens restaurant inside of the Four Seasons. The ambiance of the room, which was decorated with contemporary art-work and natural lighting, made Jamal feel a little out of place. His prayer partner, Quincy, was generous enough to take him out for a celebration for being offered a promotion. Jamal was not sure if he was being completely honest with Quincy, since he had not decided to take the promotion yet.

The other day, the DNA test results threw Jamal's entire world off of its balance. He searched for a way to put everything back into perspective while he indulged in a juicy, medium rare, sixty-day dry-aged rib eye steak.

“I've seen a lot of sports companies crumble, but Pinnacle Sportswear has a strong foundation. You'll do great in their marketing department.” Quincy held up a glass of Chianti. “To a skyrocketing career.” Quincy took a sip.

Jamal gave Quincy a toast with his iced tea. He did not mind that Quincy was a social drinker, but bad things happened whenever Jamal drank. For the most part Jamal was mild mannered, but whenever he drank, his temper became short, so he just avoided alcohol all together.

“So you know the Men's Retreat is this weekend.” Jamal was unsure if Quincy had even signed up.

“You know I just got back in town and I am about to close a major deal. I'm thinking about kicking back this weekend and maybe watching the football games.”

Quincy had not been to church in a few Sundays, and just this week there had been rumors swirling about Quincy and Karen's marriage being in trouble. Karen had walked around Wednesday night's Bible Study like a woman who lost her husband to the world. Jamal noticed her asking for prayer from Pastor Dawkins. He even noticed her with Pastor Dawkins and other ministers, seeking counseling.

He knew his buddy was always busy, but even the task of rebuilding Long Beach was not big enough where Quincy could not squeeze in a few hours for church. Jamal was not married, so he did not know if the conversation may have been above his pay grade, so he simply asked, “How's Karen?”

Jamal knew the question threw Quincy for a loop, because Quincy contorted his face in disbelief. Something was definitely wrong, and Jamal was curious to get to the bottom of it.

“I don‘t know.” Quincy shrugged and took a bite of his salmon.

How come he doesn't know how his wife is doing?
Jamal thought. Something must have been wrong on the home front, but Quincy seemed indifferent. “Man, what you mean you don't know? She's your wife.”

“I don't know!” Quincy looked around the room. Jamal saw that Quincy's aggressive tone did not startle any of the dinner guests. “I haven't been home the last couple of days. I don't know how Karen is and I don't care.”

“What's going on, man? Talk to me. I'm your prayer partner.”

Jamal was not offended when Quincy laughed at the term “prayer partner” in truth, Jamal only saw Quincy pray over food.

“Look, Jamal, I like you. You're a good kid. But I have to be honest with you; all those times I attended those Men's Retreats and prayer breakfasts was all for show. I mean, I believe in God and all, but I'm not as into it as you are.”

Nothing about what Quincy just said came as a shock to Jamal. Most men who attended the events at church did so to appease their wives. Quincy was not the exception.

“Look, J-Money, I'm not going to play games with you. Karen and I are getting a divorce.” Quincy's voice was very callous.

Jamal was not stupid as much as he was hopeful. He may have even been a little naive. He was not surprised by Quincy's announcement, but disappointed. He wanted to believe that marriages in this day and age ran the distance. He wanted to believe that when two people made a vow before God, that that vow was stronger than any force on earth. No, Jamal was not surprised by the news of Quincy's divorce to Karen. The news was just a punch in the gut.

“It's not something I really feel like talking about. You know, we're both adults and we just have to take responsibility for our actions.”

Another blow to the gut. Quincy knew that their prayer partner relationship was a sham, but Jamal had felt that at least he could be someone Quincy could confide in. He'd guessed wrong. Now foolishness set in. With the exception of the matter between him and Chantel, Jamal had been an open book to Quincy.

“I really want you to go to the Men's Retreat. We always have a great time fellowshipping with one another,” Jamal said.

