17. Deacon
“Aye, I need you to get to Shadow Stew Memorial. Some shit is critical, and I ain’t got time to explain over the phone,” Diesel says through the receiver, instantly erasing the peaceful state I’d been in.
Pacing the floor outside the room, I wipe my face from the water sliding down my cheeks. While I had been deep in Squeak, shit had hit the fan. Shadow had been shot, Sleepy had lost his life, and Leggs was beaten beyond recognition. The three of them had been leaving the hole-in-the-wall Ms. Jody’s Place when ambushed, catching them off guard. Shadow hadn’t been able to pull his weapon due to being hit first. Sleepy tried covering Leggs which is what led to his demise.
The bullet fired hit him in his heart, killing him instantly. With no one available to protect her, Leggs tried to run only to be caught within minutes. The bitch ass niggas dragged Leggs behind the building, where they beat her senselessly until she blacked out. As if they hadn’t done enough, the men each pissed on Leggs like she was a toilet bowl. Since worse is the common theme for this bullshit, Leggs said that the men told her to thank Deacon for her ass-whupping.
Regret rests heavily within my limbs for the first time since joining the club. Seeing Shadow laid up despite surviving has me fucked up. Not to mention the devastation of seeing Sleepy’s mom crumble after learning about his death. Due to Leggs being in ICU, I haven’t been able to personally lay eyes on her, but it doesn’t negate the knot resting in my stomach at knowing this shit is my fault.
“Aye. Hold yourself together, Deacon. We’re gonna get those niggas. Right now, Shadow needs to know that you’re gonna walk into his job until he’s able to do so himself,” Gunz says, pulling me into a one-arm embrace.
“Man, this shit is fucking with me heavy. I can’t lie,” I say lowly.
“Me too. We got this shit, though. Shadow is good. Leggs will recover. We’re gonna bury our nigga Sleepy and then handle business. We’re good, bro. Now dry your fucking eyes. Baxtown Iron never lets these niggas see us sweat.” Squeezing me quickly, Gunz breaks our hug, giving me a pointed look that I match.
“What am I gonna do about Squeak? I can’t allow her to become Leggs, bro,” I ask just as Diesel steps into the hall from Shadow’s room.
“Let her go home. We’ll continue as planned with Too Sweet and Jasper keeping an eye on her. For now, I need your head in this shit and not blinded by your love for Squeak,” Diesel says before Gunz has a chance to respond.
“He’s right, Deacon. Let’s handle business, and then you’ll have time to get your shit straight with Squeak,” Gunz adds.
Fuck! Squeak’s stubborn ass is never gonna forgive me for this shit I’m about to do to her.
My chest pinches when the thought enters my mind, but with no other choice or option, I pull out my phone and fire off a message to Tinker Belle. Unlike Squeak, Tinker Belle is fully aware of what’s happening. With Squeak already dealing with some shit, Diesel sent a group message to the club members that didn’t include Squeak.
Me:
Aye, grab Squeak from my crib and keep her with you. Don’t mention anything going on.
Tinker Belle:
Damn, Deacon. Why do I gotta be in the middle of this shit? My bestie has an ugly mean streak and can hold a grudge.
Me:
Appreciated. I’m placing a temporary override for my security gate. Enter 1531 into the keypad.
I’m not about to go back and forth with Tinker Belle and her warning regarding Squeak. If I’m gonna focus, I can’t worry about how Squeak will handle or deal with the shit I’m being forced to do to her. Neither Shadow nor Leggs was able to identify the nigga who ran up on them, which doesn’t give Diesel, Gunz, or me any comfort. Fighting an unknown opponent can be tricky, especially when I’m unsure which of my past sins is returning to serve their cold dish of revenge. I have been judge, jury, and vindicator for several people, so it could truly be anyone or their family members at this point.
Five days later…
“My baby.” Sleepy’s mom cries when the casket begins lowering in the burial plot, making me thankful for the aviator glasses blocking my eyes from the attendees.
Sleepy’s mom, Ms. Brenda, let Baxtown Iron lead the funeral procession that guided our fallen brother through the streets of Ribax. Bulldog, Diesel, and Gunz took point as road captains while I brought up the rear of the family and friends following the hearse. The past few days have been hell because I have gotten used to Squeak in my bed. Thanks to our other brotherhood, Sons of Shadows, and the works of their enforcer, Rico, we were able to find out who was responsible for what happened to Shadow, Leggs, and Sleepy. According to Rico’s intel, Satan’s Cobras are still in their feelings about what I did to Wrangler.
