Chapter 4
Verse Four
Heading home, Kaleela could barely see. She left Shawn’s, even more confused than she was when she entered his office. Her eyes pooled with tears, falling each time she blinked. To quiet the noise in her head that urged her to drink, she turned on the radio.
As karma would have it, Donovan’s latest single, “My Baddest Bitch”, blared through her speakers. It was filled with lyrical hints that spoke of Chaney, how she held his heart like no other woman could, even wore emotional battle scars only he could heal.
She immediately picked up her cellphone to call her sister as a distraction, when she saw a text notification from Scooter.
She tossed her cellphone in the passenger seat, her chest heaving.
She had no time for savior complex antics or his smiling face, definitely not when he sat with the enemy day in and day out.
No, she didn’t need saving. She needed a damn drink.
“Fuck it.”
She took a sharp left then whipped into the parking lot where a liquor store was. It was in the same parking lot near the local Walmart that opened twenty-four hours. The lot wasn’t full but full enough, which meant she needed to carry her gun.
Once out and in her wheelchair, she eyed two boys that were hiding behind the trunk of a car close to where she was parked.
When she eased up on them, they stopped.
From their bucked eyes and labored breathing, she knew they were spooked after contemplating committing some kind of crime.
What bothered her the most was they were kids, both easily under ten years old.
“What the hell are you two bad asses doing out here? It’s late as fuck. I should call the law on y’all,” she snarled, hoping to scare them.
She’d do no such thing. In fact, she wished someone gave a fuck about her when she was out late in the parking lot of store that was frequented by lowlifes.
“W—who me?” the darker, older boy stammered.
She could see his ashen skin and dirty clothes, even his scraped arms from probably sleeping on the ground. He looked to be about seven, maybe eight, with uncombed and somewhat matted hair. It was probably from lack of shampooing and cutting for weeks, maybe months.
“You and you.” She looked at the other boy who had a frown on his face with tiny, clenched fists.
After taking a closer look, she could tell they were siblings.
The mean one appeared to be older with sandy-brown, curlier hair yet had that same ashen skin and dirty clothes as the younger one.
It was like a flashback of the days when she and Shonasia went to scout out trash bins behind restaurants and grocery stores.
“But why? We ain’t done nothing,” the younger one softly complained, his eyes tearing up. He looked up at his brother, whose lips remained tightly pinched. “We just wanted some—”
“Shhh,” the older one silenced him, grabbing his arm.
“Naw, don’t do that,” she commanded, rolling closer to them. She squinted her eyes, daring them to take off. “Now answer me. Why are you two not at home in your beds? Where’s your parents?”
The oldest of the two sighed, then grabbed his younger brother’s hand.
“Come here. Ignore her.”
The little one was definitely hardheaded as he snatched his hand away, drawing closer to her.
She could see it in his eyes; he was hungry.
The older one kissed his teeth and stood in between them.
Kaleela grinned at the tug of war before her.
This was definitely her and Shonasia; her, of course, being the difficult one.
“Move,” he whined, shoving his older brother.
“Don’t you hear your brother talking to you?” Her challenge confused the both of them, halting their little squabble.
“Yes, ma’am.” His little voice croaked as he placed his hand inside of his brother’s. The older one roughly whispered in his ear. He nodded as tears slid down his chubby cheeks.
“It’s okay, Rell. She ain’t gone do shit.”
“I might, lil’ nigga.” She gripped his shirt, and instead of fighting back, he stood with his chest poked out. “And you said Rell?” she repeated. He nodded, although with hesitance, as Rell wiped his face and grinned.
“Cool. What’s your name then?”
She liked that she was getting somewhere. What she didn’t like was that they’d given information about themselves to a stranger. That meant they were desperate, and desperate meant trouble. She was familiar with that and had been most of her life.
“Travis,” he muttered, growing frustrated.
She was either going to feed them or call the police.
It had been two days since they had something decent to eat, not to mention fatigue from lack of sleep as they took turns watching out for themselves.
Travis was mostly sleep-deprived since Rell could barely stay awake come nightfall.
Travis studied her wheelchair, his orbs dashing up and down until he noticed the nine-millimeter. She pursed her lips. She pulled it out and rested it on her lap, causing him to jump.
“Your ass was about to try to rob me, Travis?” She leaned forward, and he gulped.
