Chapter 3
Verse Three
“Hi, my name is Kaleela, and I’m an alcoholic.”
“Hi, Kaleela,” everyone greeted in response. Shawn, her sponsor, reached over and lightly gripped her shoulder. It was a gentle reminder that he was present, physically and emotionally, as he cast a soft smile when their eyes connected.
“So today, I was asked to lead this meeting. Funny thing is that I am scared as hell,” she admitted, a soft laugh following. “Imagine me, Kaleela Bradshaw, scared. All of my life, I’ve fought, stole, did whatever I had to do to get mine, and trust me, I got mine.”
She heard a few chuckles, but she was in no way proud of herself.
“It’s sad, actually. I started not to care because the people I felt were supposed to care about me didn’t.
Not even my own mother. See, addiction was her way of life too, to the point my own father has no face or name.
I’m a product of it, swallowed up by it until I chose to accept the things I knew I could change.
” Shawn smiled, patting his chest. She’d come a long way.
“Today, let’s talk about making amends. I’d recently done that. It was hard, but it was needed.”
She chuckled, remembering how Donovan eyed her like he would off her.
He didn’t, though. In fact, before they left, they even played a few games of dice.
She cleaned their pockets before Scooter sent her ass on her way with the promise of coming back.
She wouldn’t. She was pretty sure he knew it, too, because she was still Chaney’s ex and the woman she was once head over heels for.
“Y’all ready?”
An hour later, the meeting was over, and all of the residents went back to their rooms to complete chores, focus on assignments, or participate in individual counseling sessions. She remembered those days when she was in rehab, more times than she cared to admit.
Many would have never guessed it, but she wasn’t down on hard times, not financially anyway.
In fact, she was a millionaire who took her money, cleaned it up.
She’d founded, then funded the community resource center when she first exited the game.
It was equipped with state-of-the-art furniture, programs, and skilled staff.
She even had a residential group home for foster children.
It was her way of giving back on the surface, but to her core, she was still the fucked up person that craved the taste of warm, brown liquor and pussy on her tongue.
Outside of approving budgets and virtual meetings, she had nothing to offer, but she couldn’t say no to Shawn. He knew that as she smiled before her peers while crying on the inside, before he beckoned her to his office.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
The life Shawn lived was hard, if not harder than Kaleela’s.
He started selling dope at the age of eight and caught his first body at ten.
It was a way of life for him, his mother only twelve years his senior.
She was a Blood, and so was his father. He was born into the life that chose him before he even took his first breath.
They and a few Bloods broke and entered into a home that belonged to a politician who owed them money. When he didn’t pay up, they tortured and murdered him, his wife, and two children, unknowingly, leaving one daughter behind who hid in the closet.
She was five, old enough to know to remain quiet until she called 911 while they argued outside in the front yard.
That day, Shawn’s father lost his life, and his mother’s final days were slated to live inside a small prison cell.
Years later, he, too, had a run-in with the law, trying to rob and kidnap someone to feed the same demon that had a hold on Kaleela.
Hearing his case on the news after sitting for almost three years, X took his case on and won.
He’d gotten off on a technicality, but Shawn knew that it was all God.
His faith kept him as he entered a life where he didn’t drink, smoke, or socialize much unless it had to do with work and maintaining his sobriety.
Kaleela was a female version of him, and he wanted her to win, probably more than she did for herself.
“Hello?” She waved one hand, leaning in to see where his head was as he sat behind his desk. After twelve hours with no sleep, he was in dire need of some rest. For Kaleela, though, he’d push through.
“Get in here and close my door, Lee,” he commanded, tossing his pen at her. The first time he called her that, she growled like a little dog, a feisty one because, if nothing else, she was feisty.
“So violent.” She snickered, then tossed his pen back at him. “I was trying not to interrupt you in this big old, fancy office when you texted me to come. I know you have things to do after your already long day, but let me start by saying thank you, and I appreciate you.”
She dropped her head, full of emotion as her chest constricted. Saying “sorry” and “thank you” were new tools she tried to implement as often as she could, but she was determined to get herself together for her.
“No. Thank you. That was one hell of a group you ran out there today. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were trying to talk me into giving you a job here.
I saw you using some of my approach, redirecting them when they got off topic or rambled on.
I mean, you were still a bit rough on them, but some people need it rough. ”
“Tell me about it,” she agreed. “And no, I wasn’t applying for a job. I got money, plenty of money.”
“Money but no solid plan that leads to you not picking up again.”
“Well, tell my ass how you really feel.”
She threw up one hand, immediately having an attitude.
The truth hurt, though, and since Shawn was like some alcoholic whisperer, it didn’t surprise her when it seemed like he could hear her thoughts.
Money was the least of her worries. She had plenty of that.
What she didn’t have was what she knew she still craved–someone to love and them to love her back in a healthy way.
“I just did, so grab a pen. You have an assignment,” he directed, watching her purse her lips. She never liked school, but she was smart, sometimes too smart for her own good, and Shawn knew it.
“As for your group home and your resource center, I know both are due to your history with the system, but don’t discount your presence. Ever wonder why going by either one of them, getting involved, is something you struggle with?”
“Nope.”
To her, her presence meant nothing. She put in the best staff, signed all the checks, and kept people in her community employed while keeping children safe.
