2. Prynce Michael Redmond （Deacon）
“Cover him, Father. Protect him. Guide him. Return him to his rightful place in You. I trust you. I believe your word concerning him. I—” Mom’s words become distant as I lay my phone on my pillow and walk to my bathroom.
Unlike my parents and sister, I don’t subscribe to being a Christian, which is much to Mom’s dismay. At least every other week or once a month, she calls to pray over the heathen son who won’t let God into his heart and life. I’m what many in the church community call a CME saint because my attendance is usually only for Christmas, Mother’s Day, and Easter. Mom and Dad are a part of the deacon and deaconess board at Pursuing His Glory Ministries, which makes my lack of church visits bad in Mom’s eyes. It also doesn’t help that my sister, Miracle, attends church on a weekly basis and is also a minister at the place where she is a member. I blame Miracle for some of my torture because she lives out of town, which leaves me to be the child our mother focuses on the most.
Several minutes later, I return to my room, pick up my phone, and shake my head at the words leaving Mom’s mouth.
“Oh God, cover Prynce when he rips and runs around the city on that death trap with those people he likes to hang around. Do it, Jesus. Prick Prynce’s heart so h?—”
“I hate to cut you off, Ma, but I got an important call coming in, and I have to get it,” I say, cutting her off lest I subject myself to another thirty minutes of this prayer call.
“Why I ne?—”
“Let him go, Shirley. You’ve been praying and covering him for the last forty-five minutes. I’m sure even God needs a break from this rambling petition. He heard you, and He will answer in His timing.” Dad’s deep voice sounds through the receiver, causing a low chuckle to leave my mouth.
I can always count on Paul Redmond to jump in and rescue me from Shirley’s wrath, and I appreciate him. While Paul Redmond is known as Deacon Redmond inside the sanctuary, he has never once taken a stance on how I choose to live my life. Whenever Mom goes on a tangent, and Dad has to reel her in, he says one statement that reels Mom in… “Remember Jeremiah 31:2-4, Shirley.”
“Fine. Be safe, Prynce. I love you,” Mom says.
“Always, Ma. Love you too. You too, Deac.”
“Right back at you, man,” Dad says before the call disconnects.
Plugging my phone into the charger, I walk to my closet to find something to wear for the night. I’m ready to feel the wind on my face and possibly a house mouse to slip my dick into for a temporary fix. With the work week knocking at the door, I want to go into it without stress and be ready for whatever comes my way. Being a loan officer at Ribax Financial Credit Union by day and a member of Baxtown Iron by night often makes me feel like I’m living a double life. I find it humorous how many clients respect me while I handle their financial needs but turn around and shun me as I zoom through the city on my bike.
“Hypocritical mothafuckas,” I whisper into the quiet closet as my phone begins ringing, causing me to return to my room and the nightstand it’s resting on. “What’s good, Shadow?”
“Where you at, Deacon?” he says with irritation heavy in his question, causing my right brow to hike.
Nashawn Williams Jr., also known to the members of Baxtown Iron as Shadow, is the club’s enforcer and one of my closest friends. He’s not only my club brother but also the big brother I never asked for, with his bossy ass. With me being the club’s road captain, the two of us keep each other informed on our comings and goings. Yet sometimes Shadow’s ass can be overbearing if he hasn’t spoken with me to know when I’m headed to the clubhouse.
“Are you there, Deacon?” Shadow asks gruffly.
“Damn. Who pissed in your condom, nigga?”
“That pussy Deaconess Shirley got.”
“Nigga. You better stop playing. I ain’t got time for Ma to think we sent for her ass. It ain’t been long since she got off my line praying Heaven down on my behalf.”
Laughter from the other end of the phone sounds, causing me to shake my head because Shadow is fully aware of Shirley’s antics. I made the mistake of stopping by my parents’ house one day when Shadow and I were on a ride. Ma had poor Shadow held up in the kitchen for twenty minutes, praying for and over him. The prayer might have been okay if she had not slathered his forehead with enough anointing oil to fry chicken. I clowned his ass for weeks after that, causing him to temporarily block me and forcing me to communicate my whereabouts to Gunz.