“That’s what you’re teaching him, with his crybaby ass?
Listen, let me tell you something. Don’t let this wheelchair make you think for one second I won’t pistol whip your little asses.
If you’re gonna rob somebody, you don’t sit around and socialize with them, giving them got damn names. Shit, who the fuck raised y’all?”
“Nobody,” Rell whispered, hunching his shoulders. “Not anymore anyway.”
His answer, although soft, hit her in the stomach like a huge boulder. Immediately, she felt like shit. She knew what that looked and felt like from sleeping on couches in a house filled with drug addicts, to cots, even bus benches, to last her two lifetimes.
If it weren’t for Shonasia linking up with her ex-boyfriend, Chico, they probably would’ve been dead. A young, misguided person himself, he introduced them to the game, from cooking dope to selling it, then putting niggas down for betraying them.
They’d gone from stealing bottles to popping bottles as they flooded the streets of Miami with drugs, then lined the morgues up with plenty of dead bodies.
Everyone was happy, especially the funeral homes because their business fueled theirs.
Those days of “not enough” were long behind her, but the one constant memory was the wheelchair that held her hostage.
She’d give anything to have her legs back, ones that allowed her to run like she once did.
“Alright, I will make you two a deal.” Her eyes skirted back and forth between the two of them. Their eyes stretched wide, eager to hear her proposition. As long as it ended with food in their mouths, they were all ears.
“Yes, ma’am,” Travis replied. She tittered since he’d quickly gained some manners while Rell nodded, issuing a snaggled-tooth grin.
“I’ll take you to this Walmart.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a few hundred-dollar bills.
“When we get inside, pick up what you need and only what you need.” Her lip curled underneath her nose as she fanned her hand in front of her face.
“No offense, but I suggest starting with some soap and deodorant.”
She didn’t mean to be harsh, but the putrid smells that leaped from their little bodies were smells she never wanted to smell again.
“Then I will grab a few things you want. After that, we’re going to my place for the night so you can tell me what the hell is going on.”
Kaleela didn’t trust the foster care system, nor the police. Therefore, she had to do shit the only way she knew how to do it, temporarily, that was.
“Yes!” Rell cheered like he scored a touchdown. Still, Travis studied her face with narrow eyes. He wasn’t sure what the real catch was, but at ten, even he knew nothing came for free.
“Travis, we got a hundred dollars!” Rell squealed, watching Kaleela push it in their hands.
Travis quickly closed his fingers, securing the money, before Kaleela wrapped her fist around his hand. She could tell he wasn’t too keen on listening to anyone, but he’d have to if he wanted anything from her.
“On second thought, I’ll pay for your stuff when we get to the register. Now, dust that dirt off your clothes and walk in the store like you have some sense.”
“Man,” Travis drawled. It was short-lived when she gave him a look.
She realized without even trying, they’d had the capacity to fall in line.
It felt strange, but in a good way, as her maternal instinct seemed to kick in.
They just didn’t know they saved her from relapsing. She wanted to save them.
As Rell started to run off, she halted him.
“Rell? Grab your brother’s hand right now!”
Surprisingly, he retreated slowly, extending his hand toward him.
Travis looked at her again, his tiny fists balled up.
He wasn’t used to someone else barking orders at Rell, but the smile on his baby brother’s face had him refraining from acting on how he really felt.
As soon as they had everything she paid for, he planned for them to take off.
“Run again, and I’ma hurt you.” His eyes slithered her way as he reestablished his role. “Don’t get grown, Rell,” he spat. “Just follow my lead.”
“Yeah, follow his lead and stay hungry,” she muttered, rolling past them. “Oh, and my name is Miss Kaleela.”
“Miss Kaleela, do you like kids?” Rell probed, his brown eyes wide in anticipation as they made their way into the store.
“Naw, but I do kinda like you two.”
“For real?” Rell beamed. “I knew it. See, Travis, and you wanted to rob her.”
“Boy, hush up,” he muttered, staring straight ahead.
“I wish he the fuck would have.” Just that quickly, she was ready to give up this parenting stint before it started. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”
They both pumped their fists, then dashed toward the shopping carts until she called their names.
Like two little soldiers, they immediately stood at attention and damn near melted her heart.
She wasn’t sure if it was God helping her do the work she ran from, but she was glad she found them. They’d stopped her from picking up.