They were both designed to fill gaps in services she wished were available to her and her sister.
And while she loved The Crew, the gang that took her in, she wondered if they’d been better off not resorting to a life of crime.
“Can we move on?”
“We can, but you can’t run from it forever. Here.” He lifted a pen, then waved it in front of her face before she snatched it from his hand.
“More of these feelings shit,” she grumbled. “I just spent an hour sharing my feelings and listening to them share theirs, Shawn. Sometimes you just need to chill.”
“I will when you start doing the heavier work. Talk to me, Lee. Let me hear it.” He pushed several tissues into her hand when her eyes teared up. “I have all day. Nothing matters more than you and how you’re feeling.”
“I feel…” She kissed her teeth and threw the pen down. “Why the fuck do you need to know? All that should matter is that I haven’t picked up. I’m still fucking sober, Shawn.”
He sat back with crossed arms, allowing her to unleash her anger. It was a defense mechanism, one she used to push people away. Too bad for her, he wasn’t giving her space. She needed to rest in her frustration, feel it, and then do the work that would prove to give her years of sobriety.
“Yet, Lee. You mean you have not picked up yet.” He placed both arms on the desk, clasping his fingers and leaning forward.
”Listen, I’m not the enemy. In fact, I’m your biggest cheerleader, but I also see where you could have a potential pitfall.
Remember that five-year-old little girl I told you about?
I had to face her, apologize, and as soon as I turned a profit here.
I started a fund for her college tuition.
” His eyes welled up, thinking about her.
She was in high school, due to graduate in two years.
“That’s me not only making amends for some shit my parents caused; that’s me confronting why I left the Bloods. I had to, or the shit they had me involved in would have done more than lead me to addiction. It might have gotten me killed.”
“All of them ain’t bad, though,” she spoke, thinking of The Crew. She’d built lifetime bonds, even learned how to create generational, clean wealth from them.
“Not all, but when your mind is fucked up, you tend to gravitate to what attracts you. I can’t let that happen to you, so as your sponsor, I need you to go deeper.
Get to the root cause of why you still desire to pick up.
The answer ain’t your street cred and damn sure not your money,” he spoke, praying he was reaching her.
“Although I ain’t opposed to you donating a few hundred thousand dollars to the rehab center,” he tossed in with a grin.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see what I can do.” She’d do that and more since she had plenty of money, and it was a write-off.
“The answer is, looking for whatever it is you’re running from and no longer being angry. Confront it, then beat it. Can you at least try?”
She nodded, dabbing her eyes, but she wasn’t so sure.
“You don’t have to do it alone. I’m with you. Remember that.”
“Fine, but this shit sucks, Shawn.”
“For now. I promise you that it gets easier. Like riding a bike. Once you learn how to ride with the training wheels off, having them on is aggravating as fuck. Let me be your training wheels. We all needed some at some point in our life.”
Bill, his sponsor, was his. They remained in communication, both fighting the good fight as they took on more sponsees who battled with tainted versions of themselves, numbed by drugs and alcohol.
“When does this ever become fun?” She laughed. “I confess this, I confess that. I pray about this, I pray about that. Then when I do more of this, then…”
She went on and on as he patiently waited for her to get it all out, regurgitating her journey that still had her stumped. When Shawn slid both hands behind his head and kicked his feet up, she immediately ceased talking.
“Fuck, you did that shit again.”
“Did what?” He grinned, holding back a laugh.
“You know. Got me in here working the fuck out of these Twelve Steps.”
She chuckled, pointing her beautifully manicured index finger toward him. Despite her rather tomboy presentation, Kaleela was a stickler for clean, manicured fingernails and toenails. Any bitch she fucked with had to be clean, which included freshly manicured nails on her hands and feet.
“Naw, I’m just listening.” He feigned confusion before he broke character and laughed.
“Ugh, you play too damn much.”
Kaleela wanted to smack the shit out of his high-yellow ass.
He was just as melanin-challenged as she was, rocking a full beard with dark eyes and bushy eyebrows.
He was tall and lean with tattoos cast on his arms, even a few on his face.
Said he’d never remove them, as they were a part of his recovery.
She also appreciated that, even though he was the CEO and founder of one of the largest residential treatment programs, he remained relatable, as he wore casual street clothing, finishing off his look with a Rolex watch he’d gifted himself after five years of being clean.
“Well, I don’t have all day. What’s the actual assignment?”
“Finally, we are getting somewhere.” He clapped his hands once, then rubbed them together excitedly.
“What’s your ‘why’ for living? I don’t want superficial shit like the obvious. I want you to think about what you want to be known for, years after you’re gone, the possible legacy you leave behind outside of all that K Smooth bullshit.”
She issued a cheeky grin. “The streets gave me that shit, not me.”
“The streets also can’t protect you from you.
Follow my lead now. Trust me. There’s nothing like being free in the real world but still locked up in your mind,” he relayed, lightly tapping the side of his temple.
“Do that, and come and see me when you’re done.
I’ll give you until the end of the month. ”
“I guess. Anything else?”
“Yeah, keep coming back.”
She nodded her head. The challenge, however, was whether she was ready to dig deeper and do the work. She was terrified, and he knew it. He just prayed she’d push through.