Dutch, who’s the president of Sons of Shadows, told Diesel that Satan’s Cobras have been bragging about what they did. Dutch also said that they feel like we’re now even. Dutch and the Sons of Shadows, along with our other brotherhood, City Slickers, have pledged their dedication to ensuring all members of Baxtown Iron and our families are safe. Dutch’s woman, Makari, has even finalized the cabaret plans since all three clubs will be uniting for the event. With the need for anonymity, the cabaret will now be held at Onesti Azure Gathering Space.
While things are moving along in the club, thanks to the assistance of our brotherhood, my spirit is unsettled. My vexation has been evident and uncontainable with each passing day I’m unable to contact, kiss, hold, or see Squeak. Whenever I close my eyes to catch a couple hours of sleep, Squeak’s mocha face haunts me, preventing me from obtaining necessary rest. I have been living off a mere two hours each day, heightening my weary yet grumpy disposition. To make matters worse, I have been unable to sleep in my bed due to Squeak’s scent lingering in my sheets and the memory of our escapade.
“Jesus… please comfort my auntie.” A female voice penetrates my thoughts, bringing me back to the cemetery.
A woman is holding Sleepy’s mother while rocking her, as tears rapidly fall from Sleepy’s mother’s eyes. My chest pinches at the display, and pain in the back of my throat forces me to peel my eyes away from the two women.
“Damn. This shit is so wrong,” I say to Gunz.
“For sure. It’s okay, though. Sleepy’s death won’t be in vain. We’re gonna pick off Satan’s Cobras one by one until the head nigga is cowering underneath a rock,” Gunz says.
Nodding wordlessly, I follow behind my best friend when he starts walking toward the line of bikes boxing in the cars.
“We’re partying in Sleepy’s honor once we get his mom and family situated. For today, I’m pulling Too Sweet and Jasper off Squeak’s trail so they can throw back some shots with the rest of us,” Diesel says, walking up beside me, further tanking my mood.
Gritting my teeth, I continue walking to my bike because the urge to knock my president on his ass begins brewing in my core. Climbing on my iron, I pull my phone from my vest to call in the only reinforcement I have at my disposal. Watching the family begin moving toward the vehicles along the dirt road, I listen to the ringing flowing through the receiver until the call connects.
“Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise? How are you, Prynce?” Ma’s cheery question hits my ear, and a warm feeling settles in my chest.
“Try not to overreact when I say this, but I need your help with something, Ma.”
“Oh wow. This sounds serious. Let me sit down. Hold on a second.” The ruffling and shaking from the receiver lets me know Ma is in motion.
Staring blankly at the people walking toward me, I lick my dry lips while trying to contain the uneasy feeling, attempting to spike my blood pressure.
“All right. What do you need, Prynce?” Ma asks a few minutes later.
“I need you to do what only you can do… pray for Sq—Janelle. I need God to cover and protect her in my absence.”
My temperature increases, and tingling in my extremities nearly gives way to a wave of nausea from the thought of failing to be the protector Squeak needs.
“Done. Are you okay?” The concern in Ma’s tone has me momentarily closing my eyes to ward off the helpless feeling fighting to overwhelm me.
“Keep blocking Satan’s plans concerning me, and I will be.”
Although Ma hasn’t been calling me to pray over the line with me, I know she hasn’t neglected her prayer posture where I’m concerned. Right now, amid chaos and danger, I also need her to cover Squeak too. I need to know that when it's time for me to go after my woman, not a single strand will be out of place on her full head of hair. I also know without an ounce of doubt that God is able to do what others, including myself, can’t. Therefore, calling Ma and having her intercede for me and Squeak is imperative.
“Father, in the name of Jesus, I come before you now.” This time, when Ma starts praying, I don’t complain or protest, allowing her to speak the words I’m unable to.
While I still believe that God hears a sinner’s prayer, I’m not in a position to know what to say. Allowing Ma to pray on our behalf is only because I know she is strong enough to handle the petition in my moment of weakness.
“Aye, you cool, Deacon,” Gunz says, and I nod without opening my eyes because Ma is still actively praying.
“Amen. Thanks, Ma,” I say a few minutes later, opening my eyes to see three sets of eyes watching me intently.
Hearing the person's name on the line has recognition and acceptance blooming in Diesel’s, Bulldog’s, and Gunz’s expressions when they wordlessly walk away. The knot in my stomach releases, and I sigh before climbing on my iron when the family cars begin pulling away from Sleepy’s final resting place.
I can’t wait for this shit to be over so I can beg Squeak for forgiveness. I miss my fucking woman.