The Believer Read online

  The chief leaned closer to Devon’s face. “I asked you a question. Where did you get this?”

  The teen closed his eyes and shook his head “This Cuban, they call him Ari.”

  The chief sighed then sat on the edge of the table. “Devon, have you ever heard of cause and effect?” Before Devon could answer, the chief slapped his own forehead with his palm as if suddenly recalling a thought. “Oh, that’s right, you dropped out of school.” He laughed. “You really should’ve stayed in school.”

  Devon pursed his lips together tightly, staring at the chief.

  The chief continued, “What this phrase means is that something always results from action, a consequence. You see, product saturation by various vendors in the same vicinity is a huge problem.”

  “Please man, please,” Tim cried, tears streaming down his face. “We said, we sorry.”

  “Let Tim go man. He don’t have nothin to do with this,” Devon asked.

  Chief Mason looked insulted, “You serious? He works for you, right?”

  Devon shook his head. “Man, we just trying to survive.”

  Chief Mason looked at Devon who appeared more like a little boy than the tough thug he presented himself as earlier. Chief Mason stood up and looked at both teens.

  “You can go Timmy,” the chief nodded.

  Tim looked up. “What?”

  “Get out!” Officer Hernandez ordered, taking a step toward him.

  “Wh…what about Devon?” Tim stuttered looking divided between his own freedom and that of his friend.

  Chief Mason glared at the frightened boy. “Get out of here Timmy, and don’t look back. If I ever see you on my corner, if you ever speak of me or this day ever, I’ll bury your granny, your momma, your sister, and then you. Do you understand?”

  Tim nodded. “Then get out,” Chief Mason ordered. Tim stood up; his body shaking as he stared at the chief too scared to move.

  “Run Tim!” Devon yelled causing his thin friend to jump.

  Officer White, who had been standing to the side of the table, began walking toward Tim and narrowing his eyes at the young man who was still standing in place. “Leave while you have a chance, Timmy.”

  Everyone looked at Tim. The good looking young man’s eyes were watery and red. He looked too nervous to leave and too nervous to stay. He looked at Devon. “I’m sorry Devon, man; I’m so sorry,” he said moving one foot in front of the other and taking one last look back.

  The chief laughed as Tim sprinted out of the warehouse. He looked at Devon, whose eyes were wide with fear, then at his deputies. “Make sure he swallows each and every one of those bags; stuff them down his throat if you have to.”

  The chief put his hat on and began walking toward the door, whistling a tune as the teen’s gargled screams bellowed in the background.

  Chapter 2

  Leon wasn’t trying to make friends in the pen but his cell mate, Kelvin, was proving to be an okay dude even if he was a nonstop talker with a missing front tooth. Six feet seven inches tall, Kelvin was big and dark-skinned. But not American dark, more like African dark, Leon thought. Until Kelvin himself confirmed that he was born and raised in Detroit, Leon would have bet a pack of cigarettes on the man being straight from Africa.

  “I knew not to believe all that stuff they said about you,” Kelvin laughed. “You ain’t nothin like they made you out to be, Pastor.”

  Leon listened to Kelvin talk while lying on his back staring at the bottom of Kelvin’s mattress, hands behind his head. Kelvin spoke like a country boy, refusing to use complete sentences and proper English. He was entertaining but Leon was still feeling everybody out so he wasn’t making any quick judgments about friendships. He discovered that the less he spoke, the more they wondered and the more he found out.

  “How much time you serving, Kelvin?” Leon asked.

  The question quieted the man. “Twenty-five to life, Pastor.” The joviality Kelvin exhibited turned placid and still. “I’ll be doing life though cause they ain’t gonna never let me outta here.”

  “What they got you for?” Leon asked.

  Kelvin took a moment before he answered. “Being stupid.”

  Kelvin stopped talking and Leon could hear him change positions on the creaky metal framed bunk above him: conversation over. Leon knew exactly what Kelvin was doing time for; stuff like that wasn’t a secret in prison. Fifteen years ago, he and a few of his friends robbed a liquor store and Kelvin pulled the trigger that killed the store owner. The store owner was the brother-in-law of a judge. Kelvin was right. He would be doing life.