Quincy nodded in agreement as he took another bite of his salmon. “I wish I could do it, but I just can't,” Quincy said after he wiped his lips with a napkin.

His phone sounded and Quincy turned away to talk. Jamal did not know if it was Karen or someone else. Moments later, Quincy turned around and placed his napkin over his food to signify that he was finished eating.

“That's Karen. Listen, I have to go. Something has come up.” Quincy seemed annoyed.

Jamal was very interested to know what was going on with his prayer partner.

Quincy paid for the dinner with his Black Card. Jamal only heard about the card from rap songs. He never saw anyone who could afford to own this aluminum card until now.

“Listen, I'll give you a call this weekend,” Quincy said.

“If you change your mind about going to the Retreat, call me in the morning.” Jamal gave Quincy a handshake.

Quincy left the table and Jamal continued to eat.

“Anything else I can get you?” Leslie, the bright Puerto Rican waitress, said to Jamal with a smile.

“No, I'm good,” Jamal replied.

“Well, let me know if you need anything.” Leslie left her phone number on the table. Even though she knew that Quincy had paid for the dinner, it was nice to see Jamal's good looks could get a girl's number at the Four Seasons.

 

Will was definitely losing his mind. The night was growing stranger by the minute. He was about to embark on a journey to a bizarre religious event with a stranger.

Will drove into his apartment complex. The Palms Apartments consisted of a two-story building designed in a U-shape. Will pulled into his neighbor's parking stall.

“Why are we here?” Chauncey asked.

“I have to make a stop for a minute. Let's go,” Will said.

“I'm fine right here.”

“I'm telling you right now, if you don't get out of this car, you're going to have problems,” Will stressed.

Will got out of the car and Chauncey walked in front of him as they walked up the stairs toward Will's apartment. Will opened the door and the smell of sour milk arrested Will's nose. Will's little sister, Elisha, sat in her diaper on their chocolate brown carpet. His mother sat comatose on the couch.

“Hey, little momma.” Will picked his little sister up and noticed the heaviness in her diaper. “Ma, how come you did not change her?” Will barked toward his mother. She was staring off into the TV with no regard to anyone else in the room.

Therein lay Will's sole frustration. He had to be the adult for everyone. If he did not go out and buy groceries, then the family did not eat. If he did not get up and walk Joshua to the bus stop every morning to make sure his brother got on the school bus safely, then his brother did not go to school. And, apparently, if he did not change Elisha's diapers, then Elisha would sit in the living room, soiled by her own feces.

“Who this?” Joshua asked, pointing to the man in their living room.

“He's a business associate.” Will changed Elisha's diaper and maintained a visual of Chauncey.

“Hi, my name is Deacon Chauncey McClendon.” Chauncey extended his hand, but Joshua was reluctant to shake it.

“He's cool.” Will finished changing Elisha's diaper and, to her delight, began to smother her with kisses.

“Joshua's your name? You know, that's a name from the Bible. Joshua was chosen to be a leader after Moses had died, and to lead the children of Israel to the promised land,” Chauncey said.

“Man, cut all that stuff out,” Will said as he placed Elisha on the carpet.

Time was definitely of the essence. Will started to get calls from D-Loc, and he was afraid that soon he would come looking for him.

“Rent due,” his mother muttered.

“I'm working on that. Don't worry; we ain't going to get put out.”

In truth, Will had the money for the rent, but he got tired of his mother spending it on drugs. Will usually dropped rent off in a money order on the first.

“You ain't nothing like your father. Your father knew how to get money. You're just a sorry excuse for a man,” his mother said without even looking in Will's direction.

Just like her, he thought. He was raised to expect something for nothing. She had nothing but contempt for those who longed to make something of themselves.

“Whatever, that's why I keep the lights on, right? That's why I keep a roof over our heads and food on the table?” Will reminded his mother. “Leave it up to you, you'll spend all our money getting high. But I ain't a man?”

“No, you're not! I wish your father was here instead of you. You too dumb to be the head of this family and you're too weak to be a man.”