“Man, I’m joking. I don’t want no smoke with Deaconess Shirley for real. My damn forehead still has a shimmer to it I can’t seem to erase after all this time,” Shadow says.
A shout of laughter not only sounds from me but someone in the background on Shadow’s end, letting me know he isn’t alone.
“Hell, you need to do like I do and start making up some tongues for Ma,” Gunz says a few minutes later when our laughter dies down.
“Wait, what?” Shadow asks.
“Hell yeah. I’ve known Ma all my life, and I know that she and the Savior of the world go down like two flat tires. She gets to pray, and I get to torment Deacon about sending her into hysteria,” Gunz says.
KeMar Price, or Gunz, is the vice president of Baxtown Iron and my best friend since childhood. He’s not lying about what he just told Shadow because every time Ma prays for his dumb ass, he starts talking real fast, making Ma believe Gunz is engaged and receiving her words. Ma knows that Gunz is part of the reason I’m in the club, so she thrives on the opportunity to pray for him. Somehow, she thinks I will do the same if Gunz quits the club. Neither Gunz nor I have told her that Gunz is one of the primary key players within the club, which makes it highly unlikely.
“What do you be saying, nigga?” Shadow asks, laughing.
“It depends on the day and how I’m feeling. I think I recited the alphabet with a couple of hallelujahs in-between,” Gunz says.
“Your ass is gonna bust Hell open like a bulldozer. You better quit fucking around with the deaconess like that,” Shadow says.
“Don’t tell his ass nothing,” I add.
“Wow. Anyway, back to the original question. You still at the crib, Deacon?” Shadow asks.
“Mhm. I’ll be there after a while. Ma got me off track. I’m trying to regroup and shit,” I say.
“Bet. Ride safe,” Shadow says as the call disconnects, allowing me to return to my closet to sort out my wardrobe selection for the evening.
An undetermined time later…
“How far do you think I’ll get if I do what Gunz does the next time I encounter Deaconess Shirley?” Shadow asks.
“Aw, hell nah. Get your own shit, nigga. I don’t need you blowing my spot up, because it’s been working for a long ass time,” Gunz interjects, his face balling and eyes pinching.
It’s another night of Baxtown Iron shenanigans as the music sounds around the room, and everyone partakes in a typical Sunday occurrence for us. Our club allows other club members to party with us, and we also allow civilians in. Like a regular club, we have people at the door checking for weapons so we can be free to have a good time without bullshit. Since most patch members don’t want the responsibility of manning the door, we task the prospects with the duty as part of their consideration for membership. For some reason, there are more people in the club than usual, so we have three men and a female at the door.
“One of these days I’m gonna—” I start before my eyes zero in on the woman entering the club with Tinker Belle. “Damn.”
The mocha skin bombshell has my mouth drying and my dick twitching while my chest pangs. My damn heart starts stalling as my pulse races with the rapid increase of my blood pressure, causing me to instantly heat all over. I’m not sure where the woman thought she was coming for the night, but I want to go wrap my arms around her before any of my brothers or a random nigga sees her. She’s wearing a dark green leather jacket that hits her waist, a black bodysuit with black pants with ruffle patchwork, and some type of metal chain at the waist. Her slim waist flares into curving hips and thighs that have my dick thrusting against my zipper.
Her face has a delicacy and strength that doesn’t meet her orbs, pulling me like a magnet. Her thick dark hair hangs in long curves over her shoulders, making my hands itch to grip it while she takes my dick from behind. Her beauty is exquisite yet fragile, and damn if I’m not in love with her, and I don’t even know her name.
“What the hell are you looking at?” Gunz says before turning toward the entrance where Tinker Belle and the mystery woman are moving through the crowd.
“Ooh, fresh meat,” Shadow says, causing my head to snap in his direction as a deep frown fills my lips.
“Nah. Find you another house mouse because she’s not about to be anywhere near your bed, bro,” I say aggressively.
“Man, we can both sam?—”
“Nigga, we ain’t sampling shit where she’s concerned. I said what the fuck I said. She’s off-limits to you and every nigga in this mothafucka,” I say gruffly, walking away before I forget that Shadow is my boy and beat his ass.
What the fuck is wrong with me? I don’t even know this woman and ready to end one of my longest friendships over her.