  Kelvin stopped talking, giving Leon the indication that he alone was awake. Try as he might, sleep escaped him. He lay on his back, hands resting behind his head with eyes closed. It was quiet: a horrid dead stillness. It was not like the quiet of home because in prison it was eerie and the nights lasted a lifetime. He could hear Kelvin snoring in the bunk above his head, it nauseated him. He wanted to kick the mattress above him and tell Kelvin to turn over.

  Nothing in his world had ever prepared him for life on the inside…the hellhole that prison was. One thing he knew though was that the “inside” and the “outside” had one thing in common: everything was politically motivated. Find acquaintances but trust none of them and never turn your back or you’ll find a knife sticking out of it. He learned that years ago from the streets.

  But it wasn’t just what was going on inside that occupied Leon’s thoughts. It was the outside that he could no longer control or see. He had business arrangements and partnerships that kept his money flowing and thoughts of Evan and Greg occupied his thoughts day and night.

  Uncomfortable, Leon turned over on his side. Then, as if feeling a presence, he opened his eyes. A large pair of hands grabbed hold of his thin shirt, snatching him from the bunk and throwing him onto the hard concrete floor; the entire right side of his body hit the concrete so hard that he gasped for air. Suddenly, a bag was thrown over his head as punches and kicks pounded his head, face and body.

  Every jab to his side seemed to crush a rib. Leon winced in pain with every blow. The kicks and punches to every area of his body felt like direct assaults to his organs. He struggled to breathe and cough at the same time.

  “Child molesters don’t live in prison so this is where you die,” a heavy voice threatened as the blows continued to Leon’s face and body.

  The heavy voices hurled profanities at him as he struggled to fight back. He began punching and kicking. He was fighting for his life and he knew it. Leon could feel the blood in his mouth as fists pounded his face. Thick fingers grabbed his neck, wrapped a cord around it and pulled tight…he couldn’t breathe. The voices cursed him, attempting to drag him on the concrete floor. Kicking his legs as he lie on his back, Leon dug two fingers between the cord and his neck, allowing himself to catch some air. Still holding onto the cord, Leon struggled to roll over onto his stomach. Once on his side, he pressed his way up on his knees while the jabs to his back and ribs continued. Why didn’t Kelvin wake up? Leon could hear the man still snoring.

  Hearing laughter as he squirmed on his stomach, Leon made his way up from the floor one leg at a time, yanking the cord and the man holding it. Swinging with one hand, Leon used the other to yank the bag off of his head. Leon could hear Kelvin jump down from his bunk and pounce on one of the men while Leon pushed the other against the wall. With his hands trembling, Leon put them around the man’s neck feeling the man weakening. “Looks like you’re the one that’s dying tonight,” Leon whispered in the thug's ear.

  The loud emergency alarms sounded as CO’s rushed into Leon’s cell, spewing orders with batons and stun guns raised. Leon immediately dropped to his knees and raised his hands high in the air.

  Chapter 3

  Greg lay on his back staring at the ceiling and wishing he could get another couple of hours of sleep before tackling the day. Nights were a gamble with Gracie; sometimes the nine-month-old slept all night, sometimes she wanted to stay u
p all night which meant he stayed up as well. Everything had changed in his life over the last couple of years; he had lost a great friend, fallen in love, and best of all, remarried and fathered a baby. He smiled at the unlikely thought.

  Being Pastor of Jehovah Missionary Church was as hard as he’d expected when he accepted the job, coming back as Senior Pastor. The church still had a tarnished reputation in the city that he was hoping to restore. But due to the media blitz surrounding Leon, there were so many eyes on JMC ranging from those of church members to gawkers to the IRS; transparency was crucial. This meant the added burden of having as much oversight on the business aspects of the church as the spiritual well-being of every soul that came through its doors.