“May I say something?” Chauncey asked.

“Dude, if you knew what's best for you, you would pull your nose out of this business.” Will held up his finger to Chauncey.

Will had endured his mother's abuse since childhood. When she grew tired of the physical abuse, his mother would then turn to the verbal abuse. In time, Will had come to see the physical abuse as helpful, a necessary attribute to survive in the merciless streets.

The verbal abuse, however, had a much more devastating effect. Will resolved that if he couldn't find peace in his own home, then peace was an elusive thing that he would never find. Oh well, he had to play the hand he was dealt, but Will refused to be degraded in front of a stranger.

“We wouldn't be in this mess if you weren't too busy getting high. You call yourself a mother, then be a mother to your kids. You got your kids starving and needing to be changed. You're a poor excuse for a mother,” Will spat.

A tear emerge from the side of his mother's face. Some say heroin is the most addictive drug on the market; well, Will could attest to that. He never saw his mother take pleasure in anything other than her next fix. Even now, though she stared at the TV, he knew she was still thinking about her next fix.

Will also blamed himself. He did not help the situation by always catering to her needs. He resented her, and his father for making his mom so passive. She never left the house; she barely even left the couch. Her distaste for life caused her to be resigned to the couch and send her children out into the ruthless world to fend for themselves.

Will went into the bedroom without the need to turn on the light. What he needed from his room he could find in the pitch darkness. Underneath his bed was a plastic case. Will removed his keys from his pocket and unlocked the padlock around the handle of the case. He felt through the foam and removed his .357 Smith & Wesson. He loaded the gun with one clip and put the second clip in his front pocket. He wasn't the type who would leave his family unguarded. Will tucked the gun in the back of his pants as he left his bedroom. When he returned to the living room, the Jesus freak was nowhere in sight.

“Where's that guy I was with?” Will asked Joshua.

Joshua shrugged, and Will bolted out of the front door. Will was used to stealing cars, not people. As soon as he had taken his eyes off of his hostage, his hostage left. Chauncey had not gotten far down the stairs before Will was right behind him.

“Hold up!” Will stated.

Chauncey looked back and tried to move faster, but he tripped and stumbled down the last few steps. He rolled onto the ground, and when he saw Will, Chauncey put his hands up in a surrender position.

“I don't know how far you expected to get in some wingtips.” Will pointed at Chauncey's shoes.

“I just want to go to church,” Chauncey said, out of breath.

Will picked Chauncey up by his collar and stood him straight up. “You say you're a man of God, right?”

Chauncey responded with a nod.

“Well, I can't begin to explain how strange this night has been. It got me thinking about a lot of things. Then I meet you and I'm, like, trippin'. I mean, you might be the only one who could..”

“Who could what?”

“Save my life.”

“Only Jesus can do that,” Chauncey replied.

“Well, we'll see about that, but if you try to run again”—Will flashed his gun—“then I'll have no choice but to use this.”

“Will!” a familiar voice cried out.

Will turned around and saw his brother, Joshua, on top of the steps. “Come here, Josh.”

Joshua ran down the stairs.

“Look, I got to go out of town for a couple of days and I need you to look after the family for me.”

Will saw the weight of the world fill his twelve-year-old brother's eyes; Long Beach was not an easy place to live and there were always jackals waiting in the wings to pick off the weak.

“Don't leave me here, let me come with you.” Tears filled Joshua's eyes.

“Stop crying. I need you to be strong for me. Be a man, all right?” Will dipped into his pockets and pulled out a roll of bills, which he handed to his brother.

“This is three hundred. That should tie you guys over until I get back. Don't leave this money lying around. You know how our mother is.”

Will reached into the front part of his pants and pulled out the gun that D-Loc had given him and handed it to his brother, who placed the money in his front pocket and the gun in his back pocket.

“You know what to do if any trouble occurs. Just point and shoot.” Joshua gave Will a nod as Will pointed to his brother to go into the house. “Be good. I got to go.”