Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 112755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Stinging tears welled in his eyes, and his heart throbbed.
“I can’t,” he said again.
“Legend, you can. I know it’s the one thing in this world you’re afraid of. You ain’t afraid of prison. You ain’t afraid of dying. You ain’t afraid of much, just like Axel. I ’spose that’s why y’all were thick as thieves and bumped heads, too. You’re too stubborn though, and it’s hurting you. You have to start making your anger work for you, and not against you.”
“You don’t understand, Mrs. Florence. Nothin’ I say or do will change it!” His words came out slurred, and he felt damn near drunk off trepidation and indignation, but he pushed through.
“Legend, I understand plenty. I know I’m asking you something that you believe damn near impossible, but it’s going to keep on showin’ up in your life, in many ways, until you face it. Until you deal with it. Until you LOOK at it, and SEE IT! See the evil, second of the Brother Disciples! You can no longer turn a blind eye to your pain. You’re blockin’ your blessings! OPEN YOUR EYES, BOY! NOT THE ONES ON YOUR FACE, THE ONES IN YOUR HEART. WALK BY FAITH, NOT BY SIGHT!!!”
And then, she vanished.
He lay there, on his back, breathing hard. Chest rising and falling. After a while, he sat back up and grabbed the cigar, lighting it again. He puffed and blew out rings of smoke until the cigar was all gone. Nothing left but a nub. Unable to go back to sleep, he just lay there. Thinking. All of his thoughts were heavy. Bleak. Dank.
How can I walk by faith when I barely have anything to believe in?
Chapter Two
Axel’s house was amazing. Of course, he’d worked hard for it. Earned every fixture, strip of wood, and slab of marble. Legend stood in the backyard, nursing a blackberry wine cooler and smoking a cigar in the stifling heat. He’d been holding Cameron earlier, playing with the cute little baby, and English had told him he was a natural. He immediately handed the child right back to her.
Watching people, on the other hand, came naturally. Individuals he didn’t know and didn’t care about mingled to a soft jazz music backdrop. He casually greeted a few mutual acquaintances and observed the waiters walk around holding trays laden with bland cuisine, which mostly tasted like two-day old school cafeteria food. He was hoping English would have some good-looking friends he could scope, but the ones worth a second glance were married or sucking faces with a boyfriend they’d brought along.
Another jazz song began to play, some instrumental version of a Frankie Beverly song, and he sucked his teeth in annoyance. How old are English and Axel? Maybe he calls her Old English 800 for her age, and not the drink? Gotdamn! This is some shit our parents would play. He was certain the song selections were English’s idea. She gave off old-soul vibes in the worst way.
He was tempted to bulldoze into the house and have Alexa play some real music, but decided against it. After all, he’d been asked to bring some class and decorum to the event.
His stomach rumbled when he saw the caterers setting up to serve the main dishes, lined up on a table under domed covers. Perhaps now he could get some serious eatin’ on, and the appetizers were just a misunderstanding, not indicative of what was really in store. People gathered around and formed a line as a strange saxophone rendition of Anita Baker’s, ‘Sweet Love’ started to play.
He let a few older people get in front of him, then grabbed a clean plate. Axel came up behind him, smacked him in the back of the head, then laughed and ran off. He shot the man the middle finger, then started slapping what was supposed to be potato salad and burgers onto his plate. This shit looks like a mix of slop, snot, ’nd mashed taters. Hope to hell it tastes better than it looks. He sniffed the plate and tried to hide his repulsion. Why’s it smell like baby formula and cheese? Tha fuck?
After a minute or two, he finished getting his items, made his way to a seat under an umbrella, and smiled at the toddlers who played in a kiddie pool. They looked so happy and free, splashing water about and screaming with joy. He started to eat, and could barely swallow anything without gagging. Looking about, it appeared he was in good company, too, for many of the guests were wrinkling up their faces as they lived through the noxious gastronomic experience.
He put his plate down, covered it with a napkin, and started searching for English and Axel. He’d been waiting for this party, ready to really chow down, and now he regretted not wolfing down that cereal bar on his way over. A decision he’d made so as not to dampen his appetite.