  JMC had lost a third of its members since Leon’s arrest. Many couldn’t fathom continuing to be a part of a church where a senior pastor was arrested in the pulpit then the associate pastor married its First Lady. Greg had to admit that the events were outrageous to him too and had he been on the outside looking in, he would have certainly not returned. But God had a way of doing things. Now, JMC had visitors attending services every week with many oftentimes choosing to join their large family.

  Greg yawned then looked over at Evan who seemed to be sleeping just fine on her side facing him. He stared at her smooth mocha skin, no makeup, no need for any. This woman made him weak. Thank you Lord. He leaned over and kissed her on beautifully full lips. She opened her eyes.

  “What are you up to?” a groggily voiced Evan asked.

  “Just looking at you,” Greg snuggled closer toward her, “and wondering why God thought so much of me.”

  Evan smiled.

  “Let’s play hooky and stay in bed all day,” Greg suggested, folding back the covers and admiring her in a pink short set.

  Evan grinned and pulled the covers back up. “Let me tell you how that would play out if we do it,” she said, snuggling up next to him. “You would drop Gracie off at the church nursery as usual then on your way out of the church, 20 people will stop you to sign something, 10 for you to read something, and as you finally prep to leave, 5 more stop you to pray for them. By then the day is over.”

  Greg wrinkled his forehead. “So, is that a yes?” he asked before laughing at her sarcasm.

  Evan laughed with him. “Stop it. Besides, we couldn’t anyway because Sundi’s here and you know how excited she is to go to the center today.”

  Greg agreed, holding Evan tightly. “Oh, don’t I know it? It’s all she’s been talking about since she got here."

  “Mimi kept her busy yesterday filling bags of toiletries for the women. She thought that was the best thing ever.”

  “Okay, so when are you and I going to make some time for each other? I’m ready to start on the next member of our ball team.”

  Evan cut her eyes over at him. “What? It’s too soon; Gracie’s only nine months old.”

  Between the church, Sundi’s Courage (the help center for abused women and children that was named after Sundi), then taking care of Gracie’s needs, he and Evan had very little alone time. And from the looks of it, they wouldn’t be having much anytime soon since Sundi was on day four of a weeklong stay with them.

  Evan kissed her husband on the lips then climbed out of bed. “The article should be in today’s paper,” Evan reminded him, sounding excited.

  Greg rubbed the stubble on his face and sighed, almost wishing that they hadn’t agreed to the interview with the Fairfield News.

  Evan looked back at him. “What was that for?”

  “I don’t know,” Greg responded, looking at Evan standing near the bathroom door. “Maybe we shouldn’t have done it.”

  Evan folded her arms. “Why? I thought you wanted to tell what God’s been doing at JMC.”

  Greg sat up. “I do, I did.” He shook his head. “I’m just not trying to be some celebrity preacher. That’s not me.”

  Evan walked back over to the bed and straddled Greg. Looking down at him, she kissed his forehead. “An interview doesn’t mean that you want to be a celebrity.” She kissed his lips.

  Greg closed his eyes and ran his hands over her body. “Does this mean that we’re playing hooky?” he asked.

  “No,” Evan said kissing his nose before climbing off of him. “Another day, just you and I.”

  Sitting up in the bed, Greg groaned. “You’re such a tease but I need to be at the church anyway. I have so many files in my office that I can’t keep up. I’m so behind in everything. I think Mimi’s perfect system that she created for me has been revamped into a nightmare at this point.”

  “Speaking of which, how’s Rick doing?” Evan asked opening a dresser drawer.

  Greg looked over at her. “We weren’t speaking of Rick.”

  “I know, it’s just that I was wondering how he and his boys were.”

  “They’re doing fine. Didn't you see him Sunday?” Greg asked, aware of what she was up to. It was not the first time that Mimi’s name was mentioned that she just happened to bring up Rick’s name as well. Rick was a close friend and a widower and Greg didn’t want to push his friend to date if he wasn’t ready.

  “I think that we should invite him and Mimi out to dinner. I think it would be nice.”

  Greg shook his head. “Why are you playing matchmaker?”

  “She played matchmaker with us and look how it turned out.”

  “That means we owe her?” Greg asked, giving her the side eye.

  Evan rolled her eyes. “Will you just ask him?”

  Greg yawned. “You know that Mimi won’t go for it,” he said reaching over for his bible on the nightstand.

  “Let me take care of Mimi.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Greg responded opening his bible at the marker.

  Even headed toward the bathroom. “Oh, Rick told me that the board ordered new office furniture for you but you sent it back. Why?”

  Greg looked up from the bible. “It won’t fit, baby. They just did it to pressure me to get a bigger office.”

  “Everybody has begged you to get a bigger office. You’re the pastor, you need a bigger office.”

  Greg put the bible down beside him. “I’m fine where I’m at. That’s not the problem.”

  “What is the problem?” Evan asked.

  “I don’t need what I don’t need, Evan,” Greg rebutted, unconvinced that he needed anything bigger than what he’d always had. Besides, he wasn’t going to bow down to pressure that easily.

  “You’re not Leon, baby.”

  Greg rested his head back on the headboard. “What does that mean?”

  “I’m just saying that you don’t have to be afraid of God blessing you because you’re nothing like Leon and you’ll never become him.”

  Greg frowned. “I’m tired of Leon’s name in our conversations. I just want him to spend the rest of his life in jail and for us never to have to be bothered by him again.”

  “I feel the exact same way, Greg.”

  A knock on their bedroom door interrupted the exchange. Greg and Evan looked at each other. He hoped that the conversation hadn’t been loud enough to wake Sundi. Grateful for the disruption of their intense conversation, Greg hurried to put on his pajama pants and t-shirt. He looked back at Evan who was tightening a robe around her body before he opened their bedroom door.

  “Good morning little ladies,” Greg looked down at Sundi who was struggling to hold Gracie upright.

  Greg immediately took Gracie from Sundi.

  “Good morning, she was crying,” Sundi said, looking up at Greg.

  “That sounds about right,” Greg said with a smile, kissing Gracie’s wet cheek. He looked at Sundi. “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes, sir, I sure am,” she nodded, walking past Greg and over to Evan, hugging her.

  Evan squeezed her tight, causing her to giggle.

  “So, what about chocolate chip pancakes?” Greg smiled.

  “I’d love that,” Sundi smiled back. “Can I help? My mom taught me how to cook.”
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  Greg looked over at Evan. “You sure can,” Evan answered for him taking Gracie out of his arms.

  “Oh boy,” Greg said, “outnumbered.”

  “Let me change her and I’ll bring her downstairs after I’m done,” Evan said.

  “Let’s go kid,” Greg said headed down the stairs.

  Chapter 4

  The premeditated assault on Leon in the dead of night didn’t garner sympathy from Judge Reynolds who was overseeing his case (the pending appeal decision wasn’t relevant in her eyes). Flint told Leon that this meant he would remain where he was. However, after spending two weeks in solitary confinement for his own safety, he was stronger than ever and determined to survive.

  Leon had figured some things out while in solitary. Time was slow in prison but it couldn’t be wasted and being the God forsaken hellhole that it was, it had a system—like chess. If you were ordered into the game then you had to be prepared to play and play cleverly. There was no time to prepare; you had to think ahead and move when it was your turn. Leon didn’t know he could be so happy to be back in the general prison population. Headed back to his cell, Leon walked in with an armful of mail.

  With eyes closed and one earbud in and one out, Kelvin’s head rocked to the beat of the music. Hearing Leon walk in, he opened his eyes and smiled big. “What’s up boss man?” the big dark man asked. “How ya feeling?”

  “Feeling wonderful, Kelvin,” Leon answered. What he didn’t and wouldn’t say was that he was still in pain from three broken ribs, not to mention multiple bruises and contusions from the attack.

  “What’s all that? Kelvin asked.

  “I’ve got so much mail that I couldn’t carry everything in here,” Leon said with his cheeks turned up, “and man, these women are something else. I got them begging me to marry them, give them babies…” Leon laughed. “They sending me naked pictures, you’ve got to see these pictures; they’ll blow your mind.”